“And it’s been mostly untouched.” Colin’s lips tightened. “Your country has suffered so much art looting already.”
“It’s a travesty.” Hassan’s gnarled index finger tapped hard on his knee. “We’re losing our history. Just last year three heritage workers were shot by these... these thugs. The heritage workers were investigating reports of looting at a heritage site when they were ambushed. Horrid. Just horrid.”
Colin and Hassan continued talking about the many artefacts that had been stolen during the numerous wars and invasions. I wasn’t paying close attention.
Iran. Not only did the bottles of wine originate from this country with such complicated political relationships with the West, now we knew that Adèle had been sending large amounts of cash there. I didn’t discount Hassan’s suspicion that she had bought the stolen art from the most recent heist, but we didn’t have concrete evidence that tied her to that crime.
We did, however, have her photos with numerous other artefacts found in the self-storage locker. This new information was yet another new connection that tied Adèle’s and Jace’s murders to Iran.
How it was linked, I didn’t know. Not yet.
“Hassan, you’re the man.” Vinnie got up and I realised that the men had concluded their conversation. I considered whether there was anything else I wanted to ask Hassan, but there was nothing. I followed them out of the modern office into the elegant showroom.
Hassan stopped next to the rug I’d admired and looked at me. “Where can I deliver this?”
“I haven’t bought it.” How was it possible that I’d miscommunicated that?
“I know.” He smiled. “But I decided that I like you and since you’re Vinnie’s friend, I want to give this to you.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I’d looked at the carpet because its design was soothing to my mind. I had not once considered buying it.
“Breathe, love.” Colin took my hand in his and squeezed. He looked at Hassan. “We deeply appreciate your generosity, Hassan, but we can’t possibly take such a beautiful work of art without giving you something for it. Clearly you have an important business here and giving away your profit would be too much to accept.”
Hassan stared at Colin. It was clear that he viewed Colin’s intervention as a polite rejection.
“I need time.” I was not like Francine who constantly bought things on impulse. “This will bring a significant change in my space and I need to consider it before I buy this.”
“And we will buy this,” Colin added.
“At a discount.” Hassan’s facial muscles relaxed and he smiled. “A huge discount. You will only pay seventy-seven euros for it.”
I frowned. “That’s a peculiar amount.”
“It was my grandmother’s favourite number and you remind me a lot of her.” He put his palm on the Persian Tabriz rug. “She had one very similar to this in her bedroom. Much smaller, but she loved it. She said the shapes made her smile.”
I realised that this rug was more symbolic to Hassan than just another carpet in his store. We said our goodbyes and left. I had many questions about this case, but it took ten minutes into our trip to the team room before I stopped obsessing about whether I wanted to purchase the rug and where I would put it.
Chapter TEN
“What’s up with Nix, Jen-girl?” Vinnie pushed between the two front seats of Colin’s SUV and looked at me.
I pushed myself against the door and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she didn’t laugh at my joke last night. That’s not normal.”
“Could it be that your joke wasn’t funny?” Colin turned into the main road that would take us back to the team room.
“Dude!” Vinnie slapped Colin’s upper arm. “My jokes are always funny. So this is the one I told Nikki.” He took a dramatic pause. “Archaeologist—someone whose career lies in ruins.” He chuckled. “Huh? Huh? Funny, right?”
Colin and Daniel laughed. I didn’t.
Vinnie’s pleasure in Colin’s reaction fell away when he looked at me. “Why aren’t you laughing?”
“I don’t find it funny.” It was obvious.
“It’s funny, Vin.” Colin glanced at Vinnie. “Why do you think something is wrong with Nikki?”
“Can’t put my finger on it. She just seemed distracted.”
“She’s starting a new job.” I’d had a few conversations with Nikki about her nervousness about her fulltime employment. “She’s concerned that she won’t meet her boss’ expectations.”
“Well, that’s just dumb.” Vinnie huffed and shook his head. “She’s a genius at restoring those old paintings.”
“She’s not a genius.” I enjoyed Nikki’s above-average intelligence, but she definitely didn’t qualify as a genius.
Vinnie snorted. “I miss Rox. She would know what’s up with Nikki.”
“Is she enjoying her conference?” Colin asked.
“Yes, but she said she misses us. Me the most.”
“Of course.”
Vinnie turned back to me and I pushed harder against the door. “Do you think there’s something between Pink and Nix?”
“What something?”
“Something romantic-like.” Vinnie frowned and rubbed the long scar that ran down the left side of his face. “Pink has been helping her a lot with Eric and they’re always chatting.”
I didn’t know how to answer this. The only way I felt comfortable in my friendships was by analysing my friends’ nonverbal cues. I knew most people didn’t like the idea of being exposed and vulnerable to analysis, so I almost never shared my insights. It would be similar to betraying their trust. I didn’t know how to be diplomatic, how to be deceptive, so I searched for an appropriate answer. “Nikki trusts Pink. They trust each other.”
“Yeah, but do they like each other?” He drew out the word ‘like’, wiggling his eyebrows.
I pointed at his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
He laughed. “Are they in love?”
“Maybe you should ask Jenny what the body language of love is.” Colin winked at me.
“Huh.” Vinnie nodded slowly. “So? How would you know people are in love?”
I felt much more comfortable answering this. “Nonverbal cues of romantic interest usually include lowered voices, giggling, gazing at each other with the eyelids lowered and smiles that seem to hide some secret.”
“That sounds like flirting to me.”
“It’s more than superficial flirting.” I thought of Francine and how she flirted with the male waiters in every restaurant we visited. Her flirting was a sexy form of friendliness, but without any nonverbal cues inviting further action. “Romantic flirting has the definite message of expecting more from the interaction.”
“Roxy flirts with me.” Vinnie’s smile was sweet.
“Yes.” I looked at Colin. “I don’t flirt.”
“No, you don’t.” He winked at me and returned his attention to the traffic in front of us. “And I’m really glad you don’t.”
“Oh.” The sound of a superhero cartoon jingle from my handbag interrupted me before I could ask him why he felt that way. Daniel’s phone pinged and he took it from his pocket as I took my phone from its usual place in my bag and glared at Colin. “Stop changing my ringtones.” I swiped to answer the call. “You’re on speaker.”
“Hi, Genevieve.” The smile in Pink’s voice made me realise my social blunder.
“Hi, Pink.” I hated the politeness always needed with neurotypicals, but understood and respected the need for it. “I’m with Colin, Daniel and Vinnie and you’re on speaker.”
“Where are you guys?”
“In the car, about five minutes from the team room.” Colin manoeuvred around a car looking for parking. “Why?”
“Turn around.” The tension in his voice brought tightness to my chest. “Meet me at Robertsau forest.”
“Did you find more victims?” I irrationally hoped my assumption wasn’t correct.
“Yes.” He paused when Vinnie swore colourfully. “Two bodies were found this morning by tourists who came for an early walk. I’ve asked the first responders and crime scene techs not to touch anything until you get here.”