Amanda ran her fingers under her shoulder-length hair to rub the back of her head. “Not that I could determine. Just general rummaging. Several of the posters were dislodged. As if they were looking for something that might have been hidden under the backing. Can’t figure it out. Though Jimmy’s suggestion does make a kind of sense.”
“I agree,” the professor added with finality.
Nathan shrugged and went back to sketching as Mindy glanced from one to the other, impressed with the efficiency with which they were solving the problem.
“We must be particularly careful of our projected projects. Several competitors would be more than delighted to get their hands on young Jimmy’s wonderful writing and,” the professor hastily added at Nathan’s scowl, “our chief artist’s brilliant illustrations.”
“Gee, this is kind of creepy, isn’t it?” The receptionist bounced eagerly on her chair. The phone rang. “I should take that outside, right?”
“Thanks, Mindy, and you better head back to reception. We don’t want anyone sneaking in while our backs are turned.”
“Right.”
“Thanks, all. You’re probably right. I’ll have the locks changed and I’m sure that’ll take care of that.”
The professor chuckled. “Let’s hope our pilferer doesn’t possess the dexterity of one of our nimble-fingered band of artists.”
Nathan’s slouching body stiffened.
“What do you mean? Someone we know here picks locks?” Amanda asked.
“How quick you are, my dear. But let’s not speak about that now,” he said, his voice rich with shared conspiracy. “The answer I would guess would be a surprising one.”
“Not all that surprising.” Nathan said. He sat up stiffly, looking annoyed.
“Nathan, you pick locks? But…”
The professor was totally nonplused. “I… I was referring to Mr. Wilde.”
“Mr. Wilde?”
“And me,” Nathan admitted. “The old guy taught me everything I know. I could crack Fort Knox.”
“I DON’T care if it is the damned Metropolitan Museum of Art.” Marc’s grim smile was deadly and his low voice equally threatening. “Don’t use that supercilious big-brother-putting-down-the-stupid-younger-sibling tone, little buddy. It tends to get my dander up.”
David blanched as nearby assistants turned from the art work they were hanging to take note. “Don’t make a scene.”
“You never learn, do you?” Marc started out of the closed gallery, heading past the alert guards.
“Marc, please.” David made a resigned conciliatory gesture. “I’m under a lot of stress here. Bear with me.”
Marc stopped and met the admonishing gaze of one of the larger guards.
Back off, dork. I could drop you with one chop.He turned back toward his abject brother.As abject as he’s capable of being.
“Is something wrong, doctor?” The large guard moved menacingly in Marc’s direction as he spoke to David.
“Yeah.” Marc’s intent look froze the man in his tracks. “You’re intruding on a private discussion and I’d hate to have to call to your supervisor’s attention how you overstepped your authority with a member of the public.”
“Oh, God.” David hurried to interpose himself. “Everything’s fine, Manchetti. Thank you. This gentleman’s… no, it’s me… I… Thank you. Please go back to your post.”
The guard slowly retreated, his apprehensive expression still grim.
I wonder what he’d do if I stuck out my tongue? Marc thought playfully. He considered the possible consequences.Probably not a good idea.
He bowed his head penitently in the guard’s direction. The large man’s back stiffened and he turned away, head high, having diffused a volatile situation.
“Okay, so I over-reacted to your stupid observation. I’m a little stressed, myself. Don’t these people ever let you take a break? Let’s go for tea.” Marc grinned. “Lemon’s on me.”
David stared at his younger sibling. “I’m too old to be put through this. What do I care whether we find the forger or not? It’s not my problem. I should have let the insurance company…”
“Yes?” Marc prodded, knowing the answer. “Let the insurance company what?”
“Miss Silvestri, I’ll be taking a break. My colleague and I will be in the restaurant if you should need me.”
“I can bring you something, doctor, if you’d rather,” the eager young woman suggested.
“No. We… I need to get away for a few minutes. Thank you.”
Marc beamed a blazing show of teeth on the rather plain-looking, avid, young woman, whose eyes instantly dropped.
As they left the gallery, Marc ducked his head in deference to the imposing guard.
“You’re really impossible,” David muttered as they started down the hallway leading to the grand staircase. He allowed a small undignified snort to escape. “I envy your impertinence.”
Marc grabbed the older sibling at his side and gave him a powerful hug. David stood in shock, unmindful of the crowd splitting around them.
“No hard feelings.” Marc continued down the hallway with a jaunty step.
David hurried to catch up as Marc descended the wide marble staircase. “I meant no disrespect to your new lady love. I’ve told you it’s not possible she’s the forger, but there is the possibility she may be involved.”
“I couldn’t care less whether or not she’s the hottest forger of Michelangelo since the dawn of the twentieth century.” He bounced ebulliently down the stairs emerging into the enormous classically designed entrance space. They turned toward the Ancient Greek section of the museum past which was the restaurant.
“If they put her away, I’d hide a file in my boxers so she could saw her way out in a flash. We’re gonna live happily ever after, big brother. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Marc. Get hold of yourself.” David hurried anxiously after him down the gleaming white corridor. “You hardly know the woman. We can’t throw away months of preparation, months of the effort you expended in preparing to put your incredibly inventive plan into action.”
“Nobody’s throwing anything away. If anything, it’s better now. She’s one of us.”
David blanched. “You told her. You revealed yourself?”
“Yeah.” A silly grin spread over Marc’s boyish face. “Mostly. And I’m planning on revealing a lot more. Gal’s gotta know what she’s dealing with.”
“A romantic infatuation! A schoolboy crush!” The drawing instructor turned on his heel and stormed back past patrons admiring ancient Greek statues.
Marc crossed his arms and leaned nonchalantly against a fragment of a marble nude. A female guard immediately materialized reminding him not to touch the works of art.
Acknowledging her admonition, he stood away from the statue and waited.
Through the crowd of museum patrons he saw the returning slumping figure.
Marc put his arm around his brother’s shoulder and guided him into the table service section of the museum’s dining area.
“Truce? I’ll be infatuated. You be as skeptical as your ancient, non-trusting self needs to be.”
David gave his muscular younger brother a baleful look. “Ancient… at forty. You’re right. And almost totally non-trusting. Not a pretty resolution to our parents’ upbringing.”
“Mom and dear ole Dad were lucky we didn’t drive a stake through their cold, unloving hearts. Sorry.” Marc acknowledged his brother’s look. “Another over-reaction. I guess they did the best they knew how. As if that’s an excuse.”
David slumped into the chair their waiter indicated at an empty table. “Scotch, please. Double.”
“Hmmm. And you never drink. I must be getting through.”
“I feel as if I’ve been beaten with a stick.”
“I think the term in some circles is ‘trod upon.’”
“Trod upon. Yes. By a hoard of confused elephants.” Accepting the quickly proffered drink, he tilted the squat glass to his lips and immediately gagged as the 80-proof alcohol seized his throat.