Blood Lines

coffin-looks like Eighteenth Dynasty in a Sixteenth Dynasty sarcophagus, really strange-but nothing seemed to be missing. I mean, we had a pretty valuable faience and gold pectoral out on the counter being restored and it was still there."
    Dave raised a brow. "Faience? Pectoral?"
    'Faience is, well, a kind of ceramic and a pectoral is a…" long fingers sketched incomprehensible designs in the air.

    "Well, I guess you could think of it as a fat necklace."
    'More than historically valuable?"
    Ray Thompson shrugged. "More than half of it is better than eighteen karat gold."
    Celluci turned from the window where he'd been watching traffic go by on Queen's Park Road, content to let his partner ask the questions. Whatever the reasons were behind the death of Dr. Rax, he was willing to bet robbery hadn't been a motive. "What about the mummy?"
    'There never was one."
    'Oh?" He took a step forward. "I talked to one of the officers on the scene yesterday morning as they were carrying that janitor out of the building. She told me he'd seen a mummy and had a heart attack. Essentially, died of fright."
    ' Thought he saw a mummy. Someone had popped an empty coffin back into a stone box and resealed it. We thought we were getting a new piece of history and all we got was air." Ray's laugh was short and bitter. "Maybe that's what killed Dr. Rax; scientific disappointment."
    'So there wasn't a mummy?"
    'No."
    'You're sure?"
    'Trust me, Detective, I'd have noticed." Celluci caught a speaking glance from his partner and, scowling, closed his lips around what he'd been about to say. For the moment, he was willing to believe he'd misunderstood Trembley's explanation.
    The rest of the department had even less to offer. They'd all liked Dr. Rax. Sure, occasionally he disagreed with his colleagues, but get twelve Egyptologists in a room and they'd have a dozen different opinions. No, there never had been a mummy. Professional jealousy?
    Dr. Shane sighed and pushed her hair back off her forehead. "He was the curator of an underfunded department in a provincial museum. A good job, even a prestigious job compared to many but not one worth killing over."
    'I suppose as his assistant curator you're next in line for the position." The words were an observation only, carefully nonweighted.
    'I suppose I am. Damn him anyway, I'm the only person I can think of who hates paperwork more than he did." She pressed her fists against her mouth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Oh, God…" A moment later she looked up, lashes in damp clumps. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually a watering pot."
    'It's been an unusual kind of a day," Celluci said gently, handing her a tissue. "Dave, why don't you tell the others that anyone who wants to go home, can. But point out that once the lab people are done, we'll need a complete inventory of that workroom. Maybe some'll stay. The sooner we know for sure if anything's missing the better."
    Dr. Shane blew her nose as Dave left. "You're pretty high-handed with my staff, Detective."
    'Sorry. If you'd rather tell them yourself…?"
    'No, that's all right. You're doing fine." I bet when he was eighteen he looked like Michelangelo's David. She closed her eyes again. God, I don't believe this. Elias is dead and I'm sitting here thinking about hove good-looking this cop is .
    'Dr. Shane? Are you all right?"

    'I'm fine." She opened her eyes again and managed a watery smile. "Really."
    Celluci nodded. He couldn't help but notice that Dr. Rachel Shane had a very attractive smile, even twisted as it was with grief. He wondered how it would look when she actually had something to smile about.
    'So." She tossed the soggy tissue in the wastebasket. "You've taken care of my staff, what do you have planned for me?"
    For no good reason, Celluci could feel his ears turning red. He cleared his throat and gave thanks he hadn't gone in for that haircut. "If you could check Dr. Rax's office? You'd be in the best position to know if anything's been disturbed."
    The curator's office was on the other side of the large common room. When PC Harper motioned him over to the hall door, Celluci waved Dr. Shane on alone.
    'What?"
    'It's the press."
    'Yeah. So?"
    'Shouldn't somebody make a statement; just to keep them from breaking the doors down?"
    Celluci snorted. "I'll give them a statement."
    As he watched the detective stride off down the corridor, shoulders up and fingers curled into fists, PC Harper wondered if maybe he should've waited for