Read Online Rogue Angel 50: Celtic Fire by Alex Archer - Free Book Online

drink, and despite her room service feast, she realized she was starving.
    Breakfast came and went. By the time she’d finished, Annja felt decidedly more awake. Jet lag be damned, at least for a few hours until it caught up with her again and sleep came crashing down around her. That was the usual chain of events when she came off a long flight. It would take two or three days to get used to being on the other side of the world. All she could do was roll with it, which meant getting out of the hotel and taking a look at the museum, assuming it reopened today. Not that it would be open for a few hours yet.
    But that didn’t mean she was going to sit around twiddling her thumbs; that wasn’t Annja Creed’s style.
    She hit the books first, going through all of her papers that covered the village and surrounding countryside, highlighting things of potential interest, then cross-referenced them with the brochures the pub landlord had given her. The lobby carried the same range of brochures. There were enough things to keep her occupied for a few days at least without giving her time to develop itchy feet.
    She thought about checking in with Doug, but a quick calculation was enough to know that even a workaholic like him would still be fast asleep.
    She thought about reading a novel, but of the dozen they had on the wire carousel in what passed for the hotel’s guest shop only one of them caught her eye. The story featured a young aspirant seeking to prove himself by finding the unholy grail. She bought the book, then took a seat in the lobby and started to read. Annja had read three-quarters of the book, drunk three cups of coffee and was on first-name terms with the girl manning the lobby area by the time the museum opened for the day.
    The museum was quiet. She couldn’t tell if it was closed or not as she walked up the road toward it.
    Annja pushed the door tentatively, not expecting it to open.
    It did. A small bell rang above the door, announcing what was almost certainly the first visitor this morning. She expected the staff to pounce, only too eager to explain the exhibits in an effort to stave off boredom. She’d visited enough of these places over the years to know there were two poles they veered between; there were those where the staff were just a little too keen, and others where surly staff viewed visitors as an intrusion sent to ruin their shift. There didn’t seem to be anything in between.
    She saw a youngish girl behind the desk in the main room, probably a volunteer from the nearest university looking to add some summer credits. Behind her there was a display of books with faded jackets, and souvenir racks filled with postcards and faux-Roman trinkets. She smiled and the girl said, “Hello,” but that was all.
    Another woman polished the glass of the new display case, Annja realized as she circulated around the room.
    She came up beside the woman and said, “What happened?” looking down at the obvious emptiness where something had been on display up until yesterday.
    “Oh, hello,” the woman said, almost dropping her duster in surprise. She seemed to recognize Annja. “Sorry we couldn’t let you in yesterday. We had a little trouble, I’m afraid.”
    “Nothing serious, I hope.”
    “Anything that keeps us closed for a day is serious for us. We might not charge an entrance fee, but the money we take in for books and stuff makes all the difference in the world when it comes to what we are able to do. School parties, all of that, it keeps us afloat. That someone stole from us hurts because we’re all part of the same small community, but it’s these other losses that really hurt.”
    Annja looked into the case and saw that there was a stash of small coins nestling in a terra-cotta pot. “What did they take?”
    “Well, between you and me, that’s the strange thing. They left all these coins—not that they’re worth much, really—and took a grindstone.”
    “A grindstone?”
    The woman