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breath.”
    “Do you want me to go?”
    “If you feel up to it.”
    He went out, setting the lock on the door behind him. I just sat, staring at the wall and the lap of my expensive dress till he came back.
    I knew by his dour expression he hadn’t learned anything. “No luck,” he said. “Anybody who came into the building the last half hour either lives here or had been invited by somebody who does. Whoever came in must have used the service elevator from the parking garage.”
    “You need a key to get in the back door of the building as well. Sometimes the door sticks though, and doesn’t lock properly. Anyway, how’d he get into the apartment?”
    “Any likely suspects here in the building itself?” he asked. I shook my head. It was ridiculous to think the neighbors— mostly well-to-do business, professional or retired people— had done this thing. We only knew them to nod to. There was a flakey redhead next door who glared every time she saw me with Victor and lifted a disbelieving brow when he introduced me as his niece. I thought there might have been something between them before I came, but I didn’t look on my uncle’s disappearance as a crime of passion. And if it were, I was the one who would have disappeared.
    “I guess the next question is why,” Sean said. He sat on the sofa and corrugated his forehead in my direction.
    “Obviously whoever did this was looking for something,” I said.
    “Yeah. I wonder if he found it.”
    “Did you look in his studio?” Sean nodded. “Had his desk been tampered with?”
    He shook his head. “Did he keep much cash in the apartment?” he asked.
    It was my turn to shake my head. “There’s a jewelry box on his dresser. Want to take a look at it and see if it’s been rifled?”
    He brought it out, but as far as I could remember, nothing was missing. There was nothing worth stealing in it. Victor bought his “jewelry” at a place that sold zircons or something that looked like diamonds. Good costume jewelry was what he wore, and counted on his reputation to endow it with the aura of authenticity.
    We talked about this for a minute, then Sean took another long look around. “It’s only big things that were disarranged. Those cupboard doors were open,” he said, tossing his head towards the side wall, where cupboards about a yard high and twice as wide now stood closed. “The sofa and chairs were pulled aside, but whoever was here didn’t bother to look in small drawers. Your room was hardly touched. The bottom of the bedspread had been lifted up onto the bed, and the clothes in your closet pulled aside.”
    “You think he was looking for something big then?” I asked. “How big?”
    “Maybe something no bigger than a violin.”
    “We can eliminate elephants and grand pianos then. Sean, his violin isn’t in his car!”
    "I suppose it was worth a lot of money. You mentioned it was a Guan—something or other.”
    “A Guarneri. It’s worth quite a bit—maybe he did drop it off here. He had it at the Casa Loma.”
    “Now will you call the police?” he asked hopefully.
    How could I tell him what I really believed—that Victor was pulling off a cheap publicity stunt? Sean obviously thought I was either heartless or deranged, but I stuck to my guns, making much of the harm a scandal would do his career. If the police were called in, the whole thing would be blown up in the papers, and his European tour could be cancelled. There was bound to be some talk after tonight’s cancellation, but if he showed up by tomorrow, it might be contained to a minor scandal.
    I puzzled over Victor’s itinerary after he left the Casa Loma, trying to figure out why he’d brought the car back, but in my own mind, the missing violin convinced me that he was hiding somewhere in a room, practicing away for tomorrow night. A car was a big thing to hide, and the plates were traceable, so he’d left it here. What I couldn’t understand was why he’d come home and