Page 52 of The Maid's Secret

“It’s going to be okay, Molly,” she says.

“Just breathe,” says Juan.

I was sitting on my guest throne onstage when the auction ended and Juan yelled out,“El huevo!”I looked to the display case where the Fabergé had been, having just sold for ten million dollars, but it was gone.

Pandemonium took hold, and the crowd rushed forward. Mr.Snow raced out of the room, and Steve ordered everyone to “sit down!” Cameras and lighting equipment were tipped over, auction paddles flung to the floor. Brown and Beagle stood at center stage, staring wide-eyed at the empty display case. I took a few unsteady steps, then felt faint and sat on the edge of the stage. It’s where I now find myself as bidders and buyers, collectors and crew members rush in and out of the room, everyone shouting contradictory orders.

At long last, Mr.Snow appears at the tearoom entrance, someonefollowing close behind him—a uniformed woman flanked by two male officers. The familiar, imposing woman marches in and calls out, “I’m Detective Stark. No one else leaves this room until I say so! Got it?”

Her two officers block the doorway as the remaining onlookers head to wherever they were before the egg disappeared.

Detective Stark’s steely eyes take in the film equipment and paddles on the floor, the Bees by the podium, the empty display case at center stage, and me, sitting on the edge, with Juan and Angela at my sides. I haven’t seen the detective since the investigation into J.D. Grimthorpe’s sudden death at the hotel. As always, Stark’s presence elicits visceral butterflies.

The detective strides over. “Molly,” she says. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“I would say it’s nice to see you,” I reply, “but lying to an officer is a criminal offense.”

Stark’s lips curl into what I believe is an amused smirk. “Angela,” she says with a tip of her cap. “Always good to see you. Still hoping to join the force one day?”

“Um, yeah,” she says. “I’m saving for college. I hope to join the academy someday.” She glances at Mr.Snow, who does not seem surprised by the revelation.

“And you, Molly? Any chance I’ll see you on the force one day?”

“Unlikely,” I say. “In fact, I’d rather avoid criminal activity than seek it out.”

“And yet somehow, it seems to follow you.”

“Unfortunately,” I reply.

“You were here when the egg disappeared?” Stark asks Angela andme.

“We were,” Angela answers.

“And you’re Molly’s fiancé,” Detective Stark says to Juan.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear! I’m just a chef, and Molly’s just a maid,” Juan pleads.

“Calm down,” Stark replies. “No one’s accusing you of anything.”

“Juan and I get nervous around police,” I say by way of explanation.

“I understand,” Detective Stark replies. “But you’re the victims of this crime, no? What was stolen was yours?”

“That’s right,” says a voice behind me. Beagle moves to the front of the stage with Brown beside him. “My husband was conducting the auction,” Beagle explains. “He’d just brought down the gavel to close the bidding. When the lights went up on the display case, the Fabergé was gone.”

“We were both shocked,” says Brown as he stares down at his husband, his blue eyes wide.

Stark squints at the two dapper men before her. “Did I ask for a play-by-play?”

“I should have introduced myself,” says Beagle. “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” she replies. “I’ve seen your show.”

“Always good to meet a fan,” says Brown.

“Who says I’m a fan?” Detective Stark responds. “Now, Molly, did anyone unexpectedly come onstage during the shoot?”

“No one,” I say.