The Vidal sale had been going on all week, and today was its last day.
Rhea had slept for a few hours after her shift, then taken the bus up to Vidal’s old mansion, looking like anyone else hoping to buy something.
She had a good reason to go back.
Emeric Vidal had kept one of the seven pieces she had been searching for, the same ones whose photographs hung on her wall, so he could well have had others too.
Once the sale was over, everything he had owned would be scattered across the city, and she would probably never see any of it again.
Coming back was a risk, of course.
Then again, nobody would expect a burglar to return in broad daylight to the scene of the crime, which was exactly why she thought she could hide in plain sight.
This time she walked in through the front door.
It felt strange after coming in through the roof, but she reminded herself that nobody here had ever seen her face.
Even so, she felt oddly exposed without her mask.
Half the paintings were gone when she arrived, leaving pale squares on the walls where they used to hang.
She went up to the study first, since that was where Vidal had kept his best things.
The glass cabinet was empty now.
The pocket watch and the cufflinks had both been sold too.
Where the ring had been, Rupert had left a card of his own.
*Stolen by the Nightjar!* it said, next to a little drawing of a bird.
Rhea had disliked that name from the start, and seeing it in Rupert’s handwriting didn’t really help at all.
She spent the next hour going through every room that was still open, looking for anything with a star in it.
She saw only ordinary rings and brooches, each with its own price card.
None of them were among the seven.
In the end, she followed the rest of the onlookers downstairs.
Rupert Vidal was in the drawing room, with disco music playing in the background.
Rhea found that odd, given that his uncle had died only a month ago.
Two men carried an armchair out past him, and he nodded along to the beat as it went by.
“Welcome, welcome!” he cheered when he saw Rhea in the doorway.
“Everything must go!”
“So I see,” Rhea said.
Between songs, Rupert climbed onto a chair to tell everyone the best story of his week.
“You’ve all heard about the burglary, right?” he said, delighted.
“The Nightjar and the Gentleman, in my house, on the same night! Do you have any idea what that’s done for the sale?”
He held up his phone to show them the video of the peacock screaming on the stairs.
Apparently half the city had watched it by now.
Rhea picked up the nearest price card and pretended to read it.
“And here’s the best part,” Rupert went on.
“The police searched this whole house afterward, top to bottom, and they still missed a safe. It was hidden behind the wine rack in the cellar. I only found it because I went down for more champagne and pulled out the wrong bottle.”
The buyers laughed.
Rhea didn’t, since she had been inside this house a week ago and never once thought about the cellar.
“What was in it?” someone asked.
“Some old jewelry. You can’t buy any of it, though,” Rupert said.
“Coco here has claimed the best piece. And I’m throwing another party here once the sale’s over, since the burglars ruined the first one. You’re all invited. Just please don’t steal anything.”
The buyers laughed again, and Rupert shouted up the stairs.
“Coco! Tell them about the comb!”
A young woman was sitting on the staircase, filming herself with her phone and then checking how the video looked.
“I’m not wearing it now, babe. It’s somewhere safe,” she said, then turned to her phone again.
“So, the best thing from the safe is coming home with me. It’s this vintage comb, silver, with little blue stones, and every single one has a star in it when the light catches it. I’m wearing it to the New Year’s Eve ball at the Voss! It’s going to look so good with my dress, you guys.”
Rhea knew the ball she meant.
Every New Year’s Eve, the Voss held a ball that the whole city called the Sylvester Ball.
She had only Coco’s description to go on, yet she knew exactly which of the photographs on her wall it matched.
For twelve years she had found nothing at all, and now she had found two of the seven in a single week.
She felt a little uneasy about it because this one wouldn’t be in some cabinet waiting for her, but in someone’s hair.
Someone who was going to the Voss, of all places.
Rhea took out her phone and looked up Coco’s account, since Coco kept telling everyone where to find her.
She followed it under a made-up name.
If the comb turned up anywhere between now and New Year’s Eve, Rhea wanted to see it.
She had no idea yet how she would get near it at a ball full of guests.
That was when she noticed the woman by the window.
She was in her forties, in a plain dark coat, and she wasn’t shopping.
She ignored the price cards, watching people and doors instead.
Rhea remembered seeing her earlier too, when Rupert talked about the safe.
Everyone else had laughed at his story, but the woman had only listened.
A little later, Rhea saw her at the cashier’s table in the hall.
The woman showed the cashier a card, then asked quietly who had bought the things from the study.
The cashier opened her book without asking any questions in return and started reading out names, just as one would when asked by the police.
The woman wrote them down in a small notebook, thanked her and went back to her window.
It made sense, of course.
After a burglary, the police would want to watch the sale and keep track of who bought what.
Rhea had no intention of being noticed by that woman, so she moved on to the next room.
It had been a library once, but most of the books were gone.
A young man at a table was selling the smaller things there, from cups to candlesticks.
To look like a real buyer, Rhea chose the cheapest thing she could find, a single teacup with a gold rim.
She paid in cash, so that her name wouldn’t end up written down anywhere.
The man ahead of her was paying for the ugliest lamp Rhea had ever seen.
He was tall, in a dark coat that smelled faintly of fresh paint.
He looked extremely pleased with his purchase.
“Shall I wrap it for you, sir?” the young man asked.
“No, thank you. It’s fine as it is.”
It took Rhea a moment to recognize him.
It was Matthew.
In daylight, he looked like any other rich man spending his afternoon on things he didn’t need.
She stood very still with her teacup and tried to make sense of it.
Emeric Vidal had kept one of the pieces missing from the Voss in his study, and now a Voss was here, buying his things.
Rhea couldn’t tell yet whether this was merely a coincidence or not, but she knew she didn’t like it at all.
Matthew turned around with the lamp in his hands and saw her standing there.
For a moment, he looked just as surprised as she felt.
“Are you following me, Miss Ellis?”
“I was about to ask you the same, sir.”