Artifact by Gigi Pandian Page A

facing outward. Although he’d been paying attention to me, I had the sense that whenever his hair fell over his eyes he was watching what was going on beyond me. He suspected something like this since he arrived at my apartment.
    “But this can’t be a conspiracy,” I said.
    “Why not?”
    “This is my life .”
    Lane did not look as if he accepted my impeccable logic.
    “You know something else,” I said breathlessly.
    He blinked at me, startled.
    “You said you found out something this afternoon. That’s why you believe me.”
    “I have one last question for you first,” he said. “So we can make sense of this.”
    “Fine.”
    “Why did your ex send this to you?” Lane asked.
    “You read the note.”
    “I didn’t think the East India Company exported jewelry.”
    “They didn’t. But he sent me the priceless—is it priceless?”
    “I’m sure it’s worth a hell of a lot.”
    I swallowed hard. “He sent me the bracelet to get it safely out of the way. That much is clear. He was right that he could trust me. He was rushing to mail the package to me, and he thought he could fill me in when I called him. He must have equated my research on one aspect of Indian history to another. Sometimes I’d tell him some of my more romantic discoveries that weren’t exactly relevant to my work. Like how before organized British rule began in 1858, British men in India were free to marry Indian woman, which many of them did.”
    “That doesn’t sound especially relevant to Mughal jewelry.”
    “It’s not. But since I know more about Indian history than Rupert did, maybe he thought I could help him identify the ruby piece. He was wrong.”
    “If he wanted your help with the bracelet itself,” Lane said, “it wouldn’t have been only to identify it. He needed help finding the rest of the treasure.”
    “What makes you think he didn’t already have it?”
    “It was dangerous for him to have one piece, so it would have been dangerous for him to have all of them. All the evidence you have points to the fact that he didn’t have any other pieces.”
    “So the treasure is out there somewhere?”
    “Hidden for centuries.”
    “My brain hurts,” I said inelegantly.
    “Then you prefer the simpler explanation of why he sent the ruby bracelet to you?”
    “Which is?”
    “You really didn’t think of it?”
    “ What ?” I scowled at him.
    “He wanted you back in his life.”
    “There are a lot easier ways to get back together with someone than sending them a priceless—I know, I know—valuable artifact.”
    “Think about it,” Lane said. “I’ve never heard of anyone sending an expensive piece of jewelry to an ex-girlfriend without an ulterior motive. Even under the circumstances, there’s some symbolism there.”
    I swore. The couple from the nearby table looked over at us again. Evidently they were not suited to city life.
    I curled my arms together on the table and rested my head. “I need a hamburger,” I said, my voice muffled by my sleeve.
    “Don’t you want to know what I found?” Lane asked.
    “No.”
    I only play tabla at the Tandoori Palace a couple nights a week, so I didn’t have to be anywhere else that evening. I had time. It was my turn to call the shots.
    “I want you to order me a cheeseburger,” I said. “Well done. Extra cheese. With fries.” I fished some cash out of my bag and handed the crinkled bills to him.
    The sun was starting its initial descent into the horizon, and the garden was filling up. Soon it would be loud enough that we could scream about murder without being overheard. Long shadows stretched across the tables. People rolled their bikes into the enclosed space, and friends raised their voices in greeting. The solitary stocky man who had caught my eye earlier was no longer at his table.
    My heart skipped a beat. I looked around, trying to remember what he looked like. Surely if he was a burglar/assassin, he would stick around to finish the job. Unless