A terrible thought flickered through her mind. Was that the reason he’d been murdered? So that he couldn’t stop the exhibit?
But that didn’t make sense. It was true that the masks were important to the museum. An exhibit like that could put the Morehart on the map, but murder?
“I don’t see how the two incidents could be related,” Avery was saying. “And, frankly, you’re the one I’m worried about here.”
“Me? Why?”
“You look terrible, Penelope. You should take the rest of the day off, go home and try to get some rest.”
The suggestion wasn’t the least bit appealing. The last thing Penelope wanted to do was spend the day brooding in her apartment. “No, I don’t want to do that. I’d rather stay here and work.”
Avery looked relieved. “I was hoping you’d say that because we have a million things to do before Saturday night. We’ve received some late shipments for the auction. The catalogs, of course, went out weeks ago with the invitations, but I was hoping you could go through the boxes, photograph some of the more impressive pieces, and then we could at least add them to the online catalog. We might even send out an e-mail to our donor list.”
Penelope nodded. “Of course. I’ll get right on it.” She was glad to have something to take her mind off everything that had happened in the past thirty-six hours. Including the murder, her memory lapses, and now a break-in at the museum.
Chapter Thirteen
In spite of the way the morning had started, Penelope ended up having a very productive day. She sequestered herself in the workroom on the second floor, unpacking and cataloging shipments and photographing the late arrivals that would go on the auction block on Saturday night.
The only time she came out was to deliver the digital camera to Jane so that she could upload the photographs to the online catalog, and later that afternoon to inquire about Tim. He’d regained consciousness and his prognosis looked good, but a head wound at his age was nothing to take lightly.
Returning to the workshop, Penelope remained behind closed doors until hunger pains forced her to glance at her watch. She was amazed to find that it was after eight o’clock. The museum had closed two hours ago, and most of the staff would have left shortly afterward.
Even though the security system on the first two floors where the exhibits were located would have been turned on by now and Avery had added an extra guard to the rotation, the museum after hours always gave Penelope a few tingles. She couldn’t resist checking over her shoulder as she walked up the stairs to the third floor to retrieve her purse.
As she strode down the hallway toward her office, her uneasiness deepened. A man had been attacked right outside her door last night. That was enough to give anyone pause, but after everything else Penelope had been through, it was little wonder she was on edge.
She drew a breath and kept walking. She couldn’t avoid her office forever, and besides, she was probably safer here than anywhere else. The assailant wasn’t likely to return to the scene of the crime so quickly. Not with the police watching the museum.
Stepping inside, Penelope turned on the light and surveyed the room. Someone had straightened up while she’d been downstairs. Probably Jane. She was undoubtedly trying to keep busy so she wouldn’t have to dwell on what had happened. The woman obviously had a great deal of affection for Tim, and Penelope knew better than anyone what she was going through.
Grabbing her purse from her desk drawer, she turned off the light and stepped outside to lock her door. Then, as she headed toward the stairs, she noticed that Avery’s door was ajar, and she could see that a light was on inside. She walked over to let him know that she was on her way out, but paused when she realized he was on the phone.
Not wanting to interrupt, she started to turn away, but just then she caught a glimpse of him inside. He had the phone to his ear as he walked over to the window—without his crutches, without a limp.
Penelope quickly stepped back before he saw her, but a metal buckle on her purse scrapped against the wall, and everything went silent inside the office.
Then Penelope heard him say softly, “Hold on. I just heard something in the hallway…”
Penelope looked around for someplace to hide, although she wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t afraid of Avery, was she?
As quietly as she could, she slipped down the hallway to her office. She still had her key in her hand and she pretended to fiddle with the lock as she listened for Avery.
When he called out her name, she jumped even though she’d braced herself for it. Whirling, she put a hand to her heart. “Avery! Oh, my gosh, you scared me half to death. I thought I was the last one here.”
Avery—on crutches now—started toward her. “I was just about to say the same thing. I thought you’d left hours ago.”
“No, I’ve been in the workroom all day. I just came up here to get my purse.” She patted her bag, hoping that Avery wouldn’t notice how badly her hands shook.
He peered at her in the dim hallway. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”
She shrugged. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy after what happened to poor Tim. Thank goodness he’s going to be okay.”
“Yes, thank goodness. Although it’s a shame he didn’t get a good look at his attacker. But maybe that’s just as well. If he could identify the guy, he might still be in danger.”
“Good point,” Penelope murmured.
Avery paused in front of his office door. “Keep an eye out as you leave, okay? You can’t be too careful these days.”
“I will,” Penelope promised. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she started for the stairs, she heard Avery’s door close behind him. She didn’t look back, though, until she was at the bottom of the steps, and then she glanced over her shoulder just as she pushed open the door that led into the front hallway.
When she turned back around, she ran smack into someone.
She let out a scream as the man grabbed her arms.
“Miss Moon, is that you? It’s me, George. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Penelope had been genuinely startled this time, and now she gave a shaky laugh as she recognized the security guard. “George!”
He peered down at her much as Avery had done just moments before. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m just a little skittish, that’s all.”
“With good reason,” he said. “Here, let me walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m parked out front and the lot is well lit. Besides, whoever broke into the museum and attacked Tim is probably long gone.”
“Maybe.” But his frown told her that he didn’t necessarily agree. “I’m not so sure that guy is the one we should be worried about anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Penelope asked as they left the museum and headed across the parking lot.
“You haven’t heard? There’s been another murder in Montrose.”
“Another murder?” Penelope asked in alarm. “As in more than one?” Even though she was certain the latest homicide in Montrose wasn’t related to the break-in, the news still drew a shiver up her spine.
“You remember that girl they found a while back, right? Well, now another body has turned up, with the same MO. The police still aren’t releasing much information, but I’ve got this buddy who works for HPD. He knows an ex-detective who was on that task force a couple of years ago when all those other girls were being killed. You remember. The Casanova case they called it, on account of the way the killer left all that stuff at the crime scenes. Anyway, my friend says this ex-detective thinks the wrong man was sent to prison. He thinks Casanova is still out there and now he’s starting to kill again.”
Penelope remembered the original case very well because she’d just moved into an apartment a few blocks from the Montrose area. When the killings started, her mother had tried to get her to come back home, but Penelope had known that if she gave in to her fears, she would ne
ver gain her independence, so she’d toughed it out, although she’d been terrified just like everyone else in the city.
Panic had gripped Houston that summer, and Penelope felt some of that same fear now. But Houston was the fourth largest city in the country. Crime, including murders, were a fact of urban life.
Still, she was grateful for George’s presence as she climbed into her car and started the engine. He leaned down and said into her open window, “You take care, Miss Moon. Lot of crazies out there.”
“Don’t I know it,” Penelope muttered as she put the car in gear and drove off.
A LITTLE WHILE LATER, she let herself into her apartment, turned on the light, and was just about to put her purse and keys away when she stopped short.
Something was wrong. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on. No open windows. No muddy footprints across the hardwood floor. But she knew that something wasn’t quite right.
She’d lived in the apartment for nearly two years. She knew every square inch. Every nook and cranny. The placement of all her tchotchkes. She couldn’t see anything amiss, but she could sense it. Someone had been in her apartment after she’d left that morning.
Backing out the door, she hurried down the breeze-way to Tay’s apartment and knocked. She wasn’t sure if her friend would be home yet. Sometimes the spa booked late appointments for the clients who couldn’t get away during regular hours.
But Tay opened the door immediately. She had her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a short terry-cloth robe, as if she’d been home relaxing for some time.
“Hey!” she said in surprise. “Did you just get in from the airport?” She stepped back so that Penelope could enter.
“No, I’ve been at the museum all day,” Penelope said as she brushed past her friend. She turned, clutching her purse strap. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think someone’s been in my apartment.”
“Someone broke in?” Tay asked in alarm. “Are you sure?”
“No, I’m not sure. The door was locked, and I didn’t see any open windows, but I could swear someone’s been in there. You know how you can just sense it sometimes?”
Tay nodded. “Did you check with the building manager? Maybe he had someone come in to spray for bugs or something while you were gone.”
“Maybe,” Penelope said doubtfully. “But they usually give us some warning, don’t they? I hate to ask this, but could you just go with me while I have a look around?”
“Sure, no problem.” Tay opened a desk drawer and pulled out a gun.
Penelope gasped. “What are you doing with that?”
“I bought it when all those women were murdered in Montrose that summer. I may not have fit Casanova’s profile, but you never know when some nutcase will decide that exotic brunettes are his thing.”
Penelope stared at her for a moment. “What an odd coincidence. I was just thinking about those murders myself,” she murmured.
Tay gave her a shrewd look. “You heard about the latest?”
“Someone told me about it. And I know what you’re thinking. I heard about the murder, and now my imagination is working overtime. But I don’t think that’s it.” Penelope’s focus was still on the gun. “Look, is that thing legal? Do you have a permit for it?”
“Of course, it’s legal. And don’t worry. I know how to use it, too.” As if to demonstrate, Tay checked the clip, then slammed it home, just the way Penelope had seen people do it in the movies. Her expertise was a little frightening, as was her smile. “Let’s go have a look.”
They left Tay’s apartment and headed back down the breezeway to Penelope’s door. Once inside, they checked every room, looked in all the closets, under the bed, and even peered behind the shower curtain in the bathroom. All the doors and windows were locked, too. There was no way anyone could have gotten in without a key, and the one person Penelope had given a spare to was Ariadne because she happened to be the only member of the family who Penelope trusted not to invade her privacy.
Penelope would bet her entire life savings that her little sister hadn’t been inside her apartment. So who had? And how had they gotten in?
“Okay,” Tay said as she and Penelope walked back into the living room. “Everything’s locked up tight. I don’t see how anyone could have gotten in.”
Penelope ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe it was my imagination. We had a break-in at the museum last night. One of the guards was knocked unconscious, so I suppose my nerves could be getting to me.”
Tay shuddered. “No offense, but why would anyone break into that museum? All those masks and artifacts may be valuable, but they give me the creeps.”
“That’s the strange part,” Penelope said. “He didn’t take anything. The police think the guard scared him away.”
“Him?”
Penelope shrugged. “Whoever it was. But you’re probably right about my apartment. No one’s been in here. I’m letting my imagination get the better of me.”
Tay gave her a sympathetic smile. “Well, you have been under a lot of stress lately.”
You don’t know the half of it.
Tay peered at her closely. Too many people were doing that lately. “Just look at you,” she chided. “You’ve even got dark circles under your eyes. What you need is a good night’s sleep.”
“I am pretty beat,” Penelope admitted.
Tay took Penelope’s chin and turned her face to the light. “Have you been using the elixir I gave you? Your skin looks a little dull.”
Penelope pulled away. “I’ve been meaning to,” she said defensively, “but I haven’t had a chance.”
Tay clicked her tongue in annoyance. “That stuff won’t do you any good sitting inside your medicine cabinet. You need to give it a try. My whole family swears by it, including my eighty-year-old grandmother.” She headed for the door. “And she still doesn’t have a single wrinkle on her face.”
Penelope started to say that she didn’t think there was anything wrong with having wrinkles. She thought a few lines gave a face character, and besides, she’d always hated the obsession with youth and perfection, especially in her own family. Why not grow old gracefully?
But then, she’d probably change her mind in another few years, and at any rate, she wasn’t about to argue with results. Tay’s skin was absolutely beautiful, and it hit Penelope suddenly that she had no idea how old her friend was.
Or anything else about Tay Domingo, for that matter.
PENELOPE AWAKENED with the terrifying certainty that someone was in her apartment.
Her first impulse was to slip out of bed and find a hiding place, but her survival instinct kept her silent and still, pretending to sleep, as she listened to the darkness.
She didn’t hear anything that gave away the intruder’s position. No creaking floorboards. No muted footsteps.
After a few minutes, she dared to open her eyes. There was enough light from the street to allow her to see, but she was lying on her side so she only had a partial view of the room. The first thing she noticed was that one of the French doors was ajar.
Icy shivers ran up and down her spine at the sight of the open door. The intruder had come in from the balcony. He might even still be in her bedroom—
And then out of the corner of her eye she saw him. He stood at the foot of her bed staring down at her. Just…staring down at her.
Penelope stifled the scream that rose in her throat, but she must have made some involuntary sound because he was beside the bed in a flash. One hand clamped tightly over her mouth as the other pinned her to the mattress.
“Don’t make a sound, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”
He tightened his hand over her muffled screams, and Penelope bit him as she struggled to get free.
He swore. “Damn it, Penny. Stop that! You know I’m not going to hurt you!”
Chapter Fourteen
His voice penetrated her terror, and Penelope went completely still. She saw his face then
and gave a muffled cry. Those eyes…those lips…she’d know them anywhere.
He released her and she bit back a sob as she flung herself into his arms. “Oh, my God, it is you. You’re here. You’re okay…” She drew back. “How long—”
He silenced her with a fingertip to her lips. “Shush. I’ll tell you everything, but first, I have to find out something from you.”
She nodded eagerly. “Anything.”
He took her arms and held her away from him. “The suitcase you brought back from Mexico…where is it?”
Penelope blinked in confusion. “What?”
“Your suitcase, Penny. Where is it?”
“I don’t understand.” Something in his eyes made those shivers go up and down her spine again. He looked very different from the Simon she remembered.
Maybe he wasn’t Simon, she thought suddenly. Maybe this man really was a double.
She slid away from him and drew the covers up around her, as if the blanket could somehow protect her from what she was about to learn. “Why do you want to know about my suitcase?” she asked in a tremulous voice.
His attention was still on her, familiar and yet not so familiar. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but first I have to find out where that suitcase is. Is it safe?”
Penelope clutched the covers around her. Who are you? she wanted to scream.
He couldn’t be Simon. Simon wouldn’t look at her that way. Simon wouldn’t have that dangerous glint in his eyes, that impatient edge to his voice. Simon was kind and gentle….
She swallowed past the fear that clogged her throat. “Who are you?”
“Stop it, Penelope. You know who I am.”
“You’re not Simon.” Her voice rose almost defiantly. “You can’t be. Simon’s in a coma. He’s been in a coma for weeks.”
He rubbed one finger along his eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“You’re not Simon,” she insisted.
He picked up her left hand. “I gave you this ring. We chose it together at the Galleria. Then we had dinner at that South American restaurant on Westheimer that you love so much. And later we came back here…” His voice trailed off on what almost sounded like a dare.
Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge Page 28