by Lila Dubois
The way his eyes lingered on her décolletage made Irina think she wasn’t the only one who was affected.
Irina slipped the strap of the wristlet purse onto her left arm, leaving her dominant right hand free.
“Wait,” Eli said. “I have something for you. It’s not anything special. When I saw your dress, well…” He frowned, blinked, tugged on his jacket, then opened the back door and pulled out a folded piece of fabric. He shook it out, holding it up for Irina to see.
It was a rectangular scarf, long enough to be used as a drape. It was black, painted with gold lotuses and Chinese dogs.
“It was a gag gift from a colleague, after I wrote a paper on the mixing of artistic styles. They thought it was funny since these are—”
“Egyptian lotuses and Chinese Fu dogs.” Irina turned her back to Eli, who hesitated then laid it over her shoulders. His hands stayed there, and Irina shivered.
“Are you cold?” Eli asked.
“No, not cold.”
“I can feel the sexual tension from here, you two.” Jasper sounded decidedly grumpy.
Irina turned to the valet. “We have to leave early. Could you park our car right there?” Irina pointed to one of the metered street parking spots the valets had blocked off with cones. She wiggled her fingers, making sure to draw attention to the folded fifty she was using as a pointer. The valet grinned, moved the cones, jumped in the car, pulled it into the spot, and jumped out, running up to Irina.
“Keys,” she said.
With a shrug, the valet gave Irina back the keys and took the fifty. Irina tucked the keys into her wristlet.
Eli looked adorably befuddled. Irina touched his cheek. That seemed to snap him out of it, and Eli turned and kissed the inside of her wrist. Irina gasped as arousal shot through her.
“What was that? What are you two doing?” Jasper demanded.
Eli grinned and winked at Irina, who bit back a smile.
“I heard that,” Jasper said.
“We didn’t say anything,” Eli replied.
“I still heard it. From now on I want a running dialogue of what’s going on. You’re together, so everyone will assume you’re just talking to each other.”
“I think maybe you’re not used to being the one in the van.” Irina took Eli’s arm and let him guide her to the entrance. “I made sure the valet left the car parked at the curb and got the keys back.”
“He’s in a van?” Eli asked.
“No, I’m eating vegan cheese fries, God help me. Good call on the car, Irina.”
“‘In the van’ just means the person left behind,” she told Eli.
The gala was being held at an old warehouse, in a once industrial section of the city. “Old warehouse” painted a picture of rusted metal and decay, but this was a lovely three-story brick building with high arched windows. The main entrance was recessed into a large archway. A small desk was set up to one side, with a cluster of evening-wear-clad people poring over sheets of paper secured to clipboards.
“Welcome.” An elegant man, wearing a chic, if nontraditional suit with visible stitching, greeted them as they reached the desk. “Name, please?”
“Dr. Eli Wexler and guest.”
“Dr. Wexler, welcome. We’re so glad you were able to attend, at the last minute.” The end of the sentence was precisely enunciated.
Eli didn’t react, but Irina had to hide a smile. This guy must be the event planner, and clearly none too pleased by Eli’s very last-minute RSVP.
“We accept cash or credit for the tickets. And we’ll need some information from your guest.”
Irina accepted the clipboard as Eli dug out his wallet. She filled out her information, using her work email address, since she was sure that she would forevermore receive invitations and solicitations from the event organizers, and Bennett Securities’ spam filters were some of the best.
They were passed off to a perky, young Asian girl in a black cocktail dress and gaudy green earrings. “Right, uh, this way, Professor Wexler.”
Eli frowned at her. “Did you take my class last semester?”
She smiled, opening the door for them. “Yes. I loved your class. It was, like, the best.”
Eli reached over her head, held the door open, and motioned for her to precede him. “Maxine, correct?”
“Wow, you remember. Yeah, yes. But I go by Max. I’m getting a minor in Art History now. I’m totally going to take the next class you teach.”
“Max. Well, thank you. That’s quite a compliment.”
Max led them into the building. The ceiling here was low, probably eight feet, with narrow corridors. They turned left, then right, and another right before reaching an elevator, and Irina realized that every guest would need to be escorted, otherwise there would be a lot of lost partygoers. The route was also marked out on the unfinished concrete floor with periodically placed floor decals bearing the event name.
“I volunteered to help with the party so I could look at the art. The tickets are like, crazy expensive.”
“Crazy expensive is an accurate description.” Eli smiled down at Max, who blushed under his regard. “I’m not a fan of parties. But I wanted to see the exhibit too.”
Max looked at Irina out of the corner of her eye, a quick assessment. Then she smiled hesitantly. Irina returned her smile. It was clear Max either had a crush on Eli, or some academic hero worship. She’d assessed Irina, and rather than being jealous, had realized that the professor she idolized had a beautiful adult woman on his arm.
Eli caught Max looking at Irina. “Oh, excuse me. Irina, this is Max, one of my students.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Max.” Irina nodded, rather than offer her hand.
“Nice to meet you too.” The elevator doors dinged open, and Max reached in, pressed a button, then held the door. “The party just started, so you’re one of the first people here. I already pushed the button for you.”
“Thank you, Max.” Eli guided Irina into the elevator. The doors dinged closed.
“Let me guess,” Jasper said. “Max is a gorgeous coed?”
“With a big crush on Professor Wexler,” Irina replied.
Eli shifted. “She does not have a crush on me.”
“Yes, she does. Also you’re blushing.”
“Take a picture,” Jasper begged.
“I’m ignoring both of you.” Eli faced straight ahead as the doors opened.
The second floor of the warehouse stretched before them, a massive space, open to the elegant wood beams of the roof two stories above.
A network of spotlights hung from a large rigging grid that had been suspended halfway between floor and ceiling. Freestanding walls provided hanging space for the art, each piece lit by a spotlight. Another black-clad undergrad handed them programs, then pointed out the silent auction area and bar.
Eli dropped Irina’s arm and immediately started flipping through the program.
Irina cleared her throat. “I’d love something to drink.”
Eli frowned at the program.
The elevator dinged. They were blocking the way, and the undergrad with the programs was starting to look alarmed. Irina cleared her throat again, tugging on Eli’s arm.
“For God’s sake, man, get the woman a drink!” Jasper yelled.
Eli jumped, program flapping in his hand. He started to curse, then blinked hard. “Drink. Right.”
Eli started walking. Irina nudged him until they were headed in the right direction.
“Talk to me,” Jasper demanded.
“We’re headed to the bar, calm down,” Eli grumped.
“That’s not what he means.” Irina didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “We’re on the second floor, which was clearly the machinery floor. Large open space. Five, six thousand square feet. Elevator shaft and one, maybe two closed rooms on the east end of the building. Windows in the north and south walls. I can’t see the west wall. I’d assume there’s a fire exit there. No visible stairs near the ele
vator.”
“What’s on the first floor?” Jasper asked.
“Just so you know, Eli is looking at me like I have two heads,” Irina reported.
“I didn’t think real people talked like that.” There was a frown line between Eli’s brows.
“People who work security do,” Irina responded.
“And people who like to break into places.”
Eli opened his mouth. Closed it, then said, “What do you want to drink?”
“Champagne if they have it. Prosecco if they don’t.”
Irina remained silent while the bartender poured her sparkling wine and Eli’s vodka tonic.
When they walked away from the bar, she finished her report. “The first floor is a rabbit warren. They have hostesses guiding partygoers from the front door to the elevator. The front door is in the south wall, but not in the center. It’s closer to the east end of the building.”
“That explains Max,” Jasper said.
“Can I ask a question?” Eli handed Irina his drink. She didn’t like having both hands occupied, but she allowed it.
“Of course,” Irina said.
Eli opened the program. “We’re just here to find the sculpture, look at it, and figure out who owns it. Why does it matter what the layout of the building is?”
“It’s just…what you do,” Irina answered. It had never occurred to her not to assess the location.
“Always have a backup plan. Know your exits,” Jasper added.
Eli shook his head. “The two of you are what I figured the majority of the Trinity Masters’ members are like.”
“What do you mean?” Irina laced her arm carefully through Eli’s, still holding both drinks.
“More James Bond than Joseph Campbell.” Eli frowned at the program. “I actually thought maybe I wasn’t going to get called to the altar. Like maybe I was a pity member.”
“Pity member?” Irina frowned at him. “If anything, you’re what the Trinity Masters should be. A scholar.”
“A towering intellect,” Jasper added.
“A man above reproach,” Irina teased.
“It’s above suspicion,” Eli said. “And it’s a woman above suspicion.”
Irina smiled. “You’re proving my point.”
“Ave Uxor Caesar,” Jasper added.
Eli rolled his eyes, so Irina assumed whatever Jasper had said was snarky.
She nudged Eli with her shoulder, wanting to make sure to address his original statement. “I know a lot of members. There are plenty of musicians, artists, and academics. The Trinity Masters aren’t just about protection and power. It’s meant to be more than that. The Trinity Masters should stand for everything that makes this country great. That’s you.”
“Here, here,” Jasper said.
Irina hoped Eli would smile, but he didn’t.
“He’s blushing again,” Irina lied. He hadn’t been blushing, but once she said it, his eyes crinkled with embarrassment.
“Picture!” Jasper demanded.
“You two are…” Eli trailed off, eyes on the program, then he stiffened. “Here it is. A Rodin. Just like the listing in the ERR album.”
“You found it?” Jasper asked.
“Just a listing for a Rodin bronze. There’s no photo in the program. And there’s also no map.”
“So now you put the program away, take your drink, and we’ll stroll through the gallery until we find it.” Irina wanted to be in and out before the party really got going.
“What does the program say about who owns it?” Jasper asked.
“It doesn’t. Just says ‘from a private collection’.” Eli tucked the program into his pocket and took his drink.
“I don’t like that,” Jasper said.
“Agreed,” Eli said.
“Why?” Now it was Irina’s turn to be confused.
“Because usually private collectors love to show off. Art is like an expensive car, or a Rolex. You could have something cheaper that did the same thing, but the point is that you’re showing off your wealth. Lots of times people buy art and never hang or display it in their homes. It stays in a museum or gallery with a plaque with their name on it.”
“So the fact that this piece isn’t identified…”
“Means the owner wants to keep it private. They may just be private people…” Eli trailed off.
“Or they may be fully aware they own stolen Nazi art.”
“If they know that, then why display it at all?”
“Because without the ERR album, the chance of someone being able to claim it is slim to none.”
“So they’re both showing off, and not showing off?” That didn’t make sense to Irina.
“Exactly,” Jasper said. “Arrogance tempered by caution. A classic rich-person combination.”
“Let’s find it.” Eli changed position, putting his hand on the small of Irina’s back, and guided her toward the first display.
Jasper hummed the Indiana Jones’ theme song.
Eli looked at his empty glass and seriously contemplated throwing it against a brick wall.
“You’re sure?” Jasper’s voice in his ear had his fingers curling around the glass until his fingernails turned white.
“Of course we’re—”
Irina put a hand on his chest, cutting him off. “Eli, take a deep breath. Jasper, we’ve been through the whole place twice. There are only three pieces of sculpture on display. None of them are ours.”
“And none of them are Rodins,” Eli added.
“Well, kids, I’m starting to have a bad feeling about this,” Jasper said. “But that might be because I’m paranoid.”
“I’m going to head downstairs and ask the event organizer.” Irina eyed Eli. “You okay staying here?”
“Of course I’m okay.”
“How about we get another drink first?” Irina towed him toward the bar.
“I just don’t understand,” Eli said, not for the first time. His stomach was burning with acid, something the vodka tonic Irina handed him wasn’t going to help with. Part of the problem was, he didn’t know why he was having such a strong reaction, why his muscles were tensed to the point that his shoulders were starting to ache. They’d checked every inch twice and even asked Max, who’d showed up an hour in, relieved of her hostess duties, to help. She’d come up empty-handed too.
“Drink,” Irina said.
He took a sip, realized it wasn’t a vodka tonic—it was just tonic water. The quinine flavor burned his tongue, but his stomach calmed down.
Irina touched his arm. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. There’s the dean. She’ll know.” Eli pulled Irina though the crowd, which was now thick enough to make navigating an exercise in social nicety.
The dean of the College of Letters, Arts, and Sciences, which included art history, was just finishing up a conversation when Eli swooped in. “Aliza.”
Aliza Jones was an elegant African-American woman in her early seventies. She had skin many shades darker than Eli’s, and hair that had turned mostly white, making her a visually striking figure. The effect was enhanced by the white coat and brightly patterned scarf she wore. She’d personally recruited him to the art history department, and he’d had dinner with her and her wife on several occasions.
“Eli. I didn’t realize you were coming.”
“I just RSVP’d yesterday.”
“Eli.” Aliza shook her head gently. “I hope this is a sign you plan to attend university events more regularly.” Aliza’s attention shifted to Irina. “Please introduce me.”
Eli froze. How was he supposed to introduce Irina? He hadn’t thought this all the way through.
“Eli. You need to say something. Act normal,” Jasper barked.
“This is Irina…my fiancée.”
Irina offered her hand to Aliza. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Jasper’s reaction was less controlled. “Wow. That’s nice. Glad we had a conversation, all three
of us, about how we were going to present our relationship to the outside world. I would hate it if one of us was a dick about it and just blurted out something. Why didn’t you just say ‘this is my friend Irina’?”
Eli fought to ignore Jasper—who had a point, but was distracting—focusing on Irina and Aliza.
“We were introduced by mutual friends,” Irina was saying. Clearly Aliza had asked how they’d met while Eli had been distracted.
“That’s lovely. I didn’t realize Eli was seeing anyone.”
“I travel quite a lot for work, so we’re keeping it casual.” Irina smiled.
“But you’re engaged?”
Irina continued to smile, but Eli saw the slight panic in her eyes. “Given that we live in different states, we decided that we needed to make a commitment to one another if the relationship was going to move forward.”
Aliza frowned at Eli. “Are you leaving us, Eli?”
This whole conversation was a cluster-fuck. “No. I’m not.” There was a brief, awkward pause that Eli felt the need to fill. “Aliza, the only reason I’m here is because there was supposed to be a Rodin on display, but it’s not here.”
“It’s not?” Aliza frowned. “Let me find out why not.” She picked up her phone and sent a quick text. “The event manager is on his way up.”
Luckily, someone else said “excuse me,” interrupting their talk in hopes of speaking with the dean, which saved Irina and Eli from any more questions about their engagement.
“What was that, telling her we’re engaged?” Irina asked him.
“Well, it’s true,” Eli said defensively.
“Yes, but we need to get our stories straight, and Jasper’s right, it should have been something we discussed all together.”
“I’m sorry, to both of you. It seemed like the logical thing to say.”
“Well, what if Irina and I were the ones everyone thought were married, and you had to publicly remain single?” Jasper demanded. “Or what if we decided to be outside-the-box thinkers and actually present ourselves as being in a relationship, all three of us? Stoning is, mostly, out of fashion. Or what if I wanted to be your fiancé?”
