He waited until he was sure Amal was okay, then returned to the shop. Remi patted Amal’s cheek as the younger woman came to. “Are you okay?”
It took a moment before Amal answered. “I . . . I think so. One of my attacks, no doubt. One minute we were walking, the next I felt as though I’d stepped into another world. At first, I was looking down at water, seeing my reflection. But I realized I was really beneath the water, looking up.” She sat up on her own, looking toward the shop. “I should know better than walking too close to that incense. I never could abide the stuff. It always made me feel . . . But this was different. Like a sense of panic.”
Panic? Or more of a distraction because she knew that Remi had followed her?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
A patient person never misses a thing.
– SWAHILI PROVERB –
Amal seemed anxious,” Remi said, calling out from the bathroom.
Sam, seated on the sofa in their hotel suite, heard Lazlo knock at the door. “About what?” he asked, getting up to answer it.
“I have no idea. From the moment we arrived to the moment she snuck off, she wasn’t her usual self. Definitely hiding something.”
“She never said where she went?”
“Not a word. And I couldn’t really press the point when she fainted. I was more worried about getting her home after that.”
“If we get a chance, we can ask her tomorrow at the dinner.”
Remi walked out, clipping a barrette in her hair, as Sam and Lazlo took a seat at the table. “I’m not sure she’ll even admit to it. I tried bringing it up again right before I dropped her off at her mother’s house and she totally evaded the subject. It’s all very strange,” she said, then smiled at Lazlo. “Did Selma get back to you?”
“I just rang off with her. Unfortunately, the investigator you’ve hired has failed to find anything on Warren. If the man was in dire straits before he died, he hid it well. But Selma mentioned he has a few leads left.”
“Let’s hope they pan out,” Remi said.
“What about Makao?” Sam asked.
“If Remi’s shot actually hit him—”
“It did,” she said with a firm nod.
“He hasn’t shown up at any hospitals in Nigeria. Nor at any airport.”
“Does she have any good news?”
“Possibly. She was able to dig up an address on that black market website that may give you enough to work with. Apparently, she matched up the listing from the stolen mosaic piece to a shop that specializes in hard-to-find antiques. Open by appointment only.”
“Imagine that,” Sam said as Remi took a seat next to him at the table.
“I’ll text the address to your phone.”
“You’re not going with us?”
“As unexciting as that sounds,” Lazlo replied, “I’m going to spend the rest of my afternoon doing some research. I’m intrigued by this jump rope song that Nasha was singing. I never could resist the lure of a hidden treasure, even if there is a curse attached to it.”
“Your loss,” Sam said. He brought up the address Lazlo sent on his phone’s map and showed it to Remi.
“That’s not too far from where Amal and I were today,” she said.
In fact, it was very close, they realized after heading out. Remi pointed to the wind chimes tinkling from the balcony above them as they walked past. “She made a point to tell me I needed to look at what they were selling on the upper floor. No doubt to keep me from seeing her leave.”
“Let’s find the address,” Sam said, following the directions on his phone.
When they turned the corner, she said, “That’s definitely where Amal was. I’m sure of it.”
“There?”
“About midway down on the right. I stood here, watching her.”
They continued onto the narrow street. Sam stopped in front of the address listed on his phone’s map. “Is this it?”
“Definitely the same place.”
Sam rapped on the door. When there was no answer, he approached someone who was sweeping the area in front of the adjoining shop. “Excuse me. Do you know what sort of business this is?”
The man stared blankly.
Remi repeated the question in French.
“Antiquités,” he replied.
Remi thanked him and he went back to his sweeping.
“I have to say,” Sam said, “I didn’t expect that from Amal.”
“There’s got to be a good explanation.”
Sam studied the shop for a few moments. “Ask him if anyone will be there if we return this evening. We’d like to talk to the owners.”
Remi repeated the question. “Unfortunately, no. The shop is closed at night. He believes the man who owns the place lives out in the country, but he has no way to contact him.”
Sam looked at the man, nodding. “Merci,” he said. “We’ll stop by tomorrow.”
He and Remi left. At the corner, he stopped to look back at the shop.
“Tomorrow?” Remi asked, almost in disbelief.
“Give or take a few hours.”
Just after midnight, in fact. As in the past, they used a Bluetooth earpiece with their cell phones to communicate. They strolled down the narrow street where the antiquities shop was located, glad to see the area was completely deserted, every window dark. That bode well. Last thing they needed was a witness who might call the police.
When they reached the shop, Remi stood as lookout while Sam picked the lock and opened the door. Once they were inside, he checked for a control panel on the wall but found none.
“You’d think they’d have an alarm,” Remi said as he locked the door behind them. “Especially if they’re dealing in stolen antiques.”
“Maybe they’re not worried about anyone stealing from them.” He took a quick look around. The front room was filled with artwork, Roman vases, and knickknacks artfully placed upon the antique furniture.
Remi lifted an Etruscan vase. “No wonder they don’t have this place alarmed. These are fake.”
“So why is a place dealing in fraudulent antiques selling the real deal?”
She returned the vase to the shelf. “Who’s to say they aren’t trying to sell these as the real deal?”
“I’ll check down here, you check upstairs.”