And part of being a city girl meant she knew a little about style. She didn’t need to look like a cave dweller in tattered clothes to study ancient artifacts.
After an hour in Banana Republic and another half hour in Ralph Lauren, she felt better. She found several outfits to get her through the next few days and a snazzy pair of black boots that propped her up at least two inches. Dumping her purchases on the counter in the last store, she pulled cash from her pocket and waited while the sales clerk rang her up.
She’d even managed to find a few things for Rafe, ingrate that he was. Her mood slid south again at the thought of her obnoxious thief. As the clerk handed her the bag, she plastered on a smile for the overly cheery employee’s benefit. Mister Macho could just pay her back and thank her for even thinking of him.
With the bag in one hand, she headed back out into the masses. She had one last stop before catching a bus north again. Turning south on Michigan Avenue, she wove between hurried shoppers and lingering sightseers and crossed at Huron Street. The Landau Gallery sat halfway down the block, towering columns advertising the entrance to the stately building.
Lisa pushed the glass doors open and stepped inside. The busy rush of city life faded into the background. Inside she was enveloped by art and antiquities from around the world in a two-story main room with marble floors and a wall of windows. Her back tingled with the familiar feeling of history.
The towering sculpture of a bull’s head made from polished black limestone captured her attention. Mesmerized by the intricate artwork, she crossed and stared at the artifact—truly, a wonder of ancient man—and could barely imagine unearthing something so incredible. She’d found her fair share of astonishing relics over the years, but never something as awe inspiring as this. She lifted her hand to run fingers over the smooth surface.
“Please don’t touch that.”
Startled, Lisa turned toward the female voice. A slim woman wearing a knee-length black skirt and matching jacket walked toward her from across the room. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight knot. Wire-rimmed glasses sat perched on her straight, aristocratic nose. Her badge identified her as Christy Swanson, the gallery’s manager.
Lisa hid her smile, thinking she must have tourist written all over her. She turned back to the bull’s head. “It’s a beautiful piece.”
“Yes. It is.” The woman stopped next to her. “This bull once guarded the entrance to the Hundred-Column Hall of ancient Persepolis. If you’re not familiar with—”
Lisa nodded. Gallery managers were all the same, trying to make a sale, trying to sound smarter than they really were. “Which means it predates the fall of Persepolis in 331 B.C., when Alexander destroyed the great city. But actually, I’m looking for something a little different.”
The blonde’s eyes lit up at the idea of a knowledgeable buyer. “Of course, Ms.…”
“Maxwell.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she nodded with a thin, tight smile and looked back at the bull. “What can I help you with?”
Lisa stepped toward a marble bust of Medusa on a nearby pedestal. “You wouldn’t happen to have more pieces like this, would you?” She ran her hand over the cool marble, looked up with raised brow and watched as the manager’s eyes took on an excited gleam.
Dollar signs reflected in the woman’s pupils. “Why don’t you follow me into the office where I can show you a listing of what we have on-site and in storage. If we don’t have what you’re looking for, we have ways of tracking them down.” She was as giddy as a conservative suit could get.
Ms. Swanson gestured across the vast gallery floor to a woman dusting pieces on the other side of the room. “Marta, you have the floor.”
The brunette nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lisa followed the rigid Ms. Swanson up a curved staircase to the second-floor suite of offices. Double doors at the end of the hall were marked LANDAU. “Does Mr. Landau oversee acquisitions for the gallery?”
Ms. Swanson ushered Lisa into an office with a view of the Mile and the hustle and bustle below. She gestured to a plush chair across from her desk. “Yes. He does.” Irritation flashed in the woman’s eyes before fading behind a well-kept shield.
“Any chance he’s here today? Maybe I could pick his brain about the piece I’m looking for.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Landau’s unavailable at this time.”
Just what