Ruby Red Herring

by Tracy Gardner

  “Thank you,” Avery told her. Tyler was beginning to remind her of every rude customer she’d ever waited on when she’d worked as a server in college.

  He was blissfully oblivious. “So, Avery. I’m fascinated with what you’re doing at the museum,” he said, leaning toward her. “Your job must be thrilling, working with priceless jewels and artifacts.”

  “It can be. More often than not, it’s a lot of lab time, studying flecks of metal and molecules and measuring fractions of millimeters on angles. But it can be really interesting.”

  “Well, especially when you get a case like your current one, right?”

  She tipped her head, frowning. Had she told him about the assignment?

  “Oh.” His eyes widened. “That’s why you’re up there where all the science-y stuff is on the third floor, isn’t it? Am I not supposed to know?”

  “Um. What have you heard?”

  He lowered his voice, leaning toward her. “I heard it’s a ruby the size of a walnut and it might be the long-lost dragon-eye jewel in some priceless legendary necklace at MOA. Is that true?”

  Avery laughed in spite of herself. “You make it sound like something out of a movie. But we aren’t really sure yet what exactly we’re working with. Who did you hear that from? I’m just curious.”

  Tyler looked caught off guard again. He quickly recovered. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. The acquisitions guy came out to have a smoke this morning while I was out there—Ned? What’s his name? I’m bad with names. He’s got kind of a surfer look?”

  “Nate? Wait, he smokes?” Tyler smoked? Avery was surprised; she hadn’t seen him smoke yet tonight. And she’d had no idea Nate smoked. The more she learned about Goldie’s grandson, the less she felt she knew about him.

  “Nate. That’s it. And not really; I think they were clove cigarettes. He was just talking. He said if you can prove it’s real and it’s the missing ruby, it’d be the most important acquisition the museum’s made in decades. I figure he’s probably not exaggerating; I’ve seen how they bring the ruby back and forth to your lab with the guards and everything. They don’t mess around.”

  Avery rolled her eyes. As if Nate knew anything about MOA’s history. “He’s a little ahead of himself. It’s a bit of a long process. We don’t even know yet if the ruby is authentic, and then if it is—”

  Tyler was listening, rapt. She supposed there was no harm in chatting about the assignment. As Tyler himself had said, it was no secret that the piece was under lock and key and required two armed guards to transport it at all times. “Well, if it is authentic, then we’ll have to evaluate the dragon medallion that’s part of a popular exhibit at MOA, so we’ll want to time things to avoid the heavy crowds. I mean, you wouldn’t want the focal piece in one of the biggest exhibits to be missing on the one day you decide to tour the museum, you know? So there’s the timing issue.”

  “Ah, I didn’t even think of that. But listen. Here’s what I really want to know.” He kept his voice low and moved his chair around the small table to sit beside her. “How much are we talking? Like, priceless is such a relative word, right? Do you know yet? What it’d be worth, if it’s the real deal? And then how much if it really is the dragon’s missing eye?”

  She met his gaze, the subtle scent of his cologne drifting to her. She and Micah hadn’t even discussed the actual worth of the piece. In assignments for MOA, even though her job was to certify and value artifacts, the dollar amount an item might be worth seemed like a moot point. These items were truly invaluable pieces of history. “I honestly don’t know. We aren’t nearly that far yet.”

  “I’ll bet you have an idea of whether or not it’s real.” He tipped his head toward her, running his thumb along her forearm. “I wish there was a way I could see it. I bet we could convince the night guard to let us in and get it for you. Between my film set badge and your work with MOA, they’d probably do it. Now that would be an incredible first-date story for us to have, wouldn’t it?”

  The hair stood up on Avery’s arm where he’d touched her. As exciting as Tyler Chadwick’s attentions were, an uncomfortable feeling was needling her. “I’m pretty sure they’re sticking to exactly what Goldie has told them about keeping it under lock and key at all times. Even if they did let us in, it’d be a great way for me to lose any future MOA jobs if anyone found out.”

  He looked disappointed. “I can’t convince you to live dangerously? You’re sure?”

  She shook her head. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Well. Worth a try, right?” He gave her a wink and that crooked smile that had done such a great job of reeling her in at MOA. It hit her differently this time.

  The server arrived with their tiramisu and coffee, giving Avery a much-needed moment to collect her thoughts. No one, not even Goldie, had said the assignment should remain a secret, but this entire conversation had made her uncomfortable. Thankfully, Tyler dropped the subject as they enjoyed the delicious dessert.

  Back at Aunt Midge’s building, he walked her to the door. He leaned in to kiss her good-night, and Avery turned slightly so that he kissed her cheek. It wasn’t planned; she simply reacted. The jovial, flirtatious Tyler Chadwick she’d met at MOA was the more attractive version of the man she’d just spent the last two hours with; this Tyler was a little elitist, a little nosy, and a little pushy. She wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to Tilly that her date with Hollywood hadn’t been all that fantastic.

  Avery settled into Midge’s red chintz chaise longue, a steaming cup of tea beside her on the round tray that sat on an oversized round ivory ottoman. She’d changed into comfy fleece pajamas and now smoothed the white chenille blanket over her lap and called her sister.

  Tilly’s frowning face appeared on the video-chat screen. “It’s only ten thirty. Why are you home already from your date?”

  Avery chuckled. “It’s a school night. I have to be up early tomorrow.”

  “Ugh. You’re so boring. What did he say about Solana Davis? Did he think I might be able to meet her?”

  “He said he’ll work on it. He said he’d call me, so I’ll let you know.”

  “That’s a good sign,” Tilly said. “He wants to see you again.”

  “I’m not positive that’s a good thing,” she said. “I’m not really sure what to think of him.” She filled Tilly in on the date, pulling the phone away from her ear when she mentioned they’d gone to Silver Spoon; her sister’s high-pitched shriek could have shattered glass. Tilly’s take on the little things that had irked Avery was that Tyler was nervous. She supposed that was possible, though unlikely; after all, she wasn’t a famous movie star.

  “But maybe he doesn’t care about that. Maybe he was awed by your beautiful brain.”

  “Oh, you’re cute,” Avery said, laughing. “All right, I’ve actually got to get to sleep. I want to get to MOA first thing tomorrow and see if I can get one of the docents to let me borrow the staff directory. They’re both really nice, and they know more about the exhibits and staff than almost anyone besides Goldie.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Tilly said. “I found a back door into the museum’s personnel files. I can’t see anything personal, just names and hire dates, but there’s an Arthur and an Art on staff at MOA.”

  “No fricking way,” Avery said. “That’s kind of scary. How the heck did you hack into their system? What else can you see?”

  “Not much,” Tilly said. “It’s literally just, like, human resources–type stuff. Nothing juicy like how much Goldie’s paid for pieces or what exhibits are worth or anything. But I wanted to cover all the bases, so I looked at any employees or board members with the name Art or Arthur anywhere in their name. I found two others, one with the middle name Arthur and a board member named Samuel Arthur the Third.”

  “Wow. I hope you only ever use your powers for good, Ms. Superspy. Okay, I actually know that one. Samuel Arthur is a board member, but he’s been in a nursing home since last year, sadly. So
we know it’s not him.”

  “How do we know? What are you trying to find an Art for?”

  Avery pursed her lips. She’d meant to keep things vague. “No, I just meant the Art I’m looking for should be on-site at MOA. Working.”

  “A, what’s going on? What are you doing?”

  She took a deep breath. “All right. But you can’t freak out. I got another letter.”

  “You what? When? You weren’t going to tell me or Auntie or anyone?”

  “Well, I guess I’d planned to tell Art, if we could find the right Art. I would have told you. I’ll show you the letter when I get home tomorrow.”

  “What did it say, exactly?”

  Avery groaned but didn’t argue. She fetched the note from her purse and read it aloud to Tilly. “Find Art at MOA. He’s an ally. It was inside my locked car.”

  “What? And you didn’t think that was a big deal?”

  “Yes, it totally creeped me out! But there was no one around. And if anything, the note seems like a tip to help me.”

  Her little sister was quiet on the other end of the line.

  “Tilly?”

  “You only have one set of car keys. You should have told someone right away.” The screen suddenly spun upside down and then went dark, the sound muffled. Avery heard Tilly call out to their aunt, “Avery’s just telling me about her date.” A pause. “Love you too, Auntie. Good night.”

  Midge must have stopped outside Tilly’s bedroom door on her way to bed. She’d created the habit her first night in the Lilac Grove house, stopping outside each of their rooms to call good-night. Aunt Midge would have made a great mother, but Avery suspected she thoroughly enjoyed being eccentric Aunt Midge.

  “Sorry.” Tilly was back. “Okay, put up your pinkie. Right now.” Her scowl was prominent in the video chat.

  Avery did as she was told.

  “Pinkie swear you’ll tell me immediately the next time a mysterious note—a mysterious anything—shows up. Do it.”

  “I swear. I promise. I just didn’t want to worry you.” Avery lowered her hand. “I’m sorry. But if I can find the Art in the note, I think that’ll help ensure we’re safe.”

  “I still think I’m right. I think Dad is connected to all of this somehow. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “I want to believe that’s true,” Avery said. Though if it was, she certainly couldn’t see how.

  “Be careful, A. For real. Do you want the deets on the other three Arts?”

  “Yes, shoot. I’ve got a pen.”

  Avery’s phone dinged just as she turned out the light. She rolled over and fought with the fluffy comforter to get an arm out, grabbing her phone. Oliver Renell had already sent a short reply to her email.

  Dear Ms. Ayers,

  I appreciate your desire to be thorough, but I’m afraid I’m not available to speak by phone currently. I eagerly await further news on your investigation of the jewel.

  There is an important matter we should speak about after the authentication is completed.

  Regards,

  Oliver Renell

  Avery sat up in bed and reread the short message. What important matter? And why couldn’t he talk to her? It couldn’t be that he was otherwise committed; she hadn’t even suggested a date or time for a phone meeting. She scrolled up to his original message and read that all the way through as well, an eerie, unwanted thought creeping into her mind. It couldn’t be; she must be wrong. But . . . what if she wasn’t? What else could explain the refusal to meet or be seen, even the refusal to speak on the phone? And what about the lack of any presence or profile photos online? Avery dropped the phone and scrubbed both hands through her hair, blowing out through pursed lips. Micah was going to think she was crazy. She didn’t even want to mention her theory to Tilly. If she was right, it’d be unforgivable.

  What if Oliver Renell was William Ayers?

  Chapter Eight

  Avery was on the front steps of the museum at 8:59 Tuesday morning. She and Micah had agreed to meet at the shop in an hour. She still wasn’t sure whether she should say anything to Micah about her suspicions. She needed more than a couple mysterious notes and an antisocial collector, but she couldn’t just dismiss the notion either. Her father had been dealing with the Emperor’s Twins medallion right before the fatal car accident. If something had happened a year ago during that assignment, something to do with the existing ruby or even the authenticity of the medallion, perhaps it was now being brought to the surface with the new jewel. What if her dad had faked his own death, then located the jewel and submitted it? What if Tilly was right and their father was alive, but somehow working covertly as the collector?

  Avery shuddered involuntarily. It was too crazy. Her dad would never have put her or Tilly through the trauma of losing him. There’d been a double funeral. The whole thing had been horrific. It didn’t matter how much any artifact might be worth. The William who’d raised her would never do that.

  Unless he had no choice. And that train of thought led nowhere, because of course he’d have a choice whether to tell his girls he was alive and well.

  She decided not to decide until she saw Micah. She couldn’t take her partner looking at her with pity, and that’s what would happen unless she’d worked out some sort of plausible explanation for how and why William was masquerading as Renell. Either way, she and Micah had to meet with a client at the shop to go over the findings on her antique watch collection, the assignment she and Micah had been working on prior to the potential ruby. They’d get back on top of the MOA job Wednesday and finish up the last few specs, which would tell them for certain whether the jewel was authentic. Assuming they cleared that hurdle, they could move on to the heart of the assignment and begin comparing the ruby to the jewel in the medallion. Examining the empty eye socket in the gold dragon, along with both rubies, would finally answer the question of what they were dealing with—a real ruby that couldn’t possibly be the missing dragon’s eye, or a ruby that was an exact match for the missing eye, restoring the Emperor’s Twins artifact to perfection. There was still the possibility they’d discover the stone was a very pretty spinel, worth a fraction of the value.

  She found Emily, one of the museum’s docents, organizing pamphlets and facility maps at the welcome desk. Avery set a steaming mint mocha latte in front of the perpetually cheerful woman and was greeted with her biggest smile.

  “Emily, I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Avery said, putting both hands, palms down, on the desk and speaking in a low conspirator’s tone. “I need a small favor.”

  The sixty-something’s eyebrows went up, disappearing underneath her short, curly gray bangs. “Really? I’d help you without the coffee, you know that.”

  Avery smiled. She and Emily had struck up a friendship these last few months as Avery struggled to learn her way around the museum. In return for what Avery felt was an excessive amount of navigational assistance, she’d made a habit of bringing the woman goody packages from the White Box in Lilac Grove. She hadn’t planned ahead enough to do that today, so coffee would have to suffice. “I’m hoping I might run a few names of employees by you, and you’ll tell me if you know them at all.”

  “Of course! Go ahead.”

  She consulted her notes. “Arthur Dansby.”

  Emily nodded. “Yes, Arthur’s a friend of mine. I’m sure you know him; he runs the sandwich counter in the cafeteria. Very sweet man, close to my age, a little shorter than I am,” she said, holding a hand at about temple height, palm down.

  Avery jotted that down. “Perfect, perfect. Do you ever call him Art? Does anyone?”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “No. I wouldn’t; that’s a little familiar. He’s just Arthur.”

  “All right.” She had to assume the note specified the name Art intentionally. “Okay, the next one is John Arthur Smith.”

  Emily frowned. “John Arthur Smith,” she repeated.

  “Art. He probably goes by Art Smith.”
She loved that the older woman apparently had no interest in why Avery was asking about men named Art.

  “Oh! I think I know.” Emily pulled out her staff directory and flipped through it. “There’s a security guard named Art Smith. He must only be part-time, as I don’t see him often. I’m sorry I can’t recall much of what he looks like. He’s tall, I know that. Tall and kind of brooding, maybe in his early thirties.”

  Avery was furiously scribbling in her notebook. “Good, good, thank you. And the last one is Art Wychoski.”

  “I know Mr. Wychoski. He’s one of the exhibit supervisors, a stocky, muscular man in his midforties, I’d guess. He’s a little, ah . . . difficult to approach.” Emily ducked her head toward Avery. “He’s sort of crabby, at least whenever I try to talk to him.”

  “You’re the best,” Avery said. “Seriously.” Her mind was racing. She did know of the sandwich-counter Arthur, and he was, as Emily had said, very nice. But her money was on one of the other two. “Last question. Is the security guard Art working today?”

  “One moment,” the docent said. She tapped the keyboard on the computer in front of her. “As a matter of fact, he is. He’s at the east entrance until three today. Do you remember how to get there? I’m happy to walk you over.”

  Avery shook her head. “I actually remember, thanks to you! What about Art Wychoski? Is he here now too?”

  “The schedule says he comes in at one this afternoon.”

  Avery thanked Emily again and was walking out the museum’s east entrance a few minutes later. She’d start with the security guard, and if he seemed not to be the Art in the note, she’d stop back here before leaving the city to track down the exhibit supervisor.

  She approached the guard stationed outside the doors. “Excuse me, sir.” He towered over her, even in her black chunky heels.

  He met her gaze, his expression cool and unreadable. She recognized him now as one of the handful of rotating guards handling the ruby and other artifacts she’d worked on here. He apparently didn’t recognize her.