“You had better drink up, laddie. Tonight we are keeping company with… well, who knows. She is a delightful woman, I must say, but her jewelry is just too uncanny,” Nina said as she drank down the entire contents of her wine glass. “God, I could do with some vodka tonight.”
“What makes you so certain she had something to do with the robbery? Maybe she has a friend who custom designs jewelry or something. You know, there is a Viking revival going on all over the world now. TV shows and music have turned that way on some channels and I see a lot of bikers with tattoos representing Norse Mythology and Viking Lore. Maybe she is just being ‘in’,” Sam said, electing to play Devil’s Advocate, just to make sure the rapidly inebriating Nina did not go off half-cocked on an innocent fashion victim.
“Sam, I got this rare book from a collector, uh, trader of obscure books, right? So, when he saw Val sitting at my table in Costa, he refused to join us. Before he left — briskly, I’ll have you know — he told me to watch the company I keep,” she spelled it out, leaning closer to Sam to reiterate the impact of the old man’s words. “I mean, the man could not take his eyes off Val all the time he was in there. He looked like he had seen a ghost… like he recognized her,” Nina explained.
Sam winced at the burn of the alcohol he swallowed and lifted the tumbler to look at the beautiful warm color against the fire. “Maybe he knows her. An ex. A friend of his daughter who pissed him off. You never know, Nina. You can’t just assume shit about someone, even if they wear stolen necklaces…”
“Neck ring. It was a neck ring.”
“…neck rings and have a bad rep with book dealers,” he finished.
Outside they heard the pulsing idling of a Harley Davidson Roadster. Nina’s eyes widened and she stared at Sam, “They’re here.”
“Nope, just her,” he answered, peeping from the window above the driveway.
“Oh good. Just her. You can wrestle her if she gets hostile,” Nina said in a lighter mood as she went to open the front door.
Sam was sitting with a fresh tumbler of intoxication in his hand when Val came through the door, Nina in tail with her helmet.
“Val, Sam,” Nina introduced them. “Just sit anywhere. I got us some wine. You do drink wine, right?” she asked urgently. Sam could clearly tell that she was playing down her intelligence to mask her intentions and it almost made him chuckle.
“I’d rather have some of that malt your friend is having, if I may be so forward. I don’t really drink wine and beer is for teenagers,” she winked at Sam. He smiled in return, very impressed with her personality, which almost surpassed her hair style in clout.
“Your hubby, Val?” Nina interrupted the blossoming amicability of two obviously naughty natures.
Val proceeded to tell them briefly about the brawl at the bar and just a little bit about her husband being a boxer for most of his life. “…so he couldn’t make it tonight.”
“Damn, what happened to the Turk?” Sam grinned, sitting forward with his elbows propped on his knees.
“Don’t know, but I think he is out a few thousand Euros,” she sniggered. Sam liked her right away, just as Nina had. The petite pretty historian looked for the neck ring on Val, but she was not wearing it. Disappointed, she listened to Sam and Val make fun of the Turk and his brother who had the cheek to scrap with Scots, not to mention Scandinavian-Scottish bikers like her Gunnar.
Perhaps she should just come out and ask? Her thoughts ran rampant between Val’s villainous pursuits and the extent of her suspicion. Then Nina’s pondering turned to memory, how Val raced after her with her shopping bag and how she joked and laughed so easily. Not one to be naïve in thinking that sweet natured people could not be influenced by desperation or greed, she was at crossroads with herself on what to do next concerning her new friend. Since Val was not wearing the brass neck ring, she would have no conversation piece on which to base her inquiries. Now what?
She could not run the risk of revealing her profession solely to get information and perhaps Val if she was indeed involved. Briefly, the thought of using Sam to seduce her flashed through Nina’s mind, but two things wiped that idea — she remembered that Val was happily married and that she was not at all too comfortable pimping Sam out to anyone. Her feelings toward him were odd and erratic. She was possessive of a man she did not own and it made her feel very out of her depth, but she could never admit such a thing. What she did not expect, in all her inner debating, was that Val was far more forward than she was. The shapely biker turned her attention to Nina and bluntly asked, “So, Nina, why did you invite me here tonight?”
Sam looked at Nina from behind Val’s shoulder. Nina’s eyes met his and then Val’s. She was at a loss for words. Unprepared for a reply, she bought time with a question.
“What kind of question is that? I thought we’d get on great and I invited you for a bit of a piss-up, Val,” Nina smiled nervously, but she concealed it rather well.
Val’s eyes smiled, but her voice was dead serious when she looked Nina in the eye and sang, “You want to know who I am, don’t you?”
Sam gripped his tumbler. That moment they feared just materialized. Nina perked up. If all else failed, she would become her usual feisty self.
“Who are you, then, Val?” she winked and smiled, playing on her suggestion that she was tipsy.
“Well,” Val started like a beauty queen answering a quiz question, “I know I am not who you think I am.”
Silence. Nina frowned, feigning her clear cut understanding of Val’s admirable vigilance.
“Who…” Nina looked at Sam as she slowly addressed Val, “…do I think you are?”
With tense anticipation Sam and Nina waited for the bomb to drop.
“You think I flog stolen antiques, don’t you?” Val smiled, but Nina could not understand that she thought it was funny. “I remember you being so taken with my neck piece and I bet you invited me here to strike a deal. I bet you asked me to come so that we can have a little off the shelf antique hush-hush sale, right? Well,” she laughed as she slammed her hand lightly on Nina’s knee, “the only thing I can sell you off the board is a few J’s.”
Nina stared at her, confounded. Still laughing, Val added, “Weed, silly.”
Sam scoffed into his glass with a huge smile, knowing Nina would have his balls for laughing at her misjudgment. Little did he know that Nina just found her in. She could work with this little misunderstanding.
“Aw,” she laughed awkwardly and threw her head back, “I was really set on one of those neck pieces. At the very least, you have to tell me where you bought it. It is to die for.” Sam was immensely impressed with her quick thinking, her opportunism and her not too shabby acting skills.
“Listen, I tell you what, I have noticed that you have an affinity for ancient relics and tombs and all that stuff. How about we go have a look at the new exhibit they have at the National Museum of Scotland tomorrow? It’s on me. We’ll make a day of it,” Val suggested excitedly and chugged the last of her current helping of alcohol.
“Aye! Sounds aces!” Sam cheered. He poured wine for Nina and two tumblers of amber for Val and himself. Nina looked astonished. When Val looked at the wall art Purdue had in the hallway, she gave Sam an exasperated look of reprimand. He just waved her off and smiled.
“Go with it,” he whispered, and walked past her to join Val in a bit of impressionism analysis.
Nina stood in front of the massive window that looked out over Edinburgh. Visions of the family heirloom kept flashing through her mind. There had to be more to it than just that. And with the recent robberies, where the burglars picked precisely the same era of artifact at every institution, it was all too obvious. Wracking her brain, she tried to think of a way to trick Val into admitting or revealing involvement. Nina so desperately had to know why. What was their incentive for stealing mediocre pieces that had been in the museums for decades already?