The kitchen door swung open and Juanita reappeared still clutching the pouch. Behind her staggered a mountain of a man, whose uneven gait proved to be his hitching up his jeans. He was enveloped in a rather dirty apron. Matilda noted he was Navajo.

Juanita bent over the table handing Matilda the pouch. “This is Calvin. His family makes jewelry, and his little brother Felix wins lots of prizes. Calvin is studying with a medicine man; he sees lots of things in objects. He sees something in this one.” She reared back to let the big man stand in front of the table.

“Miss,” he said in a very soft scratchy voice, “you should keep that bracelet in the pouch and handle it as little as possible.” Seeing that Matilda was about to speak he held out his hand in a stopping motion. “I can tell you that thing, it comes from a grave.”

A hush fell over the booth, and Matilda wondered almost wildly which of the three of them looked the most spooked. Her own hand trembled as she pushed the strings on the bag closed and dropped it into her open purse. Meanwhile, Juanita and Calvin held some silent communication and then the man turned back to shamble into the kitchen. Juanita sat down in the seat opposite Matilda with a plop. She put her hands under her chin and stared at Matilda.

“Grayson’s a bad guy, Matilda. What are you going to do?”

“He’s offered me a couple of other items,” she said. “He doesn’t have any papers proving a legal provenance. I suspected it would be stolen — but not from a grave.”

“Our ancestors were traditional people who would be buried with their favorite adornment,” Juanita speculated. “Nowadays less so, because we all know just how valuable that stuff is on the antiques market. Avery’s got no shame…”

“He claimed it came from a family in Gamerco.”

“Matilda, if you take that thing back with you, well, you risk a lot of thing. . .”

Matilda rubbed her forehead which was aching in earnest now. Juanita, noting this, got up and walked over to the cashier, exchanging a few low-voiced words with her, she disappeared and reemerged with two sodas. She passed one to Matilda and smiled, “I’m on break.”

Matilda rummaged through her purse, finding the two aspirin she needed, she extracted them with trembling fingers. Had she been set up? There was something so neat, so achingly wrong with this transaction. Tom Vaughn was not available; Roy Climmer was an enigma. Why should he do her a favor? And just because her boss wanted an antiquity like this object, should she obligingly trot home with it? If the bracelet had come from a grave, every ethic of her profession would have been violated.

There’d been times over the years as she worked in her field when such a decision would be a no-brainer. Matilda valued her integrity. It was part of being a Townshend. But she was in her thirties and the upward climb was proving harder. Too many ambitious colleagues, eager subordinates. And the recent recession had been hard on non-profits.

“I know somebody here in town that can help you,” Juanita said suddenly.