Curious Minds by Janet Evanovich

tapped the number and Rollo answered on the second ring.
    “Hello, Miss Moon,” Rollo said. “How are you?”
    “We’re leaving Maxine Trowbridge’s house. We’re on our way to see a movie.”
    “Which one?”
    “I’m not sure. We’re headed for the Uptown Theater.”
    “Splendid. Keep calling in.”
    Riley disconnected and looked at Emerson. “I feel like I’m in a cheesy spy movie. Now what?”
    “Now we drive to the 4300 block of Connecticut Avenue.”
    “What about the Uptown Theater?”
    “That was a fib.”
    “I thought telling fibs was bad for our karma.”
    “I’ve excluded Rollo from my karmic scorecard.”
    “You can do that?”
    “I just did it,” Emerson said, crossing the street, folding himself into the Mini. “I removed him from yours as well. Done and done.”
    —
    R iley pulled to the curb in front of a seventies-style nondescript office building on the 4300 block of Connecticut.
    “Pick me up in exactly one hour,” Emerson said, maneuvering out of the car.
    “Where are you going?”
    “I have business at the Mauritius embassy.”
    “Are you sure you don’t need an amanuensis in there?”
    “Possibly, but I’m going to risk taking this meeting alone.”
    Riley watched him walk away. His rigid confidence bordered on arrogance, and was flat-out annoying. It was tempered by an honest simplicity that was charming. Plus he thought she smelled nice.
    She put the car in gear and cruised up Connecticut Avenue. She reversed direction and found a parking place close to the embassy. She looked down at herself and gave up a sigh. She had dressed for success, in case today was the day she’d return to her desk. Tailored pale gray suit with a pencil skirt, white silk T-shirt, black pumps. She looked like a junior executive at Blane-Grunwald. She no longer felt like one. Truth is, she felt foolish. She was all dressed up, sitting in her too-small car, waiting to chauffeur some odd guy around while he played detective and got her involved in heaven-knows-what.
    The NSA guy was creepy. Maxine’s death was sad and suspicious. It looked like the Grunwald brothers had something unsavory going on. And how did Günter fit into all this?
    If she had any sense at all, she’d clean out her desk and look for another job. Something safe and sane, like catching alligators or looking for land mines in Afghanistan.
    Okay, stay calm, she told herself. You don’t want to quit the dream job. It’s only been three days. Surely there’s a logical explanation for all this. And Werner said this assignment was only for a short time.
    —
    F orty minutes later Emerson emerged from the embassy, walked to the corner, and hailed Riley.
    “How did it go at the embassy?” she asked him when he was settled in and buckled up.
    “It was cordial. I got the information I needed, but we’re on a tight schedule. We’re going to have to leave for New York first thing tomorrow morning.”
    “What? I can’t do that. Why do you have to go to New York?”
    “I need to look around.”
    “Can’t you look around here? Is this about Maxine?”
    “It’s about gold.”
    “If it’s that you still want to see your gold, I’m pretty sure I can get you a picture.”
    “A picture won’t tell me what I need to know, so we’re going to New York to the Federal Reserve gold vault.”
    “You aren’t thinking about
stealing
your gold, are you?”
    “That question is wrong on so many levels. First of all, the Federal Reserve Bank holds gold from almost every country, but not from individual citizens. So my gold isn’t in that vault. Second, we’re not going to steal from it. We’re just going to look around. Then, if we have time, we’ll look around in the Blane-Grunwald gold vault for Knight gold. And even if I did steal gold from Blane-Grunwald it wouldn’t be stealing because it’s
my
gold.”
    “You mean if we have time after serving our sentences in federal prison?”
    “You’re funny when you exaggerate like