“What kind of signature should I look for?”

“Tiffany Studios . . . something like that.”

Decker was face-to-face with the artwork. He shone his light through the colored glass. He wasn’t an expert, but it looked pretty good to his eye. It took him a few seconds to find the signature: Tiffany Studio. New York.

“Do you think it’s real?” McAdams asked from below.

“No idea.”

McAdams said, “There must be someone in one of the colleges who could authenticate it.”

“Good thinking.” Decker continued to study the work: each cut piece of glass, each thread of metal that held the glass into place. All the metal, including the frame, was dark bronze in color but with a hint of dark green peeking through. He knew from watching those antique shows that the patina—the way the metal aged over time—was important in authentication and to his eye, the metal work between the glass pieces and frame had plenty of patina. So did the chain from which the panels hung.

All the links had plenty of patina except for the two metal loops soldered to the frame and attached to the hanging chains. Those two loops were darker than the frame and looked flat when compared to the rest of the metal. Decker saw a raised chip of what he thought was a metal shard poking up, but when he touched it, dark paint flicked off and fell onto the back of his hand. Carefully, he climbed down the ladder and folded it up. “Uh, with the family’s permission, I’d like to get an art expert down here to look at all four windows.”

McAdams said, “Why? What did you find?”

“I’m not sure, but I’d like someone to take a closer look.”

Pellman shuffled his feet. “I suppose I can call up the family.” He hemmed. “Maybe it would sound better if it came from the police.”

“I’d be happy to call them up and tell them my thoughts.” Even in the dark shadows, Decker could tell that Pellman was relieved. The watchman gave Decker Ken Sobel’s telephone number. “Do you have something to secure the door with?”

“No, not on me.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a hardware store open at this time of night?”

Pellman said, “Just call up Glenn Dutch. I’m sure he has something around his house. If not, he’ll open the store for you.”

McAdams said, “Dutch’s Hardware is on Gable Street.”

“Do you have the number?” Decker asked Pellman.

“I don’t have it, but Roy might have it. Roy’s a friend of Glenn’s and I have Roy’s number.”

“Could you get Glenn’s number from Roy, then?”