Ruby Red Herring

by Tracy Gardner

  Micah agreed. “Yes, I’m not sure what that’s about. Maybe it’s just his own little quirk?”

  Avery raised one eyebrow. She hadn’t thought of that. “Hmm.” She glanced down at the email again. “I know how we can find out. Let me answer him.” She typed a few quick sentences and hit send.

  “How can we find out?” They’d resumed walking, and now the Xiang dynasty exhibit came into view ahead.

  “I just asked Renell if we could chat over the phone. I said it’ll be easier than going through email. At least that way we’ll know whether he even has his own number or is using the hotel phone, plus I think I’ll be able to gauge things better if I can speak with him.”

  As they approached the exhibit, Nate Brennan rounded the corner into the large room, talking to himself—or looking like he was talking to himself. He had a Bluetooth device in one ear. He wove in and out of small clusters of patrons, immersed in his conversation.

  Avery sucked in her breath and glanced at Micah. “I have an idea.” She stepped into Nate’s path. He stopped short, face breaking into a grin.

  “I’ll call you back,” he said, and tapped his earpiece. “I’m so glad I ran into you. I was talking to Grandmother this morning, and we wondered if you’re close to verifying the ruby. Do you need the medallion to compare the two rubies yet?”

  “Not quite,” Micah replied. “I expect we’ll have the gem out of it’s housing this afternoon, and then we’ll know more.”

  Avery spoke up. “We did tell Goldie last week that it’d take a handful of days before we could verify if the jewel is authentic, and there’s no point in doing the comparison to the ruby in the dragon medallion if it’s not. It’s only our second day working on it, Nate.” She cringed inwardly. She was fully aware of the hierarchy here; Nate was Goldie’s grandson and Francesca’s right-hand man. Her tone bordered on disrespect, but she didn’t mean it to.

  Nate’s gaze went to Micah and then back to Avery. “Got it,” he said, his reply clipped and terse. He stepped to the side as if to go.

  She tried to soften her attitude; she needed a favor from him. “We’ll make sure to let you know right away, as soon as we get to that point, okay? I’ll call you directly.”

  “That’d be great,” he told her. “Thank you.”

  “Nate,” Micah began. “We’ve got a quick question for you about the collector, Oliver Renell. We’ve been emailing with him, and he mentioned you’d hand delivered the tentative purchase contract to him, of course pending what we find.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you meet him?” Avery asked. “You got to speak with him?”

  “No, I had to leave the documents with the concierge. He wouldn’t let me come up. Grandmother warned me he’s a little eccentric, very private.”

  “Concierge? So . . . a hotel? Is he only in town temporarily?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Grandmother wanted the contract hand delivered to him at Beckworth Suites, but I might as well have just emailed it. The guy’s a little off, if you ask me. None of us has actually ever met him. The concierge promised to get it to him.”

  “Ah,” Micah said. “Eccentric indeed. That helps more than you know, Nate. Thank you.”

  “Sure.” He headed in the direction they’d just come from, stopping to call over his shoulder, “Get ahold of me as soon as you know something!”

  Avery and Micah moved to the display where the Emperor’s Twins medallion was illuminated on a pedestal inside its shatterproof alarmed glass case.

  “I’m positive Goldie didn’t ask Nate to check on our progress,” Avery grumbled. “Just for the record.”

  Micah chuckled. “No. That was all the great Nate Brennan. He’s kind of chomping at the bit over this.”

  “He’s probably planning his statement for the press release.” Avery stuck her jaw out and squared her shoulders. “Be sure to get my good side, boys,” she said in a deep voice.

  “And I’d better see my name in bold print,” Micah added to the imitation. “Shall I spell it for you?”

  Avery laughed and smacked Micah’s arm lightly. “Terrible. We’re both terrible.”

  “Oh, it’s all in jest. His heart’s in the right place.”

  She shrugged. “I guess.” She leaned closer to the medallion. Twenty-four-karat gold, at least seven or eight centimeters in diameter, the creature at the center was surrounded with inlaid pearls and jewels. The one large red gem sparkled back at them above the dragon’s toothy roar, catching the light, making the empty setting beside it that much sadder. “It’s stunning. Truly. And can you even imagine it with both the dragon’s ruby eyes intact? If this all pans out, it’ll be well worth our efforts.”

  Avery replayed the conversation with Nate in her head that evening on her way out to the parking garage. She knew she was too hard on him; of course he was excited at the possibilities surrounding the jewel. She resolved to silently list her favorite ice cream flavors the next time he irritated her.

  When she arrived at her car, her thumb froze above the unlock button on her key fob. She bent and peered through the window. On her dashboard inside the locked car was a plain white envelope with her name on it.

  Chapter Seven

  Instantly on guard, Avery spun around, searching the empty fourth level of the structure she’d parked on. The elevator and stairwell were a sprint away. She felt as if she was being watched, but she saw no one.

  She clicked the unlock button on the key fob and then shifted the key ring in her hand so that her finger was on the trigger of the pepper spray canister she’d kept with her since freshman year of college. Would it even have any potency left to it after six or seven years? She really didn’t want to find out. She put her nose to the window and checked the back seat before hurriedly yanking the door open to get in; once inside, she locked the car again. Not that that would do a bit of good, seeing as how someone had clearly gotten inside her car to leave this note—or whatever it was—here for her. A chill ran up her spine; there was no explanation. Her car hadn’t had a spare key since last year when she’d gotten aggravated with Hank during a hike upstate and thrown her car keys off the edge of a rocky ledge.

  He’d simply stood and stared at her; she really hadn’t thought that through. Tilly had had to call off work to bring her spare set to her. She couldn’t even remember what she’d been so mad about, or how pitching her keys was supposed to make her point. But one thing was for certain right now; no one could have gotten into her car besides her. She had the only key. Which had been in her purse all day in the museum.

  Avery tore open the envelope to find another plain white slip of paper, just like the first message at the house. In the center were handwritten only a few words: Find Art at MOA. He’s an ally.

  He. At first, she’d thought the message was redundant—the museum was full of art. But apparently she was being directed to get in touch with a man named Art. An employee, presumably . . . among the dozens or more Museum of Antiquities employees. On a whim, she tapped the screen of her smartphone and opened the MOA website. Perusing the menu and the other tabs, she was disappointed to see there was no listing of employees, only the names and profiles of the board of directors. None were named Art.

  She whipped her head around, the feeling of someone watching her suddenly strong. An older couple was walking from the elevator down her aisle, but that was all. She needed to get moving.

  On the way to Aunt Midge’s Upper East Side apartment, Avery called home and got Tilly.

  “Auntie’s not here. She went to lunch with Colin and Prince Ivan. I’m making spaghetti for dinner. Are you on your way home?”

  Midge and her friend Colin had been engaged for a brief moment back in the 1990s, long before he’d met his future husband, Prince Ivan. Avery could never remember what country he was prince of. They were a delightful couple. She hoped they’d make it to the barbecue next weekend. They always brought the most delicious pasta salad. On the heels of that re
flection, Avery thought of Tilly making spaghetti and cringed. That made this difficult. “I’m so sorry for the late notice, but I’m not going to be home for dinner tonight. I was actually thinking of staying in the city—” She stopped abruptly as Tilly raised her voice, interrupting.

  “Tonight? Why? You’re supposed to help me pack and figure out my hair! We leave tomorrow night, and I’m not even close to being ready!

  “I know, I’m sorry. It just can’t be helped.” Should she mention her date with Tyler Chadwick? That’d make her sister understand. “I kind of got asked out to dinner.”

  “Oooh! A date? With who? It’s not Hank, is it? Where are you going?”

  “That actor I mentioned, Tyler Chadwick, is picking me up at Aunt Midge’s. I don’t know where we’re going yet.” She turned the Bluetooth volume down as her sister shrieked.

  “Oh my Gawd, A! Yay you! Okay, I forgive you. What will you wear?”

  Avery glanced down at her tweed slacks and plain white blouse. If only she’d known a movie star was going to ask her out! “Um.”

  “No. Oh no, you are not wearing your boring work clothes on a date with Hollywood. Tyler Chadwick. I’m looking him up right now. Let’s see. Okay, yes, he plays a cop in the Firefly sequel. This says he’s twenty-nine, perfect for you! He’s super cute for an old dude. Nice snag, sis.”

  Avery burst out laughing, alone in her car. “Thanks. What’s old, anyone over twenty? I’ll check and see if I’ve got anything to wear at the apartment. Maybe from when we spent the night after that concert last month, though it might not be dressy enough. I’ll figure something out, don’t worry.”

  “You could always wear one of Auntie’s dresses, and it’d be a scandalously short micromini. When will you be home to help me pack?”

  “I’ll be home early tomorrow, I promise. Micah’s busy in the afternoon, so we’re taking a half day. We’ll have plenty of time to strategize your hair and get you packed, don’t worry. And you remember we’re shopping with Micah and Noah on Sunday, right?” Aunt Midge and Tilly were flying out Tuesday night for her sister’s voice audition in Los Angeles. Midge had pushed to make it a mini vacation for the three of them, but between Tilly’s senior year commitments and Avery’s current assignment, it just wasn’t feasible. They’d be back home Friday.

  “I can’t wait,” Tilly said. “I’ll be so much more relaxed after the audition.”

  “Tilly,” Avery said, “I have a small favor you could help me with.” Should she tell her sister about the second mysterious note? Perhaps not. She didn’t want to worry her, especially not right before her audition. And despite the notes being mysteriously delivered and quite cryptic, there was really nothing ominous about them. But she could get Tilly’s assistance in a roundabout way; her younger sister was the most tech-savvy person she’d ever met. “I need to get ahold of someone who works at MOA, but I don’t want to bother Goldie. The problem is, I only have a first name. Is that something you think you might be able to find online somehow? There’s nothing on the website.”

  “I’m sure I can do that. What’s the name?”

  “Art.”

  Tilly laughed. “Too funny. What’s his position there?”

  “I have no idea. But I don’t think there are a ton of employees. And Art is not a common first name.”

  “Even if it’s Arthur, that’s still pretty unusual,” Tilly mused. “I can handle a challenge.”

  “Thanks so much. I have faith in you! I’m almost to the apartment; I’ll call you after the date. And Tilly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Make sure you keep the house locked, all right? I know we have differing opinions on this, but I’m still not sure what that note or Halston’s scent was about.”

  “Everything’s already locked,” her sister said. “I’m fine, and Halston’s here.”

  Midge Ayers’s seventeenth-floor apartment was plush and pristine, just as Avery had left it the last time she stayed over. Midge had the southwest corner of the luxurious high rise on Fifth Avenue between Eighty-Fifth and Eighty-Sixth Streets, with a view overlooking Central Park and the Met museum. Today Avery spied the spire of the Empire State Building against the clear evening sky. The formal dining room and twelve-foot marble table accommodated large dinner parties, which spilled over into the open living room and terrace. Both rooms were devoid of window treatments, allowing plenty of natural light in to nurture Aunt Midge’s beloved plant collection. Upstairs, both bedrooms held floor-length paisley-print blackout curtains, as Midge couldn’t sleep well unless it was completely dark. The entire apartment encompassed every shade of white, with splashes of color—a red chintz chaise longue, velvety red couches, a peacock-blue tapestry on the wide stairway wall.

  Avery sat for a moment at Midge’s baby grand near the stairway, tapping out chopsticks. She’d snuck out of her piano lessons each week, whereas Tilly had begged their parents for guitar lessons on top of piano, and then it was violin, then cello. Once she’d discovered her voice was her instrument of choice, she and Midge became the holiday entertainment each year, Midge sitting straight-backed at her baby grand playing the classics while Tilly sang. Avery’s meager rendition of chopsticks mocked her lack of interest in learning to play. She finally stood and ascended the stairs to see what she could find in her aunt’s wardrobe.

  She met Tyler Chadwick on the sidewalk in front of the building; he’d had the night doorman, Dustin, call up for her at exactly eight o’clock. Tyler’s driver—of course he had a driver—stood beside a sleek platinum Lexus LS holding the door open. She could hardly have told they were moving if not for the tall buildings rolling by, the ride was so smooth. Tyler turned toward her in the back seat and flashed his wide, movie-star grin. “How does the Silver Spoon sound?”

  “It sounds unlikely,” Avery said. “I’ve been dying to try it.” Silver Spoon had opened just last month in Greenwich Village and immediately become a reservations-only hot spot that was impossible to get into.

  “No worries, it’s not worth life or death. We have a table at eight thirty.”

  Avery was impressed. She was about to ask how but thought better of it. Because she was on a date with Hollywood, that was how. The little black dress she’d left at Aunt Midge’s when she and Tilly had last slept over was perfect, and her aunt had even had it dry-cleaned and hung back in her closet. She’d luckily left her burgundy suede heels in the foyer closet over a year ago when she and Tilly and Midge had gone out to a play, and between those and a few sparkly bangles on her wrist, the ensemble worked nicely.

  Seated at a cozy table in the corner, Tyler took the liberty of ordering for both of them—the mixed grill sampler, an assortment of steak, shrimp, and scallops with very pretty but miniscule servings of the side dishes accompanying it. She speared one of the three garlic-and-lemon-pepper pan-seared brussels sprouts on a small plate, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the flavor.

  “So how did you get into acting? Was it something you always knew you wanted to do?”

  Tyler’s eyes lit up. “Always. I was forever putting on skits and plays in the living room. I started a neighborhood theater group when I was nine, and we got one of the dads to build us a stage. But I was the only one who went on to pursue acting. I think, looking back, it was when I won the lead in my high school play that I really knew it was my calling.”

  Avery nodded. “Wow. That’s wonderful, and that you were able to break into that world. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

  “Oh, that’s an understatement. It’s definitely a commitment.”

  “How’s the filming going at MOA? It all seems very secretive. I’ve seen some of the crew members on their way in when I arrive in the morning, but that’s it.”

  He nodded. “It’s a closed set. I’m surprised I was even allowed to wander away that day you bumped into me.”

  “That was embarrassing,” she said, smiling.

  “But lucky.” He was most definitely super cute, as Tilly had said. With his black
dress shirt under a slim-cut Italian jacket, she could imagine him as a James Bond type in some spy movie.

  “My sister looked up the movie being filmed—she says it’s Firefly two? She’s a huge fan of superhero movies. She was practically bouncing off the walls when she found out. Oh! I just remembered. I’m sorry, but I have a bit of an awkward question for you.”

  Tyler raised one eyebrow. “Shoot.”

  “I promised my little sister I’d ask . . . do you know Solana Davis? I guess she plays Firefly, right? Tilly thinks she might have a chance at meeting her.” Avery touched Tyler’s arm lightly. “I know filming will be finished soon—the museum curator said it’s only for a couple weeks. I doubt it’d even be possible, but I promised I’d ask.”

  Tyler Chadwick’s expression shifted, and for a moment Avery thought he looked worried. No, not worried, but something. Caught off guard? That was probably it. Then it was gone. “Solana’s great. She’s always busy, but that’s a good problem to have. You know, it doesn’t hurt to ask, right? Let me talk with her tomorrow. You can tell Tilly I’ll work on it; how’s that?”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic. Thank you!”

  He shrugged. They sat back as the server cleared their dishes, and Tyler ordered two slices of tiramisu. It was a little disconcerting, having her date make all the decisions for her. She wasn’t sure she enjoyed it. She and Hank had dated off and on since college, and the few men she’d seen besides him had either gone dutch or at least assumed she’d order for herself. Tyler raised a hand in the air and snapped his fingers as the server walked away. “Waitress!”

  Avery pressed her lips together, watching him.

  “Two coffees with the tiramisu.”

  Avery registered the lack of a please or thank you for the umpteenth time that evening, and she saw from the young woman’s face that she did too. “Of course, sir,” she said, through what sounded like clenched teeth.