'I suppose as his assistant curator you're next in line for the position." The words were an observation only, carefully nonweighted.
'I suppose I am. Damn him anyway, I'm the only person I can think of who hates paperwork more than he did." She pressed her fists against her mouth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Oh, God?" A moment later she looked up, lashes in damp clumps. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually a watering pot."
'It's been an unusual kind of a day," Celluci said gently, handing her a tissue. "Dave, why don't you tell the others that anyone who wants to go home, can. But point out that once the lab people are done, we'll need a complete inventory of that workroom. Maybe some'll stay. The sooner we know for sure if anything's missing the better."
Dr. Shane blew her nose as Dave left. "You're pretty high-handed with my staff, Detective."
'Sorry. If you'd rather tell them yourself??"
'No, that's all right. You're doing fine." I bet when he was eighteen he looked like Michelangelo's David. She closed her eyes again. God, I don't believe this. Elias is dead and I'm sitting here thinking about hove good-looking this cop is.
'Dr. Shane? Are you all right?"
'I'm fine." She opened her eyes again and managed a watery smile. "Really."
Celluci nodded. He couldn't help but notice that Dr. Rachel Shane had a very attractive smile, even twisted as it was with grief. He wondered how it would look when she actually had something to smile about.
'So." She tossed the soggy tissue in the wastebasket. "You've taken care of my staff, what do you have planned for me?"
For no good reason, Celluci could feel his ears turning red. He cleared his throat and gave thanks he hadn't gone in for that haircut. "If you could check Dr. Rax's office? You'd be in the best position to know if anything's been disturbed."
The curator's office was on the other side of the large common room. When PC Harper motioned him over to the hall door, Celluci waved Dr. Shane on alone.
'What?"
'It's the press."
'Yeah. So?"
'Shouldn't somebody make a statement; just to keep them from breaking the doors down?"
Celluci snorted. "I'll give them a statement."
As he watched the detective stride off down the corridor, shoulders up and fingers curled into fists, PC Harper wondered if maybe he should've waited for Sergeant Graham to finish with those staff members he'd taken off to the workroom. He had a feeling the press were about to get a statement they wouldn't be able to print.
A number of the reporters milling about in the security lobby recognized the detective as a museum guard let him through the door.
'Oh, great," muttered one. "It's homicide's Mr. Congeniality."
Questions flew thick and fast. Celluci waited, glaring the pack into silence. When the noise subsided enough so that he could be heard, he cleared his throat and began, his tone making his opinion of his audience plain. "In the early hours of this morning, a male Caucasian was found dead of causes unknown in the Department of Egyptology's workroom. Obviously we suspect foul play; I wouldn't be here if we didn't. You want anything else, you'll have to wait for it."
'What about the mummy?" A reporter near the front of the crowd shoved a microphone forward. "We heard there was talk of a mummy being involved."
Yes, what about the mummy? Although still uneasy about its accuracy, Celluci repeated the party line. "There never was a mummy, only an empty coffin being studied by the Department of Egyptology."
'Is there any possibility that the coffin could have caused both the recent deaths in the museum?"
'And how would it do that?" Celluci asked dryly. "Fall on them?"
'What about some kind of an ancient curse?"
Ancient Curse Kills Two. He could see the headlines now. "Don't be an asshole."
The reporter snatched the microphone to safety just in time and, smiling pleasantly, asked, "Can I quote you on that, Detective?"
Celluci's smile was just as sincere. "You can tattoo it on your chest."
Back upstairs, he found Dr. Shane and his partner standing just outside Dr. Rax's office.