Reluctant thief Baz Barret is tasked with stealing from the formidable archaeologist Rei Collingwood--who happens to also be his college crush and rival--but when Rei goes missing after the burglary, Baz must find her before he's blamed for her disa...
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Chapter Five: The Museum
The grounds of the Temperance Museum of History spread wide and tidy, walking distance from most of Temperance's tourist hotspots. The Compass jutted regally above the rest of the skyline across the bay, beyond the clusters of sailboats, yachts, and whale watching tours at the docks.
They wouldn't have a formal guest list, but they would have a donors list and that was a good enough lead for Baz.
The trick in walking up to the information desk was the same trick as walking into Rei Collingwood's apartment. He belonged. He had a reason to be there. There was no reason to be suspicious of him. Him? In jeans and a sweater over a collared shirt? Harmless and scholarly.
Hopefully.
He drummed his fingers on the information desk, the woman behind it smiling placidly. Baz glanced quickly to her nametag.
"Hi, Tracy. I know the Museum held a fundraiser last night in conjunction with the University. I'm writing up an article on it for the school paper. Would it be possible to get a list of donors to mention in the piece?"
The woman's smile remained unchanged, a practiced expression that didn't waver under the pressure. Her eyes didn't narrow in unease or disbelief. Baz never got tired of the weird paradox of his life where his friends didn't believe the truth and strangers bought into his lies.
"I'm sorry. We don't have a list yet. All donations not made anonymously will be displayed publicly in about a week after the etching is done," she said.
"Etchings?"
Baz followed the woman's gaze the glass installation in the entranceway, one that he'd walked right by.
"Last year's donors are right there. Many higher-level donations are made annually, if you want to try reaching out to them for a statement," Tracy offered.
"Thanks, I'll try that." Baz flashed her a winning smile. He hoped it was a winning smile and not one that communicated anything along the lines of 'one of those people is probably guilty of a crime there's a very high chance I'll be nailed for.'
He let the next person in line have Tracy's attention and slipped around to the front of the frosted glass. The donors came listed in tiers. The many names listed under bronze were well and good for the museum, but not so good for him. It was the gold, the platinum, the diamond donors that struck his interest. Those were the kind of names he was vaguely familiar with, the ones he heard in passing while preparing for a break-in. Names like Delburne and Simmons that he heard at the party.
Names like Angelo Ferrero. Diamond donor, one name on a very short list of donors who contributed more than $25,000 in a calendar year.
Baz snapped a photo on his phone, but jotted down the names that stuck out to him. If he remembered them, there was probably a good reason. It narrowed down the list into something he could feasibly conduct research on.
