“What was?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

Nodding as though he’d expect Joel not to tell me, he asked, “This jewelry-very valuable?”

“Not really, though it’s probably worth more than a Chinese civil servant could hope to see.”

“I thought everyone was getting rich over there, now that they took all our jobs. What’s ‘not really’?”

I stared at him. “Around twenty thousand, each piece.”

“Gee, sounds valuable to me. Must be nice to be you. What about Pilarsky? Why would someone shoot him over it? Did he have it?”

Mulgrew, I suddenly remembered, that was his name. Not that that made me feel any warmer toward him. “Detective Mulgrew? It’s missing. That’s why we were hired.”

“So maybe Pilarsky found it.”

“He told me something was fishy. That wouldn’t be fishy.”

“Fishy. Uh-huh.” He lifted his eyebrows again. “His wallet’s gone. And laptop and cell phone. And the place was turned over. You want to know, I make this for a robbery. How much cash did he keep in the office? A lot?”

“I don’t know. Just a robbery?”

“Some days, the bear gets you. We have three unsolved robberies in this neighborhood, last two months. Just like this. Daytime, high floor, vic alone. My theory? Messenger with a jones, just delivered whatever, now he’s in the building. Finds a one-man show, easy pickings.”

“Did anyone get killed in those others?”

“Maybe the vics didn’t put up a fuss. Would Pilarsky have? Instead of forking over?”

I gritted my teeth and nodded. “He could get-indignant.”

“Civilians.” Mulgrew shook his head.

“He was an ex-Port Authority cop.”

“Oh, really?” He spoke with the thick condescension the NYPD reserves for the lower cop orders. I wanted to slug him. “What about you? You ex-PA, too?”

“I’ve always been private.”

That got me an even more patronizing “I see.” Then: “Did Pilarsky go armed?”