“Lucie,” I begin. “You may have noticed how certain things about me and about MINDFUCH don’t add up.”
She nods.
“I can’t reveal much, but?—”
She gasps. “You’re a secret agent!”
“Shush!” I look around to see if anyone heard her.
Fortunately, there aren’t many people in the Treasury on this April afternoon. The few visitors present look to be in their seventies and eighties, which is good news for hearing aid manufacturers—and for us.
She looks me up and down. “Wait, what if you’re tryingto manipulate me into breaking the law because you’re a foreign spy?”
“Do I look like a spy? I am not a spy!”
“They all say that.”
“How many spies have you met?”
She huffs out a breath. “They say it in movies. Besides, real spies never look like spies.”
We enter the Napoleonic room that houses the kind of exuberant furniture I’m used to seeing at home in the palace in Pombrio.
Lucie stops and crosses her arms over her chest. “OK, let’s assume I believe you, and you’re not a secret agent. Why do you need that key you’re hoping to find inside the fan?”
“It’s classified, I’m afraid.”
“How convenient!”
“It is.”
She heads into the next room. I follow. There’s still a lot of furniture here but also period dresses, china, and various small objects in glass displays. I “accidentally” lift the lid of one of such displays. Nothing happens. No alarms wailing, no red lights blinking. Before Lucie’s scandalized gaze, I slip my hand in and out. Still nothing.
She shakes her head disapprovingly. “I get it; it’s a small museum, and its collection is not the most valuable. Still, you’d expect them to take better care of it!”
“Are you upset on behalf of your grandmother’s fan?”
Instead of answering my question, she bends down and peers at an object in a display. “Psst, I found it!”
I bolt to her side. There it is… the fan in the sketch.Hurray!
I look left and right and try to lift the display’s lid, but this one is locked and won’t budge. I’m sure I can pick that lock but doing it now may be ill-advised. As if on cue, asmall group of visitors enter the room and scatter to its four corners.
Lucie and I exit. In the hallway, I notice a door marked Storage.
Lucie follows my gaze. “I’m sure it’s locked.”
I try the handle. It’s locked, so I flash a pick set in my breast pocket. “I’ve come prepared.”
“But… this morning you had no idea we’d end up here!”
“But I knew we were going a-sleuthing for a crucial object kept in a private home,” I counter. “I tried to be prepared for every eventuality.”
“Where did you learn to pick locks?”
“My younger sister taught me when we were in our teens,” I say honestly. “She’s a bit of a rascal.”
Lucie’s eyes bug out. “Is that how you can afford the suits you wear to work and the classic car hobby you talked about at Aunt Violette’s? Do you and your sis have a burglarizing hustle on the side?”
