He snorted with contempt.

“And third,” I continued, “no one says hoodwinked anymore.”

His eyes narrowed to angry pinpoints as he leaned closer. “Hoodwinked. It means to trick, deceive, dupe.”

I jabbed his lapel. “I know what it means, but nobody uses it outside of a Dickens novel.”

We stared at each other with suspicion and ire.

I shook my head. “Why am I even talking to you? You’re obviously just another insane person carrying a gun.” Oh, crap, he was carrying a gun. He could’ve used it to kill Abraham. I felt sick all over again.

“Never mind,” I said. “Nice talking to you. See you around.”

He blocked my path again. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“And you’re going to stop me?”

“It appears I already have,” he said with another one of his smirks.

I threw up my hands and stormed around the room. “You are the most annoying man I’ve ever met.” I turned and pointed at him. “No, wait. I haven’t actually met you, have I? I don’t have a clue who you are and yet you slander and falsely imprison me just because-”

“Enough already.” He pulled a sterling silver card holder from the breast pocket of his expensive black suit and handed it to me. “Derek Stone.”

I read it aloud. “Stone Security. Derek Stone, Principal.” Underneath his name it said COMMANDER, ROYAL NAVY, RET. On the next line it said SECURITY AND INVESTIGATIONS. and in smaller letters in the lower left-hand corner the card said A DIVISION OF CAUSEWAY CORNWALL INTERNATIONAL.

I looked up at him. “Causeway Cornwall is the underwriter for the Winslow exhibition.”

“Exactly.” He nodded at me as if I were a particularly bright three-year-old. “And Stone Security specializes in arts and antiquities. There were certain security issues that required my team’s presence at the opening tonight. We’re working hand in hand with the local police.”