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fourteenth child—or was it the fifteenth? Something like that. Just because his jail of choice was to be imprisoned in a tower overlooking the Taj Mahal tomb after his pious son overthrew him, it’s supposed to be a romantic story. It never sounded very romantic to me.”
    “Interesting take. But that’s not the point I was getting at. He also had treasures like his Peacock Throne of gold. So did lots of other Mughal rulers. His son was Jahangir.”
    “And lineage is important because—?”
    “Not the lineage, but the huge significance of art in various Mughal courts over time. They left us a wealth of paintings. Several Mughal rulers were great patrons of the arts. They commissioned huge numbers of paintings involving large numbers of people. And those people were often wearing important jewels.
    “You have to understand there are far too many of these paintings to be covered in the texts at one library, no matter how good, that doesn’t specialize in Indian art. There are well over a thousand paintings in the multiple volumes that make up an epic story painted during Akbar’s rule. And that’s just one of many. Even specialty books can only include so many examples. That’s why I couldn’t find the painting itself, only the article. But the article did also give me a very good idea of where to start looking for some of the paintings that featured this set.”
    “In the early 1600s?” I asked.
    “Yeah, that’s when—”
    “When it still existed in paintings,” I said sadly. “Not where it went when it really disappeared. Or where it reappeared.”
    “Not at first, of course—”
    “No,” I said. “I should have realized it couldn’t be pieced together so quickly. It’s been gone for centuries. I don’t know what I was thinking. I appreciate your help.”
    “You’re not trying to put me off again.”
    “I do appreciate what you’ve done,” I said. “Truly. But you’ve spent most of the day researching, and you’ve gotten up to the seventeenth century. You can keep the photo of the bracelet and keep moving forward on your research. I’m sure you’ll write a great article proving all those scholars wrong and make your career. I don’t have time to keep up this slow pace. I need to figure out what happened this week , before it’s too late. I know it sounds strange coming from a historian. But there’s a murderer out there. I don’t have time for slow and steady research.”
    Night had fallen without me noticing. The outdoor lights clicked on around us. I glanced around. I didn’t see anyone suspicious.
    “Since you don’t have your ex to fill in the blanks,” Lane said, “what did you have in mind?”
    The streaks of outdoor lighting accentuated his features. His cheekbones formed shadows down his face, and his eyes seemed especially large behind his glasses.
    “I’ve got some frequent flyer miles,” I said. “I’m going to use them. I’m going where Rupert was when he was killed. A Pictish dig in the Highlands of Scotland.”
    With a slight pang of some emotion I wasn’t used to feeling, I stood up to leave. Lane didn’t try to stop me as I departed.

     

Chapter 10

    What was I thinking?
    My latest research paper wasn’t going to write itself, and it was already months later than I’d hoped to have it finished. I wasn’t teaching over summer session specifically so I could catch up on my research that I hadn’t had time to do during the school year with a first-year assistant professor’s teaching load. The university had hired two of us with specialties in South Asian history. In this economy, it looked like only one of us would be getting tenure. I loved my new home in San Francisco. I didn’t want to leave.
    But I couldn’t let Rupert’s murder remain an “accidental death” and his murderer run away with this treasure. I pushed my selfish concerns about tenure aside.
    That night, after catching a cab home, I cashed in some airline miles to buy a one-way