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 him something,’ Alkmene said.
They walked down the street away from the theatre. The bright light formed a sharp contrast to the dimness inside of the building. Her eyes almost hurt. ‘Where will you determine who owns the brooch? I mean, what you said before about gold percentage and maker.’
‘I’ll do that alone.’
‘Why? Is it not appropriate for a lady to see?’
Dubois laughed softly. ‘You don’t have to make a point for me. I am well aware of the things you have never seen in your life.’
Alkmene halted. ‘I find your attitude patronizing and unjust. You have never even tried me. How do you know what I would do, how I would react, if I was part of an investigation with you?’
Dubois surveyed her a moment. Then he nodded and hailed a cab.
Wait a minute. He was agreeing to take her along?
Just like that?
Her persuasive powers had to be greater than imagined.
The cab halted, and Alkmene got in with a sense of excitement, but also a slight feeling of impending doom, throbbing in her hurt finger.
She had about as much an idea of investigative work as she had about laundry.
She’d better make sure she didn’t interfere with Dubois’s handling of it, or he’d never again take her anywhere.
The cab dropped them off on the corner of two streets full of small shops and peddlers trying to sell off their wares. Dubois led the way, her clinging to his side, to avoid the grubby hands reaching out for her.
Loud voices screamed from all sides, and a scruffy dog on a rope snapped at her ankle.
Fortunately, the rope was just too short for him to get a nibble. His teeth just shut with a vicious clang that echoed as they pushed on.
On the corner was a tall building of four storeys. The door was open, and in the hallway was a sweet stench of decay.
Or was it something cooking?
If it was, it was disgusting.
Alkmene pretended to rub her face while keeping her nose shut against the stench.
They had to walk up an endless amount of steps spiralling to the top floor. Here and there the steps were so worn she was worried she’d tread right through them and plunge down. Her heart pounded with exertion, and her lungs struggled for air.