Free The Taming of the Thief by Heather Long Page A

tone light, but curiosity flared
in him. If he couldn't get the story from her, he'd have his men dig deeper.
But he really wanted to hear it from her.
            “It's
short for Rhetoric.” Sophie grimaced, following him to the overturned sofa when
the last of the knickknacks were back in place. Pietr grabbed the corner and
shifted the sofa's weight onto it's front and then
onto its back before she could touch it. The piece was unwieldy, but not overly
heavy.
            He
barely swallowed the bark of laughter. “Why would your mother do that to him?”
            “She
meant well,” Sophie was quick to defend her family. “We used to ask her the
same thing, but Dad told me that Mom really loved our names and it hurt her
feelings when we picked on her about them, so we stopped.”
            “Dare
I ask what Sophie is short for?” Pietr caught the pillows she tossed at him and
dumped them back onto the sofa. He righted the table and bent down to help her
gather up the magazines and printouts. A flick of a glance showed him they were
all research on middle-eastern and far eastern artifacts.
            His
fingers jerked when he saw a printout of a news item from the Far Eastern desk
of the BBC. The Fortunate Buddha was
pictured and a highlighted footnote in the article detailed its disappearance a
year before.
            “It's
short for Sophistry.”
            Pietr
glanced up to see Sophie staring at him, waiting.
            “She
named your brother after speechmaking and gave you a name for facetious
arguments?”
            “Well, yes and no.” Sophie laughed. “Hence the issue with our names. Sophism is a form of teaching, it originally meant educator or teacher. Sophia meaning wisdom or wise one. Sophistry got a bad rap
because Plato and Aristotle both disapproved of teachers charging students for
their education and the word has somewhat devolved since then, but my mother
loved the original meaning.”
            “So
she intended for you to teach and your brother to enter politics?” He had a
feeling he would like Mrs. Kingston. There was a genuine bit of humor in her
name choices, but also a method of careful thought.
            “Maybe, but Rhet's a fireman here in the city
and the last thing he's interested in is politics.”
            “So
he's one of New York's Finest.” Pietr caught another grin at himself.
            “No,
he's part of New York's Bravest. Dad and Frank were a part of the Finest.
Finest is police, bravest is our firefighters. Dad was a cop for twenty-five
years when he blew out his knee and had to take early retirement. He works as
an advocate for the department now and mom's an attorney who works civil cases,
housing problems and helping battered women with legal issues.”
            They
moved to the closet and Pietr pulled out the disheveled boxes, stacking them
one at a time after scanning the contents. Guilt nibbled at the edge of his
conscience. He didn't intend to search her apartment, but she offered him an
opportunity and Walter mentioned her interest in the Buddha. So far, all he
discovered was the one news article.
            “It
sounds like your family is very devoted to civil service.”
            “So
what am I doing working in a dusty museum?” Sophie grinned. Her obvious
pleasure at discussing her family eased the tension of sorting through her
apartment's destruction.
            “I wouldn't
have called it dusty. But yes, it does seem like you would have chosen another
field.”
            Sophie shrugged. “Mom took us to museums all
over the country when we were growing up. I can't count the number of road
trips. Rhet used to get bored, but me, I loved them. I told you Mom fell in
love with the language of the law, but she also enjoyed the humanities, the
culture and the history. I guess I just loved it even more. I studied art every
chance I had, I even fancied myself a painter for a