A/N: It only took me three chapters to figure out how to include this. LOL I just wanted to thank everyone who's taken time to read. I really appreciate it. I also wanted to let you all know that this story is completely written. I will not leave you dangling with something unfinished. I will try to post a new chapter every other day….or as close to that as possible. Thanks again for taking time to read. I hope you enjoy the story.

Chapter 3

After explaining all they knew to Collig, Frank pulled Joe aside. "I think we need to get over to the professor's office."

"You mean before Collig does?"

"Yeah, I want to check out a few things."

Joe glanced towards Emily. "Okay, but I want to talk to her first."

Frank nodded. "She seems upset. I'm sure this whole episode has her shaken."

"Yeah, but I think it's something he said to her." Joe watched through narrowed eyes as Duncan left Emily's side and walked back over to Chief Collig.

"You don't think she's in trouble for bringing us back here, do you?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Joe answered. He began walking toward Emily who'd already started for the lobby. "Hey, wait up," he called out. Emily slowed her pace, but didn't stop entirely. "Are you all right?" Joe asked when he reached her side. He could tell by the way she was hugging her arms around her middle that she was close to losing it. Even for a seasoned police officer, the murder scene was gruesome. He couldn't imagine how shocking it must have been for Emily.

"Not really," she said, stepping through the curtain and out of the exhibit hall. "It's not every day you find a murder victim at work."

Joe noticed she was trembling and touched her arm lightly, hoping it was a comforting gesture. "I know. I'm sorry you had to see that." He looked around the lobby and noticed a small crowd gathering. He definitely didn't want to have a conversation with her here. Somewhere quiet and alone was what he wanted. "Listen, this probably isn't the best place to talk." He took a deep breath. "Can you get some time away? Maybe we could go grab a cup of coffee."

OOOOO

Emily gazed into his blue eyes, and saw the hopeful look there. He's so good looking. She mentally shook herself. The last thing you need right now is a man in your life, so stop it. "I don't get off for awhile, and then I have quite a bit of paperwork to do. I'm sorry."

"Um, okay," Joe faltered. "Well, I'd like to talk to you a little bit about the case. Maybe you saw or heard something you don't even realize could be helpful to the investigation."

"I doubt that," she replied. She cringed inwardly, knowing that what she was going to say next would sound callous and mean. He seems like a nice guy, but you've thought that about guys before...and been burned beyond belief. Besides, you have too much at stake right now. "I spend most of my time here in my office and I'm not important enough for any of the bigwigs to confide in, so I can't imagine I'd have any information that would be relevant." Although I can't think of anything I'd rather do than talk to you for a few hours. And stare into your gorgeous eyes.

"I see," Joe said, his voice taking on a remote edge. "Well, if I have any questions, can I stop by during your office hours?"

Emily felt like dying inside. She lowered her head before she answered, afraid her face would give away her true emotions. "You'd probably better just talk to Duncan if there's anything more you want to know. I'm sure he wouldn't want an intern discussing this with anybody." She turned away from him. "I'd better go. I'm sorry the tour didn't work out. Maybe another time."

She hurried towards the large staircase across the room and quickly descended to the basement. Dashing down the hall, she flung open her office door, then turned and leaned against it heavily. She blinked rapidly as her eyes filled. I will not cry at work. I will NOT cry at work. She swiped at her eyes as two traitorous tears slid down her cheeks.

OOOOO

Frank walked over to Joe, who was still looking toward the staircase where Emily had fled. "Everything okay, bro? Where's Emily?"

Joe turned to Frank, an incredulous look on his face. "She left. I asked her if we could go somewhere and talk, and she shot me down. Completely."

Frank chuckled. "Alert the media. There is a girl in existence immune to the charms of Joe Hardy."

Joe shook his head. "No. I'm not buying it."

"Excuse me?" Frank raised his eyebrows. "Even I didn't think your ego was that big."

"No, I felt it. There was a connection between us," Joe insisted.

"Really?" He looked around pointedly. "Then why isn't she here? Feeling connected to you."

"I don't know." Joe was baffled.

"I do," Frank replied. "It was all in your head." He shrugged. "I can see why. She's gorgeous. Who wouldn't want to go out with her?" He snapped his fingers. "That's it!"

Joe looked at him quizzically.

"The connection you thought you felt." Frank grinned. "You were just standing in the way. The real vibes were between Emily and me. It's me she's interested in."

Joe waved his hand at his brother and headed for the main doors of the museum.

"What?" Frank called after him. "Is that so hard to believe?" He followed his brother towards the door. "She's an Art History major, right? She speaks French?" He waited as Joe opened the heavy glass paneled doors. "After all...I'm the smart one," he teased.

Joe turned to glare at him.

"Makes perfect sense to me," Frank said with a grin, as he followed his brother out into the autumn sunshine.

OOOoooOOO

Frank and Joe paused outside Professor Ayres office in the Fine Arts and Humanities building. Joe peered at the yellow card resting in the metal bracket next to his door. "Office hours, Tuesday and Thursday, three to five p.m." He glanced at Frank, then at his watch. "That would be right now."

"Then I don't see any logical reason why we wouldn't be here," Frank said, as he tried the door and found it opened easily. "We're just waiting for the professor."

They stepped inside the small, cluttered room. A bank of windows ran across one side of the office, and the professor's desk and chair sat in front of them, facing the door. Bookshelves covered one wall, while filing cabinets ran the length of the other.

"This could take a week to search," Joe commented.

Frank stepped over to the desk and began shuffling through the papers resting on it. "Yeah, apparently he really was the 'absent-minded professor' type. This place is a mess."

Joe sighed. "I'll take a look through the files if you want to handle the desk."

"Sounds good," Frank agreed, as he sat down in the professor's chair, grabbed a tissue from a box on the desk, and opened one of the side drawers.

The brothers worked in companionable silence for the next fifteen minutes, until Joe called out, "Frank, look at this."

Frank stood and walked to his side. "Something interesting?"

"Maybe. It looks like a file on some of the Scottish artifacts for the new exhibit." He pointed to the bottom of one of the documents. "Look at the signature on this one."

"Duncan MacLean," Frank read aloud. "What is this?" he asked, taking it from Joe.

"It's the paper that releases most of these artifacts for shipment to the United States," Joe said.

"So, Duncan is in charge of them? Is that why he's here?" Frank wondered.

"Looks like it," Joe said.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure this means anything. Duncan told us he spoke to Professor Ayres this morning about the exhibit. I don't think his involvement is a secret or anything."

Joe shrugged. "No, but it's interesting. I think we need to pursue this a little more. What was their relationship? Were they friendly? And what the heck did Duncan mean about a curse, anyway?"

"That one has me baffled," Frank admitted. "And why would that be one of the first things Duncan mentioned after he found the professor murdered? That seemed kind of weird."

Joe looked at his brother. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing unusual. No smoking gun. No threatening letters, no outrageous bills he couldn't pay, no bizarre notations in an appointment book. Nothing."

"Great, so no clues about why someone would want to murder the professor?"

"Nope," Frank said, as he looked around the small room. "Not here anyway."

"Well then," Joe began, as he tucked the papers into his jacket pocket. "I think our next step is obvious."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We need to talk to Emily again." Joe headed for the door, then turned back to look at his grinning brother. "Are you coming?"

OOOoooOOO

Frank and Joe entered the Bayport University Art Museum for the second time that afternoon. Spotting Chief Collig across the lobby conversing with some of his officers and the museum security men, Joe grabbed Frank and steered him in the opposite direction. "I don't want him kicking us out until we get more information." Joe led his brother toward the staircase. "Emily went this way earlier."

They descended into the institutional-like basement complete with fluorescent lighting, white cinder-block walls, and linoleum tiled floors. The hallway was lined with doors, each bearing a hand written name card in a slot next to it. The brothers continued until they came to one with a name written in loopy script...Emily Clark.

Joe paused and rapped lightly on the door. When he got no response, he turned the knob and found it opened easily. "This never happens twice in one day," he said with a grin, as he stepped inside. The room was dark, and Frank reached for the wall beside the door and flipped on a switch. The hum of the overhead light sounded, and the boys found themselves in a small office with a utilitarian metal desk, a small, green metal filing cabinet and a three shelf bookcase.

"Pretty Spartan," Joe commented.

"I guess interns aren't very high on the totem pole," Frank surmised as he looked around.

Joe walked over to the bookshelf and read some of the titles. "'Art: A World History', 'Impressionistic Art, Leisure, and French Society', 'Monet: The Giverny Years', 'Complete French Grammar.'" He looked up at Frank, who had a smirk on his face. "What?"

"She's definitely more interested in me."

"Shut up," Joe said, as he walked toward her desk. He glanced down at the large calendar covering the blotter. It revealed nothing except various appointment times, test dates and class assignments. "How about we go back upstairs and see if we can find someone who knows where she is?"

"Fine with me," Frank agreed. "But what makes you think Emily will want to talk to you?"

Joe shrugged. "The worst she can do is say no...again."

OOOoooOOO

Joe and Frank paused by the front desk, where Kim, the girl who'd discovered the body, was helping to escort patrons out of the building. Her eyes widened when she recognized them. "You were with Emily."

"Yeah," Joe began. "Do you happen to know where she is right now?"

"She left."

"Left?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, we're all pretty creeped out by what happened here and her shift was over at four. So after she finished helping to collect phone numbers from the patrons, like the police wanted, she left." Kim shivered. "I can't wait to get out of here myself."

"Do you know where we might find her?" Joe asked.

Kim shrugged. "Home, probably. She lives in the French house."

"The French house?" Joe looked puzzled.

"Yeah," Frank spoke up. "It's one of the foreign language houses. Where the students living there all speak that language." He turned to Kim. "It's over on Presidential Circle, right?"

"I think so."

"Why does she live there?" Joe wondered.

"It's for her major. Well, one of her majors." Kim rolled her eyes. "She's the over-achiever type."

"Something wrong with that?" Joe asked a little sharply.

"I guess not. Unless it makes you so uptight, you can't have any fun. Emily forever has her nose in a book, or a museum project, or a class assignment." Kim looked at Joe. "I don't think she even knows how to have a good time."

"Just because someone likes to do well in school, doesn't mean they don't know how to have fun," Frank spoke up defensively.

"Usually," Joe said with a grin. "But for some people..." He looked pointedly at his brother.

Kim gave Joe a coy smile. "Well, I'm not one of those people."

Joe chuckled inwardly at her blatant invitation. "I'm sure you're not. But, it's Emily I need to see right now. Thanks for the information."

OOOoooOOO

The brothers approached the French house, a country-blue, one story rambler, with painted white shutters and late summer flowers blooming in the beds surrounding the slate path to the front door. Joe rang the doorbell and heard strains of "La Marseillaise" echoing through the house. A pretty girl with shoulder length, light brown hair opened the front door. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, we're looking for Emily Clark?" Joe began. "Does she live here?"

"She does, but she's not home right now."

"Oh." He was clearly disappointed. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Can't say that I do. I only got home a few minutes ago myself." She opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in? My name's Stacey Kennedy. I'm Emily's roommate."

Joe stepped through the door and stopped just inside the spacious living room. "I'm Joe Hardy and this is my brother, Frank."

"How do you know Emily?" Stacey asked.

"We don't really," Frank said. "At least not very well. She was going to give us a tour in the museum today, but it got interrupted."

"Interrupted?"

"Yeah, by a murder," Joe said.

"What?" Stacey crossed her arms in front of her. "Listen, I don't know who you are–"

"No, sorry. Wait," Joe interrupted, realizing he'd made a mistake in divulging that bit of information. "We're detectives. We just want to talk to Emily. We need some information from her."

Stacey eyed them warily. "What are you saying? You can't possibly think Emily had something to do with this."

Frank smiled. "Not at all. We only want to ask her about the museum and what might have been happening there prior to this...incident."

Stacey shoulders relaxed slightly. "Well, all I can do is tell her you stopped by. Like I said, she's out."

"Thank you," Frank replied. He gestured for Joe to follow him to the door. Right as they reached it, Joe turned back.

"Stacey, does Emily have a boyfriend?"

A little smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "That's something you'll have to ask her yourself."