The Keepsake: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

this?”
    “I’m ready.”
    “Maybe a cup of coffee before we start?”
    “I’ll make some for you.” Josephine turned toward the kitchen.
    “No, I was thinking of
you.
Whether you needed anything.”
    “Frost,” snapped Jane, “she just said she’s ready to talk. So why don’t we all sit down and get started?”
    “I just want to be sure she’s comfortable. That’s all.”
    Frost and Jane settled onto the battered-looking couch. Through the cushion, Jane felt the bite of a broken spring. She slid away from it, leaving a wide gap between her and Frost. They sat at opposite ends of the couch, like an estranged couple at a counseling session.
    Josephine sank onto a chair, and her face was as unreadable as onyx. She might be only twenty-six, but she was eerily self-contained, any emotions she might possess kept under tight lock and key. Something is not right here, thought Jane. Was she the only one who felt it? Frost seemed to have lost any sense of objectivity.
    “Let’s talk about those keys again, Dr. Pulcillo,” Jane began.
    “You said they went missing over a week ago?”
    “When I got home last Wednesday, I couldn’t find my key ring in my purse. I thought I’d misplaced it at work, but I couldn’t find it there, either. You can ask Mr. Goodwin about it. He charged me forty-five dollars to replace the mailbox key.”
    “And the missing key ring never turned up again?”
    Josephine’s gaze dropped to her lap. What followed was only a few beats of silence, but it was enough to catch Jane’s attention. Why would such a straightforward question require so much thought?
    “No,” said Josephine. “I never saw those keys again.”
    Frost asked, “When you’re at work, where do you keep your purse?”
    “In my desk.” Josephine visibly relaxed, as though this was a question she had no problem answering.
    “Is your office locked?” He leaned forward, as though afraid to miss a single word she said.
    “No. I’m in and out of my office all day, so I don’t bother to lock it.”
    “I assume the museum has security tapes? Some record of who might have gone into your office?”
    “Theoretically.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Our security camera system went on the blink three weeks ago and it hasn’t been repaired yet.” She shrugged. “It’s a budget issue. Money’s always short, and we thought that just having the cameras in public view would be enough to deter any thieves.”
    “So any visitor to the museum could have wandered upstairs to your office and taken the keys.”
    “And after all the publicity about Madam X, we’ve had droves of visitors. The public’s finally discovered the Crispin Museum.”
    Jane said, “Why would a thief take just your key ring and leave your purse? Was anything else missing from your office?”
    “No. At least, I haven’t noticed. That’s why I didn’t worry about it. I just assumed I’d dropped the keys somewhere. I never imagined someone would use them to get into my car. To put that…thing in my trunk.”
    “Your apartment building doesn’t have a parking lot,” observed Frost.
    Josephine shook her head. “It’s every man for himself. I park on the street like all the other tenants. That’s why I don’t keep anything valuable in my car, because they’re always getting broken into. But it’s usually to take things.” She gave a shudder. “Not put things
in.
”
    “How is security in this building?” asked Frost.
    “We’ll get to that issue in a minute,” said Jane.
    “Someone has her key ring. I think that’s the most pressing concern, the fact that he has access to her car and to her apartment. The fact that he seems to be focused on her.” He turned to the young woman. “Do you have any idea why?”
    Josephine’s gaze skittered away. “No, I don’t.”
    “Could it be someone you know? Someone you’ve recently met?”
    “I’ve only been in Boston for five months.”
    “Where were you before that?” Jane asked.
    “Job hunting in California. I moved to Boston after the museum hired me.”
    “Any enemies, Dr. Pulcillo? Any ex-boyfriends you don’t get along with?”
    “No.”
    “Any archaeologist friends who’d know how to turn a woman into a mummy? Or a shrunken head?”
    “That knowledge is available to a lot of people. You don’t have to be an archaeologist.”
    “But your friends
are
archaeologists.”
    Josephine shrugged. “I don’t have all that many friends.”
    “Why not?”
    “As I