The Keepsake

When Josephine at last reappeared, her damp hair was tamed into a ponytail. Though she wore fresh jeans and a cotton pullover, she still looked chilled, her face as rigid as a stone carving. A statue of an Egyptian queen, perhaps, or some mythical beauty; Frost openly stared, as though he were in the presence of a goddess. If his wife, Alice, were here, she’d probably give him a swift and badly needed kick in the shins. Maybe I should do it on Alice’s behalf.

“Are you feeling better, Dr. Pulcillo?” he asked. “Do you need some more time before we talk about this?”

“I’m ready.”

“Maybe a cup of coffee before we start?”

“I’ll make some for you.” Josephine turned toward the kitchen.

“No, I was thinking of you. Whether you needed anything.”

“Frost,” snapped Jane, “she just said she’s ready to talk. So why don’t we all sit down and get started?”

“I just want to be sure she’s comfortable. That’s all.”

Frost and Jane settled onto the battered-looking couch. Through the cushion, Jane felt the bite of a broken spring. She slid away from it, leaving a wide gap between her and Frost. They sat at opposite ends of the couch, like an estranged couple at a counseling session.

Josephine sank onto a chair, and her face was as unreadable as onyx. She might be only twenty-six, but she was eerily self-contained, any emotions she might possess kept under tight lock and key. Something is not right here, thought Jane. Was she the only one who felt it? Frost seemed to have lost any sense of objectivity.

“Let’s talk about those keys again, Dr. Pulcillo,” Jane began.

“You said they went missing over a week ago?”

“When I got home last Wednesday, I couldn’t find my key ring in my purse. I thought I’d misplaced it at work, but I couldn’t find it there, either. You can ask Mr. Goodwin about it. He charged me forty-five dollars to replace the mailbox key.”

“And the missing key ring never turned up again?”

Josephine’s gaze dropped to her lap. What followed was only a few beats of silence, but it was enough to catch Jane’s attention. Why would such a straightforward question require so much thought?

“No,” said Josephine. “I never saw those keys again.”

Frost asked, “When you’re at work, where do you keep your purse?”

“In my desk.” Josephine visibly relaxed, as though this was a question she had no problem answering.

“Is your office locked?” He leaned forward, as though afraid to miss a single word she said.

“No. I’m in and out of my office all day, so I don’t bother to lock it.”

“I assume the museum has security tapes? Some record of who might have gone into your office?”

“Theoretically.”

“What does that mean?”

“Our security camera system went on the blink three weeks ago and it hasn’t been repaired yet.” She shrugged. “It’s a budget issue. Money’s always short, and we thought that just having the cameras in public view would be enough to deter any thieves.”

“So any visitor to the museum could have wandered upstairs to your office and taken the keys.”

“And after all the publicity about Madam X, we’ve had droves of visitors. The public’s finally discovered the Crispin Museum.”

Jane said, “Why would a thief take just your key ring and leave your purse? Was anything else missing from your office?”

“No. At least, I haven’t noticed. That’s why I didn’t worry about it. I just assumed I’d dropped the keys somewhere. I never imagined someone would use them to get into my car. To put that…thing in my trunk.”

“Your apartment building doesn’t have a parking lot,” observed Frost.

Josephine shook her head. “It’s every man for himself. I park on the street like all the other tenants. That’s why I don’t keep anything valuable in my car, because they’re always getting broken into. But it’s usually to take things.” She gave a shudder. “Not put things in. ”

“How is security in this building?” asked Frost.

“We’ll get to that issue in a minute,” said Jane.

“Someone has her key ring. I think that’s the most pressing concern, the fact that he has access to her car and to her apartment. The fact that he seems to be focused on her.” He turned to the young woman. “Do you have any idea why?”

Josephine’s gaze skittered away. “No, I don’t.”

“Could it be someone you know? Someone you’ve recently met?”

“I’ve only been in Boston for five months.”

“Where were you before that?” Jane asked.

“Job hunting in California. I moved to Boston after the museum hired me.”

“Any enemies, Dr. Pulcillo? Any ex-boyfriends you don’t get along with?”

“No.”

“Any archaeologist friends who’d know how to turn a woman into a mummy? Or a shrunken head?”

“That knowledge is available to a lot of people. You don’t have to be an archaeologist.”

“But your friends are archaeologists.”

Josephine shrugged. “I don’t have all that many friends.”

“Why not?”

“As I told you, I’m new to Boston. I only got here in March.”

“So you can’t think of anyone who might have stalked you? Stolen your keys? Anyone who might try to terrify you by putting a body in your trunk?”

For the first time, Josephine’s composure slipped, revealing the frightened soul beneath the mask. She whispered: “No, I don’t! I don’t know who’s doing this. Or why he chose me. ”

Jane studied the young woman, begrudgingly admiring the flawless skin, the coal-dark eyes. What would it be like to be so beautiful? To walk into a room and feel every man’s gaze on you? Including gazes that you don’t welcome?

“You understand, I hope, that you’re going to have to be a lot more careful from now on,” said Frost.

Josephine swallowed. “I know.”

“Is there somewhere else you can stay? Some place you’d like us to take you?” he asked.

“I think…I think I may leave town for a while.” Josephine straightened, as though heartened by having a plan of action. “My aunt lives in Vermont. I’ll stay with her.”

“Where in Vermont? We need to be able to check on you.”

“Burlington. Her name is Co

“Good,” said Frost. “And I assume you won’t do anything as foolhardy as hiking all alone again.”

Josephine managed a weak smile. “I won’t be doing that anytime soon.”

“You know, that’s something I wanted to ask you about,” said Jane. “That little hike you took today.”

Josephine’s smile faded, as though she realized that Jane could not be so easily charmed. “It wasn’t a wise thing to do, I know,” she admitted.

“A rainy day. Muddy trails. Why on earth would you want to be there?”

“I wasn’t the only one in the park. That family was there, too.”

“They’re out-of-towners and their dog needed a walk.”

“So did I.”

“Judging by your muddy boots, you did more than take just a stroll.”

“Rizzoli,” said Frost, “what are you getting at?”

Jane ignored him and kept her focus on Josephine. “Is there something else you want to tell us, Dr. Pulcillo, about why you were up at Blue Hills Reservation? On a Thursday morning, when I assume you’re supposed to be at work?”

“I’m not due at work until one.”

“The rain didn’t discourage you?”

Josephine’s face took on the expression of a hunted animal. She’s scared of me, thought Jane. What am I not getting about this picture?

“It’s been a really hard week,” said Josephine. “I needed to get outside, just to think. I’d heard the park was a pretty place to walk, so I went.” She straightened, her voice now stronger. More assured. “That’s all it was, Detective. A walk. Is there something illegal about that?”

The two women locked eyes for a moment. A moment that confused Jane because she did not understand what was really going on.

“No, there’s nothing illegal about it,” said Frost. “And I think we’ve pressed you hard enough today.”