“And if they match the staff with access?”
Klein put the fingerprint box back in the briefcase. “Back to the inside job.”
“Do you have access to a fingerprint database or something?”
“I have some friends who owe me some favors.” He angled his head at the door. “C’mon, let’s do some interviews.”
“Who are we talking to?” Ivy followed him out. She smiled at the guard. He kept on his thousand yard stare.
“Everyone,” Everett said.
Gus Beranger and J. Benjamin Franklyn remained in the hall. The head of security smirked at Everett. “You solve this yet, Detective Klein?”
“Yeah, I did.” Everett waited for the man’s double take. Then he said, “I just need evidence to take it to court.”
“Personally, I could give a rat’s ass about prosecution,” Gus said. “I just want the damned tiara back.”
“Your company didn’t install the vault, Franklyn.” Everett didn’t ask.
“Nope. Private construction firm, back in 1972 I believe. Eagle updated a few security features.”
Ivy jumped in. “Is there a way to know who opened the safe with the tiara? Does that data get saved?”
Franklyn gave her an assessing scowl. “It does. For one year. Then it gets archived. For the past three hundred sixty-six days, no one has opened the tiara safe. When we accessed the archive, we found the opening of the box consistent with the removal for exhibition, and replacement following.”
An inside inside job, she thought to herself.
Everett nodded at the guard standing at parade rest. “Your men.”
“Vetted fully, all ex-military,” Franklyn said. “At least two years on staff before being placed in high risk or high value sites. Eagle Security aren’t your average rent-a-cops.”
Was that a dig at Everett? Ivy wondered.
Klein pulled a notebook from his suit coat pocket. “Okay, I’m going to talk with your staff, Gus.”
“You keep me in the loop, y’hear?”
“Not unless I have something loop-worthy.” Everett walked away, leaving Ivy to stumble along behind him. He strode down the short hall, around the corner, and into the office. The staff looked up from their desks as he strode by, straight to Susan Miller-Day’s door. He knocked hard and entered before she had time to respond.
Feeling awkward, but not wanting to show it, Ivy could only follow behind.
“Where were you when the tiara was stolen, Miss Miller-Day?”
This elicited a slow smile from the woman. “That’s almost a trick question, Detective. On the one hand, we don’t know when the theft occurred. On the other, I’m in the office all the time. Have a seat.”
Ivy sat down.
“I’ll stand,” Everett said, making her feel like a goof.
Susan’s eyes ticked between the two. It seemed as if she were trying to work out if this was some kind of psychological trick.
“You’ve been working for Beranger for a while.”
“Long enough,” Susan said. “I started just like the girls in the office, facilitating sales, taking buyer’s requests. But it takes a special kind of personality to wrangle decommissioned military surplus. Persistence, persuasion, and paperwork are only half the job. I proved myself, and now I run Beranger Imports. Gus gets to do what he’s best at—driving tanks, shooting machine guns, and entertaining clients. I get the work done.”
“Connections,” Everett said.
“Plenty.” She angled her head. “However, as I said before, I don’t have any part of the Odditorium. It’s far too low-profit for me to have a hand in.”
“Someone has a hand in it,” Everett said. Why was it so hard for the man to ask a straight question?
“Mostly, it’s Gus. The man loves his toys, his collections. Really, he leaves the running of the Grand Odditorium to the museum staff, except during the True Treasures exhibition, and when he’s hot to add a new item to the collection.”
Ivy and Everett had a run-in with two of the museum staffers. All of a sudden, she put anyone working at the Grand Odditorium high up on the suspect list. Susan’s phone rang. She made a face and excused herself. The conversation was brief.
“That was Tanner,” she said. “He’s complaining about a mess you made in the vault.”
“Tell me about Tanner,” Everett said.
Susan shrugged. “I run the business, he runs the house. The Berangers highly prize their free time.”
Everett prompted her. “The butler has been with Beranger a while, too.”
“Hired by Gus’ grandfather, Robert. Tanner is technically a majordomo, not a butler, and came highly trained in the European butlering tradition. I see him daily, but that’s all I know about him.”
“He has access to the vault, but the housekeeper doesn’t,” Klein said.
Susan pooched out her lower lip. “I believe that’s correct. Why else would he complain?”
“Why else indeed. Thank you for your time, Miss Miller-Day.”
“Susan.” She took a card from her desk and handed it to him. “Call anytime you need something.”
Everett tried to take the card, but she held it firmly for a moment.
“Anytime you need something,” she repeated.
Ivy felt a little flush. Embarrassment? Jealousy? She stood up and did her best to cover. “Is there a ladies’ room I can use?”
Susan typed at her computer. She didn’t even look at Ivy. “The door on the side opposite the vault hall.”
They walked out, and Ivy felt the three women at their desks eyeing them. Everett folded his arms and leaned against the wall as she entered the restroom. She had to come up with some better cover than always fleeing to the bathroom.
But when they were searching for Abigail, a spell had altered video footage outside the Odditorium. It was simple, but powerful, like a bar across a door. Even the Bitty Committee and Blanche together couldn’t batter it down. But the simplest way to open a door like that was to lift the bar. Ivy had done just that.
She tried something similar here. Ivy took out her cellphone and scrolled to the mirror app. She fished out a packet of fast food salt from the corner of the purse and spread it across the reflective surface.
Harken to my commanding sound
Magic around, magic abound
Magic hidden, now magic found
Magic hidden, now magic found!
“And… nothing.” Moira appeared in the bathroom. Ivy nearly dropped the phone.
“Jeeze Louise, I’m-a have to hang a bell around your neck,” Ivy gasped.
Moira wore a suit exactly like Susan’s, stilettos traded for gold Roman sandals. She folded her arms and cocked her head. “Don’t you think Detective Lover-Boy gets a little curious about your mental state with you always running to the ladies’ and talking to yourself?”
“Yeah, I kinda do,” Ivy admitted.
“You should’ve called me when you got out of here,” Moira floated to sit on top of the sink. “I could’ve reconnoitered. Even that dreadful vault.”
“Reconnoitered? You’ve been watching too much SWAT on TV.” Ivy made a face. “I’m sorta trying to work this out myself.”