The Taming of the Thief (18 page)

 
   
 
Irritation flashed in the Lady Katherine's
green eyes, but the emotion stormed like summer lightning, quickly gone as she
waved off Pietr and slipped around to take Sophie's other arm, bracketing
Sophie between them. “Say yes, Sophie darling.”

 
   
 
“Well,” Sophie hedged, but she didn’t possses
a true reason not to give the pair a quick tour. The exhibit wasn't completely
set up. In fact, her cart of artifacts probably still sat in the basement
vaults waiting for her to retrieve it.
“All right.”

 
   
 
Katherine clapped her hands, nearly tugging Sophie
away from Pietr. When Pietr tightened his grip, Sophie's head whirled with the
vague sensation of tug-of-war. Still, neither released her and walking across
the lobby, skirting the school groups, towards the main hallway was oddly
whimsical.

 
   
 
All
they needed to do was
skip
.

 
   
 
The
crowd thinned as they made their way towards an elevator. “The exhibit will be
located on the fourth floor.” The elevator ride was
surreal,
all three of them arm in arm, shoulders to the wall.

 
   
 
The
fourth floor echoed with quiet compared to the madness of the lobby. Sophie
extricated herself to take the lead. Pietr and Katherine fell into step behind
her and she resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. The main palisade of
the fourth floor opened into five different exhibits. Three were
open,
a fourth closed for restoration and the fifth was
hidden behind faux walls and monitored by a security guard.

 
   
 
“Good
afternoon, Bert.” Sophie smiled at the older gentleman. His red coat and dark
brown slacks the uniform of interior security. “How is your knee feeling
today?”

 
   
 
“A little achy today, Ms. Kingston.”
Bert gestured to his
stool. “The Doc insists it will get better, but I just think it’s a one trick
pony these days.”

 
   
 
Sophie squeezed his arm sympathetically. “Well,
I'm glad they have you up here then,
it's
absolute
chaos downstairs, we must have most of the East Side elementaries visiting
today.”

 
   
 
Bert
nodded gravely. “That's what Mosur said when he gave me the assignment.
It's
art history week all over Manhatten, I expect we'll be
getting the rest of the boroughs over the next couple of weeks.”

 
   
 
“Fun.”
Sophie grinned. “I'm going to give Mr. Sauvage and
Lady Hardwicke a quick tour. Is anyone working up here today?”

 
   
 
“No
ma'am. Doctor Hinkley was in and out all day a couple of days ago, but I
haven't seen him since.”

 
   
 
Sophie frowned. She wondered if anyone would
see him again. “Were you working yesterday Bert?”

 
   
 
“Late
afternoon shift.
Had to go see my granddaughter in her class
play.”

 
   
 
Apparently word of what happened in the stacks
hadn't made the rounds. The museum's staff was comprised of an insular group
that didn't favor gossip.

 
   
 
“Well, give my love to your wife and take care
of that knee. We'll just be a few minutes.”

 
   
 
“Yes
ma'am.” He slid his badge through the reader and keyed in a code. Pietr swept
close to open the door before she could.

 
   
 
Inside, the exhibit’s collection of artifacts
were stationed strategically, some behind glass, others sitting freely. When
complete, velvet ropes would be erected around the larger pieces to provide a
functional barrier from questing fingers.

 
   
 
“As
you can see,” Sophie turned, walking backwards and gesturing to the Mongol
chariots. “We are still arranging the items. The theme is cultural treasures,
so each item selected for its historical significance to a specific area. These
restored chariots, for example, were located in Northern Pakistan at the turn
of the century. They'd been stored in a dry cave and apparently forgotten. The
wood has been treated in an effort to restore and preserve it for the future.
The markings here indicate that it was used sometime around the time of the
Khan Dynasty. Some scholars speculate they belonged to tithing enforcers who
were murdered and the chariots hidden to cover up the crime.”

 
   
 
Her
audience grinned. “Oh you are good at this,” Katherine looked delighted.
“And what an utterly gruesome way to open a cultural exhibit.”

 
   
 
“Well, considering the likelihood that entire
villages would be put to the sword for the crime of one or two, it's a probable
cause for hiding them. We'll likely never know for certain, because they
wouldn't have documented the incident for the same reason.
This
way.”
Sophie chose to begin the wheel around the exhibit to the left.
The layout resembled the spokes of carriages and chariots, with each time
period represented in a different spoke.

 
   
 
She
led them through the treasures gathered from India, Pakistan and Tibet before
guiding them around to Turkey, Iran and Iraq and slowing at Taiwan and China. This
section was far barer than the others, with many of the items still waiting
down in the vault for verification, insurance and documentation before she
shipped them upstairs.

 
   
 
Pietr
and Katherine had both fallen silent, Pietr's gaze fixed on the length of stone
and marble behind her. Frowning, Sophie twisted to see what held his attention.
“Buddha's Eastern Journey.”

 
   
 
“What
is this exhibit supposed to feature?” Pietr asked, curiosity a flat note in his
tone.

 
   
 
“Well, one would presume a Buddha.” Lady
Katherine's tone was light, but something in her gaze quested hungrily over the
empty displays.

 
   
 
“The
museum has over one hundred Buddhas gathered from pivotal iconic periods
throughout Eastern history and this portion of the exhibit will attempt to trace
the spread of Buddhism and his likeness through the various Eastern
world
and time periods.”

 
   
 
“One
hundred…” Pietr repeated.

 
   
 
“…Buddhas.” Katherine grinned.

 
   
I
t
was after 10 p.m. when Pietr opened the door to his suite and shepherded Sophie
inside. Boneless with exhaustion, she took three steps inside before slipping
off her heels and nudging them aside with one foot on her way to the settee.
Pietr locked the door, sliding the hotel card onto the table next to the door.

 
   
 
“I
bet you're sorry you came to New York now.” Sophie's words were glib, but her
throat hurt from answering questions and reviewing the case, again. She
shouldn't have been surprised that Bryant had more questions. He'd sent a team
to investigate the museum.

 
   
 
Again.

 
   
 
But
no security footage of
anyone making
a forced or even
unexplained entry to her office and still no sign of Doctor Hinkley. The
Detective's arrival had spurred Lady Kather—Kit's—exit. Pietr dropped onto the
sofa next to her and tugged her legs over his lap, his fingers digging
deliciously into the ache in the arch of her foot.

 
   
 
“No,
although I may have words for Detective Bryant if he continues to insist on
talking to you
like
a suspect.”

 
   
 
“How
did Mr. Edgington get there so fast?” She scooched down on the settee and
closed her eyes. His fingers were working magic on the stiff soreness of her
feet. She'd not noticed the pinch of her shoes earlier, but even her toes
ached.

 
   
 
“Speed dial.”
Pietr chuckled. “I've found that whenever one
deals with law enforcement, representation speeds it up or we might still be at
the museum - or worse.”

 
   
 
“Worse?” Sophie eyes cracked open lazily.

 
   
 
“At their station house.
The coffee there is ridiculously
bad.”

 
   
 
Laughter buoyed out of her and Sophie shook
her head. “You're funny.”

 
   
 
“Oh?”
His voice dropped an octave as his knuckle brushed a particularly tense spot.
The applied pressure curled all the way up her spine, her back arching as the
knot gave way.

 
   
 
“Yes,” she shuddered with the release, ripples
of pleasure eddying through her belly. His knuckle stroked the tender spot
increasing the tingles rolling up her body.

 
   
 
“And
why am I funny?” The husky bass of his voice acted much like his knuckle on the
tense spots in her soul, forcing release and relaxation.

 
   
 
“You
are obsessed with luxury.” Sophie watched him through the hood of her lashes.
“You like good coffee, comfortable cars and even your suite is more like a
penthouse apartment than a hotel room. You throw money around to get your way
and you are absolutely without shame about it.”

 
   
 
“So?”
His hands drifted from one foot to the other, lavishing it with similar
attention. “That makes me funny?”

 
   
 
“A little.
I've never put much value in things, they're just
things – coffee is just a drink, a car is just transport and a home is about
the memories, not the furniture or the fixtures.” A devil of doubt whispered in
her ear. What did she really know about Pietr? Yes, he loved luxury. Yes, he
had an agenda. Yes, he was a god with his hands, caressing the tension out of
her sore feet.

 
   
 
But
what did she know about the man behind the money?

 
   
 
“Luxury is something I can afford and prefer.”
He shrugged. “Would you prefer to drink stale coffee? Sleep on a lumpy bed?
Ride on a bumpy bus when you don't have to?”

 
   
 
“No,
I suppose not. But what do you care about, Pietr? What makes your heart stop?
What makes your blood shiver? What can you really not be without?”

 
   
 
He
was silent for so long that she would have thought he'd gone to sleep save for
the way his hands moved up her foot to her calf muscles and began massaging
them through the fabric of her pant leg. The intimacy of the caress elicited a
nearly silent gasp from her.

 
   
 
“My
family is important to me. My aunt and uncle, my cousin, but don't tell him
that, he already borrows enough of my time.” The light tone couldn’t disguise
the deeper conviction in his expression.

 
   
 
“What
about your parents?”

 
   
 
“They
died when I was seven.” Pietr's smile was bittersweet. “I barely had time to
know them.”

 
   
 
Sophie leaned upwards, shifting across the
settee and wrapping her arms around him. Pietr's arms came around her, easing
her onto his lap, his hands sliding up her sides, to roll across the muscles of
her back.

 
   
 
“I'm
sorry.” She murmured, guilt nibbling at threads of her conscience.