A Museum Mystery 2 - Let's Play Dead by Connolly Sheila

Author:Connolly, Sheila [Sheila, Connolly,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2011-05-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Back at my desk, I looked at James’s message. It was his work number, rather than his cell phone, which surprised me—trouble? Or good news? I dialed, then waded through a couple of layers of receptionists until I reached him.

“Hello, Nell,” he said when he picked up, all business.

“James,” I replied in the same neutral tone. “You called?”

“Yes. Thanks for getting back to me. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Business?” I acknowledged a small feeling of disappointment, then squashed it.

“Yes. Can you meet me after work?”

If he could be businesslike, so could I. “Sorry, I can’t—committee meeting tonight. Lunch?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “No time. Coffee?”

“Okay. Where?”

“How about the Doubletree again? Half an hour?”

Not his office, not my office, but the very public hotel down the street. Interesting. “Fine.”

“See you then.” He hung up before I could add anything more.

I sat back in my chair, mildly baffled. If this was about the Society, he could have met me here, but his tone suggested it was not about the two of us, whatever we were. Something about the missing collection items? But again, he wouldn’t be coy about that. Ergo, it had to be something about the Let’s Play problem. Had something changed since the last time we had met? At that point I ran out of deductions and resolved to wait until we got together to think about it further. I turned my attention back to the agenda for the Executive Committee meeting.

Collections: acquisitions were on indefinite hold, both because of a shortage of funds and because we didn’t have a registrar to catalog anything right now. Membership: holding steady for the moment, but would members renew when the time came? Fundraising: on hold. Shelby seemed competent, but she wasn’t yet up to speed on the inner workings of our organization, and that would take time. Right now I felt like a nurse, trying to soothe everyone and keep them calm. Not to mention, keep our name out of the press, at least in any negative way.

So I did what I knew I could do—ran numbers, assembled information, talked briefly to staff members, and tried to cobble together reports that were accurate, short, and as optimistic as I could make them. I’d only roughed out a few before I had to leave to meet James—luckily he’d picked a spot just down the street.

James was waiting at a table and stood when he spotted me. I tried to gauge his expression: I was reading cautiously welcoming. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said.

“Thank you for picking a convenient location.” He held out my chair and I sat. “So, what’s this about? And why so formal?”

A waiter appeared. James ordered coffee, and I followed suit. When the server had left, James began, “I know I told you that there was no way I could involve myself or the agency in what happened at Let’s Play.” He sighed. “Turns out, there may be a reason for the FBI to take an interest after all.

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