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Jones. Why don’t we sit down here?” He gestured to one of the little cafe tables. “You look like you could use some coffee.”
    Andrew’s eyes flashed, the sudden brilliant blue of temper that turned his aesthetic face into something tough and potentially mean. The quick change had Cook reconsidering the man.
    “I don’t want to sit down,” Andrew shot back, “and I don’t want any coffee.” He would have killed for some. “My sister works late, Detective. She often works late, alone, in this building. If she hadn’t been ill last night, she might have been here when he broke in. I might have lost something a great deal more valuable to me than a bronze.”
    “I understand your concern.”
    “No, you couldn’t possibly.”
    “I got family myself.” Despite Andrew’s refusal, Cook counted out coins and turned to the coffee machine. “How do you take it?”
    “I said—Black,” Andrew muttered. “Just black.”
    “I used to drink it the same way. Still miss it.” Cook breathed in deep as the coffee began to spurt into the insulated cup. “Let me relieve your mind a bit, Dr. Jones. Typically a B-and-E man—especially a smart one—isn’t looking to hurt anyone. Fact is he’ll back off a job before he’ll get into that kind of tangle. He won’t even carry a weapon, because if he does that adds years onto his time if he’s caught.”
    He set the coffee on the table, sat, waited. After a moment Andrew relented and joined him. As the hot edge of temper faded from his eyes, his narrow face smoothed out, his shoulders slipped back into their slight hunch. “Maybe this guy wasn’t typical.”
    “I’d say he wasn’t—but if he’s as smart as I think, he’d have followed that rule. No weapons, no contact with people. In and out. If your sister had been here, he’d have avoided her.”
    “You don’t know my sister.” The coffee made him feel slightly more human.
    “A strong lady, your sister?”
    “She’s had to be. But she was mugged recently, right in front of our house. The guy had a knife—she’s terrified of knives. There was nothing she could do.”
    Cook pursed his lips. “When was this?”
    “A couple of weeks ago, I guess.” He dug fingers through his hair. “He knocked her down, took her purse, her briefcase.” He trailed off, took another breath, another sip of coffee. “It shook her, shook us both. And thinking that she might have been here when this guy broke in—”
    “This type of thief, it’s not his style to knock women around and grab their purses.”

    “Maybe not. But they never caught him. He terrified her, took her things, then he walked. Miranda’s had enough—between that and the problems in Florence.” Andrew caught himself, realizing he was relaxing, and chatting about Miranda, for God’s sake. “This isn’t what you wanted to talk to me about.”
    “Actually, it’s helpful, Dr. Jones.” A mugging and a burglary in less than a month. Same victim? It was, Cook decided, interesting. “You say your sister wasn’t well last night. What was wrong with her?”
    “A problem in Florence,” he said briefly. “Some difficulty with our mother. It upset her.”
    “Your mother’s in Italy?”
    “She lives there. She works there. She heads Standjo. It’s a laboratory for testing art and artifacts. It’s part of the family business. An offshoot of the Institute.”
    “So there’s some friction between your mother and your sister?”
    Andrew took another sip of coffee to steady himself and watched Cook over the rim. His eyes went hard again. “My family relationships aren’t police business.”
    “Just trying to get the whole picture. This is a family organization, after all. There’s no sign of forced entry.”
    Andrew’s hand jerked, nearly spilling his coffee as he tried to make the sharp turn. “Excuse me?”
    “There’s no overt sign of forced entry on either of these doors.” Cook wagged a finger to the exterior and interior doors. “Both were locked. Outside, you need a key card and a code, correct?”
    “Yes. Only department heads can use this entrance. This area is used as a staff lounge. There’s another lounge for general staff on level three.”
    “I’ll need a list of department heads.”
    “Of course. You think it’s someone who works here?”
    “I don’t think anything. Biggest mistake is to come onto a scene with an idea.” He smiled a little. “It’s just procedure.”
    • • •

    The break-in at