Setting down the box he’d carried in, he stripped off his gin-scented coat and embraced her again, one hand cradling the back of her head. “About like this,” he teased, and she laughed, savoring the security of his embrace.
“A new interrogation technique,” she said, pulling back to look up at him. “How innovative. I’ll bet all the flappers love to be questioned by you. Lucky girls.”
“The flappers aren’t out this early.” A smile hooked his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
Lauren reached up and brushed his hair off his brow. “It’s good to see you, too.” They were such small words, so mundane they might have been exchanged between any two people meeting by chanceon the street. But the yearning in Joe’s eyes when she touched his face infused the moment with longing and restraint.
He caught her wrist and pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive skin inside of it. “It’s late. I shouldn’t stay long,” he said, breaking the spell with a dose of common sense.
Her face flushed and heart hammering, Lauren agreed and wrapped her quilted robe a little tighter. She reached for the item she knew would throw cold water on them both.
Bringing the box to the living room, she sat in one armchair while Joe took the other. Carefully, she pulled the horse and rider and the provenance document from within and inspected both. Her stomach hollowed.
“Oh, Joe. This is dated too early. I thought maybe the provenance was in error, but the inscription on the horse itself matches. This could not have come from the dynasty it claims because horses weren’t introduced to Egypt until one or two dynasties later.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Could it be that horses weren’t common yet, but someone, somewhere had a few? I mean, can we say universally that there were absolutely no horses in Egypt yet?”
“I don’t like it, either. But in this case, yes, we can. This is dated a fewcenturiesbefore the first horse arrived. So there’s no way this is genuine. At least we know this forger isn’t Peter Braun. The Napoleon Society should have known better than to acquire this, but they did—possibly in a large batch they acquired all at once, the way the Met is bequeathed large collections with varying levels of value.”
“Do you know how much money my father spent on that fake?” He left the chair and paced the living room, muttering, “What am I going to tell him? What am I going to tell my mother?”
“My father will make this right, Joe. If not a refund, a replacement, and one I’ll personally inspect before it’s offered to your parents.” She bit her lip, ashamed that she hadn’t noticed the problem with the carving when she’d first seen it on Christmas morning. When she apologized for that, Joe shook his head.
“It would have ruined the entire day to find out right then and there. No, this isn’t your fault.”
“It’s not my father’s, either,” she said.
He spun to face her, green eyes blazing. “Then whose is it?” Accusation edged his tone.
Lauren stood to deflect it. “I understand why you’re upset. But this is different from what happened before. This might even work in our favor.”
Joe frowned. “What do you mean?” Weariness settled in the lines on his face, reminding her that he shouldered cares he couldn’t speak of. They were matters of far more importance than forgeries, of that she could be certain.
“I’d like to see if the dealer who sold this carving to the Napoleon Society is the same one who sold the Book of the Dead papyrus to Ray Moretti. I’d have to go back and check with the Morettis, of course, but if it’s a match, the NYPD could alert the authorities in Luxor, right? And they could investigate, potentially preventing other forgeries from being sold by that dealer.” It was a small glimmer of hope, but she snatched at it.
“You’re not going there alone.”
“I don’t have to go anywhere if he’s willing to cooperate,” she countered. “I only need to see the provenance document. He could send it with his personal secretary, and I could look at it in my office. If I want an answer quicker, I could call and ask for the name of the dealer. Then again, this is too important not to see it for myself.”
Joe leaned an elbow against the fireplace mantel, pinning his gaze on the glowing embers. He stood there without speaking for so long Lauren wondered if he’d fallen asleep on his feet.
At last, he said, “No, we’ll both go. If you can set it up, I’ll come with you.” Then he picked up his coat from where he’d dropped it and put it back on. “I want to talk to your father about this, too. I want to hear what he has to say before bringing this up to my folks.”
Lauren swallowed. “Of course. He’d appreciate the chance toexplain how this could have happened, I’m sure. I’m eager to hear it myself.”
“Is he in town?”
“He will be. My father and I are meeting Daniel and Agnes DeVries tomorrow night for dinner at the Astor for New Year’s Eve. Join us. Eight o’clock. We’d love to have you, and you can get all your questions answered. Dr. DeVries is one of the Napoleon Society board members and the editor of the newsletter. But once you finish talking business, will you at least try to enjoy yourself?” She wouldn’t say so, but he looked like he needed a break.
“Is this another tuxedo shindig?”
Lauren chuckled. “I’m afraid so. But don’t worry. I’ll be there to fix your bow tie if you still haven’t gotten the hang of it.”
“Is that a promise?” Grinning, Joe replaced his hat and kissed her on the cheek. “Count me in.”
CHAPTER
28
