Lauren blinked. “You asked him?”
“I wanted to see what he would say when I showed these to him. He wasn’t as quick with his verdict as you were, but he landed on the same one. I’ve ruled him out as a suspect. The forger wouldn’t tell me his workmanship was fake.”
“I agree.” She exhaled, somewhat relieved. “But how did you find nine forgeries in less than two weeks, especially if they were all owned by separate people?”
Joe pulled from his pocket his father’s brochure from the Napoleon Society and pointed to a list of charter members on the back panel. “I met with as many as I could. Every one of these artifacts had been given to them as part of their membership package.”
“Oh no, are you sure?” But of course he was sure. She held her head in her hands. That made ten forgeries that the Napoleon Society had channeled. “This is terrible. Did you check the provenance? Was it the same dealer in Luxor? He must have sold the society a large batch of artifacts all at once. How embarrassing.”
“You mean, how criminal.”
She straightened, heat creeping up from her collar. “The board certainly didn’tmeanto pass off forgeries. The Napoleon Society is as much a victim as any of its members.”
“The provenance documents vary.” He gave her a stack of paper to look through while he explained. “Some of them say the scarabs were purchased from Sayed, while others say they were excavated by a Napoleon Society board member. But every document uses the same language to describe the finds. How is that possible unless Dr. DeVries is behind it? There’s no doubt that he’s lying when he says some of these fakes were uncovered in Napoleon Society digs. Forgers don’t bury their fakes. They sell them.”
He was right.
Lauren paced the living room, trying to wrap her mind around this information.
“The Napoleon Society could be a front,” Joe said. “The entire organization may be a fraud.”
“No, not entirely.” She hated that her voice sounded like she was pleading. “I admit Dr. DeVries seems to be guilty, but Dad would never be part of something like this. He was the one who invited me out to Newell St. John’s house on Staten Island so I could look for forgeries.”
“And where did Newell’s forged ointment jar come from? Your father’s old rival, Theodore Clarke. Is it possible he already knew that? Could he have found satisfaction in your discrediting him? Or could your father have planted a fake jar in place of the real thing for this express purpose? Maybe he knew that word would get out about it. Maybe that’s what he wanted. Maybe he leaked that himself.”
“No! Joe, you’re going too far. He’d never—he wouldn’t do that. Dad practically begged me for those articles on forgeries, but we didn’t print anyone’s names, least of all Clarke’s. His goal was only to protect his members from forgery.”
Joe stood, placing himself in her path. “Can you think of any other reasons Lawrence might have wanted you to write those articles based on your findings with me?” The way he asked, the way he looked at her, made her think he already had an answer. All these questions bewildered her. There were so many, and they were coming so fast, she scarcely could keep up.
“He—he wanted to work with me,” she said. “He wanted me to gain credibility so the board would approve me as a member of their upcoming expedition. But that wasn’t the only reason I did it. It might have started that way, but I wanted to help. I wanted to be close to him, Joe. You, of all people, should understand that.”
“I do.” He wrapped her hands in his. “But this isn’t about your motivation and purpose. It’s about his. So let’s talk about the articles you’ve already given him. What was the subject of the first one?”
“I wrote about the St. John forgerywithoutsmearing Theodore Clarke.”
“Right, that had nothing to do with the Napoleon Society, and he already knew that. And the second article?”
“That’s at the printer right now, but I saw the proof last week. It’s about plaster molds being passed off as wooden carvings.”
“And that was based on Vincent Escalante’s forgeries. Again, it doesn’t point to the society. Have you written others?”
Unspoken questions loomed in Lauren’s mind. She forced herself to answer only the one Joe had voiced. “When my father stopped by to show me the proofs, I mentioned I’d finished another article but submitted it to the Met’sBulletininstead. The content focused on hieroglyphic errors and seemed rather academic, so I thought it better suited to my employer and colleagues than theNapoleon Heraldsubscribers.”
“Hieroglyphic errors. Such as feminine and masculine articles?”
She nodded.
“How did he respond to the news?”
Lauren sat in the armchair behind her. “He lost his temper,” she said quietly. “He said he was upset because I’d promised articles to him, but I reminded him that I am employed by the Met, not the Napoleon Society. I even said he could reprint it later if he really thought it matched his newsletter’s demographics. But that wasn’t good enough for him. I couldn’t understand it.”
Joe knelt before her, still holding her hands. “Sweetheart, remember when you brought me to the Tomb of Perneb on Christmas Eve? You explained how three different teams of people worked together on the murals and suggested we may be looking not for one master forger but for a team whose combined skills could include painting, carving, sculpting, and more. I think you were right.”
She blinked back the sting in her eyes. “You think the team is the Napoleon Society.”
Gently, he pressed kisses in the valleys between her knuckles. “I do. I think they’ve been using you to train them on how to make their forgeries more convincing. But we don’t know how the othertwo members of the board feel about it. There might be an internal power play among the board.”
Everything in her railed against the entire idea. She jerked her hands from his and folded her arms. He was taking away what she had so longed for—the trustworthiness of her father, and the relief it had been to know that, at long last, she was redeeming their relationship, as Mother had wanted. Asshewanted now, too.
