Chapter 17

 

Annie Straw handed Todd Wainwright a sheaf of papers.

“What’s this? Filing?” he asked. “Isn’t that your job?”

The saucy intern looked him in the eye. “It will be. But Mr. Higgins wants you to look over everything before I file them. It’s just a bunch of bills of lading, receiving papers on the Grand Canyon artifacts exhibit for next month.”

Todd snatched the pages from her.

“In a mood, are we?” she asked. “Everyone else is looking forward to the gala tomorrow night.”

He turned away, stalking back toward the cubicle that served as his office. Sure, all the interns thought it was great fun to dress up and hobnob with the society folks who were invited annually for the museum’s biggest fundraiser. He hated squeezing into a tuxedo. Those monkey suits only looked good on tall, slim James Bond types.

The main exhibit hall had been rearranged, display islands pushed to other areas, and round tables with eight chairs each had been rolling in all morning. The plain gray walls were now festooned with gold, copper and silver bunting, in keeping with the theme: Strike it Rich in Arizona! A play on the state’s mining history, going along with the big exhibit running this month. Balloons in metallic colors were being formed into a huge entry arch this morning. Flowers and plants had been gilded and arranged as table centerpieces, while on the more rustic side of it an old mining cart and a few picks and shovels added to the glorified mining theme.

Live and silent auctions were planned, each item fitting the same subject. He knew of several pieces of valuable jewelry that would no doubt attract sizeable bids. Everyone had carefully avoided talking about the events of last autumn, especially the missing emerald-and-diamond necklace. Of course, no one here knew that the necklace and its status had been so recently under investigation again. Which reminded him, why had he still not heard from Dick Stone?

Annie startled him, peering around the corner of his cubicle with a cardboard box in her hands. “It’s something more for the gala, I suppose.”

Todd nodded toward the corner of his desk and she set the package there. He recognized the return address of the company where museum flyers were printed.

“Annie!” The female voice belonged to another of the spring interns. “I wanted to ask you if you’ve bought your dress yet.”

Annie gave Todd a wary look and steered the other young woman away. “I found the most gorgeous …” Their voices trailed off.

Employees had been told to wear the colors of precious metals—Todd’s only nod to the theme was a gold bow tie. He’d heard the ladies talking about how much fun they’d had shopping for glittering new dresses. Personally, he thought the whole thing was a bit much, considering mining was dirty, dust-covered work.

After you’d done these events a few times, it became more a matter of dreading the stiff, rented tuxedo and spending hours with a smile on your face in response to the b.s. chatter from men who compared their brokerage accounts and bragged to each other about their yachts down in Mexico.

Meanwhile, he was nothing but a glorified paperwork shuffler. Todd flopped into his swivel chair. See? There was a new memo someone had dropped on his desk in the few minutes he’d walked to the copy machine and back. He set aside the pages Annie had given him and glanced at the printout. It was the final guest list for the gala.

As third in command at the museum he was expected to memorize the names, know their credentials, and be ready to chat and smile with any of them. He scanned the list. Most were the city’s elite, already familiar to him since they attended every year. At the bottom of the second page, he came to a sudden stop. A few last-minute guests had been added: Penelope Fitzpatrick plus one, and Sandra Werner plus one.

He didn’t know this Sandra Werner but he sure as hell knew who Penelope Fitzpatrick was. They’d never met but her name had been on his mind for more than six months.

Surely she’d been sent an invitation early on, so why was she only now added to the list? This week, of all times. Could she be suspicious of the museum staff? Worse, could she have any idea of his own involvement? He thought frantically. What would he say to the woman when they met?