Gina had set her phone alarm for an hour before the museum’s scheduled opening. She didn’t want to be caught by surprise in case someone decided to get to work early.
In the ambient light of the early morning, she got up from her chair and took a few minutes to stretch thoroughly. Sleeping with her head down on the break-room table wasn’t the worst way she’d ever spent a few hours, but still, it felt good to arch her back and bend her body and nudge her muscles and joints back to wakefulness. She was in the home-stretch of this particular phase of the operation and she wanted to be sharp and ready.
Picking up her pack, Gina prepared to leave the break-room, pausing at the door to glance back and be sure everything was in place and the room looked as it had when she arrived. Then she closed her eyes and listened, and was relieved to discover that the building was still silent and asleep. Not willing to press her luck by dawdling, she made her way to the janitorial closet, which she knew wasn’t locked. Inside, careful not to touch anything, she reached up onto the light-bulb shelf for the items she’d left there the day before. One red vest, with a blond wig folded inside—check.
As she turned to go, Gina paused as she remembered a small but important detail. She removed the telescoping rod from her pack. Pulling her long shirt-sleeve over her hand, she wiped the length of the collapsed pole with the sleeve to erase any possible fingerprints. Then she returned the aluminum rod to its rightful place on the shelf; after all, where would a light-bulb changing extension pole belong if not with the light-bulbs?
Leaving the janitor’s closet, Gina made her way to the ladies’ rest room. She did the usual things that women do in the rest room, including splashing water on her face and generally freshening up. She pulled off the black long-sleeved tee-shirt she’d worn overnight and replaced it with the white blouse from her bag. The red vest completed her ‘uniform.’ Lastly, Gina smoothed back her hair and donned the blond wig, turning this way and that in front of the mirror to ensure it was properly in place.
There—now she was back to being “Lee,” the faux museum volunteer.
Gina took a deep breath. Now came more waiting, but not too much longer. She got her bag, turned off the lights, and entered the farthest stall, locking the door. She hopped up to stand on the toilet, invisible to anyone who might enter.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“What do you mean, you don’t have it?” Nick asked incredulously. “The whole point of this—this thing you did last night was to get the Woodland Bowl.”
Gina stifled a yawn. “Keep your voice down, would ya?” She glanced around, relieved to see that lunch-hour patrons sitting at nearby cafe tables were all engrossed in their own conversations. “And I did get it. I just had to stash it for a while.”
He shook his head in an apparent effort to retain patience. “Well, why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me about it. What happened, and how and why you stashed it. Not to mention,” he added, glowering at her, “why you didn’t tell me you don’t have it on you.”
Gina shrugged, her brown hair bouncing off her shoulders as she did so. “I’m a thief, Nick. Success at my job depends on not telling people what I’m doing. You do get that, don’t you?”
He was still scowling, but, after a deep sigh, he nodded. “Okay, okay. I get it. Now tell me what happened.”
Gina set aside her empty cup of cocoa. “Well, everything went according to plan—not a single problem with the moths, not a problem moving the camera, not a problem with the acrylic top of the display case. I got the bowl, replaced the acrylic, moved the camera back as best I could, and got out of there.”
