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I said, lifting my notes, “and go from there. It would be best if you head out to the shelter and get those fliers made.”
     “Yes sir. Thank you,” he said, turning to go. “Ah, hey,” he said. “What do I call you? What’s your name?”
     “Adrian Knight,” I handed him one of my business cards. It was blank except for my cell number and a small, gray chess piece embossed above it. A knight.
     Thomas nodded and rushed out the door looking determined.
     I stuffed the envelope of cash into another inner pocket. Two grand. I admit I worried where the money came from, but it didn’t matter. He needed to find his sister. I understood. Moreover, it felt good being able to surprise Nick with his bills paid on time. It didn’t always happen.
     I was going for the phone book to start my calls when my cell phone rang.
     “Hello,” I answered, not checking the number first.
     “Is this Adrian Knight?”
     “It is.”
     “Adrian, this is Eric Walker from the museum. Something has happened and we would like you to come down so we can discuss it in person.”
     Interesting. Normally I would be intrigued, but I was serious with Thomas about how short time was. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the idea of telling Walker no just to piss him off after what he did to Mr. Wagner at the gala.
     “I’m sorry, I have prior engagements today. Maybe we can do lunch later in the week?” Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy. The four men I most often ran into taking jobs for the Museum of Natural History were always looking for ways to get me more involved. Henry Wagner was the old assistant curator responsible for hiring me in the first place. He was the tinker. The tailor was Richard Allison because he runs the place and the soldier was George Wilkins, head of security. Eric Walker was the museum board’s treasurer, but tinker, tailor, soldier, accountant just wasn’t the same. All of them conspired against me a while back, convincing me to speak at the next exhibition opening because of my contributions. That had been last night. The exhibit opened today and would be insanely busy.
     There was a whispered argument on the other end and then a new voice.
     “This is Detective Harris with the NYPD. We would appreciate your cooperation in coming down and helping sort some things out. I’ll send a unit to get you so it’s no trouble.”
     Crap. What the hell was going on at the museum that would involve the police? And why would they, and Walker, involve me?
     “It’s no trouble. I’m already in town. I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
     “Twenty minutes.” He hung up the phone. I put mine away.
     Awesome. I wondered what the feds would think of me being involved in another police investigation. Not a pleasant thought, but since I was already doing this thing, I needed to get it over with. If everything went right—hey, it could happen—I’d still have most of the day to make my rounds in the South Bronx.
     Thinking about Ruby and Thomas brought me the scent of labelia flowers. Too many old memories. Too much stimulus I wasn’t counting on. I had taken my last pill after coming home from the museum last night and it was past time for another. I caught movement outside in the hall just beyond the office door. My natural instinct was to go for my gun, but I stopped when I saw the flash of long beautiful hair. Brunette with streaks of youthful gold. Fan-freakin-tastic.
     

Chapter Four
     I choked back a sob and brushed the hair out of my face. It kept sticking to the tears on my cheek. John handed Eric his phone back.
     “He’ll be here in twenty minutes. I have guys watching him. He goes anywhere but here they’ll pick him up,” Detective John Harris said.
     Eric Walker, the treasurer of the board for the museum, took his phone back and walked off, pissed, to finish his conversation with Richard. He was the only one mad. Everyone else was in shock, terrified and confused. I