Her eyes widened in awe. “You met his wife?”
“Yes. My father was professor who believed in showing me as much of world as possible when I was little boy. That included long trip to Athens before air travel was popular. He showed me ruins and explained their importance. I am not sure if he planned it or it simply happened, but Sophia was speaking at one of the museums. She shook my hand and pinched my cheeks and I was smitten for life. I knew then and there that I wanted to work in museum.”
“Wow,” she said, virtually speechless. “That is amazing.”
“Over the years, I had chance to speak to his children as well.”
“Andromache and Agamemnon.”
Ivan smiled at the mere mention of their names. Schliemann was so fascinated with Homer that he had named his children after characters in the Iliad. “It is true. You are fan.”
She nodded again. “Schliemann’s the topic of my dissertation.”
“So I was told.”
Allison paused, unable to let the moment pass. She knew Payne didn’t want her to prolong the conversation, but she had to find out what Ivan meant. “Richard talked about me?”
“You seem surprised.”
“Stunned. Richard barely talked to me. I find it hard to believe that he talked about me.”
Ivan smiled. “Sometimes a man does not know how to handle the unfamiliar.”
“Meaning?”
“You were first woman he viewed as colleague and not conquest.”
Allison blinked a few times, trying to hold back her emotions. It was one of the nicest things that anyone had ever said about her. Strangely, it made her view Byrd in a whole different light.
“Had you known him long?” she wondered.
“Sadly, I never met Richard.”
“You never met him?”
Ivan shook his head. “All our conversations were by phone.”
“But in his planner, he had several appointments scheduled with you.”
“And I broke them all. Some days my health will not allow visitors.”
Payne reentered the conversation. “Every appointment but Sunday’s.”
Ivan nodded. “That is correct. When he not show, I thought he was tired of me and no longer interested in coat.”
“No,” Allison assured him. “I’m still interested in the coat. We’re still interested.”
“I’m glad you are. I held on to it for as long as I could, but medical bills are mounting and money is needed. At some point, sentimentality needs to be pushed aside for reality.”
Ivan rocked forward in his chair until he had enough momentum to stand up. He trudged slowly toward the front door, where a wooden rack had been mounted to the wall. A hat hung from the left hook and an umbrella from the right. In the middle was a black garment bag that looked nearly as old as Ivan. He lifted it by the hanger that protruded through the top and carried it toward the couch. As he did, he brushed off every speck of dust that he saw.
“Do you know story behind coat?” Ivan asked.
Payne and Allison shook their heads, stunned that the coat was actually a coat.
“Heinrich Schliemann was man with quirks that could not be explained. They helped define nature of his genius. Normal men who do normal things lead normal lives. But not Heinrich. He liked things in certain way and did not care what people thought.”
Ivan handed the garment bag to Allison and then inched back toward his chair.
“In final months of Heinrich’s life, he wore coat everywhere he went. It did not matter if weather was hot or cold, that coat never left him. His friends and family asked him why, and he told them it was lucky coat. They were familiar with his ways, so they thought nothing of it. He kept his coat and they kept quiet. This way both parties were happy.”
Ivan sat in his seat and sighed. He thought about things for a moment before he spoke again. “That coat stayed with him until end. He was wrapped in it on day he died in Naples.”
“He died in this coat?” she asked, amazed. “How did you get it?”
“It was given to me by Heinrich’s family. It was token of appreciation for all hard work I did at Hermitage Museum. I fought Russian government for many years to display Priam’s Treasure. That coat was their way of saying thank you. I have cherished it ever since.”
“And I’ll cherish it as well,” she assured him, feeling guilty for taking it.
“I know you will, Allison. Like me, you are true Schliemann fan.”
“About the money,” Payne said as he walked forward with the book bag. He unzipped it and showed its contents to Ivan. It was stuffed with all the cash from Byrd’s safe. “Is this enough?”
Ivan’s eyes grew wide. “More than enough.”
“I’m glad,” Payne said. “Take it all. Richard would have wanted you to have it.”
59
While Payne called Jones to make sure the street was clear, Allison said good-bye to Ivan. She promised to be in touch in the near future, hoping to hear as many stories about Schliemann as Ivan was willing to tell. He assured her that it was a conversation worth living for.
Payne walked outside first, followed by Allison. She carried the garment bag with both hands, clutching it against her chest as if it was the most valuable treasure in the world.
“You know,” she said, “that was a really nice thing to do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The money. You gave him all the money.”
“It wasn’t my money. It was Richard’s money.”
“Still,” she assured him, “it was very sweet.”
He shrugged and said nothing. The old guy had reminded Payne of his grandfather. Full of wit and wisdom until his body finally gave out. Maybe the money would help Ivan live a little bit longer. Or at the very least, a little more comfortably.
When they reached the car, Payne sat in the front seat and Allison climbed into the back. She hung the garment bag from a hook above the window, trying not to wrinkle its contents.