“At least.”
“But enough to want to kill him?” Max asked before lowering his voice when a woman to my left glanced our way. “This…Collectorthreatens, taunts, then murders people, right?”
I nodded. “I believe the antique I’m supposed to deliver in exchange for Calvin is the skull of Edward Drinker Cope.”
“Wait,what?”
I explained to Max what the highlighted artifact of Frank’s visiting exhibit was supposed to be. I told him about the two other messages I’d received, as well as what I’d pieced together at the hotel when Calvin was still….No. That way madness lay.
“The head curator must be the Collector,” Max said with grim satisfaction. “Trying to stop the exhibit from happening because he wants the skull for himself.”
“But it’s been lost,” I answered.
“It still adds up.”
“Maybe. But Angela was fired for trying to steal from the museum.”
Max drummed his fingertips on the table, sipped more caffeine, then said, “Maybe they’re working it together.”
“I can’t imagine Calvin would willingly get into the car of a stranger or potential suspect,” I said, thinking out loud. “I’m under the assumption the Collector is someone who knows himandme on some level. It’s the only explanation to those text messages.”
“Set that thought aside for one minute,” Max said. “If this were a team effort, it’d certainly be easier to overpower Calvin.”
I frowned at his words. Felt myself deflate a little in the chair.
“I didn’t mean…fuck.” Max seemed to struggle with how to correct himself. “This is difficult to discuss, because it’s not a nobody.”
“It’s Calvin,” I said solemnly. I took another one of those deep, soul-cleansing breaths. “You might be onto something. I can’t rule out a joint effort yet. There are too many coincidences.”
“I bet Calvin thought so too,” Max said as he leaned back in his chair.
“Hedidthink so.”
“Really?”
“Yesterday, after we’d both been sent home, he called to check in with me. He was on his way to the museum for some follow-up interviews. He must have smelled dirt in the department.”
“Here’s what I don’t get, then,” Max said. “Why bother coming afteryou? If this is about Calvin.”
“Calvin wasn’t the target—not in the beginning. We think, after who knows how many failed attempts at procuring the skull through others, the Collector took a different route and went to me because I’m… uh….”
“Well-known,” Max supplied tactfully.
“That’s it. And when I wouldn’t budge, Calvin became incentive. Maybe doubly so, when he started asking more questions. The Collector was able to force my hand and get rid of a nosy cop at the same time.”
Max leaned forward once more. “If they were able to get Calvin out of the way… why bother keeping him alive for forty-eight hours?”
The few sips of coffee I’d taken began to bubble and churn acid in my stomach. I said severely, “Because they need me agreeable.”
“I HAVEto talk to Angela,” I stated.
Max had been performing another social media search on his phone when he raised his head. “Calvin isn’t here, so allow me to be your common sense.” He kicked me hard under the table.
“Ow! What the hell?” I reached down and rubbed my shin.
“Dude. She might be the killer,” he whispered loudly.
I was still massaging my leg. “Did you find the intern anywhere?”
