have not been to the opera in ages,’ Alkmene protested. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘I heard from the countess she saw something interesting that night. I want to know which box was hers, what she could have seen from there.’
Alkmene felt a rush of annoyance that the countess had shared her sighting of the man returned from the dead with Dubois. That had been her ace in the hole. But she should have known that the little lady was so excited about Dubois and his quest that she’d be determined to be involved somehow.
She sighed. ‘I told you I was not with her. How should I know in what box she was that night?’
Dubois rolled his eyes at her. ‘One moment. I’ll ask if that man in the foyer knows.’ He left her standing and ran down the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. His easy energy rubbed off on her and instead of thinking this was obnoxious and potentially ruinous for her reputation, Alkmene found herself anticipating a bit of childlike fun. She tried to keep her expression straight, but when Dubois came back up and whispered the number at her with an excited grin, she had to return it and follow him down the corridor to the right curtain.
They went in and stood a moment in the half darkness. Way down below lay the stage, empty, and all the rows of seats stretching away from it.
Even the chandelier in front of them on the ceiling seemed lifeless without the sparkles on the pendants and the little rainbows when you looked at them through squinted eyes. There was a hushed silence here, as of a house in mourning.
Dubois stared to the other side, in concentration as if he pictured the scene that the countess had seen that night. Norwhich and his niece in their box, then a man intruding. An argument…
Dubois said, ‘It is too bad that we don’t know the name of the man who came in here that night. But then again, if I just knew who he was and could go ask him what he was doing here, it would be too easy.’
‘He would probably not tell you the truth anyway.’ Alkmene let her gaze wander around the box. Beside the last seat there was a curtain that had no purpose but was just fashionably draped to hide the separating wall to the next box.
Alkmene narrowed her eyes to focus on it. Something about that curtain struck her as strange.
She turned her head and looked at the same curtain on the other side of the box. It was longer.
Longer?
She walked over to the curtain and sat on her haunches. ‘I think this was changed.’
‘What?’ Dubois asked without looking at her.
She ran her hands over the curtain’s edge. It had been folded double and was somehow secured with…
‘Ouch!’ She withdrew her hand, holding it up. Blood beaded on the tip of her index finger.
A strong grasp caught her hand, and Dubois leaned over it. He tsk-tsk-ed. ‘Not used to handling needles, are you, my lady?’
‘I had no idea there was a needle or rather a pin in that curtain,’ Alkmene said.
Dubois went to pull out another handkerchief to wrap around the injured limb, but Alkmene just slipped the finger into her mouth and sucked. It was unladylike, but she really had no idea how to get a bloodstain out of cloth and she didn’t want any more hassle with laundry than she already had.
Dubois grinned at her. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Only when I laugh,’ she muttered sourly.
Dubois sat down on his haunches, took the curtain in both hands and turned over the edge. ‘It has been secured here,’ he said. Then he whistled. ‘Not with a simple pin either. Look at this.’
Alkmene leaned down to see what he was trying to get loose from the curtain’s thick fabric. When he moved upwards, their heads almost bashed together.
‘Careful,’ Dubois said, but an inch from her face, ‘or you will sustain even more injury.’ His eyes sparkled as he added, ‘If you happen to have such an egg-shell skull as you told me about the other day, I don’t want to be responsible for cracking it and robbing your family line of the only one who can keep passing on the elect genes.’
Alkmene gave him a weak smile. ‘Very funny. Now show me that pin.’
In the little light that was there Dubois held up something that sparkled golden.
Alkmene’s jaw slackened. ‘That is real gold. And those stones…’
Dubois nodded. ‘This brooch is worth more than I make in a couple of years running after assignments.’
‘More importantly – ’ Alkmene ignored the jibe about money ‘ – what is it doing here securing a curtain? Was it used to create a pouch for documents? An important letter maybe? Code?’
Her mind went wild with possibilities of espionage, and exhilaration filled her brain. They could really be onto something here.
But Dubois shook his head. ‘There is nothing else there.’
‘What? That can’t be. You must have looked with your nose.’ She plunged down onto her knees, grabbing at the curtain.
‘Careful,’ Dubois admonished her. ‘I can’t be certain there aren’t more priceless brooches hidden in there.’
But there were none. No documents either, no letters, no plans to some top secret invention or treaty that could throw all of Europe into war again, unless the two of them prevented it.
Nothing.
Alkmene rose and brushed dust off her knees. ‘That man downstairs claims it gets cleaned here, but they could do a better job.’
Dubois studied the brooch thoughtfully. ‘Does anything strike you as particular about this piece of jewellery?’
Alkmene shrugged. ‘It is probably pretty valuable.’
He gave her a sharp look. ‘You don’t guard the family jewels at all costs?’
Alkmene laughed softly. ‘My mother had some, and I get to wear them when I have to show off the family wares at some special occasion. But most of the time they are in the safe in Father’s study and nobody cares about them much.’
He huffed. ‘Well, this one must be a family heirloom. It has a mark indicating the purity of the gold and the maker, and I bet we can trace it back to its origins.’
‘Shouldn’t we just turn it in to that little man sweeping the foyer? We might have found it, but it is not ours to keep.’
‘I didn’t say I was going to keep it. I intend to find out to whom it belongs. I am really curious why it was fastened here in that way. It didn’t fall off because the clasp came loose or something.’ Dubois studied her with a frown. ‘You were right about the pouch. This brooch was used to form the curtain into a container for something. But whatever it was, it is no longer there.’
Alkmene studied the curtain, which now hung in the normal way again. ‘We have no way of knowing for how long it was this way. Who has been in this box and who could be involved.’
Dubois put the brooch into his pocket and looked around. ‘Nothing else to be found here. We’d better leave again.’
In the foyer the sweeping man asked if they had recovered the lost earring. Alkmene said with a smile that she had and that he had helped them a lot. Dubois led her outside. ‘He is probably now telling himself you would have helped him more if you had given him some money,’ he observed.
‘Why? I would feel like I had bribed him. It would have looked suspicious. I merely looked for my own lost earring. Why give him something for that?’
Dubois shook his head. ‘You have no idea of real life. To grease the wheels of cooperation you have to have ready cash on you for all occasions.’
‘Well, then you should have given