Chapter 19

 

Golden champagne sent trails of delicate bubbles rising to the top of the crystal flute Benton Case handed Penelope. She smiled. They were a handsome couple, she had to admit it. She in her favorite black sheath with a silver guipure lace jacket, Benton in his best designer tuxedo, to which he’d added a silver satin tie and cummerbund. This was one occasion where being silver-haired was an asset, definitely.

She turned to survey the museum’s main exhibit hall, which had been transformed for the evening. Strategically placed lighting glimmered off each gold, silver and copper decoration while leaving the dining tables in enough shadow so the candlelit arrangements glowed.

“Penelope and Benton, welcome!” Stanley Higgins walked toward Pen, arms stretched expansively. “So glad the two of you were able to join us.”

“Thank you, Stan,” Pen said. “One of those things … we were able to get out of our other obligation.” The story she’d concocted when requesting four last-minute tickets.

Benton smiled—that lovely natural smile of his—and shook the other man’s hand. As a former prosecutor, later a successful attorney in private practice, he’d learned the fine art of conversation without really saying anything. Pen had already cautioned him that the entire reason she wanted to be here tonight was to spy on the museum staff, to see if their versions of the robbery all those months ago seemed to hold up.

What she hadn’t confided was the plan devised by the Heist Ladies.

There they were … across the room. Sandy studied the items on the silent auction table, while Gracie mused over a collection of photographs of an 1890s mine camp down near Bisbee in southern Arizona.

Stanley Higgins noticed where Pen was looking. “Ah, Penelope. Be certain to take a look at our lovely collection of auction items. And, Benton, you be certain she bids on them.”

He gave a wink, as if her being here tonight indicated her forgiveness for this organization’s part in the loss of her most valued personal possession. She wanted to send her black Ferragamo-clad toe right into his shin. But she had something better in mind. She merely offered an enigmatic smile.

“Here’s Todd now,” Higgins said.

He beckoned subtly to a short, chubby man in his early forties who straightened his gold bow tie as he approached. Introductions all around. Pen pretended she didn’t know of Todd’s position here or the fact he’d been the one who left the alarm system off for a short time that fateful night.

“Todd can show you around, point out the best of the auction items …” With a hand on Todd’s shoulder, Stan steered the participants together. He excused himself, his eye already on his next target.

Too blatant, Pen thought. But since Wainwright was here … She gave a quick glance toward Sandy Werner, who met her eye and gave an imperceptible nod.

“Benton, could you be a dear and see about refilling my glass?” she said.

He headed toward the bar in the farthest corner, taking the hint, leaving her alone with Wainwright for a few minutes.

Pen stepped to one side, forcing Todd to turn his back to the door that said Staff Only at the far side of the room. Sandy, meanwhile, had her eye on Stanley Higgins. When he became engaged in conversation with a lovely young woman in a very low-cut dress, Gracie neatly glided over beside Sandy and the two slipped through the forbidden doorway to the offices. Pen smiled and turned her attention back to Todd.

“So, let’s see some of those wonderful auction items,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Minimal night lighting covered the office section of the museum, Sandy quickly discovered. Amber had graciously located floor plans of the building for them, but they had no way of knowing in advance which office they wanted. All they knew was they had very little time—and no safety—in being here. Almost any employee could walk in at any moment.

We want every document the museum has pertaining to that robbery, Sandy had told the Ladies at their meeting earlier this afternoon. Pen had filled them in on what she’d learned at the police station. Now, if they could only find some type of proof to refute what the police had been told.

“Here!” Sandy murmured. She pointed to the black and white plate beside a closed door. “Stanley Higgins, Director.”

They’d guessed that the safe and the most important files would probably be located here. Slipping inside, Sandy closed the door.

“Lock it,” Gracie whispered.

“But what if he—”

“Better he questions whether he really locked it than to have him popping in here with no warning. At least he has to rattle the doorknob this way.” Gracie switched on a small desk lamp.

With an extra fifteen seconds security, they took opposite sides of the room. Sandy sat in Higgins’ desk chair and pulled open his file drawers. Gracie began looking behind pictures on the walls, hoping to find the safe.

“It’s not going to be sitting there unlocked,” Sandy said, keeping her voice low. Her fingers played over the tabs on the files but nothing seemed related to the European crown jewels collection or the robbery.

“I know. I just … I don’t know.”

Gracie had peered behind four large paintings, the only ones large enough to conceal much of anything. She stepped to a narrow doorway, assuming it would lead to an executive washroom or such.

“Ha! Look here.” The closet contained a fairly large safe, about three feet wide by five feet tall.

Sandy stood up. “Great, a Lexington Five. Nobody without the combination can get into that thing. Except maybe an expert safecracker who has a couple hours to work on it.”

“The night of the robbery … Pen said …”

“The guy who was supposed to lock up was back within twenty minutes. Not even the best safecracker could get in and out of it that fast.” Sandy stared at the complicated buttons on the front of the safe. “I think this model even has a timer feature. Properly armed, no one would get into this until the museum opened for business on Tuesday.”

“So, we have nothing? There wasn’t exactly anything in the files.”

“Not so,” Sandy said, pointing out a manila folder on the desk. “Look at that.”

Before Gracie could step over to the desk for a peek, the doorknob rattled. On the other side, a mild curse in a male voice.