But she had a date with Professor Herman Lockhart, a local rare book dealer who had a way of finding the most untraceable collections for the right price. She was bound to meet him at Costa Coffee in WH Smith within the next 10 minutes, or she would lose her investment, and perhaps his trust. Since Nina’s last life-threatening ordeal in the company of Purdue and her best friend, Sam Cleave, she had made a conscious decision to change her career path to something a bit more discerning, a bit more deserving of her expertise without having to compromise her integrity. She was done with being a subordinate achiever under the insidious oppression of older male academics who wished her to fail. Now she was working as a consultant for Museums, international documentary television productions, and the odd collector of artifacts pertaining to recent history. She enjoyed the freedom that came with it, less stress, and the fact that she didn’t have to prove herself to those who disrespected her. Being by Purdue’s side did not mar her success either, but that was just an additional incentive. With his generosity, she had managed to establish herself as an independent professional with various study fields available to her. Things were running smoothly for a change, but she never tempted fate or took anything for granted, especially when she knew why she had agreed to become involved with Purdue in the first place.
Nina paid for her sandals and rushed to get to the coffee shop before Herman arrived. As she passed the shops on her way, ducking to stay out of the downpour, she noticed that someone was trailing her quite briskly. Nina dared not turn to look, but she noticed the figure move almost simultaneously with her in the reflections of the shop windows.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ was her first response; as always, in a defensive mode. By now, given the hellish situations and terrain she had survived before, it was not surprising that her reactions were combative in nature. Then again, this was Dr. Nina Gould, PhD in Bitchery and Professor of Insults 101 with a MA in Fuck You. It worried her that someone would follow her even in the worsening weather, but she knew she would make it to Costa before her follower caught up with her. In there, among people and security personnel, she could safely determine what her pursuer wanted from her. There was no harm in being careful.
When she entered the coffee shop premises, the small firecracker turned immediately, ready for a fight. But she was faced with none other than the leather clad punk chick from Clarks and it snapped her words right back into her throat before she could utter anything.
“Jesus, but you can move, love!” the woman panted, her eccentric hair sticking to her face and neck from the drench she was dealt while following Nina. “Your bag. You left your bag in Clarks.”
“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot! I’m so sorry,” Nina gasped, half amused and fully embarrassed. Her hand shot up to her mouth and her wide brown eyes pinned the smiling stranger’s.
“Here,” the lady said finally and handed Nina the shopping bag. “I’ve had my workout for the day now.”
“I feel terrible. I thought you were a… I thought…” Nina stuttered with an awkward smirk.
“It’s alright, love,” the lady laughed, “I’m used to being confused with a delinquent. Or a rapist.”
Nina raised an eyebrow, and then realized that her new acquaintance had a sense of humor. She burst out laughing, her eye catching the fascinating neck ring again as she chuckled with the woman.
“Nina Gould. Pleased to meet you, dear bag rescuer.” Nina reached out her hand and was rewarded with a warm smile and a swift handshake from the leather clad vixen.
“Val Joutsen,” the woman replied with a courteous nod.
Nina liked her straight away. Val was clearly a humorous and charming individual. Her haunting blue eyes narrowed with laugh lines as she smiled. Nina guessed her at about 48 years of age and noticed that Val was quite beautiful. A flawless skin and luscious lips gave her the effect of some well-groomed rock star from a magazine. Apart from heavy black eyeliner and shadow on her eyes, she wore little more make-up and she was surprisingly void of piercings, as her image would normally require.
“Val, let me buy you a Cappuccino for your torments. I insist,” Nina said, hoping that Herman would run late or get discouraged by the weather.
“I don’t want to impose. You were clearly in a hell of a rush here,” the perceptive Mrs. Joutsen noted.
“Yes, I was, but now that we are here, why not? Come, have a seat. I simply have to know where you got that magnificent piece around your neck,” Nina said as they sat down at a booth in the corner. She did her best to sound as nonchalant and empty headed as possible about her observation. But at once, Val looked surprised that the petite brunette was taken by her jewelry. Her fingertips lingered over the brass crescent as she grew quiet.
“Did I say something wrong?” Nina played up her denseness a bit to make Val feel more at ease.
“No, love. It’s just that I did not think you even saw it under all these layers of shirt collar and jacket leather,” she smiled shyly. “It’s an old family heirloom.”
“It is remarkable. Is it old?” Nina asked. Val gave her a look that teetered on disbelief, but fell back to amusement.
“Yes, Nina. It is old. Probably older than your great-great-grandparents, I’d say.”
“You have a slight accent. Scandinavian?” Nina kept trying to play dumb while she pried shamelessly.
“Oh, there is quite a culmination of cultures in these veins,” Val giggled. “Icelandic, Finnish and some German — suffered high school in Cardiff. But I have travelled extensively, so I just call myself a world citizen.”
“I like that,” Nina replied. ‘Or should that be ‘Germanic’?’ she thought in amused excitement. There was something enthralling about Val, but she could not place it. All she knew was that she had to know about the brass neck ring. “Are you in Scotland for the Highland Games, then?”
“Oh, yes, we went to have a look when we drove through. We were going to check out the Cowal Gathering like we did a few years ago, but we were too far this year. We caught the Inverness festivities and I tell you, it was…” she seemed to think on her words, “…amusing. Very interesting how such tough sports come to being, right?”
“I have always refrained from attempting any of that crazy crap,” Nina laughed, “I just go to see the dancing.”
“Of course! With that dainty figure you’d first be used as a tossing object than a participant!” Val chuckled heartily as their coffee arrived. “I thought most Scots preferred tea.”
“Normally, I suppose. Sometimes, I just like a strong cup of coffee to keep me on my toes,” Nina smiled, making sure Val would not notice her scrutiny of the brass piece. In truth, she was carefully investigating the detail of it so that she could later reference it in her book, ‘Viking Hoards and Discoveries from Scotland’.
“Is that man here for you, perhaps? Because if he is not, he is a creepier stalker than I was earlier,” Val remarked suddenly, gazing over Nina’s shoulder to where an old man was impatiently eyeing her. Nina turned.
“Oh shit, it’s Herman,” she said, and raised her hand to hail him. But the reclusive scholar and collector was not one for joining company and he nodded nervously, waiting for Nina to come to him instead.
“Am I in his seat?” Val asked, wiping her hair back.
“No, not at all. He is just a bit shy,” Nina smiled, but she was anxious not to lose him either. “Val, please excuse me for a second?”