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                  She looked up from the task with a face that seemed to say she was startled to see people in the building. “Hep ya?”
                  Phil smiled, an effort to assure her they weren’t there to steal one of the aborigine skulls upstairs. “Yesterday you had an exhibit upstairs, photos and material relating to a famous murder. . .”
                  She shook her head so violently he fully expected her glasses to fly off. “Don’ know whot you talkin’ ‘bout, mon. You hove th’ wrong plese, meybbe.”
                  Celeste spoke up. “No, I’m quite sure it was here. I came here, remember, looking for the girl whose picture I showed you?”
                  More violent head shaking. “No, Miss. I never seed you befo’. Now, meybbe you be on your way, ‘fore I call the policeman.”
                  She brandished a cell phone.
                  “But. . .?”
                  Phillip took Celeste’s arm. “C’mon, we’re wasting our time.”
                  “What’s going on?” she spluttered as they descended the front steps in the afternoon sunshine. “I’m not nuts! I know damn well Livia and I were in there yesterday. And I’m equally clear the so-called museum upstairs had old photographs and stuff that weren’t there today.”
                  Phil was scouting the passing tourists for the two men who had followed them earlier. “I believe you. I also believe that woman was terrified.”
                  “Of what?” Celeste wanted to know as she reached the sidewalk. “The two of us aren’t exactly threatening.”
                  Phil started back toward the British Colonial. “We answer that question, we’ll have a better idea of what happened to Livia.” He saw the expression on her face. “I mean, where she might be.”
                  “What’s your guess?”
                  The two men had vanished. But that didn’t mean they weren’t watching from any number of vantages: windows, a ship in the harbor across from the ubiquitous pink and white of public buildings in Parliament Square, anywhere.
                  “We only know a couple of things. First, we know Livia has disappeared, most likely not of her own will but after showing interest in that exhibit. Second, someone is willing to intimidate that old lady at the library rather than have a seventy year old murder revisited. Third, and I’m speculating here, that somebody has the means to hire a couple of most likely military or ex military types to see what we are up to.”
                  “You didn’t mention. . .”
                  “I wasn’t sure until right before we got to the library.”
                  “But why. . . who?”
                  “I’m betting, one way or another, we’ll hear from that somebody soon.”
                  He was right.

8.
    Bimini Road Restaurant
    Atlantis
    Paradise Island
    7:40 That Evening.
     
                  Phil nodded for the waiter to remove the scant remains of the tamarind spiced pork that had followed an appetizer of aggressively seasoned conch fritters. He was seated with a view of evening creeping over the ocean toward the beach where a Rake and Scrape band was playing Calypso tunes, its instruments consisting of a large carpenter’s saw, an accordion and a Goombay drum.
                  He had declined Celeste’s offer of dinner at the more upscale Nobu just off the hotel’s casino floor for two reasons: Foremost, he wanted to carefully think over the events of the afternoon, making sure had not missed something that might help solve the riddles surrounding a young American woman’s disappearance. Second, he had a deep suspicion of Japanese cuisine. How could you trust people who