“Was there a different sender address with the charms?”
Elene shrugged. “That’s all she remembers, but the charms look vintage. See? They don’t even match exactly. These aren’t mass-produced.”
Romeo picked up the other earring. “How easy is it to buy genuine Ancient Egyptian charms?”
“How should I know?” I snapped out of habit, but maybe…maybe he had something. Another shot at getting an address for Hebert’s hiding place?
“You should call Bradley’s boyfriend,” Marcel said.
“Bradley as in Emmy’s assistant, Bradley?”
He and Marcel had met a year ago, and they mostly got along. Marcel thought Bradley drove way too slowly.
“How many other Bradleys do we know?”
“Why should I call Bradley’s boyfriend?”
“Because he knows about Ancient Egyptian stuff. Don’t you remember that treasure he found at the start of the year?”
Vaguely. If I recalled correctly, someone tried to steal the treasure, and Emmy had hotfooted it to Luxor before Bradley had a coronary.
“Can you get him on the phone?”
Because I didn’t even know where to start with an internet search. “Old Egyptian glass blobs for sale”?
“I’ll call Bradley as soon as the pineapple upside-down cake is done.”
“Call him now.”
Marcel’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “No, because it will burn.”
“It’s only a fucking cake.”
“A cake that I spent?—”
“I’ll watch the cake,” Elene said hurriedly. “When the stick comes out clean, it is cooked, yes?”
“Thank you, Elene,” he said a little testily. We’d hired Marcel mainly for his cooking abilities, and he could be a thorn in everyone’s side at times. At least we ate well.
It took the best part of an hour to track down Miles Bradley, probably because Egypt was ten hours ahead of Vegas and somebody had to roust him from his bed in the Sahara. We gathered in the control room, and by “we,” I meant me, Marcel, Echo, and Dusk. Romeo had decided he was staying for pineapple cake with Elene, and I’d been too busy checking in with Dan and Emmy to dump him out on the sidewalk. Neither of the other teams was doing any better than we were.
“Evening, folks,” Miles said, and although I’d only met Bradley a time or two, Miles was the last person I’d imagine him dating. Bradley was the love child of the Fremont Street light show and a glitter cannon, while Miles looked as if he’d recently escaped from a library. The space behind him was dark, but it appeared he was in a tent.
“Thanks for speaking with us.”
“How can I help? Bradley said you’re trying to identify some Egyptian antiquities?”
“A pair of small glass charms.” I held one of the earrings up to the camera. “The gold squiggles are a recent addition. Basically, we need to find out if these are old, and if so, where someone might buy them.”
“Small amulets like those can often be picked up at auction but that one… Can you hold it closer? Yes, it’s a nice example of a heart amulet, also known as an ib. Almost too nice. Probably carnelian stone, not glass.”
“What do you mean by ‘almost too nice’? It isn’t genuine?”
“I can’t say without examining it in person, but if it’s genuine, a find of that quality would usually be in a museum or the hands of a collector. How did you come by it?”
“A suspect in the kidnapping case we’re investigating sent it to the victim.”
His brow creased. “Is that normal? For a suspect to send gifts like that?”