Page 51 of The Stolen Queen

Annie Jenkins was helping an older woman with a cane toward the stairs while the remaining staff members scurried around helplessly swatting the air. A security guard tried to kill one of the insects after it landed on a costume, but the strength of his smack ended up knocking the mannequin over, which, in turn, fell into the mannequin next to it, creating a domino effect and causing even more screeches. Diana Vreeland stood with her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head. No one knew what to do.

Over in one corner was a large open box with the words “Live Butterflies—Handle with Care” printed on one side. God knew what was going on down here, but whatever it was, it had turned into a total disaster. What utter insanity, to bring live insects into a museum. No doubt it was one of Diana Vreeland’s crazy notions, like the infused perfume that tickled Charlotte’s nose and made her want to sneeze.

She scanned the room for the man from the Egyptian wing, but the layout of the hall made it difficult to find him. He could be hiding behind any of the velvet curtains that draped the displays, or maybe he had squeezed back into the crush of people waiting to get up the stairs. It was utter chaos. Luckily, a clutch of guards had just arrived at the back entrance of the room, reinforcements for the ones who were already there and were doing their best to assist the attendees.

Their focus, rightly so, was on getting the crowd upstairs safely. Which left all the costumes and other artwork unattended.

Including the broad collar.

In the craziness of the moment, she’d forgotten it was down here. She spun around and located the mannequin, which stood intact, including the broad collar. It was safe, at least.

Charlotte sprinted over to the guards at the back. “There’s been a theft. The Cerulean Queen is missing from the Egyptian Artcollection. I followed the thief—he ran down here. Did you pass a man in a dark suit?”

One of the security guards shook his head. “I can’t hear you.”

“The Cerulean Queen has been stolen,” she shouted.

Now she had his full attention. “You said the Cerulean Queen is missing?” he yelled back, his eyes wide.

“Yes. And I think the thief may be in this room somewhere.”

It occurred to Charlotte that this moth debacle made the perfect distraction for a thief, drawing the security guards from the Egyptian galleries down to the basement and away from their posts. But it was impossible to communicate that clearly with all the noise. She pointed to one of the guards. “You, find out where they control the music and shut it off.” She pointed to another. “Turn on all of the overhead lights and close the door to the stairway once everyone’s out.” She recognized one of the guards as the young kid who had been cleaning up in the head of security’s office when she’d stopped by. “Have every exit to the museum closed until we find the thief.” The kid took off running.

Soon, the overhead lights blinked on and the music faded. Charlotte continued issuing orders. “Get some netting from the conservators’ workshop and use it to block one doorway. Then turn off the lights in the room but keep the light in the hallway on. The moths will be attracted by the light and fly into the netting.” Even as she spoke, she knew they were wasting valuable time.

“Did anyone see a man holding some kind of a bag come through here?” But her question fell on empty ears as the guards scrambled into action to corral the moths.

Annie Jenkins was suddenly by Charlotte’s side. “You mean a bowling-ball bag?”

“What?”

“I saw a man with a bowling-ball bag run past me a little while ago.”

“In a dark suit?”

“Yes.”

“What way did he go?”

She pointed to the door to the back hallway. “Through there. Why are you after him?”

A pulse pounded in Charlotte’s temple as she answered. “He’s stolen the Cerulean Queen.”

Chapter Seventeen

Annie

“He turned to the right,” said Annie, following Charlotte down the main basement hallway.

Annie knew she shouldn’t be running away from the mayhem she’d just unleashed, but the distraught look in Charlotte’s expression overrode Annie’s sense of duty to Mrs. Vreeland. Something terrible had happened, and she preferred to jump into action rather than face what was sure to be the wrath of everyone who had worked so hard to make the exhibition a success. Her chest heaved with effort as they sprinted down the long hall. The man could have gone anywhere.

“There must be more guards down here,” said Charlotte. “We’ll round up some help and see if we can track this guy down. What did he look like?”

“Dark suit, tall,” answered Annie, panting hard. “I didn’t see his face, but I noticed the bowling-ball bag because my dad used to have one just like it. He stood out because he didn’t seem upset by the moths the way everyone else was, it was like he expected them.”

Charlotte nodded, like she wasn’t surprised by that fact. “What exactly happened in there?”

Annie’s insides twisted. She’d been so stupid—why hadn’t she checked the box before she set them all free? “Mrs. Vreeland wanted butterflies released for the VIP tour. But something got mixed up and instead the box was filled with moths.”

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