Last Breath

11

“I thought I smelled coffee.” Daria came through the swinging kitchen door.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Connor looked up from the folder he was reading. “I’m used to getting up early.”

“I’d be crazy to object to someone making my coffee in the morning.” She smiled when she noticed the mug he’d left next to the pot for her. “Thank you. This was thoughtful of you.”

“Just as easy to make enough for two.” He shrugged without looking up. “Did you sleep?”

“Not really. I kept thinking about the break-in, and what happened to those people. But I was glad you were here.” She filled the mug and took a sip. “This is really good.”

“Thanks. You know I’m armed and can handle anything that might happen, right?”

“I really hadn’t thought about you being armed. I just figured you could handle it.” She paused. “Are you armed right now, this minute?”

He reached a hand behind his back and held up a black handgun.

“Oh.”

“Does it make you nervous?”

“Not as nervous as thinking about having my tongue cut out.”

He smiled and slid the gun back into the holster at the small of his back.

“Have you seen Sweet Thing?” Daria leaned back against the counter.

“I took her out earlier. She heard me moving around and came into my room, so I brought her down with me and we took a little walk. Last I saw her, she was sleeping on the top step.”

“She’s outside alone?” Daria frowned. “What if she runs away? Or chases someone?”

“She has been extremely well trained. When you tell her to stay, she stays.”

“You think she’s still there?”

“Go on. Take a look. I will bet you anything she’s still right there on the top step.” Connor slid several sheets of paper from the folder and appeared to be studying them.

“Anything?” Daria stopped halfway to the door. “You’re that sure?”

“I am.”

“Good. We’ll bet your car.”

“Wait a minute-”

“Hey, your idea.” Daria peeked out through the glass. The dog was standing on the top step, looking up at her. “And oh, my, that idea is certainly going to cost you.”

“You’re bluffing.” Connor was in the doorway behind her.

“You think?”

“If that dog wasn’t right there, you’d already be outside looking for her.”

“I’m that transparent?”

“Sorry, but yes.”

“Damn.” She opened the door and the dog came in, wagging her tail. “I did get your attention though, didn’t I?”

“Daria, you got my attention a long time ago.” He was leaning against the doorjamb, coffee mug in his hand.

She tried to think of something clever to say, but could not. When she realized she was blushing, she put her head down and fussed with the dog. By the time a response had come to her, he’d gone back into the kitchen alone.

“What is on your agenda today?” Connor was at the table, acting as if he had not just thrown a pitch she hadn’t bothered to take a swing at.

“I have a meeting with Louise in about twenty minutes.” Daria filled Sweet Thing’s water bowl at the sink.

“Then what?”

She shrugged. “Just work. I expect the museum will be a busy place with all the inspectors and insurance people, so I’ll work here. And since someone from the FBI is going to go after the missing artifacts, I can go about my business.”

“Which business is that?”

“Designing the exhibits. Deciding what to showcase, what should go where. How best to display certain pieces.”

“So you decided to stay.”

“I think I’ve known since day one I’d be staying. I guess I just wanted to believe I was making an intellectual decision rather than an emotional one.”

“What’s wrong with making decisions based on your emotions?”

“I’m a scientist,” she said, as if that should explain it. “Anyway, I’m eager to start. I need to put a lot of thought into how I want to present things. This will be the debut of Shandihar’s culture to the rest of the world, so I want to get it right. And I want to convey Alistair’s joy in having found the city. I want people to be able to see Shandihar the way he saw it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It will be.” Her eyes darkened. “At least, it would be, if we didn’t have these murders…”

He placed the papers on the table before him in a neat stack. “Regardless of what has happened, you still have a job to do. You have a lot of responsibility. Getting the museum reopened is the goal, right? To help keep the school going?”

She nodded.

“Then focus on that, and only that.”

“I can’t. I thought about this a lot last night.” She sat across the table from him. “About Alistair and his search for Shandihar. Finding it. Packing up everything he could get his hands on and bringing it back here. He was so proud of himself, that he’d found a place that no one else believed existed. He couldn’t wait to show the world what he’d found. And then he died. Now that the university is finally going to display the Shandihar artifacts, once again, people are dying.”

“I thought you said Alistair died of a lung infection.”

“He did. But I was remembering last night that Iliana wrote in her diaries about several others connected with the expedition who’d died after Alistair. Three of his assistants died within the next two years.”

“How?”

“The same vague ‘lung disease’ that Alistair died from.”

“Maybe they all picked up the virus at the same time.”

She looked doubtful.

“Seriously. Think about it. They were all in the same part of the world together. They might have picked up a virus or some sort of bacteria.”

“And it lay dormant in all four men for two, three, or four years?” She shook her head.

“Right. I’d forgotten that Alistair returned to Howe two years before he died. And if the others died within two years, that would have been…” He tried to recall the dates.

“Anywhere from 1911 to 1912. My great-grandfather died in late 1910.”

“So what are you saying, Daria?”

“I don’t know. You’re the investigator. You tell me.” She stole a look at the clock. “I have to get going or I’ll be late for my meeting with Louise.”

She rinsed her mug out in the sink. “Thanks for the coffee. And for letting Sweet Thing out. I apologize for not being able to offer you breakfast.”

“I’ll pick up something later. I’m pretty resourceful.”

“Will you be here when I get back?” She paused with her hand on the kitchen door.

“Would you like me to be?” His eyes held hers for a long moment.

“Yes. I would.”

“Then I’ll see you later.”

“Great. See you later.” She pushed through the door and as it swung back, he called to her.

“Daria. Where are Iliana’s diaries?”

“Upstairs on the table next to my bed.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?’

“Not at all,” she called back as she unlocked the front door. “Go for it.”

Daria stepped out onto the front porch and drew in a deep breath of sheer mugginess. It had been years since she’d experienced an American summer in this part of the country, and she’d forgotten how oppressive the humidity could be. She had become accustomed to the dry desert air.

Instead of her usual work clothes-shorts and a T-shirt-she’d put on a khaki skirt that fell to her knees and a sleeveless cotton shirt because she wasn’t sure if anyone else would be at her meeting this morning. She hoped it wouldn’t be the bankers. Or the insurance people. She wouldn’t mind the contractors who were going to work on the building, though; she’d like to have some input if they were going to alter the interior design. She made a mental note to ask Louise about that. The Great Room had been perfectly designed for exhibitions like the one she had in mind. There was no need to mess with what worked.

Vita was on the phone when Daria stepped into the reception area. She waved Daria in, pointed to Louise’s open door, and mouthed the words, “Go on in, she’s waiting for you.”

“Louise?” Daria entered the inner office.

“Over here.” Louise was at a small conference table that was set up by the windows on the right side of the room. “I was just looking over some of the notes I made when the security firm was here yesterday.”

“Has anything been decided?”

“Yes. The bank is refurbishing a large secure space in the basement of their main branch in downtown Wilmington. They’re hoping to have it completed by the end of the week. In the meantime, there are several guards at the museum keeping an eye on things.”

“Why move the collection at all, if bringing in more guards works?”

“The bank feels that the artifacts will be safer if they’re locked away in a vault.”

“That’s probably what Mrs. Sevrenson thought, too.”

“What?” Louise frowned. “Who?”

“Elena Sevrenson. The woman in Philadelphia who was murdered. Her niece told us she had a vault in her basement. That’s where she kept the griffins.”

“And yet they were the only things stolen. Odd that nothing else was taken.” Louise took a seat at the table and motioned for Daria to do the same.

“Particularly since there were other highly valuable objects on display in the dining room at the time.”

“That couple out in Gladwyne-do we know what was stolen from their home?”

“I suspect I do, but I’m sure the FBI will let us know for certain.”

“And the gentleman from Delaware?”

“Someone will be searching the house to confirm what was stolen. The piece he owned from the university’s collection-a statue of the goddess Ereshkigal that’s almost two feet tall-should be easy enough to spot.”

“Good Lord, you’d have to be an idiot not to see the connection.” Louise swore softly under her breath. “It’s only a matter of time before this story breaks and the phones start ringing off the hook.”

“Louise, does Howe have a public relations person?”

“We did.” Louise sighed. “She left at the end of the semester and we haven’t replaced her yet.”

“Is there anyone on staff you could call upon as acting public relations director to at least see you through the next few weeks? Unless you have the time to deal with the media yourself, it could get ugly.”

“Good point. Let me think on this for a while. Maybe there is someone…” She bit her bottom lip. “In the meantime, I have some things to give you.”

Louise got up and walked to her desk, where a cardboard box sat on the chair. She carried the box to Daria at the table.

“In here is a copy of the catalog from the Oliver Jacobs exhibit.”

“The one that marked the opening of the museum?” Daria’s eyebrows raised in interest.

“Yes. Vita is still searching for the records Casper Fenn kept, detailing his acquisitions and sales. I haven’t had time to help her look more thoroughly. I imagine you would welcome the opportunity to see what transpired back in the 1940s and 1950s.”

“I would, thank you. Can I take the catalog back to the house?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I should tell you that I may have had a break-in at McGowan House last night.”

Louise frowned. “And you waited until now to tell me? Did you call the police? What was taken?”

“I meant to tell you as soon as I arrived this morning, but we started talking about other things. As far as I can tell, nothing was taken, but Connor thinks somebody got some information from my computer.”

“Why? And what?”

“I made a list of the artifacts I think were stolen. The file had been opened before I got home last night.”

“Did you call the police?” Louise asked pointedly.

“No. Since there was an FBI agent at the house, and the case has been turned over to them, we-Connor and I-didn’t think it was necessary to call the local police.”

“This is very serious, Daria,” Louise got up again and began to pace. “Our museum has been robbed. People who owned some of the stolen artifacts have been murdered. And now there’s been a break-in on our campus. I’m not sure what to do about any of this. I thought reopening the museum would be the answer to our problems, but it seems to be turning into the catalyst for more problems.”

“Do you have a choice?” Daria asked. “As upsetting as all this has been”-Daria touched Louise on the arm-“is there really a question of whether or not the museum should be reopened?”

“No.” Louise sighed. “I don’t know what else to do. We went over every other conceivable option weeks ago. The trustees and I agreed that there’s nothing else that will be of any lasting benefit to the university. So we will have to proceed, in spite of the murders and the thefts.”

She tapped her pen on the tabletop. “Of course, there’s no press like sensational press.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” Daria agreed. “Which is why you’re going to want to find someone who can start fielding questions and act as a liaison between the university and the media.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, we will need the press when it’s time to open the museum. Yes, you’re right. I need to address this as soon as possible.”

“The sooner the better, I’m afraid.”

“About these art theft people from the FBI…when might we expect them?”

“Connor is arranging that. He spoke with his office yesterday.”

“Good, that’s good.” Louise nodded. “The security people have been at the museum since yesterday afternoon. If you’re thinking about getting in the building, you’re going to need this.”

Louise took a badge from an envelope that lay on the table and handed it to Daria. “No one’s getting in without one of these, so make sure you have it on when you go down there.”

“Thanks.” Daria put the badge in her bag. “By the way, what arrangements have been made to appraise the collection?”

“Penn is sending someone next week on the bank’s behalf.” Louise brightened. “At least we’re making progress in that quarter. Oh, and more good news. Dr. Bokhari will be back tomorrow evening, so you’ll have some help with the exhibit, if you want it.”

“That is good news. I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Daria pushed the chair away from the table. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to get to work on those displays.”

“There is something.” Louise got up and opened the office door. “Vita, do you have those envelopes…yes, those.”

Daria followed Louise into the reception area where Vita was removing several large brown envelopes from her desk.

“I found this in one of the file cabinets downstairs when I was searching for Casper Fenn’s records.” Vita handed the envelopes to Daria.

“The photographs that were taken at Shandihar,” Louise told her. “They might help you plan your displays, since the artifacts themselves will be going into the vault soon. Not that you won’t have access to them, but having these right in front of you might make your job a little easier.”

“Definitely. Thank you. I can’t wait to look at them.” Daria opened the lid of the box and dropped the envelopes inside. “I’ll take good care of them.”

“Let me know when the FBI’s art people get here,” Louise called after Daria who was already on her way out of the office.

“I will.”

Daria closed the door behind her, her heart pounding. She fought an urge to dance down the front steps of the building. She couldn’t get back to McGowan House fast enough.

“Connor?” she called as she entered the house. From the kitchen, there was music playing softly, and she hurried toward it.

When she pushed through the swinging doors, she found Connor still seated at the table, Sweet Thing at his feet and a sweet thing with long blond hair sitting in the chair she herself had occupied just an hour or so ago.

“Daria.” Connor smiled when he looked up at her. “Meet Special Agent Polly Kingston. NSAF. Here to save the day.”

“Oh. Hello.” Daria exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” Polly looked over her shoulder and met Daria’s eyes.

Polly Kingston was older than Daria had first thought. Maybe early fifties, but she’d kept herself together very well.

Sweet Thing greeted Daria enthusiastically, and she leaned over to give the dog a pat on the head.

“Connor was just bringing me up to date on the case. I have to admit, this is more complex than what I’ve handled in the past.”

“How so?” Daria took the chair between Polly and Connor.

“Well, our art-theft cases don’t generally have this element of murder running through them. Yes, of course, there are cases where people dealing in stolen art or antiquities have been killed, but I’ve never seen a case like this. We were just discussing the best way to handle it. I think my first priority will be to recover the artifacts that are still in the hands of private collectors. Hopefully before someone else is killed.”

“The people in Connecticut and Marion, Massachusetts,” Daria noted. “And then you’ll contact the museums and galleries?”

“Yes, though I’ll have another agent working on the institutions,” Polly told her. “As luck would have it, we are really shorthanded right now. There was a big theft at a gallery in California over the weekend, and some Picassos were stolen in Michigan on Friday, and there’s an ongoing investigation of some Internet sales that’s just heating up. So we’re stretched pretty thin right now. I was just thanking Connor for doing some of the legwork for me. I appreciate having the list of stolen items and their probable locations handed to me.” She smiled at Connor. “You’ve saved me a great deal of time.”

“Actually, Daria was the one who knew to use the Internet to locate the collectors. We found the collectors, but unfortunately, someone else found them before we did.”

“Shouldn’t someone be warning the others?” Daria asked.

“That’s already being done,” Polly assured her. “John Mancini has contacted agents in each of the locations to make contact with the individuals ASAP.”

“And then you’ll go in and see about getting the university’s property back?”

“We’ll do our best,” Polly assured Daria, “but Howe could very well end up in litigation if any of the institutions don’t want to cough up important pieces. Especially since Howe is planning on placing a very bright spotlight on Shandihar over the next few years. The museums that have artifacts to put on display are going to want to keep them for a while.”

“Actually, Agent Kingston, right now I’m more concerned about the people who possess the artifacts. Having them returned is secondary at this point.”

“The plan is to arrange for them to be protected,” Connor told her.

“So whose job is it to figure out who is stealing the artifacts, and who is killing the collectors?” Daria looked from Connor to Polly and back again.

“The homicide investigations are being handled by the police departments where the murders took place,” he told her.

Daria frowned. “I’m sure they’re all very competent, but let’s face it, the Blumes and Elena Sevrenson were murdered months ago. Connor, do either of the investigating departments have any leads?”

“None that I know of.”

“Who is coordinating the investigations? If there are two departments involved, who’s on first here?” Daria stared at Connor. “And if there’s another death, that brings in another police department. Why isn’t the FBI taking over the case?”

“I’ll be coordinating the theft portion of the case,” Polly told her, “and I’ll have agents working with me in each city.”

“But shouldn’t someone be looking over the entire thing? The thefts and the murders? Shouldn’t the left hand know what the right hand is doing here?”

Connor glanced at Polly, then told Daria, “That’s what we were discussing when you came in. John’s asked me to hold the reins on this one, to do exactly what you just described. Liaison between the Bureau and the various police departments.”

“Is that the sort of thing you usually do?” Daria asked him.

“Not in this context, but I serve as middleman, so to speak, quite often.” He smiled faintly. “In this case, I’ll be working here, at Howe, since this is the hub.”

Daria turned to Polly. “Will you also be handling the theft here? The original theft from the museum?”

“Yes, once we’ve located and secured the missing artifacts, but that aspect of the case will be much more complicated, and might never be solved. No one knows when that theft occurred. The perpetrator may well be deceased. Right now, given the fact that someone else is hunting down the collectors, and has a head start, we need to make them our priority.”

“I agree completely,” Daria said, “and I do appreciate how hard it’s going to be to-”

Polly’s phone rang. She excused herself and answered, then listened intently. Finally, she said, “I should be there by three o’clock. Secure the scene and keep out everyone except the ME until I get there.”

She closed her phone with a snap.

“I’m afraid we’re a day late in Connecticut.”

“My God, not another one!” Daria gasped.

“Two, actually.” Polly Kingston’s relaxed demeanor had disappeared in a heartbeat. “The preliminary report indicates Cloris Porter was home alone when the killer or killers entered her home.” She looked at Connor. “They killed her in the manner you previously described, then apparently waited in the home until her husband, Justin, arrived. Their son-in-law went to the house around ten-thirty last night when he was unable to contact either of them by phone. It’s believed that theft was the motive, but it’s unknown what was taken from the home.”

“Connor, do you have the list of collectors and the pieces they own?” Daria asked.

He opened the folder and skimmed the list until he found what he was looking for.

“One two-handled ceremonial goblet, gold, encrusted with emeralds.”

“Well, at least I’ll know what to look for when I get there.” Polly made notes in a small notebook she took from her bag.

“What about the woman in Massachusetts?” Daria asked.

“We have someone trying to contact her right now. I hope we get to her in time.” Polly was all business. “I have a plane to catch in an hour. Tell me everything you know about this Shandihar culture, everything you know about the missing artifacts, and who you think might have a reason to be killing these people and why. I also need a description of the artifacts you think the Porters might have had.”

“I can do better than a description.” Daria went to the counter where she’d placed the box she brought back from Louise’s office and opened the lid. She took out the envelope. “These are photographs that were taken at the site. Many of the artifacts were photographed as they were discovered. With luck, we’ll have pictures of the missing items. If not, we still have the drawings Alistair made.”

Her heart was pounding as she opened the envelope and carefully removed the many photos, none of which she had seen yet. The first photo was of a man standing between two stone pillars. He wore field clothes, a large straw hat, and an enormous smile. Daria lifted the photo and stared at it intently, as if taking in every detail, before placing it on the table.

“If my guess is correct, this is Alistair McGowan at the portals of Shandihar. Let’s see what wonders he found, shall we?”

Daria passed the photograph to Connor, who gave it a cursory glance before passing it on to Polly. She studied it momentarily before placing it to one side on the table.

“And here we have a bronze statue of a woman. Maybe one of the priestesses.” Daria said. “I think we saw this statue the other day.”

She handed the picture to Connor and went on to the next. “Some sort of chalice. Looks to be of gold, judging from the way the light is reflecting off it on the side.” She glanced across the table at Connor. “We’ve seen this one, too. Let’s look for the artifacts we haven’t seen.”

Daria went through the first envelope, then the second. With each stack of photographs she set aside, she became more confused. When she’d gone through all the envelopes and had passed along each photo, she turned to Connor and said, “No large bronze statue of Ereshkigal, no golden griffins. No gold necklace…there must be another envelope of photos somewhere.”

“You’re sure?” Polly asked. “Maybe you should take another look.”

“Daria’s right,” Connor said. “The photos of the missing artifacts are missing as well, and I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I don’t think you’re going to find another envelope that just happens to have all those pictures in it.”

“What do you think happened to them?” Daria asked.

“I think whoever is behind the thefts has the photos,” he told her.

“So there’s no proof that the items even existed.” Polly thought aloud.

“Alistair wrote in his journals about every item he found, and he even sketched many of them himself. We know they existed. We know he brought them back,” Daria said.

“I think it’s more likely that the person who took the photos passed them on to whoever had been sent out after them,” Connor said, “so that the killers would know what they were looking for.”

“That would explain how they knew to take only the Shandihar pieces.” Polly said thoughtfully. “Doesn’t it make you wonder, though, why someone would kill to recover these specific pieces, but completely overlook other very valuable artifacts? The Blume’s house was reported to have had a fortune in artwork. Why didn’t they touch anything else? A common thief wouldn’t have left it all there.”

“These aren’t common thieves,” Daria told her. “Whoever is doing this believes he’s on a holy mission to recover the artifacts that were stolen from the museum.”

“Frankly, I have a hard time with that ‘holy quest’ thing, Daria. If that’s true-if the point is to return the artifacts-where are they? Nothing’s been brought back.” Connor shook his head. “Forgive my skepticism, but I think there’s more to it than that. I’m a lot more comfortable with the common thief thing.”

“Well, unfortunately, holy crusader or common criminal, I don’t think they’re finished. There are still several artifacts out there,” Polly reminded them. “I just hope we can track them down before someone else does…”