Caroline's Internship

by Katherine Kim

  “Does he always sleep like that?” she asked.

  “What? Oh, Greg? Yeah. He’s a big, old kitty when it comes to nap time. Anywhere he can find a patch of sunshine and 5 minutes without something to do, he’s out.” Darien chuckled.

  “Huh,” Caroline answered. She blinked her mind back to the actual conversation. “So you think we’ll be back tomorrow night?”

  They’d spent Friday afternoon talking over the case and calling the docent Serena to get some details. Caroline had done some digging on Phineas Morgan’s history and habits. Researching historical mages was always a bit tricky since they tended to be fairly secretive in general. Still, there were a few public records about him, and the archives librarian was incredibly good at his job and dug up a bit more, including some letters from him to a friend he seemed to trust enough to talk about magic with.

  Phineas Morgan was a wind mage, as Point said. Generally well respected by his community, he was known as a fair man of business and a generous friend. He was, however, also known as a bit of a prankster. The farting chair being a prime example, and pretty indicative of his sense of humor. It seemed that he gave three of his best captains enchanted musical instruments: two small pipes and the horn that was stolen, of which only the horn survived. One was lost at sea during a terrible storm, and one was apparently the victim of a warehouse fire.

  Now, it was Saturday morning, still fairly early, and they were heading to Burkett’s Crossing, Virginia. It was a tiny speck on the map near Williamsburg, officially comprised of a few houses and apartment buildings, one small Main Street of shops and such, and the museum. Their destination a the moment was the museum in question with the intention of trying to track down the FBI agent who landed this case.

  He was welcome to keep looking for the other stuff that was taken, even though all three of them in the car guessed they were taken to mask the true theft. There were some personal items of the captain’s: a good watch, several ivory trinkets, and some extremely fine navigational equipment. A few other personal items were taken from cases around the one displaying the captain’s belongings. Trinkets and a log book, and more navigational tools. It was all valuable to collectors, but the horn itself was probably the main goal.

  They pulled into the museum’s parking lot, and Caroline turned to wake Greg. His eyes popped open as soon as her hand touched his arm, and he looked at her with sleepy whiskey eyes.

  “Are we there yet?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble.

  “Yep. And if you’re good, we’ll let you get an ice cream after your dinner, right Dad?” Caroline smirked when Darien started to choke on whatever he’d been about to say.

  “Thanks, Mom. I promise, I’ll be on my best behavior.” Greg grinned back, clearly delighted by the new game. “Ice cream! I want chocolate and vanilla!”

  “Lord, is this what I get to look forward to for this whole investigation?” Darien grumbled as he got out of the car.

  “It’s probably what you get to look forward to as long as we’re all a team,” Caroline answered with a smirk.

  “And that’s why you’re the dad and not me,” Greg laughed.

  They walked up to the employee entrance and after some badge flashing and supervisor calling, they were in the exhibit, speaking to a very disgruntled curator.

  “I truly don’t understand why you’re here, agents,” he said. The disdain in his voice made Caroline want to roll her eyes. “I’ve been curating this maritime exhibit for almost ten years. I think I would have known if any of the objects on display were enchanted in any way.”

  “So you’re a mage, Mr. Whitman?” Darien asked.

  “Doctor, actually. And no, I am not a mage, nor have I any skill in the magical arts. I do, however, have a doctorate in history, and specialize in seventeenth and eighteenth century maritime history, specifically.”

  “You like reading about pirates, then?” Caroline asked.

  Doctor Whitman turned a glacial gaze at her. “And who, exactly, are you? I didn’t realize it was take your daughter to work day.”

  A low, nearly inaudible rumble started rolling out of Greg, chest and Darien’s expression went blank. If Whitman had any sense in the slightest, he’d start looking for some better manners.

  “Miss Peters is completing her training to be a full agent, and as such is doing appropriately supervised fieldwork. Not that it is, in fact, any of your business when we come in to ask questions about a theft you reported,” Darien’s voice held ice of its— which, coming from a vampire had the same effect on the room as a predator waking up and realizing dinner was nearby. The docent and the family she was talking to across the room glanced over before hurrying to the next room. Dr. Whitman, surprisingly, only paled slightly but didn’t flinch.

  “And I don’t think she’s far from the mark here,” Greg added, walking over to a still-intact display case. Inside were gold coins salvaged from several wrecks that were discovered on the East Coast. On the wall above there were several examples of various swords and firearms used aboard ships of the time, and at the end of the room was a large mural of two tall ships engaging in a battle at sea.

  “It is what people come to see,” Dr. Whitman sniffed. “I can’t control the public, only the exhibits.”

  “And since you are not a mage, you must have one on staff to check for residual enchantments on the artifacts that come in?” Darien asked.

  “Every piece is thoroughly vetted, I can assure you.” Caroline didn’t even need her empathic talent to hear the hedging in his statement.

  “How? Walk us through the process,” Greg said. He turned back from the display of coins and old guns and raised an eyebrow. His eyes seemed to be more golden in this light, and Caroline had to wonder again what exactly he was. It seemed that it was relatively rude to ask these things of people you didn’t know fairly well.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t understand the intricacies of such things,” Dr. Whitman waved a hand through the air between them, and Greg smiled.

  “I have a masters degree in art history. Try me,” he said, and smiled wider when Dr. Whitman’s own haughty smile faltered.

  “Well—” His voice caught in a small cough. “Well, we have several art historians on staff, of course, as well as a restoration team. These items were acquired from a donation, and all the relevant paperwork was submitted with the donation. Certificates of authenticity and so forth.”

  “I’d like to see them so we can follow up,” Darien said. “And what did you do when you were informed that the horn still had an active enchantment on it? Did you call in a mage to inspect it, since the FPAA has no record of an inquiry about it?”

  “Unless you’re magic sensitive?” Greg added. “If you’re accustomed to reacting to magic present in the artifacts you come across then we would understand that. But…” he grinned, and even Caroline shivered. “Since you haven’t reacted since we came in here, I suspect the answer is no.”

  “Reacted? To you?” Dr. Whitman frowned for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes. “You mean you are… you don’t look like any elf I’ve ever met. And you can’t be—” His eyes darted back to Caroline who smiled as sweetly at him as she could.

  “You know, the FPAA is more than happy to come take a look through your exhibits. I’m sure you’d like to know if any other artifacts need special handling. They’re really helpful about stuff like that.” Caroline opened her eyes wide and tried to project innocent, naive youth. Greg made a small noise behind Whitman and Caroline heard the laughter in it.

  “I’m sure that the FPAA has more important matters to concern itself with than a minor exhibit at a small museum.” Dr. Whitman was back to his icy superiority as he glanced at her.

  “I’m fairly sure that since we’re here, we can take a quick look through the place.” Darien caught on. Caroline was glad she didn’t have to spell her suspicions out, since it was just a weird feeling. She had no idea what made her wonder how involved this guy was. Maybe it wa
s just his nasty attitude made her want to see him squirm. And what better way to do that than make him the focus of an investigation.

  “I think that once we’ve seen the paperwork on the missing items, we’ll be having a chat with the museum director,” Darien said. “I’m sure she’s very concerned about this theft, as well.”

  Greg peered into the display case at the stand the horn had once sat on. His nostrils flared and he bent over the glass, glaring at the empty space.

  “Caroline, you stay with Greg while I go look at the files with Doctor Whitman. I’ll meet you guys in the cafe across the street in an hour.” Darien said, then turned back to the nervous curator. “Now, why don’t you take me to your office and show me all the paperwork you have?” He started walking toward the door in the back corner of the room marked ‘staff only,’ forcing Dr. Whitman to follow with a sniff.

  Caroline watched them walk away and frowned. What was she supposed to do now? Wasn’t paperwork an intern’s job? Well, okay, apparently her job was paperwork and more gym time than her whole senior year of P.E. put together. Still, shouldn’t she be the one sifting through all that boring stuff?

  “Unless you know how to spot forged documents, best leave that to D.” Greg’s voice spoke almost right into her ear, and she jumped. He stood up and laughed, the sound a dramatic shift from the coldness of a few minutes ago. “He’s pretty good at sniffing out fakes and bullshit.”

  “I think I like you a lot better laughing. That big-bad-paranormal act was kinda freaky,” Caroline said.

  “Yeah, it’s not my favorite thing to do, either.” Greg shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s part of the job. Besides. That guy was pissing me off. Come look at this.”

  Caroline did as he asked and peered at where he pointed to the case. It was a pretty standard museum display case as far as she could tell. Freestanding in the middle of the room, it was essentially a glass cube on top of a plain, grey, rectangular pedestal. She squinted at the sides of the pedestal and then at the panes of glass and when she found nothing obvious, she glared at the interior.

  “Okay, I give up. What am I looking for?” she asked, finally.

  Greg grinned. “Anything out or the ordinary. Do you see anything?”

  “I don’t even know what I would see.” Caroline glared at him. She didn’t like feeling stupid. “Everything looks totally normal. Just without the stuff inside.”

  “Exactly,” Greg grinned. “Sure, we got here about a day after the FBI and the museum has cleaned up a bit, but doesn’t it seem interesting that there’s no damage at all? How’d the thief get in there? Not even magic can get you through solid objects like glass. And there’s definitely spell residue where the horn was.”

  Greg had them both look closely at several other cases and made some huffing grunty noises that made Caroline a little crazy. What was he looking for, anyway?

  “Well, I think that’s about everything we can glean from this room. Let’s go find Serena.” Greg waggled his eyebrows at Caroline and pulled a small rubber ball out of his pocket. He tossed it at the floor in front of his feet and caught it before taking a step towards the door.

  “Greg, if you break anything in here with that thing, Point is going to chew your hands off,” Caroline grumbled as she hurried after him. This could be a rough afternoon.

  5

  “I swear, that guy is every actual historian’s worst nightmare,” Serena groused. They’d called her contact number and she’d joined them for a cup of coffee before her shift at the museum. “I hate gatekeepers anywhere, but Whitman really takes it to a a new level. If he didn’t actually know his stuff I’d think he was sleeping with the board of directors to get his job.”

  They had called her from the museum and she’d come over a bit early to chat with them, and Caroline had liked her almost instantly. Small and just bordering on plump, there was just something about her that had made both of them grin when she’d sat down at their table.

  “He’s definitely not on my top five favorite people list,” Greg agreed. He had a cup of coffee and a hot brownie sundae on the table in front of him.

  “Dr. Freddie, the woman who had his job before him? Oh, she was a lovely woman. Always happy to explain anything she could to anyone, no matter how seemingly silly the question was,” Serena said. “I once caught her having a very serious conversation with a five year old about pirates with gold teeth training parrots for other pirates. Can you see Whitman even acknowledging a kid? Ugh.”

  “How long has Doctor Whitman been with the museum?” Caroline asked. She didn’t actually roll her eyes when she said the man’s name, but it was pretty clearly implied and Serena chuckled.

  “He flashed his education at you, huh? It’s one of his favorite hobbies, making sure that we know he’s lowering himself to associate with mere mortals,” Serena did roll her eyes. Her tone held no respect for the man at all.

  “He was entirely shocked to hear that I’m well educated myself,” Greg nodded and plucked another cherry out of the small dish of extras he’d asked for.

  “I can’t imagine why, Greg. By the way, you, um. You have whipped cream on your check,” Caroline said. Serena giggled as he swiped at his face with a napkin.

  “Anyway, he came to the museum about four years ago when Doctor Freddie retired. She was getting a bit old and tired and the floors in there aren’t the most forgiving on old joints,” she rubbed her own knee and shrugged ruefully. “She had a minor stroke and her daughter suggested that she move in with them, up near Rehoboth Beach. Whitman came on board right after that.”

  “And when did the horn come in?” Greg asked.

  “Oh, gosh,” Serena frowned. “It was part of a bin full of stuff that was donated ages ago, I think. If I remember right, there was an estate sale, and the chest it was in was sold, but they didn’t want the stuff inside. It got stuffed into the warehouse and mostly forgotten about until last year sometime. Whitman decided to cycle out some of the displays and picked that out as one of the replacements. I thought it was a bit weird, because who thinks about horns when they think about pirates, but I guess it was an actual artifact from a captain’s sea chest, so…” she shrugged.

  “And you told him that it was enchanted?” Caroline asked.

  “Oh, yes. I’d never been in the warehouse, you understand,” Serena nodded. “But as soon as it came onto the floor I could tell. I went right to him and told him—” she leaned closer and lowered her voice a bit. “I said I had mages in the family and that my grandmother was an elf.”

  “I bet he loved to hear someone else had an opinion or a brain or anything,” Greg said.

  “He spent at least half an hour explaining to me why he knows best about everything and how I should keep my silly little thoughts to myself and just sell trinkets in the gift shop like a good little peon,” Serena said. Her voice was bone dry and her expression was unamused.

  “Ugh, what a jerk,” Caroline finished her coffee just as a hand landed on her shoulder.

  “No kidding,” Darien said. He pulled out the last seat at the table and reached out to shake Serena’s hand. “Darien Webb, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I think I need a drink after spending so much time with that pompous windbag. You know, I never thought I’d actually use that phrase, but it really suits him.”

  “Oh it does,” Serena’s eyes glittered with mirth.

  “I also got a call from the FBI agent on the case. We’re going to meet with him in a couple of hours, but he seems actually reasonable,” Darien flagged down the waitress and ordered his own lunch.

  “That’s a relief,” Greg said. “They’re usually territorial.”

  “Well, I ought to go over for my shift. There’s a school group coming in this afternoon and I’m on the schedule to take one of the groups,” Serena said, starting to stand. “I’m so glad that you could come out and look into this. Even without the enchantment on the horn, there’s something about Whitman that just begs for investigating. Maybe I just want
to see him taken down a peg, the arrogant jerk. It’s so good to have a job that can distract from local politics and zoning battles. Ugh.”

  “Zoning battles? Caroline asked.

  “I’m on the county council. There’s a blowhard trying to put up luxury resort nonsense. It’s been a real headache. Teaching kids about pirates is practically a vacation!” Serena laughed.

  “I agree entirely. Thanks for the tip,” Darien agreed, and they all stood to see her off. She waved back through the window before crossing the street and disappearing into the museum building.

  “Well, Caroline?” Greg asked, waving toward the building with his spoon. “What are your impressions of the museum staff?”

  “I think you know my thoughts on Whitman.” She scrunched her face up and rolled her eyes. “But Serena seemed like a nice lady, and the others we spoke to were either bored or really excited about the maritime history they’re all about.”

  “Yeah, that was my impression, too. The only one that felt really off to me was Whitman.” Darien took a long sip of his water.

  “Oh yeah. That guy spent about half that conversation low-grade nervous. I could hear it clear in his voice. I think he was lying about at least half of anything he said.” She picked up the rest of her sandwich and finished her meal.

  “Oh definitely,” Darien grinned. “When we went to find the paperwork, a lot of it was ‘missing’ and Whitman was both shocked and very concerned about the misplaced documents.”

  Greg snorted and went back to chasing chopped nuts around with his spoon in the soupy remains of his sundae.

  “Yeah. He said that they were all there when he spoke with the FBI investigator,” Darien said. “We can ask the guy when we talk to him. We’re meeting with him over by Richmond in a couple of hours.”