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“The owner, a Mr. Evans, mentioned you.”
“Did he?”
“Well, not to us.” She gestured between herself and Lena, well aware she wasn’t explaining this in a coherent manner. “I mean, we overheard him speaking to someone else. He said he knew your uncle. And that he—the late marquess—made his life rather uncomfortable.”
“Miserable, in fact,” Lena added, for which Norah was grateful.
“And how it was only fair that you paid for it.” Norah bit her lip.
Simon stared at her in surprise. “I have never liked Evans and assumed the feeling was mutual. But when I first considered him as a possible suspect, I wondered if my opinion was clouded because of that. Interesting. This certainly sheds new light on the situation.”
“Though not always fair, we are often held responsible for our relatives’ actions.” Norah and her sisters had certainly experienced their share of bias from some of the people who’d known their mother and father. Not all of them had been pleasant.
“I appreciate you coming here.” He looked as if there was more he wanted to say, yet he hesitated.
“Of course,” Norah replied when he said nothing else. “I wish we were of more help.”
“You’ve done so much already. Thank you.”
Norah nodded, watching as Simon stared into the distance, suggesting he continued to sort through their news. She glanced around the room, hating how empty it already was.
“We’re guarding the museum and will continue to do so,” Simon said at last, following her gaze. “In fact, I’ll be here this evening to watch over things. That will give me time to find a way to see if Evans is involved.”
“I hope the situation resolves quickly.” Then, before she made a complete fool of herself by saying how much she missed him and that she wished things between them were different, Norah glanced at Lena. “We should be going.”
“Yes,” Lena agreed. They both curtsied.
“Goodbye, Simon.” Norah looked at him one last time, her heart aching when he said nothing more.
She turned and led the way down the stairs, her chest tight, making it difficult to breathe. Though she wondered about the message he’d mentioned, she couldn’t imagine that it contained anything important, or he would’ve told her.
The faint hope that seeing him again would make him relent and suddenly profess affection for her snuffed out. That was it then. Their association was truly over. She clenched a hand in the folds of her skirt and hoped she could maintain her composure until she and Lena returned home.
*
Simon stared outthe window of his office later that evening, uncertain what to do next. He hated this feeling. It was one that had followed him far too often since the death of his parents. A clear path forward wasn’t visible, much like those terrible days after their funerals, while he’d waited to learn where he would go, only to realize no one wanted him.
He was at a loss on all fronts, starting with Norah.
She’d been standing right in front of him, but rather than speak what was in his heart, he’d watched her walk away. By now, she had surely read his message. What did she think?
Yet how could he take any steps forward with her—if she’d have him—when his life was in such upheaval?
He spun away from the window, done with the doubt. It had held him in its grip for too long. From this point on, he needed to claim the future he wanted. No more waiting for events to unfold. He intended to move forward, starting with resolving the thefts of the artifacts. Closing the museum wasn’t enough. He wanted to find whoever had done this and hold them accountable.
The information Norah had shared was interesting but far from proof that Evans had taken the missing items. Yet, when he added in what Worley had seen, he had to suspect Evans and Stockton were working together.
Simon walked to his office door and studied Stockton’s desk. The director hadn’t yet cleaned it out in preparation for leaving the museum for good. Simon had asked him to remain on through the end of the month to help with closing and offered extra pay if he did so, and he’d agreed.
Stockton had been in earlier, but Simon had told him to take the remainder of the day off. Simon didn’t want him there until he determined a plan. Miles and Emerson were watching the museum with Simon through the night. Simon hadn’t told Stockton those details. It was another strike against the director that he hadn’t bothered to ask who was guarding the place or whether he could help.
This would be a good time to look through the director’s desk again. Instead of examining the papers, he needed to think about where Stockton could hide the missing items.
Though some of the artifacts would be difficult to hide because of their size, the coin could be tucked anywhere. Would he have already removed the items from the museum? Would he take the risk of keeping them in his home when, if discovered, they would prove his guilt?
The coin had been a turning point in the thefts as far as Simon was concerned. Its loss had made Simon begin to suspect the thefts were personal, directed at him. The clay pot didn’t hold the same importance. Would Stockton keep the coin near as a reminder of his cleverness? Simon moved to the man’s desk, considering the possibilities. Where hadn’t he looked when he’d previously searched it?
Simon tried to put himself in Stockton’s shoes and sat in his chair, examining the desk. The two lower drawers were unlocked, so unlikely choices. Simon patted his pocket and retrieved the pick he’d taken to carrying.
