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This is a really big deal in Indian art history. Something like this could make my career. I can help you, so I’d like to be a part of it.”
    I stood there feeling helpless and indecisive, two emotions I rarely encounter. What was I doing? I scribbled my cell phone number and email address on a piece of paper.
    “Call me as soon as you find anything,” I said.

     
    We headed out of the building together. Lane said he would get started at the university’s library right away. As we passed Michael’s office, I stuck my head inside to thank him for putting me in touch with Lane, then hurried back to my car, anxious to get the bracelet out of my hands. A safe deposit box seemed the safest place. The fact that I didn’t have a safe deposit box wasn’t going to stop me. I drove straight to my bank and opened one.
    Feeling much better without the priceless artifact on my person, I whipped the car around a sputtering VW Beetle and headed to my own university’s library.
    Lane was right that he was much more likely to come across relevant information. That didn’t mean I couldn’t try. I’d go crazy if I sat at home waiting. I was thinking about Rupert too much already. In those spare moments when I didn’t have something else to focus on, I wondered what could have been.
    I hadn’t thought too much about Rupert in the past year. I’m good at staying busy and pushing inconvenient thoughts from my mind. Rupert’s mysterious death was stirring up feelings I hadn’t realized were so close to the surface. Feelings that I wasn’t even certain I had. God, I needed somebody else’s history to throw myself into. I sped through Golden Gate Park and floored the car toward the library.
    The librarian I often worked with was on vacation, so I got some assistance from a new librarian before settling into a corner table with a heap of references for Mughal art and jewelry. I sighed as I looked at the long list, then got down to work.

     
    Several hours into my research, my stomach was growling, I was dying of thirst, and I still hadn’t managed to find a single thing I thought might be helpful. My least favorite thing about libraries is their policy on no food or drink.
    I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I decided to call it a day. I drove home with vigorous bhangra beats blasting on my speakers and a Big Gulp balanced between my knees. As I pulled into a parking space only a block from my apartment, my thoughts turned back to Lane. I hoped he’d been more successful than I had. I needed something—anything—that would point me in the direction of the ruby bracelet’s modern history.
    Nadia stood on the porch in front of the house, an icepack held to her head.
    “Jaya!” Nadia called out when she saw me. “You have been robbed!”

     

Chapter 7

     
    Nadia held the icepack to the back of her head with one hand and a shot of vodka in the other.
    “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, pointing at the vodka. “You might have a concussion.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “You want to hear what happened with the burglar, yes?”
    I shut my mouth. I needed to know if the unthinkable had happened. If Rupert’s troubles had followed the bracelet across the Atlantic.
    “I heard a crash from your apartment,” she said. “I was worried, so I went upstairs to check. A strong man knocked me down.”
    Nadia paused to drink the shot of vodka. She shook her head as she placed the empty shot glass on the railing of the porch. “He was too fast for me to see his face. I only have a sense of his build.”
    “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”
    “People in this country are soft. There is no problem with my head. Only with your door. We will get you a new one. Let us go upstairs to see if I was fast enough or if he has stolen anything.”
    On the walk upstairs, I found myself hoping something was missing. That would mean it was a random burglary. Otherwise it would mean Rupert’s murder was jumping