He finished his glass of beer, set cash on the counter, and walked out of the tavern.
As quickly as possible, I rushed over to a booth and tore into the file, spreading the papers out across the table.
Ineededto win this bet. I neededawin, period.
The first page of the dossier gave a summary of the case—an amulet belonging to an Edwina Aldea had been stolen. My job was to retrieve it and bring it not to Ms. Aldea, but to the library.
“What’s the deal with you and sexy trench coat man?” Imogen asked, pulling me from my focus.
“Sexy? What?” I shook my head. “He’s not sexy. He’s infuriating. There is nothing between us. Silas is an impediment to my triumphant return, nothing more. It’s better not to speak of him or to him.”
“I bet the reward he plans to claim is you, doing unspeakable things together, in a no-clothes-involved situation.”
Images filled my head—of Silas slowly unbuttoning his white shirt, of his pretty lips curving in a devious smirk, of him wrapping his big hands around my waist and pulling me flush against him. A wave of heat flushed across my skin.
“Eww, no. What?” I shook my head. “I’m sure he wants me to lick his shoe or something of the like. Now, as I said, we are not to speak of Silas any further. You’re wasting time.”
Imogen was quiet for only a moment before she plucked a photograph from the pile of papers and held it up for me to see. “I bet he-who-we-do-not-speak-of is starting at the beginning of the stack of leads. What if we start at the bottom and go here first?”
I ignored her and read through the details listed. The amulet had not been in Ms. Aldea’s possession at the time of its disappearance. It had been on loan to a museum exhibit.
“I always wanted to visit a castle,” Imogen said, her smile beaming.
I glanced at the photograph, which depicted a man standing in front of a large, old building that was definitely not a castle. I recognized him.
The details were blurry, but I was sure I had seen him before. I was fairly certain it had been in Marshmallow…and my mother had been involved.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go to the castle first.”
CHAPTER 8
Iengrossed myself in the file as we waited on the little bench in front of the tavern. Imogen glanced from her phone, to the papers in my hands, then out at the empty street. She fidgeted and wiggled about, making it near impossible for me to focus.
The “castle” appeared to be used both as a private residence and as a museum for anthropological finds of Roldaria, including the missing Trai Amulet. While the amulet belonged to Edwina Aldea, it had been in the custody of Cornelius Kurnbottom, curator of the museum, upon the time of its disappearance. There were no known suspects, and the reasons for the library’s interest in the amulet were unclear.
A car pulled up to the curb. It was the same brown jalopy we’d ridden in last time.
“Our ride’s here.” Imogen shot up from the bench and lugged her bags toward the back of the car.
The trunk popped open. Imogen paused. I joined her and placed my bag inside the empty trunk. “There’s no sheep this time,” I assured her.
“Great, thanks.” She smiled and deposited her luggage.
“Is it always the same driver when you use the Whirl service from your portable telephone?” I asked.
The passenger side front door popped open. The driver stuck his head out. It was Noah. “In Inorog, it’s just me. There were two of us for a week, but I dealt with the other guy, real good. He’s never coming back.”
“Thank you for the information,” I said.
He nodded, then shut the door and returned to the upright position in the driver’s seat.
Imogen leaned in close and whispered, “Do you think he killed the other guy?”
“It’s unclear,” I said, and climbed into the back seat of the car.
Sheeepedand climbed in after me.
“We would like to go to 402 Munte Street, please,” I said.