to every detail of the Marchand tour schedule.
“She finally knew where the bracelet was,” Brittany said, “and she was afraid people would recognize it.”
“Once that happened, it would be simple to trace it from me to Eugene Swift and from there to his company.”
“Establishing a direct link between a stolen Egyptian artifact and Swift Auction House would have ruined them.”
“Not necessarily. It isn’t easy to trace the provenance—the chain of custody—of ancient artifacts. If one that turns out to have been stolen or looted shows up in a catalog, the auction house acknowledges the mistake, tries to make it right, and all’s well.”
“Why couldn’t the Swifts do that?”
“Because my bracelet was stolen from a museum that issued a well-publicized list of every object that had been looted.”
“Meaning that Swift Auctions couldn’t plead ignorance.”
“Exactly. Every dealer in the country knew what was on that list, and if Kathryn couldn’t get the bracelet back, her entire illegal operation would be exposed.” Olivia ran her thumb over her wrist. “Eugene loved Aida. It felt right to wear his bracelet onstage opening night. I can only imagine how panicked she must have been when she saw it.”
“She must have been even more panicked when you walked into the gala wearing it.”
“I think she expected that. I ran into her about three weeks ago when I was in Manhattan, and she specifically asked me to come to the gala in costume. She didn’t know for sure I’d wear the bracelet, but it would be a logical accessory for me to choose, and she must have seen it as her fail-safe opportunity to get it back if her son couldn’t retrieve it before then. I’m guessing she didn’t have a lot of faith in Norman.”
“He did turn out to be a bit of a bumbler.”
“Fortunately for me.” And for Thad.
Brittany took more notes and promised to follow up with Olivia as soon as she knew more. After she left, Olivia ordered another herbal tea and called Piper.
“Amazing work,” Piper said, when she’d heard Olivia’s story. “I’d hire you for myself if you didn’t have that other silly career going on.”
Olivia smiled, and then hesitated. “Thad should know about this. Would you tell him?”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
Piper would never know how much Olivia wanted to do exactly that. “It . . . would be better if you told him.”
There was a long pause at the other end. “All right.”
She couldn’t keep from asking. “How is he?”
“He’s not in great shape,” Piper said bluntly.
“Did he get sick? He was in the water so long, and the Chicago River isn’t exactly clean. He shouldn’t have jumped in. He— Is he all right?”
“He’s not sick. He’s quiet. I’ve never seen him quiet. Earlier today, Coop went to check on him. He said Thad looked like hell. Also, he was wearing something like bike shorts with a plaid dress shirt and black tuxedo shoes. You know that’s not right. Coop almost took him to the emergency room.”
Olivia gripped her phone tighter. “Would you . . . Maybe you could . . . I don’t know. Invite him to dinner or something?”
“It’ll take more than a dinner to fix what’s wrong with him.” Olivia heard papers rustling in the background. “Olivia, I like you, but Thad has been my friend for a long time, and I owe him my first loyalty. You’ve hurt him badly.”
But not as badly as she’d hurt herself.
She walked home from the coffee shop with her head down, eyes on the sidewalk, wishing she were invisible.
* * *
She warmed up her voice in the humidity of her shower the next morning. She tested her low range, her high, not pressing too hard, merely exploring. Unlike her heart, her gut and diaphragm felt strong and steady. She searched for the constriction that had stolen her breath. She found sadness, despair, but none of the tightness that had strangled her voice.
She got to the theater early, unable to shake the feeling that the gains she’d made would be stolen from her at any moment. She went to the piano and assessed her voice. Still steady. Maybe . . .
She finished hair and makeup. By the time she was done and on her way back to her dressing room, she was resolved. Tonight, she would give the performance she should have given on opening night. Tonight, she would reclaim herself.
And then she turned the corner.
Unlike Piper’s description, Thad looked perfectly put together—blazer, dress shirt, pants, shoes—all coordinated.
He wasn’t alone.
Sarah