Last Breath (13 page)

ELEVEN

“I
thought I smelled coffee.” Daria came through the swinging kitchen door.

“I hope you don't mind.” Connor looked up from the folder he was reading. “I'm used to getting up early.”

“I'd be crazy to object to someone making my coffee in the morning.” She smiled when she noticed the mug he'd left next to the pot for her. “Thank you. This was thoughtful of you.”

“Just as easy to make enough for two.” He shrugged without looking up. “Did you sleep?”

“Not really. I kept thinking about the break-in, and what happened to those people. But I was glad you were here.” She filled the mug and took a sip. “This is really good.”

“Thanks. You know I'm armed and can handle anything that might happen, right?”

“I really hadn't thought about you being armed. I just figured you could handle it.” She paused. “Are you armed right now, this minute?”

He reached a hand behind his back and held up a black handgun.

“Oh.”

“Does it make you nervous?”

“Not as nervous as thinking about having my tongue cut out.”

He smiled and slid the gun back into the holster at the small of his back.

“Have you seen Sweet Thing?” Daria leaned back against the counter.

“I took her out earlier. She heard me moving around and came into my room, so I brought her down with me and we took a little walk. Last I saw her, she was sleeping on the top step.”

“She's outside alone?” Daria frowned. “What if she runs away? Or chases someone?”

“She has been extremely well trained. When you tell her to stay, she stays.”

“You think she's still there?”

“Go on. Take a look. I will bet you anything she's still right there on the top step.” Connor slid several sheets of paper from the folder and appeared to be studying them.

“Anything?” Daria stopped halfway to the door. “You're that sure?”

“I am.”

“Good. We'll bet your car.”

“Wait a minute—”

“Hey, your idea.” Daria peeked out through the glass. The dog was standing on the top step, looking up at her. “And oh, my, that idea is certainly going to cost you.”

“You're bluffing.” Connor was in the doorway behind her.

“You think?”

“If that dog wasn't right there, you'd already be outside looking for her.”

“I'm that transparent?”

“Sorry, but yes.”

“Damn.” She opened the door and the dog came in, wagging her tail. “I did get your attention though, didn't I?”

“Daria, you got my attention a long time ago.” He was leaning against the doorjamb, coffee mug in his hand.

She tried to think of something clever to say, but could not. When she realized she was blushing, she put her head down and fussed with the dog. By the time a response had come to her, he'd gone back into the kitchen alone.

“What is on your agenda today?” Connor was at the table, acting as if he had not just thrown a pitch she hadn't bothered to take a swing at.

“I have a meeting with Louise in about twenty minutes.” Daria filled Sweet Thing's water bowl at the sink.

“Then what?”

She shrugged. “Just work. I expect the museum will be a busy place with all the inspectors and insurance people, so I'll work here. And since someone from the FBI is going to go after the missing artifacts, I can go about my business.”

“Which business is that?”

“Designing the exhibits. Deciding what to showcase, what should go where. How best to display certain pieces.”

“So you decided to stay.”

“I think I've known since day one I'd be staying. I guess I just wanted to believe I was making an intellectual decision rather than an emotional one.”

“What's wrong with making decisions based on your emotions?”

“I'm a scientist,” she said, as if that should explain it. “Anyway, I'm eager to start. I need to put a lot of thought into how I want to present things. This will be the debut of Shandihar's culture to the rest of the world, so I want to get it right. And I want to convey Alistair's joy in having found the city. I want people to be able to see Shandihar the way he saw it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It will be.” Her eyes darkened. “At least, it would be, if we didn't have these murders…”

He placed the papers on the table before him in a neat stack. “Regardless of what has happened, you still have a job to do. You have a lot of responsibility. Getting the museum reopened is the goal, right? To help keep the school going?”

She nodded.

“Then focus on that, and only that.”

“I can't. I thought about this a lot last night.” She sat across the table from him. “About Alistair and his search for Shandihar. Finding it. Packing up everything he could get his hands on and bringing it back here. He was so proud of himself, that he'd found a place that no one else believed existed. He couldn't wait to show the world what he'd found. And then he died. Now that the university is finally going to display the Shandihar artifacts, once again, people are dying.”

“I thought you said Alistair died of a lung infection.”

“He did. But I was remembering last night that Iliana wrote in her diaries about several others connected with the expedition who'd died after Alistair. Three of his assistants died within the next two years.”

“How?”

“The same vague ‘lung disease' that Alistair died from.”

“Maybe they all picked up the virus at the same time.”

She looked doubtful.

“Seriously. Think about it. They were all in the same part of the world together. They might have picked up a virus or some sort of bacteria.”

“And it lay dormant in all four men for two, three, or four years?” She shook her head.

“Right. I'd forgotten that Alistair returned to Howe two years before he died. And if the others died within two years, that would have been…” He tried to recall the dates.

“Anywhere from 1911 to 1912. My great-grandfather died in late 1910.”

“So what are you saying, Daria?”

“I don't know. You're the investigator. You tell me.” She stole a look at the clock. “I have to get going or I'll be late for my meeting with Louise.”

She rinsed her mug out in the sink. “Thanks for the coffee. And for letting Sweet Thing out. I apologize for not being able to offer you breakfast.”

“I'll pick up something later. I'm pretty resourceful.”

“Will you be here when I get back?” She paused with her hand on the kitchen door.

“Would you like me to be?” His eyes held hers for a long moment.

“Yes. I would.”

“Then I'll see you later.”

“Great. See you later.” She pushed through the door and as it swung back, he called to her.

“Daria. Where are Iliana's diaries?”

“Upstairs on the table next to my bed.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?'

“Not at all,” she called back as she unlocked the front door. “Go for it.”

Daria stepped out onto the front porch and drew in a deep breath of sheer mugginess. It had been years since she'd experienced an American summer in this part of the country, and she'd forgotten how oppressive the humidity could be. She had become accustomed to the dry desert air.

Instead of her usual work clothes—shorts and a T-shirt—she'd put on a khaki skirt that fell to her knees and a sleeveless cotton shirt because she wasn't sure if anyone else would be at her meeting this morning. She hoped it wouldn't be the bankers. Or the insurance people. She wouldn't mind the contractors who were going to work on the building, though; she'd like to have some input if they were going to alter the interior design. She made a mental note to ask Louise about that. The Great Room had been perfectly designed for exhibitions like the one she had in mind. There was no need to mess with what worked.

Vita was on the phone when Daria stepped into the reception area. She waved Daria in, pointed to Louise's open door, and mouthed the words, “Go on in, she's waiting for you.”

“Louise?” Daria entered the inner office.

“Over here.” Louise was at a small conference table that was set up by the windows on the right side of the room. “I was just looking over some of the notes I made when the security firm was here yesterday.”

“Has anything been decided?”

“Yes. The bank is refurbishing a large secure space in the basement of their main branch in downtown Wilmington. They're hoping to have it completed by the end of the week. In the meantime, there are several guards at the museum keeping an eye on things.”

“Why move the collection at all, if bringing in more guards works?”

“The bank feels that the artifacts will be safer if they're locked away in a vault.”

“That's probably what Mrs. Sevrenson thought, too.”

“What?” Louise frowned. “Who?”

“Elena Sevrenson. The woman in Philadelphia who was murdered. Her niece told us she had a vault in her basement. That's where she kept the griffins.”

“And yet they were the only things stolen. Odd that nothing else was taken.” Louise took a seat at the table and motioned for Daria to do the same.

“Particularly since there were other highly valuable objects on display in the dining room at the time.”

“That couple out in Gladwyne—do we know what was stolen from their home?”

“I suspect I do, but I'm sure the FBI will let us know for certain.”

“And the gentleman from Delaware?”

“Someone will be searching the house to confirm what was stolen. The piece he owned from the university's collection—a statue of the goddess Ereshkigal that's almost two feet tall—should be easy enough to spot.”

“Good Lord, you'd have to be an idiot not to see the connection.” Louise swore softly under her breath. “It's only a matter of time before this story breaks and the phones start ringing off the hook.”

“Louise, does Howe have a public relations person?”

“We did.” Louise sighed. “She left at the end of the semester and we haven't replaced her yet.”

“Is there anyone on staff you could call upon as acting public relations director to at least see you through the next few weeks? Unless you have the time to deal with the media yourself, it could get ugly.”

“Good point. Let me think on this for a while. Maybe there is someone…” She bit her bottom lip. “In the meantime, I have some things to give you.”

Louise got up and walked to her desk, where a cardboard box sat on the chair. She carried the box to Daria at the table.

“In here is a copy of the catalog from the Oliver Jacobs exhibit.”

“The one that marked the opening of the museum?” Daria's eyebrows raised in interest.

“Yes. Vita is still searching for the records Casper Fenn kept, detailing his acquisitions and sales. I haven't had time to help her look more thoroughly. I imagine you would welcome the opportunity to see what transpired back in the 1940s and 1950s.”

“I would, thank you. Can I take the catalog back to the house?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I should tell you that I may have had a break-in at McGowan House last night.”

Louise frowned. “And you waited until now to tell me? Did you call the police? What was taken?”

“I meant to tell you as soon as I arrived this morning, but we started talking about other things. As far as I can tell, nothing was taken, but Connor thinks somebody got some information from my computer.”

“Why? And what?”

“I made a list of the artifacts I think were stolen. The file had been opened before I got home last night.”

“Did you call the police?” Louise asked pointedly.

“No. Since there was an FBI agent at the house, and the case has been turned over to them, we—Connor and I—didn't think it was necessary to call the local police.”

“This is very serious, Daria,” Louise got up again and began to pace. “Our museum has been robbed. People who owned some of the stolen artifacts have been murdered. And now there's been a break-in on our campus. I'm not sure what to do about any of this. I thought reopening the museum would be the answer to our problems, but it seems to be turning into the catalyst for more problems.”

“Do you have a choice?” Daria asked. “As upsetting as all this has been”—Daria touched Louise on the arm—“is there really a question of whether or not the museum should be reopened?”

“No.” Louise sighed. “I don't know what else to do. We went over every other conceivable option weeks ago. The trustees and I agreed that there's nothing else that will be of any lasting benefit to the university. So we will have to proceed, in spite of the murders and the thefts.”

She tapped her pen on the tabletop. “Of course, there's no press like sensational press.”

“I'm afraid that's true,” Daria agreed. “Which is why you're going to want to find someone who can start fielding questions and act as a liaison between the university and the media.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, we will need the press when it's time to open the museum. Yes, you're right. I need to address this as soon as possible.”

“The sooner the better, I'm afraid.”

“About these art theft people from the FBI…when might we expect them?”

“Connor is arranging that. He spoke with his office yesterday.”

“Good, that's good.” Louise nodded. “The security people have been at the museum since yesterday afternoon. If you're thinking about getting in the building, you're going to need this.”

Louise took a badge from an envelope that lay on the table and handed it to Daria. “No one's getting in without one of these, so make sure you have it on when you go down there.”