Free Last Breath by Mariah Stewart Page B

Connor asked.
    â€œFor the past few years, the financial picture here at the university has become increasingly grim. We have been considering different means of raising cash, and recently someone suggested selling off what few liquid assets we have.” She smiled wryly. “It didn’t take long to make a list of those. We have some land we could sell, but there isn’t enough to make a dent in the budget. And this isn’t really a high-rent district out here, as you may have noticed.”
    â€œThe town looks all right,” Connor noted.
    â€œThe town is
all right,
and that’s about it. We’re surrounded by farms, many of them Amish, and the price per acre is pretty low.”
    â€œSo what you’re saying is that selling off land wasn’t the solution,” he said.
    â€œRight.” Louise nodded. “And then someone started talking about selling off artwork—the university does have quite a nice collection of American primitive paintings—so we went around to the various buildings to take stock of what we had. On my way back home that night, I came past the museum, and it jogged my memory.”
    â€œI’d have thought it would have occurred to someone sooner than that.”
    â€œAgent Shields, no one has seen that collection in almost one hundred years. There was no official catalog we could refer to, because Professor McGowan died before his find was ever put on display.”
    â€œBut if there was no catalog, why are you so sure something is missing?” he asked.
    â€œHe made an inventory when he first returned to the States,” Daria told him. “He described everything in every crate in great detail. Some items he’d even sketched. Every crate was numbered, so we know exactly what should be in each one. He was in the process of designing his exhibits when he died, and his inventory reflects that. Louise—Dr. Burnette—and I have gone through the crates several times, double-checking and searching for the missing items. They are not in the vault.”
    â€œWhere else have you looked?” Connor asked.
    â€œWe’ve searched the basement,” Daria told him, “and last night, I started going through the house where I’m staying here on campus, where my great-grandparents lived. I thought perhaps there might be something there.”
    â€œI’m guessing you didn’t find anything,” Connor said.
    â€œOnly some letters he wrote to my great-grandmother from the dig. Unfortunately, romantic as they are, there’s nothing that’s going to help us figure out what happened to the missing artifacts.”
    â€œWhat about other buildings throughout the university?” Connor said, thinking aloud. “I’m assuming you’ve scoured the other houses, the science building, offices, storerooms?”
    â€œActually, I’m working on that this afternoon, along with the lone member of our archaeology staff who is on campus for the summer. Daria and I believe that the only items that might still be on campus and might have gone unnoticed would be pottery. Jars, vases, that sort of thing. Certainly any of the gold or jeweled items wouldn’t be sitting out unnoticed on a shelf.”
    â€œGood point. Has anyone searched the museum?” he asked.
    â€œOnly Dr. Burnette and I.”
    â€œThat’s good, then. I’m assuming no one knows what’s there, including members of your staff. I suggest we keep it that way for a while.” He stood. “Daria, why don’t we start by showing me the vault?”
    â€œYes, I’d like you to see the museum.” Daria stood as well. “And I want to show you the inventory. I’ve entered everything onto my computer—crate by crate, item by item. We can stop at the house and I’ll run a copy off for you.”
    â€œI have it, Daria,” Louise told her as she rose. “I’ll make a copy for Agent