Part 26 (1/2)
In the meantime, she tried not to think too much about it. She'd burned her bridges, and whatever was meant to happen would. She'd deal with it.
”So even with Nightshade safely out of action,” she said as she stood near the guards' station with Storm, Quinn, and Wolfe, watching the first of the day's visitors beginning to trickle in, ”the exhibit will continue to run.”
”Yeah, Max considers that a given,” Wolfe said, more resigned than anything else. ”Which means we can't let down our guard.”
”Still a lot of thieves out there,” Quinn said. ”Trust me on that.”
”And unanswered questions,” Morgan reminded them. ”The Jane Doe, the knife in the bas.e.m.e.nt-we still don't know what that was all about.”
”Maybe we do,” Keane Tyler said as he reached them. ”Where's Max? And Jared?”
Morgan didn't like the look on his face. ”What do you- Never mind. Steve?” she called out to one of the guards. ”Page Mr. Bannister, will you, please? Private page. Tell him we need him and Mr. Chavalier in the lobby.”
”Yes, ma'am.” He immediately picked up the phone to call Max's pager.
Morgan looked back at the other men in time to intercept a glance between the police inspector and Quinn, and she abruptly realized something. ”You weren't surprised to find Alex here last night,” she said slowly. ”You know, don't you, Keane?”
The men exchanged glances again, and Keane said in a lowered voice, ”Max wanted at least one cop to know exactly what was going on. Two, actually. The commissioner and me. So, yes, I know who Alex is. And who Quinn is.”
”Jesus, I'm surrounded by actors,” she muttered. ”I never guessed you had a clue about Quinn. You hunted down all the information for me, and-”
”Information?” Quinn said curiously.
”Never mind.” Somewhat dryly, she added, ”An awful lot of people seem to know your secret ident.i.ty. I'd watch that if I were you.”
”You might have a point.”
”We could all wear decoder rings,” Wolfe suggested, deadpan. ”Or have a secret handshake just so he can keep up with who knows.”
To Morgan, Quinn said, ”Thanks so much for helping him to take me even less seriously.”
”Happy to oblige.”
”I couldn't possibly take you less seriously,” Wolfe told his brother.
Keane said, ”I thought it was Jared who was mad as h.e.l.l at you. Do you p.i.s.s everybody off?”
”He tries,” Morgan said.
”I have a host of friends,” Quinn murmured.
Jared and Max arrived then, and Max lifted inquiring brows at Keane. ”You have the look of a man who's having a very bad day,” he noted.
”The worst.” Keane had at least smiled faintly at the byplay between Morgan, Wolfe, and Quinn, but now he was serious again. His face was strained. ”The forensics people finally pulled a usable print from Jane Doe. We ran it against the criminal and police databases and got a match. She is-was-Gillian Newman.”
It was Morgan who spoke up first, saying, ”Wait a minute. Inspector Inspector Gillian Newman?” Gillian Newman?”
”Yes.”
”Then who was that with you all this time?”
He shook his head. ”Whoever she was, she left her desk to get coffee about four this morning and vanished. After the I.D. came in, we checked her apartment. Empty. Boxes everywhere, which means the real Gillian at least had time to move her stuff in. But not to unpack. And there was no sign anybody ever lived there.”
Quinn took a step toward him. ”A cop. She impersonated a cop.”
”Looks like,” Keane agreed grimly. ”Did a pretty G.o.dd.a.m.ned good job too. Presumably to get inside the department. And inside this museum, on the pretext of investigating the very murder she committed. She killed the real Gillian and then left us all those nice, clear signposts pointing here. Ever since we found that body, she's been cleared to come and go here as she pleased. We rolled out the f.u.c.king welcome mat for her.”
”Jesus Christ,” Quinn said. ”The collection.”
Ten minutes later, with the Mysteries Past Mysteries Past exhibit closed to the public and guards stationed at the doors, Keane and the others watched Max and Quinn, the two most familiar with the Bannister collection, move from display to display, studying the individual pieces. exhibit closed to the public and guards stationed at the doors, Keane and the others watched Max and Quinn, the two most familiar with the Bannister collection, move from display to display, studying the individual pieces.
Not surprisingly, it was Quinn who found it.
”Here,” he said. ”s.h.i.+t.”
The others joined him immediately.
”The Talisman emerald?” Morgan said. ”But it's here. It looks-”
”It looks real. It isn't. Storm, the display alarms?”
”Off. Just a second.” She opened a concealed access panel in the display's base and punched in a code. There was a soft click, and the case opened. ”Okay, that kills all internal alarms as well. You can pick it up.”
Quinn reached inside, using his handkerchief in lieu of gloves. ”I guarantee there are no prints,” he said. ”Still . . .” Carefully, he lifted the wide gold bangle with its oval emerald and held it up so they could all examine it.
”Are you sure?” Morgan asked. ”It looks real.”
”It's a good copy. A d.a.m.ned good copy.” He turned the bangle slightly to see the underside of the setting. ”The workmans.h.i.+p is too new; the genuine piece showed faint hammer marks in the gold.” He turned it back so that the ”emerald” flashed green fire. ”And the stone is just one shade too pale.”
”How did she get into the case?” Storm demanded. ”None of the alarms has been tripped.”
”I don't know. Christ, Max, I'm sorry.”
”It isn't your fault, Alex.”
”No? I asked you to risk the collection. I told you I'd keep it safe.”
”You did keep it safe-from the threat we knew about. None of us saw this coming.”
”I should have,” Quinn said. ”I should have.”
It was after midnight when Morgan woke to see Quinn standing at the window gazing out on a chilly, foggy San Francisco night.
”Alex?”
He stirred slightly and then returned to the bed, sliding in beside her and drawing her into his arms. ”Go back to sleep, sweet.”