Always a Thief Part 20

"Then-" She gasped when he gently bit her earlobe, and she felt her eyes starting to cross. "Then why did you take that dagger the night we met?"

"Camouflage," he murmured, but not as if the subject interested him much. "You would have wondered if I hadn't taken anything that night."

"Oh. Umm . . . Alex? I know I asked you before, but . . . did you steal the Carstairs diamonds?"

"No." He stopped exploring her neck long enough to swing her up into his arms. He kissed her and started toward the bedroom, adding cheerfully, "I just borrowed them."

"Why can't she be identified?"

Both Wolfe and Jared looked at Storm, and the latter said, "You mean Jane Doe?" They were still in the computer room and still brainstorming the situation.

"Yeah. Why can't she be identified?"

"No fingerprints, for one thing," Jared began, then stopped and nodded slowly as he realized Storm's meaning. "Why doesn't the killer killer want her identified." want her identified."

"It's an important question, isn't it? A piece of the puzzle. He makes d.a.m.ned sure she can't be identified yet leaves signposts all over the place pointing to the museum."

"So," Wolfe said, "either her ident.i.ty would lead us far from the museum, or else it would get us a h.e.l.l of a lot closer to seeing a big piece of the puzzle. Another a.s.sumption, but a reasonable one."

"The police are working on an I.D.," Jared noted.

"But are they working on the right thing?" Wolfe frowned at the Interpol agent. "The killer went to the extreme of using a blowtorch to obliterate her prints. That says to me that he knew or had good reason to believe the prints were on file somewhere."

"Criminal, police, or military," Storm said. "All are routinely printed. Some states' DMVs are beginning to print drivers, but it's not universal yet. There are other groups with databases, but those are primaries. Covers a lot of territory."

"But it does narrow the field," Jared noted. "Gives the police somewhere to look. If they can ever get a usable print to run against the databases."

"The military tends to be possessive of its information," Wolfe noted. "Max might have to pull a few strings. That's a.s.suming the police forensics people can can produce a usable print." produce a usable print."

Storm said, "It could be just another signpost, you know. Another way to make us look for something that isn't there. I mean, he's already gone to so much trouble-just planting that knife in the bas.e.m.e.nt the way he did, for instance-that maybe using a blowtorch to destroy his victim's prints is just one more bit of sleight of hand. No pun intended."

"We're spending too much time second-guessing ourselves, that's the trouble," Jared said.

"You've been a cop a long time," Wolfe said, staring at him. "What do your instincts say?"

Promptly, Jared replied, "That knowing who Jane Doe is will give us a very big piece of the puzzle."

"Then I say that's the a.s.sumption we follow," Wolfe said rather surprisingly. "What does Alex think?"

"About Jane Doe? He hasn't said much. He's very focused on Nightshade. Maybe too focused."

"Reel him in," Wolfe suggested bluntly.

"It's not that simple."

"Maybe it should be."

Wary that the tentative peace between the two men could end abruptly over this, Storm intervened to say calmly, "Alex is certainly in the best position to track another thief, so until we're absolutely certain Jane Doe or her murder is connected to the museum, it's probably best not to split his focus."

"Morgan already has," Jared muttered.

"Best not to split it a third way, then." Storm smiled. "Can't fight human nature, guys, we all know that. Maybe it is a lousy time for those two to find each other, but we're not really in control of these things." She was smiling at Wolfe. "Are we?"

His face softened. "No. No, we're not."

Whatever Jared might have said to that was lost when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. Chloe Webster stuck her head in without waiting for a response.

"Storm- Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were alone."

"It's all right, Chloe. What's up?"

"Inspector Tyler just called Mr. Dugan to tell him the forensics team wants to take another look at the bas.e.m.e.nt. Possible points of entry, I think he said. I thought you should know."

Storm nodded. "Okay, Chloe. Thanks."

The new a.s.sistant curator sort of ducked her head and hastily withdrew, closing the door softly.

"Am I being paranoid," Jared said, "or was that a pretty flimsy excuse to see what was going on in here?"

"You're being paranoid," Wolfe said, then grimaced and looked inquiringly at Storm.

"She's poking her nose into corners, but that's natural," Storm said. "Trying to learn the place. I haven't seen anything to send up red flags. The background check was clean, you both know that."

Jared sighed. "Yet another tangent, probably. I'm getting suspicious of everyone. Christ, I wish Nightshade would make his move and get it over with."

"Be careful what you wish for," Storm warned soberly.

It was late afternoon before Morgan could summon the energy to resume their earlier conversation, and when she did her voice was wondering. "Borrowed them. You borrowed the Carstairs diamonds. You're a lunatic, you know that?"

He chuckled softly.

Persisting, she said, "You took an awful chance to steal that necklace. You could have been caught by San Francisco police officers who don't give a d.a.m.n about your deal with Interpol. Or you could have been killed."

"I needed it, Morgana. Nightshade required a . . . good-faith gesture."

"You stole it for him?"

"I borrowed borrowed it so he'd think I stole it for him. The Carstairs family will get it back, don't worry." it so he'd think I stole it for him. The Carstairs family will get it back, don't worry."

"If you say so." Pus.h.i.+ng herself up onto her elbow beside him, Morgan gazed at his relaxed face and said in bemus.e.m.e.nt, "It's nearly four in the afternoon, and we're in bed."

He opened one bright eye, then closed it, tightened his arm around her, and sighed pleasurably. "My idea of how to spend an ideal afternoon."

She reached out and began toying with the dark- gold hair on his chest. "Yes, but I haven't even talked to anybody at the museum. And when I do do talk to them, what do I say? I've taken a whole day off without any explanation at all, very rare for me, and it wasn't because I ran into Nightshade on a fire escape last night." talk to them, what do I say? I've taken a whole day off without any explanation at all, very rare for me, and it wasn't because I ran into Nightshade on a fire escape last night."

Quinn opened his eyes. They were still bright and very steady on her face. He was smiling slightly. "Do you care if they know we're lovers?"

She shook her head impatiently. "No, of course not. But will this-our being lovers-cause any problems for you? With Nightshade, I mean."

After a moment, Quinn said, "Not if I can convince him that I seduced you to get information about the exhibit."

Very conscious of the intent, searching look in his eyes, Morgan smiled. "Is that why you haven't asked me any specifics about the exhibit? So I could be sure you weren't weren't after information?" after information?"

He reached up and brushed a strand of her glossy black hair away from her face, his fingers lingering to stroke her cheek. "Maybe. It isn't something I do, Morgana. I want you to understand that."

Perhaps oddly, she believed him. For all his charm and his undoubted s.e.xual experience, he wasn't the kind of man who would seduce a woman merely for the sake of gaining information from her. Not because it was a dishonorable thing to do, she thought shrewdly, but because it was the more predictable thing-and Quinn would always choose to be contradictory.

"Sweetheart?"

Realizing she'd been silent for too long, she said, "I understand-and I believe you. I just hope Nightshade doesn't realize that trying to get information out of me in any way would have been useless; I don't understand the security system."

"He knows what your area of responsibility is, just as anyone familiar with museums would know, but I think I can convince him that you did provide me with a very important bit of information. That is-if you agree."

"I'm listening."

Quinn frowned a little. "Let me think it through first. Why don't we get dressed and check in at the museum? I know you won't be happy until you make sure the roof didn't cave in today because you weren't there."

"Very funny." But she was smiling. "Sounds like a plan."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

They walked about a block away from Morgan's apartment to get Quinn's car, which was where he'd parked it the night before, a distance short enough that it didn't strain Morgan's still-sore ankle. He never parked near the museum when he was being Quinn, he explained to her, so as to avoid having his car noticed. apartment to get Quinn's car, which was where he'd parked it the night before, a distance short enough that it didn't strain Morgan's still-sore ankle. He never parked near the museum when he was being Quinn, he explained to her, so as to avoid having his car noticed.

"That was why you had to carry me all the way last night," she observed.

"Well, it was one of the reasons."

Morgan didn't probe, and she tried to keep their conversation casual. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had been slowly a.s.sembling the bits and pieces of information she had gathered over the last weeks. Discarding some things and reexamining others in the light of more-recent understanding, she was trying to put together a puzzle when she wasn't entirely certain what the finished picture was supposed to look like.

It was a slow and rather frustrating process, but one she had to endure for two reasons: because Quinn was unwilling to tell her all of the truth-at least for now-and because she was too curious to wait to be told. She had an excellent mind, and even if she hadn't been worried about the man she loved, she would doubtless still have been pondering the situation.

But most of the puzzle pieces were still floating about in her mind when they reached the museum, and Morgan put the matter to one side for the moment. With less than an hour before closing, there were far more people coming out of the museum than going in; it looked as if a respectable crowd had visited today.

"I need to check the security and computer rooms," she told Quinn when they were standing in the lobby. "Just in case."

He nodded, then caught her hand and carried it briefly to his lips in a very loverlike caress. "I'll wander around a bit."

Morgan hesitated, but then smiled at him and made her way toward the hallway of offices, wondering what, in particular, he wanted to examine in the museum. She didn't believe for an instant that he'd be as casual as he indicated, of course. It wasn't that she was suspicious suspicious of him exactly, it was just that she'd developed a healthy respect for his innately devious nature. She had the distinct feeling that he'd never walk a straight line if he could find a curve or an angle. of him exactly, it was just that she'd developed a healthy respect for his innately devious nature. She had the distinct feeling that he'd never walk a straight line if he could find a curve or an angle.

She checked the security room first, talking briefly with two incurious guards who reported a peaceful day undisturbed by anything except the usual number of children momentarily lost from their parents and a couple of lovers' spats. Morgan had been bemused years ago to discover that a surprising number of lovers chose to work out their differences in museums-possibly believing the huge, echoing rooms and corridors were much more private than they really were.

Given her own knowledge of the security surrounding such valuable things, Morgan was always aware of the watching eyes of video cameras, patrolling guards, and other members of the public, and so museums were not what she considered either romantic or private.

With that thought still in her mind, she went on down the hallway to the computer room, finding Storm frowning at her computer as she typed briskly.

"Hi," Morgan said, deliberately casual as she leaned in the doorway. "What's up?"

The pet.i.te blonde finished typing and hit the enter key, then leaned back in her chair and looked at her friend with solemn interest. "We'll get to that in a minute. What's up with you?"

Since she wasn't easily embarra.s.sed, Morgan didn't blush under that shrewd scrutiny. "Well," she offered, still casual, "I'm better than I was yesterday."

"Mmm. Even after being chloroformed?"

"That wasn't the high point of the evening."

"I should hope not. Alex?"

Morgan felt herself smiling. "Does it show?"

"Only all over you." Storm smiled in return. "Sort of disconcerting, isn't it?"

"I'll say. And with all this other stuff . . . Well, let's just say I'm taking things as they come."

"Probably best." Then Storm looked more serious. "Jared said they thought it was Nightshade who grabbed you."

"Yeah. Just my luck, huh? Listen, has Max checked in today? I feel guilty as h.e.l.l about missing work."

"As a matter of fact he's here. Out in the museum somewhere."

"I'll try to find him. Um . . . where's Bear?" She didn't see the little cat anywhere.

"With Wolfe-who is also somewhere out in the museum." The computer beeped just then, commanding Storm's attention, and she sat up to deal with the electronic summons. "He's getting a bit nervous. Wolfe, I mean."

That surprised Morgan, since she had seldom seen the security expert rattled by anything. "About the trap?" she asked.

Storm keyed in a brief command, then looked back at her friend with a smile. "No. About a church wedding in Louisiana. He was all for us finding a preacher and just doing it, but we can't. After six sons, my mama started saving her pennies for my wedding the day I was born, and I just can't spoil that for her. So, even as we speak, plans are being made back home. And Wolfe's feeling a bit daunted about meeting my family and walking down the aisle."

She didn't sound particularly worried, Morgan thought in amus.e.m.e.nt. But then-there was no reason she should be. However nervous he might be about the ordeal awaiting him in Louisiana, it was abundantly clear that Wolfe was so deeply in love with Storm it would have taken a great deal more than a gauntlet of relatives to drive him away from her. It would, Morgan thought, take something absolute. Like the end of the world.

Somewhat dryly, Morgan said, "His job and reputation on the line, and he's worried about a little rice and orange blossom."

"Men are odd, aren't they?"

"Ain't that the truth? Listen, is there anything else I should know about, workwise?"

Storm reported the latest findings and their own speculations on Jane Doe, finis.h.i.+ng with, "Keane's forensics team was down in the bas.e.m.e.nt for a while, trying to determine points of entry, but they're gone now. Didn't find anything conclusive. We've beefed up security cameras and alarms on all exterior doors. And windows."

"Sounds good." Morgan frowned. "Does Keane believe they're any closer to identifying Jane Doe?"