Free Vengeance is Blind: Three Scott Drayco Short Mysteries by BV Lawson Page B

won’t be happy.”
    Belinda fished a comb out of the yellow
purse, but that wasn’t going to help the mascara running down her
face like oil slicks in the street after a rain. She queried
Drayco, “Did you find anything?”
    He shook his head. “All the doors were still
bolted, no sign of anyone entering or exiting the building. I
checked potential hiding places but found no one.”
    Belinda frowned. “Are you saying this was an
inside job? Oh, good Lord. That means the crooks might still be in
here.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “These
musty museums have all kinds of attics and crawlspaces, don’t
they?” She edged a little closer to Drayco.
    Jonas placed his hand on the glass case and
fingered the lock before Drayco could stop him. Drayco quickly
pulled Jonas’s hand away, and Jonas looked like a child who’d been
corrected. Then he gave a half-smile and nodded. “I’m sorry. You
said not to touch anything.” He put his hands in his pockets and
turned to Mabie. “If it’s an inside job, Martin, who would have
keys? I thought you limit those?”
    “You and I have the only two. I guess
someone could have made an impression of the key. Or lock. Has your
key ever been out of your possession, Jonas?”
    Jonas shook his head. “I keep mine here in
the museum safe. I don’t even take it home.” He groaned. “This is
like a biblical pestilence that stalks in the darkness.”
    Belinda snorted. “Pestilence, nothing. This
is greed, pure and simple. Although good luck to whoever tries to
sell the thing. Rare violins aren’t easy to pawn.”
    Mabie stopped pacing again. “You don’t think
it’ll end up in a sleazy pawn shop, do you? I can’t bear to think
of the Lady Ambrose lying next to hideous Rolex knockoffs and cubic
zirconia medallions of the Last Supper.”
    Drayco tried to reassure him, at least on
that point. “This isn’t a petty theft—someone went to too much
trouble. High-profile cases like this usually involve collectors.
Instead of a pawn shop, the instrument could find its way into
someone’s private study and not turn up for decades.”
    Alarms and sprinklers had been replaced by
thunder and a pounding rain reminiscent of an orchestra of snare
drums. Belinda looked toward the one window in the room, high up
toward the ceiling. Drayco almost imagined he could see small bolts
of lightning shooting from the top of Belinda’s head as she fumed.
“You can’t begin to comprehend the paperwork involved. Wish I’d
been assigned to some jewelry account. People always want to steal
necklaces or brooches. But a violin—how am I going to explain that
one? Personally I’d take diamonds over a violin, any day.”
    Mabie sniffed. “If you want to see baubles
like the Hope Diamond, go the Natural History Museum. Our exhibits
are cultural, not mere superficial frivolities.”
    Jonas countered, “But the Hope Diamond has a
shady past, too, just like the Lady Ambrose. Or so say legends of
the diamond’s curse. I daresay former owners like poor beheaded
Marie Antoinette would agree.”
    Mabie ignored him. “Drayco, do you think
this is an inside job? You said you didn’t see signs of an
intruder.”
    “The note had a local postmark. Whoever took
the instrument is very familiar with the building, security and
procedures. And there’s the matter of the key.”
    Mabie put his hands over his face. “The
Board of Trustees will have my head on a platter.”
    Belinda smirked. “Welcome to my world. And
Marie Antoinette’s.”
    Mabie lowered his hands long enough to tug
hard on his grizzled beard. Amazingly, the man could simultaneously
tug on the beard and grit his teeth, a model of coordination. He
said, “I guess I should go meet the police and show them the way,”
then gave Drayco a withering glare. “Since you’ve been so helpful,
why don’t you stick around down here. See if you can keep anything
else from disappearing.”
    Belinda looked hopefully toward Mabie as