Page 29 of Inheritance
I gestured to a side door tucked beside a row of dumpsters. "When I was here last, the guy at the desk said to use that door next time."
Michael knocked. No answer.
He jiggled the handle. Nothing. Another knock, louder.
“You sure he meant this door?”
I hesitated. “Maybe he meant just for auctions. Sorry.”
Tony scanned the alley. “Didn’t hurt to try.”
We stood there a beat too long in the stillness.
“Let’s try the front,” I said, already moving.
Our steps clipped across the stone as we rounded the corner.
The museum loomed taller from the front, grand steps, wide columns, and iron-framed glass doors. I peeked inside, but no lights. No one at the desk.
Michael tried the front door. It creaked open without resistance.
“Alright,” he said. “If this is quick, maybe we'll get a pizza for you big guy.”
The lobby was cold and spotless. Marble floors gleamed like they’d just been polished.
We passed a security desk, empty. No papers. No coffee mug. Just the faint hum of a vent.
“Where the hell are they if they need your signature so bad?” Michael said, lowering his voice as it echoed.
“I don't know.” I said, looking around.
A sound caught our attention, a shuffle from down one of the side halls.
Tony immediately shifted, hand resting casually near his coat.
A figure rounded the corner. A man in slacks and a too-tight button-down, sweating through the collar. He smiled, wide. Too wide. It was the auctioneer.
“There you are.” He waved a clipboard like a peace offering. “Sorry to keep you waiting, had to finish up a call. I've got your paperwork here, Miss Rousseau. I apologize for this.”
He handed me the clipboard. I studied the document, understanding none of it, feeling more and more self-conscious with each passing second until I realized something was wrong.
"I think something is wrong here.” I handed it back to him as my phone buzzed in my purse.
Gabriel: Where are you?
“At the museum?” I responded quickly, then looked back up as the he let out a sigh.
"I'm sorry, you're right, my mistake. Would you mind following me to my office?"
"No problem." I said.
"This way, then.”
He turned, leading us through the grand entry of the museum, through a door into a corporate-looking area, then a long hallway. We passed empty office doors, a dark room, then another hall. Narrower. Dimmer.
Tony slowed. “Long way to walk just to sign a paper.”
The Auctioneer kept a fast pace. “We’ve had to shift space around because of a bad leak in our main offices. Not the best setup, but it will have to do.”
