Free Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine 11/01/12 by Dell Magazines Page A

who dusted off her hand and brushed Lale's cheek in
     an affectionate, grandmotherly gesture. Mrs. Kaya continued working, but called
     to one of her assistants. Soon we were all given spoons and were sampling the
     finished project.
    Across the little knot of our group, I saw Brian jotting down notes without
     taking his eyes off Mrs. Kaya's movements. She'd moved on to rolling up seasoned
     rice in grape leaves, with a series of motions that were so fluid they could
     only have been acquired after years of practice. The finished product was
     thinner than I expected, no thicker than a pen or a marker, and perfectly
     wrapped.
    Mrs. Kaya spoke. "If any of you would like to try to do this yourselves, you may
     now," Lale translated. "This is an excellent opportunity to learn from a real
     home-style cook at work."
    Immediately, Brian, Tiffany, and Jack stepped forward. "This is what I'm talking
     about," Jack said enthusiastically. "Never mind the old stuff, point me towards
     lunch."
    Each was given a pickled grape leaf and shown how to fold it around the rice.
     Brian got better with each try, and soon, about a half-dozen slender tubes were
     arranged by his plate. Mrs. Kaya pursed her lips and nodded once.
    Tiffany kept giggling, posing for Nicole to take her picture. "Look, I'm doing
     something cultural!"
    Jack's efforts were more labored, but he proceeded gamely. He grabbed one of the
     misshapen rolls and popped it into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to general
     laughs.
    "Well, traditionally we wait until they are steamed," Lale said
     diplomatically.
    At that moment, a guard from the museum came over and whispered something to
     Lale. Her smile vanished, and she inquired about something. I cursed my lack of
     Turkish beyond "hello," "thank you," and other tourist necessities.
    "We must return to the museum." She spoke to Mrs. Kaya, gave her a small gift of
     money for the demonstration, then guided us back.
    The alarm was off now, but the staff was buzzing like bees in a kicked hive. We
     were still the only tourists around, and it was after official hours. Surely we
     wouldn't be continuing now, when it was so late?
    Lale waited for Harold to join us, and when Randy beat a path for the shop, she
     spoke sharply. "I'm afraid we must stay close together, Randy. I have some very
     disturbing news. There are some artifacts missing."
    "From the ones we were looking at? But none of us even touched them."
    But some of us had. I remembered the instinct to retrieve them myself. Several
     people had replaced the small, elusive objects on the cloth after we were told
     to leave.
    "No, of course not. Dr. Saatchi is concerned that perhaps they might have
     accidentally gotten snagged on a sock or in a cuff, when the tray went flying.
     We would like to put your bags through the X-ray machine again, as we did when
     we came in. Just to be sure. And, if you wouldn't mind turning out your pockets?
     I'm sure no one would take anything on purpose, but when everything went flying,
     it is possible . . ."
    She ended lamely, and I knew she was only doing her job, which had just become a
     hundred times more difficult. Both her professional and personal reputation were
     at stake.
    "Well, I'm not going to—" Rose said, gathering herself up for a
     long-winded refusal.
    "I'll go first," I said quickly. If I could cut her protests off, maybe everyone
     else would fall into line, and we could get this sorted out. Or at least, remove
     ourselves from the equation.
    I handed Lale my bag, which she handed to the guard, and it went through the
     X-ray. Then the guard went through the bag by hand, after I nodded permission. I
     emptied out my pockets onto the table, then pulled them out to show they were
     empty. To finish the point, I checked the bottoms of my hiking shoes, to make
     sure there was nothing caught in the treads. Nothing.
    It took me an embarrassingly long time to sort the large pile of tissues, Purell
     bottles, Swiss Army