Page 3 of The Mouse and the Maestro

“And now we get to our area of combined interest. Blue’s been tracking a series of posts on the dark web indicating an influx of both forgeries and real artifacts. They’re in the states and flooding the market. The forgeries are good, some of the best we’ve ever seen. Dr. Dunbar, Jane, is one of the few people in the world who can tell the difference. She’ll be assisting us as we try to get ahead of this thing. Jane, is there anything you’d like to add?”

There was a reason Jane worked with artifacts and not people. All eyes were on her again, and she felt the familiar panic creeping in.Say something, say something, say something.“The forgeries flooding the market are detrimental to our conservation efforts. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” There. Whew. She got out a complete phrase and didn’t bumble it too badly.

The meeting was adjourned a moment later. She grabbed her mug of coffee and turned to go, stumbling slightly when her sweater became stuck on the corner of the chair. She didn’t fall, but the motion was enough to send her hot coffee shooting out of her mug and directly into the lap of the man next to her, Blue, the tattooed guy whose eyes she’d pepper sprayed less than an hour ago.

He yelped and jumped. “Oh,” Jane exclaimed, attempting to spring free to try and help. Unfortunately he leaned forward at the same time she did and, mug in hand, she clunked him in the nose. Hard.

“Oh, my, I just, I, oh…” she flapped her hands helplessly a few times before spying the open bottle of water beside her. Intending to offer it to help clean his pants she grabbed it and spun toward him. Newton’s law had its way again and while the bottle stopped, the liquid inside did not. It sloshed out of the bottle and drenched the man’s shirt.

Her brain went into panic mode, searching for something, anything to say. “Nice to meet you,” was what it decided on.

Across the room, Maggie Ridge laid her head on the table, almost shrieking with laughter.

Later,Jane sat in her office. The temptation was there to turn out the lights and rest her head on the table. Instead she kept the lights on and tried to work on clearing out her inbox, sending important messages she could no longer put off. Jane liked working with artifacts and antiquities. They were the heartbeat of her world, the entire reason she’d gone into her field. It was her bad luck as a human that working with other people also came into play.

She was bad with people. Abysmal, really. She had grown up in a different sort of family, one that moved and traveled a lot, never really allowing her to put down roots and make friends. In college she had finally warmed up to a handful of people enough to call them true friends, and they remained her only close friends to this day. She texted two of them now.

Am havingthe worst day in the history of time. Peed a guy’s pants for him. Might die.

Thefirst to reply was Nick, a Brit who was in the US indefinitely, currently at work on his doctorate:

Brew tea.If it’s good enough for the queen, who are you to disagree? PS. Don’t pee his pants with said tea.

The second replywas from Emily, Jane’s roommate, a psychiatry resident currently doing her rotation at a mental institution:

There’sspace for you here. LMK if you need a room or lobotomy. Family/friends discount for both. Bring a friend, two for one. (Also counts for multiple personalities.)

So deep wasJane’s despair their replies barely brought a smile. She set her phone aside as someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called.

It was the blue haired guy. Her mind went into panic mode. What was his name?What was his name?She should know this, especially after she hastily grabbed a stack of napkins and tried to swipe coffee off a part of his pants she should only touch after marriage. Maybe not even then. After a few swipes, he had caught her wrist and shook his head. That was when Jane finally gave up and fled the room.

“We need to go over some things,” he said.

She ground her palms to her eyes. “I know. The coffee and the water and the napkins and the pepper spray. It was all…”

“Work things,” he said, holding his laptop aloft.

“Oh, right. Okay.”

He remained standing in the doorway, staring at her. “Is it all right if I come in?” His eyes roamed the room, probably looking for any sharp objects she might accidently impale him with.

“Yes.”

He entered cautiously and sat down. “I’d like to show you some of the pictures I’ve been able to siphon of some of the artifacts, get your opinion on them.”

“Okay,” Jane said. He set the laptop on the opposite side of her desk, typed furiously a few moments, and turned the computer to face her. She reached for it, and he backed away, removing his hands before she could touch him.

She leaned in, staring at the pictures, clicking through them and tilting her head for a better view. “If these are forgeries, they’re remarkable. I would only be able to tell with a hands on examination.”

“A museum in Philadelphia purchased one of them. I’ll see if Ridge can set up a showing.”

“The head of the museum there is a friend of mine. I’ll give him a call and set up a viewing,” Jane said.

“One of us will need to go with you to see what we’re dealing with,” Blue said.

“All right,” she said.

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