by Lee, Rachel
Anna struggled to keep a straight face. “He seems to have a remarkable command of English.”
“Actually I have a fair command of Spanish. Thank God. Nobody else seemed to understand him. I hope. Oh, God, I hope. What if that turns up in the papers in the morning?”
It suddenly struck Anna that she was on the edge of hysteria. Her moods were cycling too fast: One moment she was frightened, the next she wanted to laugh at something Ivar said, and now she wanted to throw a temper tantrum. And she couldn’t quite stop herself.
“Too bad,” she said, with an unusual lack of sympathy.
“Too bad?” he repeated disbelievingly. “Too bad? Is that all you can say? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that will make the museum look?”
“No more ridiculous than ballyhooing some ludicrous curse.”
“Anna!” He looked shocked. “You know how essential it is to catch the public imagination for something like this. My God, the cost of this exhibit—we’ll be in terrible financial straits if we don’t get enough traffic.”
“I know that as well as anyone. I explained that to the board, didn’t I? I came up with at least three different ways to promote the exhibit that didn’t involve the curse, didn’t I? I even pointed out how unscientific it would be to use a curse for promotion, but no one was worried about looking ridiculous then, were they?”
“Anna, I realize you’re personally involved…” But he was shrinking in his chair, looking as if he wanted to crawl under his desk.
“You’re right, I’m personally involved. And you know why you know that? Because I was stupid enough to explain to the board about the nightmares I’d had for years after my father was killed, and how used I would feel if we promo-ed the curse.”
“I remember,” Ivar said, at least making an effort to look sympathetic.
“Well, apparently someone else on the board did, too, because I have been absolutely hounded by Reed Howell with his insinuating questions. Some jerk flapped his or her jaws, and that man is raking up my father’s death on a regular basis.”
“I saw his story.”
“Ah, but that’s not the end of it, Ivar. Because now someone is using that curse to stalk me.”
Ivar looked stunned. “To stalk you?”
“To stalk me.”
“I know about the replica dagger.”
“Well, there’s more than that. Today someone put an envelope on my desk. Just guess what was inside it.”
Ivar spread his hands helplessly.
“An old AP newspaper clipping about my father’s death. Across the top of it in red someone wrote cursed.”
Ivar looked appalled. “My God!”
Anna, abruptly running out of both steam and anger, sank back in her chair.
“That’s cruel,” Ivar said. “Unthinkably cruel.” He jumped up and started pacing along the windows. “I can’t imagine what kind of person would do something like that. What a horrible joke.”
“I don’t think it’s a joke.” Anna sighed wearily.
Ivar halted to look at her. “No.” Apparently he couldn’t accept the possibilities that flitted across his mind. “But… did you tell the police about it?”
“They were there when I found it.”
He grew indignant. “They didn’t offer you protection?”
“Why would they? I’m a suspect.”
“They told you that?”
“No. But I can see it. I can feel it.”
He came around his desk and touched his hand lightly to her shoulder. “We’re all suspects at the moment, which only means that these brilliant detectives don’t have any idea where to look. Well, if they won’t protect you, I will. You come stay with Mary and me.”
Anna’s throat tightened, and she once again realized how alone she must be feeling, that an offer like that could bring her to the edge of tears.
Her life these past couple of years had been sterile, except for her job and occasional visits with Nancy. Since completing her graduate program, she had been utterly focused on her job, on making a name for herself, nurturing dreams of bigger and better positions at bigger and better museums. She dated occasionally, but nothing clicked, most likely because she didn’t really want anything to click at this stage. She had a few friends she saw from time to time, but otherwise her life revolved around this museum and its exhibits. Which meant that expressions of concern and sympathy from other people were few and far between.
Her reserves were frighteningly low.
“I’ll call Mary,” Ivar said.
“Ivar, no. Thank you so much for your offer, but I’m not alone. My sister is visiting, and she’s staying with me.”
He nodded and retreated to the safety of his citadel behind his desk. Seated again, he pushed a few stacks of paper around, reorganized a few paper clips, and tucked a pen into his drawer. “Well,” he said presently. “Well.”
That seemed to be about all she was capable of saying, too, so she remained silent.
“This is too much,” he said. “Entirely too much. I can’t even think what to do about it. The police don’t seem to have any brilliant ideas, the university and museum have egg all over their faces, the Mexicans will probably never do business with us again, and now you’re being stalked.”
He rubbed his chin, drummed his fingers on the desk, and sighed. “Why do I have the feeling that none of this would have happened if we hadn’t mentioned the curse?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it wouldn’t have been so irresistible to some twisted mind except for my personal association with the Pocal find? That’s all I can think of.”
He nodded. “That may well be. Well, first thing in the morning I’m going to call the police and insist they keep an eye on you. This is beyond enough. Even the meanest intelligence can see the threat to you in what’s been happening.”
“But no one’s tried to harm me, Ivar.” It was true, and scared or not she prided herself on thinking clearly. “All they’re trying to do is taunt me.” Or frighten me.
“Maybe so. But that could change at any moment.”
His words were still ringing in her ears as she drove home. That could change at any moment. Yes, it could. But she honestly didn’t want to think about that. Besides, there were other reasons this creep could be doing this to her. More likely reasons. It was almost too much to comprehend that someone could harbor an intent to harm her. More likely it was a taunt from the thief, who was proud of the burglary. Or just a sick joke.
But the darker possibility was nibbling at the edge of her consciousness like a rat.
She pulled into her driveway behind Nancy’s little rental car, and spent a few moments behind the wheel, letting the air-conditioning blow over her and chill her. Sometimes in this hot muggy state, it just felt good to be cold. Her Minnesota blood, she supposed, but whatever, it felt good. As if the heat created some kind of constant irritant that she noticed only when it was absent. And it was unusually hot for April. Ten degrees above normal, all week.
Last year when Nancy had visited, they’d both agreed they missed the cold. Austin was hotter than Tampa, but not as humid, and in August they were both sick of the battering heat. So after dark one night, giggling at their own silliness, they’d turned the thermostat way down, finally managing to bring the temperature to about sixty-five. Then they’d built a small fire in the fireplace Anna so rarely had occasion to use, made a bowl of popcorn, and snuggled under blankets on the couch, laughing and talking until the wee hours.
Anna smiled, remembering how much fun it had been. Her house, sitting on a shady lot on a quiet street, looked inviting when she remembered that. When she didn’t remember the stalker.
Her fingers, still holding the wheel, had begun to feel icy. Time to go in. Nancy would be there, so it wasn’t as if she was going into an empty house. And the sun was still up, though it could no longer really penetrate the shadows beneath the trees. For the first time, she honestly wished she’d rented a place with a sun-dre
nched lot.
Sighing, she switched off the ignition, grabbed her briefcase, and climbed out, locking her white Prizm behind her. She was just about to unlock her front door when it swung open, and Nancy greeted her. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and Anna’s striped bib apron.
“Hey,” her sister said. “I was wondering where you were.”
“Ivar wanted to talk.”
Nancy stepped back, opening the door wider. “Poor you.” She’d heard plenty about Ivar at various times.
The door closed behind Anna, and suddenly she felt safe. It was a wonderful feeling. The doors were locked, the windows were locked, and Nancy was with her. Uneasiness fell away, leaving her feeling pounds lighter.
“Actually,” Anna said, following Nancy into the kitchen, and putting her briefcase on the bar, “he wanted to dump. I think I surprised him.”
“How’s that?”
“He wound up being the dumpee.”
Nancy laughed. “Good for you. It’s time it was his turn. What did you dump about?”
But Anna didn’t want to rehash it. She didn’t want to bring all of that into this house. It seemed sacrilegious somehow to invite those shadows in. “Oh, I had a few complaints of my own. Nothing spectacular. What’s for dinner?”
“I’m using your grill. Marinated steak, zucchini, and crookneck squash with cheddar-mashed potatoes.”
“Man, that sounds good. I’m starved. Need any help?”
“Sure. Or you can just relax. I can make this blindfolded. It’s easier than it sounds.”
“When did you become a gourmet chef?”
“When I discovered that Peggy’s culinary expertise was limited to McDonald’s and Taco Bell.”
Anna quickly searched her sister’s face, but found nothing there except genuine good humor. “Is that what it took to teach you to cook?”
“Believe it. You know how I used to hate it.”
“Yeah, I remember. Every time it was your turn to cook you promised to wash dishes for a week if I’d fill in.”
Nancy grinned. “It worked pretty well, too.”
“Until I figured there weren’t enough days in a lifetime to cover washing dishes for a week in exchange for cooking.”
Nancy laughed. “Well, okay, it worked for a while.”
“Yup. By the time I figured it out, you owed me twenty years of dishwashing. You still haven’t paid up.”
“Hey, we don’t live together anymore. What’s a girl to do?”
“I could pack up the dishes and send them to you in Austin to wash.”
“Well, with UPS taking anywhere from seven to ten days, you’d need a lot of dishes.”
“Nah. I’ll express them overnight. You send them back the same day. I’d only need two sets.”
“In your dreams, Annie. In your dreams.”
It felt so good to be joking with her sister this way again. Anna slid onto one of the barstools and watched as Nancy sliced zucchini and squash lengthwise. “When are they coming?”
“About seven. Gil had to go back to the station first.”
That was Nancy, Anna thought wistfully. In just a very short time she could make friends with almost anyone. Anna had always been shyer and more reserved. As a consequence, when they were children, Nancy had made friends for both of them.
“That kid Trina,” Nancy said. “She’s neat. Reminds me of myself at that age. That’s my next goal in life, you know. To have kids.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the point of thinking about it.”
Nancy looked up from her slicing. “That’s because you think marriage is part of the equation. You need a man. I just need a sperm donor.”
“Isn’t that what all men are?”
Nancy went off into a peal of laughter, and after a moment Anna joined her. But it was true; Nancy was right. Anna wasn’t even going to consider children until she had a stable marriage. A major difference in outlook.
“Well,” said Nancy, “we’ve got a potential donor coming tonight. And from the look of it, he produces good children.”
Anna flushed. “Cut it out, Nance. I don’t have time for that stuff. Besides, he’s investigating me along with everyone else. I’m surprised he agreed to come to dinner.”
“I’m not. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Oh great. That’s going to make me really comfortable this evening. Why don’t you hang a sign out front. Something like, ‘My sister’s available.’ “
“Hey, I didn’t say anything to him. Well, not much.”
Anna reached across the counter and picked up a piece of squash to throw at her sister. Nancy ducked.
“Tsk,” her sister said. “Violence now. Maybe I’ll ask him to handcuff you.”
That warmed Anna’s cheeks even more. “Don’t.”
“I’m just pointing out that he has some very interesting equipment. Handcuffs. Leg restraints.” She leered. “I’ll bet he’s strong, too.”
“Do you want zucchini down the back of your shirt?”
“Not if you want to eat tonight.”
“You’re twisted, you know.”
Nancy grinned. “And you love it. Think how dull your life would be without me. I keep you on your toes. Maybe I should take Trina out somewhere after dinner, leave the two of you alone.”
“Will you stop it?” But almost in spite of herself, Anna was starting to laugh. Nancy’s outrageousness always made her smile.
“See?” Nancy said. “You love it. Now go change into something sexy, like that nun’s habit in the back of your closet. I’m sure it covers you well enough.”
Anna stuck out her tongue and slid off the stool. “Just don’t talk like this tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll kill you.”
“Right. Let me put that on the menu. Dessert: Nancy Lundgren, stuffed with zucchini, sprinkled lightly with sugar….”
Laughing, Anna went to her bedroom to change.
Changing turned into taking a quick shower, too. Something about the Florida climate, she thought as she scrubbed. She could shower in the morning, spend most of the day in an air-conditioned building, but just the few trips across a parking lot could leave her feeling unclean by day’s end.
Feeling fresh again, she changed into some white-gauze slacks and a green-cotton polo shirt. Let Nancy say what she would.
But Nancy didn’t say anything at all because Gil and Trina had just arrived. The girl was looking a little shy, and Gil was looking as if he was having some serious second thoughts about being there. Nancy took care of Trina’s doubts instantly, dragooning her into helping in the kitchen. Anna considered various forms of retaliation as she and Gil stood looking at each other in the living room.
Finally Anna spoke. “Nancy’s really taken with Trina.”
He smiled. “Most people are.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Ice water would be wonderful.”
She guessed he was still on duty. The realization didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.
“I never drink when I’m going to be driving,” he offered, as if he guessed what she was thinking.
“Wise choice.”
“The voice of experience. I’ve seen too much of what happens when people combine alcohol and a motor vehicle.”
Something flitted across his face then, and he shifted as if uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. That sounded like a cop, didn’t it?”
“You are a cop.”
He shrugged. “My ex-wife hated it.”
Anna was surprised. “Why?”
“She said she didn’t want me to bring the job home with me. She wanted a normal life.”
“Umm …” Anna hesitated, then decided to just plunge ahead. “It seems to me that a job is part of a normal life. But I’ll make you a deal. You can talk like a cop if I can talk like a curator.”
That brought out his absolutely dazzling smile. Anna took a moment to reflect on how that must charm people he
was questioning.
She went to the kitchen to get his drink and found Nancy and Trina chatting happily as they brushed some kind of dressing over the quartered vegetables. They didn’t seem much interested in talking to her, so she popped the top off a chilled bottle of water, dumped ice into two glasses, and filled them.
Back in the living room, she found Gil standing before her built-in bookshelves, admiring the little treasures she’d collected over the years that were scattered among the hundreds of books she’d also collected.
“Are these real?” he asked her.
“I’m afraid not.” She passed him his water. “Owning antiquities like these is illegal, so I buy copies. It’s a cottage industry in Latin America, and some of the reproductions are so good they’d almost pass for the real thing.”
“But not to a trained eye.” He looked right at her, and she felt he was fishing for something.
“No,” she agreed. “Not to a trained eye.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Why would it? I know what they are. I just enjoy their beauty. I can see the real things in museums when I want to.”
He nodded and moved a little farther down the bookcase, checking out book spines. “Quite a collection.”
“Mostly related to my job and my areas of interest. I have to keep current.”
“We all do.” He spent another couple of minutes looking at titles. Anna sat in a wing chair and waited quietly. She always appreciated someone else’s interest in books. Besides, she was getting a nice view of a very good pair of legs revealed by khaki shorts. And his polo shirt advertised a flat stomach, too.
But apparently he had something else in mind. “Nancy’s gay,” he remarked. “Are you gay, too?”
Anna had a few hot buttons, and that was one of them. Without stopping to consider the dangers of angering a cop who was investigating her, one who probably thought she was guilty of theft and even murder, she spoke. Her voice was as thin and sharp as a finely honed blade. “Why? Are you afraid we’ll pollute your daughter?”
He turned to look at her. “If I was afraid of that, I wouldn’t be here at all. Besides, I know the difference between a pedophile and a homosexual.”
