If she found it, there might be a reward.
Or, on the other hand, the people who ran the Frick Collection might be angry at her for nosing about where she shouldn’t. The American laws might be harsh about that sort of thing, and she’d end up in jail.
The missing diamond was never reported to the police, and no one knew for sure what had happened to it. Say she found it—who would know? A prick of mischievous delight surged through her at the possibilities, as far-fetched as they were. No one would miss it. It was the perfect crime, really. Veronica had all the right connections if, in fact, a pricey gem did one day fall into her lap. Uncle Donny ran a discreet side business handling items with dodgy provenances—it was one of the reasons her father had quit to drive a cab, as he didn’t approve. Uncle Donny would know not to ask questions, as long as he got his cut. A pink diamond, worth who knew how much, would most definitely spring Polly from Kent House.
Veronica shivered. For God’s sake, the cold and dark were getting to her, affecting her judgment. She was astonished at herself for even entertaining such a thought. She was no crook.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Veronica let out a squawk, slamming the book shut and banging into the bookshelf as she straightened up. The vase on top teetered but didn’t fall over, thank God.
Shaken, she looked up to see the figure of a man filling the doorway. It was the archivist who Barnaby had insulted. Joshua.
Her relief at having been found was replaced by horror at the fact that she’d nearly knocked over what was probably a very expensive vase.
“Joshua? Oh, my goodness, what a fright you gave me!”
“You were at the shoot earlier, right?” he asked, coming closer.
“Yes. I’m Veronica, one of the models.” She slid the book back into the bookshelf and rose to her feet. “I’m so glad to see you, you have no idea.”
“What are you still doing here?”
“They all left without me. I got locked inside.” All was not lost. Once Joshua let her out of here, she could hop on the next train and catch up with Barnaby in Newport by the morning. “Look, I need to dash, my suitcases are still upstairs. I’ll grab them and meet you by the front door.”
He walked over to a corner table where an old-fashioned gas lamp sat, struck a match, and lit the lamp, taking an inordinate amount of time to adjust the flame, showing no sign of urgency. After studying her for a moment, his gaze drifted around the room. He was checking to see if she’d damaged or stolen anything, for certain.
“What time is it?” he asked.
She checked her watch. “A little past eight.”
“No luck, then.”
“What do you mean, no luck?”
“I don’t have a set of keys.”
“But you work here.”
“I’m a part-timer. Part-timers don’t get keys.”
“You said you were an archivist.”
“I’m a part-time archivist. Well, officially, I’m an intern.”
This quibbling rankled. “I have to get out. Can I climb out a window?”
He shook his head. “If you do that, the alarm system will go off. Tommy the security guard sets it before he leaves for the night, and there’s no way you can get out without triggering the intrusion sensors.”
“Then how were you planning on leaving?”
“I was just wondering that myself.”
The man made no sense, and meanwhile the clock was ticking. “I’m sorry, what?”
He gave an embarrassed shrug. “I was trying to catch up on all the work I missed while the photo shoot was going on, and I fell asleep at my desk.” Indeed, his shirt was wrinkled, his eyes red. “I’m as stuck as you are.”
“Fine. Then we trigger the alarm. I’ll explain to the police what happened. I can’t stay here all night, it’ll be too late.”
He took a deep breath. “I have three things to say to that proposal.”
The urgency of her situation seemed to elude him. “Go ahead.”
“First of all, if we open a window, the cold, wet air will rush in and damage the artwork. Second, if the city is in a blizzard-induced blackout, which it appears to be, you won’t be able to get to the train station anyway, especially wearing those on your feet.”
She looked down at the kitten heels. He had a point. Two points.
“And thirdly?” She had the distinct impression that this was a man who enjoyed hearing himself talk.
“Thirdly, if I am here when the police show up, I may as well cancel all of my plans for the next three days, until my parents can get me out of jail.”