And saw a coffin.

  I shrieked and slapped a hand over my mouth. Moonlight trickled in around the venetian blinds in the windows. After a few seconds, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. It wasn't just one coffin; there were three.

  I was in some type of lab. Tall shapes—likely cabinets—lined the wall. Coveralls hung from hooks, and mask-like things, respirators maybe, sat in rows along one of the shelves.

  The middle of the room housed the three long caskets and another lab table that stretched half the length of the room. That last table supported something person shaped, draped with a sheet that I didn't want to focus on too much. Which meant I'd feel unnaturally compelled to check it out in another five seconds. I pushed away the image of a dirty linen-clothed decomposed hand slowly reaching for my throat.

  The closest coffin shape sat on top of a wheeled cart or a gurney. It was about chest height. I ventured closer. More of the details came into view. The top portion was round, but I could see a rise that was the indication of a nose. At the bottom, the outline of two vertical feet broke the smooth shape extending down from the legs. It was a sarcophagus. Up even closer, and despite the dull moonlight coming through the windows, vibrant golds and rich topaz blues stood out like beacons from the past.

  An Egyptian sarcophagus! Oh ho. The one thing that drove me crazy about museums, well, second after the creepy issue, was that I hated not being able to touch anything. And now, in front of me was an authentic relic ripe for feeling up. It was almost as good as finding out unicorns are real.

  My arms went all tingly and prickly. It seemed as if my skin would burst from excitement. I reached out and just as my fingers hovered over the surface, the lab's door swung open. Someone flicked on the light, and I flinched from the sudden eye strain.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I heard her before seeing who it was. That may have been a good thing because it would've taken an extra few seconds to place the voice if I had been using my eyes for input. Relying on my ears only, I knew exactly who it was. The woman who'd been speaking to the man in the next room.

  Nia.

  She took up so little space in the doorway. One would be inclined to think of small, cute, and fuzzy things with such a tiny person. But oh no, she looked more like a coiled viper.

  Or a really mad bunny with dripping fangs.

  Either way, I immediately scanned for another way out of the room. Or something heavy. That's how much the temperature in the room changed. Never mind the fact that I'd been caught almost touching a priceless artifact.

  “Aren't you that baker?”

  “Yes.” I smiled hoping that would deescalate the situation a bit. But, no such luck.

  “What are you doing in here?” she repeated.

  I tossed out the first thing that came to mind. “Needed to make a phone call and this was the first door I found that was unlocked.”

  The woman looked me up and down. Then she glanced around the room and behind her. “Phone call, huh? Funny, I don’t see a cell phone.”

  “I walked in here and saw an Egyptian sarcophagus. A real one! I got a little distracted. Hey, is that a genuine mummy over there? But, sorry, you're right. I shouldn't be in here. I'll go.” To my ears it sounded like a perfectly good truth wrapped in a lie. I took a few steps toward the door, but Nia stayed immobile blocking my path.

  She said, “How long have you been back here?”

  I made a face I hoped looked vicious. Offense was the best defense. “Why?”

  Nia made a short sound of disgust. She started to close the door, but just then, footsteps bounded down the hall.

  Oscar's head popped into the doorway. “Chica, where have you been? You're missing everything. Come on. I can't leave you alone for a minute. Excuse me, sweetie, we need to go.” He brushed past Nia without a second glance, grabbed my hand, and proceeded to pull me out the door.

  Out in the hall, he threw me a side glance but said nothing.

  I heard a door close. I glanced and assumed Nia would be behind us throwing daggers with her eyes, but no. She headed in the other direction. Guess, she couldn't be bothered with a baker after all.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a good thing Nia hadn't followed us. Because I was ready to snitch and preferred not to have any distraction from the pint-sized menace.

  We retreated back the way I'd originally come. By the time Oscar and I reached the rear atrium, people spilled out of a set of large double doors that matched the set in the rotunda hall.

  Oscar dropped my hand. “First, I see you in a huff to find someone. Then you sprint off and I don't see hide nor hair of you for a half hour. And when I finally hunt you down, you're cornered by a blue-streaked miniature Doberman pincher. But did you see her shoes? Were those the new Jimmy Choos? O-M-G, spectaculaarrr! But all this during a show you were dying to see. What the heck is going on? Spill. This instant.”

  I couldn't help but hug Oscar. He squeezed back then pushed me off.

  “Spill. Something is going on and I want in.”

  I spilled everything. And with every sentence, Oscar's mouth dropped open a quarter inch. When I'd finished, he clapped his hands and belted out in song. “Finally, I get to be a de-tec-tive.”

  “Oscar, shush. Stop attracting attention.” I pinched his shoulder.

  “It's about time you stop getting all the fun. Or you and your friend Izzy,” he said and whipped out his phone. “Let's call the cops and tell on this Nia person.”

  I snatched the cell from his hand. “We can do no such thing. It's all hearsay, and I didn't understand half of what they were talking about.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Let the cops figure it out.”

  “Okay, hon, let me break this down. The police may go for the easiest suspect, which is Alan. Or me. She might've died after someone tampered with my desserts. I'm trying to at least come up with another possible culprit.”

  “And you expect to do this in one night?”

  I sort of wanted to hit him. “Do I have a choice?”

  “And what if Alan killed his boss?” he asked.

  The thought had occurred to me. And I hadn't ruled it out. But for now, there were more questions to be asked. Like for one, what was Nia up to? Who was she talking to in that office? I said as much to Oscar.

  He said, “I can't tell you who she was talking to, but I can tell you all about Miss Thing, Nia. Supposedly Nia's parents were trying to have kids for years and then, poof Mommy comes up pregnant. Everything is hunky-dory until the rumors start that Nia is really the love-child from mom's 'afternoon delight' partner.”

  “Oscar, h-how,” I stammered, incredulous, “how did you find this out?”

  “I told you this party was just an excuse for all these people to get their gossip on. Mrs. Halpern, the lady with the walker, told me. She's knows all the good stuff because everyone assumes she's dumb and deaf. But she's sharper than a Ginsu blade.”

  I shook my head slowly. “Maybe I have been wrong to leave you out.”

  He cocked one eyebrow as if to say, 'I told you so.'

  “All right,” I said. “All that's interesting, but her parentage doesn't give Nia a motive to want Elsa out the way.” A thought occurred to me. “What happened after the rumors got out?”

  “Her father divorced the mother, and he cut them both off.”

  “So Nia has the name but no money?”

  Oscar nodded. “I think so.”

  Okay. I thought about Nia’s outfit. I flipped through the occasional fashion mag enough to spot couture. If Nia was living paycheck to paycheck, there's no way she could afford to dress like that. Granted, there were any number of ways a woman could get her bills paid. But Nia struck me as the independent and resourceful type. Not the kind of chick to land a sugar daddy. Could she have cooked up a way to con the museum and Elsa found out?

  More people streamed out the doors. Some milled about in the rear atrium, others headed back to the area with the food and music.

  Oscar said, “So what's next, boss?”

  I spotted Alan just inside the doors chatting with people as they exited the exhibit.

  “Could you go outside and see if the ambulance arrived? I left Jessica waiting for them by the side entrance. If they're here, we can guess-estimate how long we have before the cops arrive.” I pointed to where he could find the outer doors. “I'm going to update Alan.”

  Oscar set off at a jog without any more questions. He was good at taking directions (most of the time). That's what made him such a good employee.

  Alan's mask dropped for the slightest second when he spotted me coming. In that brief moment, I saw fear. Then like a crashing vault door, the facade locked back in place.

  I waited until a cluster of guests moved on.

  He took my arm, leaned over and whispered, “I've been going crazy. What's happening? Did the ambulance get here yet?”

  Gently I peeled his nails out of my bicep. As I rubbed feeling back into my limb, I gave a quick recap of everything that had happened.

  Alan said, “Are you sure it was Nia?”

  I nodded. “When she busted me in the lab, there was no mistaking her voice. I'd heard it only a few minutes before. Do you understand what they were talking about?”

  “No, not specifically. But if they were talking about dealers...” He broke off as more guests greeted him. “Hello, hello. Did you enjoy?” To me he said, “We can't talk here.”

  “How much longer do you think you'll be?” We stood near the exit and could only see about a third of the gallery.

  “Maybe another fifteen,” he answered while nervously pulling at his bow-tie until I thought his head would pop off.

  It was then I noticed we stood next to a monolithic stone statue. Despite the state I was in, it was a wonder I'd hadn't noticed it before. It was of a woman, twenty feet tall and regal if only for the mammoth size. A round, swollen stomach protruded under pendulous breasts. A necklace of dried flowers adorned her neck. Strings of red and black beads draped between the enormous bosoms.

  “Who is this?” I said, filled with wonder. She was massive. If this was an example of what was in the exhibition, I was missing out big time. I was going to have to walk through the show as soon as I could.

  My friend went into tour guide mode. “This is a mother goddess from the Paleolithic era. It was found in the 1930s during a dig on one of the islands off of Southeast Asia. She represents the cycle of birth and death. She wears a necklace of twenty-three jequirity beads that have exactly one hundred beads on each string.”

  I said, “The necklaces and flowers look new.”

  “Yes, of course. Many of the records about this were lost, but we've reproduced the way she was originally found from the few photographs and documents that remain.”

  The beads triggered a feeling of deja vu. They were red with black tips, and I felt as if I'd seen them before but I couldn’t remember when.

  But I did notice that talking seemed to calm Alan down some. I pointed to another statue. “And this one?”

  He nodded at a man passing by and said, “Hello, Mr. Burles. Having a good evening? Excellent.” He turned back to me, “This is one of my favorites. I had to wine and dine to get her for the show. This is Durga, supreme mother goddess in Hinduism. She is the power behind all of creation, preservation, and destruction of the world.”

  The statue was set on a white pedestal and was about four feet high. She wasn't encased in a glass box, which was refreshing. But she was set back far from the aisle, making it difficult to reach out and touch. After glancing at the placard set higher up on the wall, I understood why. The dark amber metal was pure gold.

  Durga had eight arms. Each hand seemed to carry a weapon of war (or defense depending on one's POV). I could make out a shield, lance, sword, and mace. The mace was topped with a thick gold globe carved with intricate symbols. She was as fierce as she was lovely.

  A woman's laugh drew my attention. I glanced in that direction, already forgetting about the goddess and thinking about what to do next. But then I saw who the oh-so delicate feminine chuckle had come from. Derek's date. Derek! I had forgotten all about him. They were still a ways off, down the gallery's hall.

  Luckily Oscar entered through the exit at just that moment. He threw up his hands. “Nothing. No Jessica. No ambulance. No police. I even walked around the building some to make sure they weren't parked by the front entrance.”

  Where were they? This was a horrific delay of the inevitable interrogation I knew was coming our way. It was sort of like the agonizing long walk home with a bad report card.

  “All right, it's time to get the ball rolling. Alan, get an associate to take your place greeting the guests.”

  Oscar squealed. “Oooh! Is that you-know-who I see coming?”

  I didn't risk looking behind me. “Yes it is, which is why you and I are going to hide in the kitchen until the coast is clear. Alan, come find us there.”

  Alan immediately went back into stressed mode and fussed with his tie. “Okay, okay. Got it. I think I see one now.” He set out into the gallery.

  “C'mon, Oscar.”

  My employee allowed himself to be pulled out the exit door even as he craned his neck for a better look. “No, I want to give him a piece of my mind. Canceling dates on my friend? Who does he think he is?” He paused, then added, “Ooh, and who is that long-legged hussy he's with?”

  Chapter Eight

  Alan took much longer than I'd expected before he finally joined us.

  Oscar had insisted on not hiding in the kitchen; instead he wanted to spy on Derek and his date as they left the gallery hall. I did want to hide (but ashamedly also wanted Oscar to spy as well). So we compromised and found seats on one of the circular settees close to the kitchen. The thing was big enough to shield me from view but give my employee a view of the doors.

  Deep down I knew I was being juvenile and foolish. So what if Derek was here on a date. So what? We'd gone out exactly one time. So what if he was handsome, and funny, and smart? And not interested in me?

  I knew when Derek left the hall because Oscar went stock-still like an English Pointer on a scent. After a few seconds, he said, “That's odd.”

  But before I could ask what he was talking about, Alan found us. His skin looked ashen as if the bow tie had finally cut off circulation above the neck. “Sorry, people kept stopping me to talk. Let's go.”

  A voice called from across the atrium. “Oh, Alan! I've been looking for you.”

  Mrs. Cheighton stood on the threshold of the hallway that led to the rotunda. The woman's skin was flushed, as if she'd been literally running around looking for Alan. She popped a macaroon into her mouth with one hand, and twiddled an empty candy skewer with the other. Her black drawstring bag dangled from an elbow. It bobbed against her thigh with every step. Mrs. Cheighton also seemed to be favoring her left side as if she was having trouble walking.

  Alan opened his arms wide. “Mrs. Cheighton, bella, what did you think?”

  She stopped in front of us still smacking on macaroon. “Oh dear, it was magnificent as usual. You've done marvels since the sneak-peek you gave me a few weeks ago. Which is why I just had to find you. I hear the next exhibit will be Egyptian in nature?”

  “Why, yes. We're going to call it Mummies of the Forbidden Tombs. We're thinking about making the entire gallery resemble Hatshepsut's mortuary temple.”

  Mrs. Cheighton clapped in delight making the stacked diamond bracelets jingle. “I don't suppose we all could get a sneak peek tonight?”

  “Oh, no. I'm afraid not. We've just started to receive inventory and—”

  “Dear, I know my statement sounded like a question, but it wasn't. I insist. It will put the other board members and me in a better mood for the beginning of the fundraising season, don't you think?”

  Alan started, “Mrs. Cheighton, I don't think—”

  She put a hand, the one that sported a ring with a black diamond the size of a cat's head, on Alan's shoulder. “I insist. Dear.”

  My friend's nostrils flared but he acquiesced with grace. “I'll see what I can do, Mrs. Cheighton.”

  The woman clapped her hands again like a carefree schoolgirl. “Wonderful, wonderful.” The motion sent her black bag to swinging as if it secreted the remainder of her hefty jewelry collection. “I'm sure you'll see to it personally.”

  With that, she pivoted on her heel, and walked in through the exit doors of the exhibition gallery.

  Alan’s jaw clenched as he watched her depart. “That woman makes me want to cuss.”

  He then proceeded to let a few four letter words loose. When his vent was over, Alan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I need a drink.”

  At this point, so did I.

  Chapter Nine

  Alan hustled to find another one of his associates to take care of Mrs. Cheighton's request-slash-demand. But it was another ten minutes before we finally arrived back at Elsa's office.

  From where we stood, all was quiet inside the office. The door was cracked open an inch and Alan pushed it with a single hand. Inside, Jessica stood by the desk staring at the space where the body was concealed.

  Her head jerked up when the door banged against the rear wall.

  “She's dead!” Jessica bobbed up and down. She waved her hand like a frantic fan and wailed, “What happened? What happened!”

  Jessica was clearly on her way to a level ten meltdown. Alan jumped into action. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and cooed until she calmed down enough for us to ask questions.

  Still speaking as if the sound of his voice could set off volatile explosives, he said, “What happened to the ambulance?”

  Jessica wiped tears from her chin. “I waited and waited. Finally, I called 9-1-1 again. The operator told me a woman called and canceled the ambulance. I thought maybe Elsa told someone to cancel it, so I came to her office to find out. I just got here and found...and found her...”

 

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