Page 85 of Fairy Godmothers Aren't Cheap

It was around then that the police showed up. And within minutes, we were both being asked to come down to the local detachment for questioning. We were put in separate rooms, and I wondered if they thought we were suspects. Or maybe they got better info if people were raked over the coals on their own. In my case, there would definitely be significantly fewer distractions if James wasn’t in the room.

As Officer Beddoe asked me more and more ridiculous questions about my interest in pottery, I got the sensation that a snare was slowly closing around me. His questions made me sound so guilty. What if I ended up in jail? What would happen when I failed to pay off my fairy godmother debt?

Maybe this was a smart time to make a wish.

Although, if I was in jail, that would be a great place to create good karma, seeing as it was likely a karmic black hole.

I closed my eyes and focused on what I wanted. Out of here. Innocence quickly proven for both James and me.

The officer began asking me about being in the security room with James last week. I could almost see him thinking that because I loved pottery, we’d planned the whole heist. Watching the museums cameras just before the theft was clearly a stake out by two idiots who deserved to be in jail.

Then he shifted gears.

“Richard says you identified the fakes?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you bring it to his attention?”

“He’s the director.”

“You recently purchased a warehouse in Everstone.”

I nodded, unable to follow his jumping around topic-wise, and what it meant for me.

“You and James were inside.”

“The warehouse? Yes. And Samantha came with us, too, but she didn’t go in. We needed to see what was in there before demolition.”

Officer Beddoe cleared his throat and checked his notebook. “James was recently in Corsica, at an excavation site. He has an interest in artifacts?”

“Not really. That was for me.” I was still a bit taken by how, in the middle of his short trip, he’d gone out of his way to check out the site for me.

“Does he have dealer contacts in the world of artifacts or pottery?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“So, this trip? Has he expressed interest in dealing in the past?”

“No. Not to me. I don’t think he stole this stuff. He didn’t even know the pieces in the gift shop are fake.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I forgot to tell Richard last night, but yeah. There are reproductions in the gift shop being sold as original pieces.”

“How long ago did you spot the first reproduction in the museum’s collection?”

“The mummies? I didn’t. James told me they were fake. I should have known, though.” I thought back to my Meet Cute with James when the kid had been on the wrong side of the rope and trying to climb a mummy. The memory brought up a swell of warmth that travelled all the way down to my toes. And look where the two of us were now. All happy and kissing.

And being questioned by the police.

“The mummies are reproductions?”

“Yes, James made them.” Realizing how bad that sounded, I added hastily, “In high school. As part of a student work thing at the museum. Those aren’t real ones on display.”

---