She crossed the gleaming tile floor and went through a wide arch into the Celtic Warrior exhibit room. Three long glass cases sparkled in the center of the space. The middle display was filled with ancient and brittle-looking weapons: spears, swords, and knives. The remaining cases were still empty. On the three long walls behind the cases, murals of life-size warriors engaged in battle depicted their original use in vivid color. The murals and cases were sectioned off with velvet theater roping to protect them from possible spills at tonight’s gathering. Normally, the prohibition on food and drink was strictly enforced.

Patrons wandered in, drinks in hand, and Louisa answered their questions.

She leaned over a row of Iron Age swords. Above the rusted weapons, a new and shiny sword gleamed in the spotlight.

“Is that one of the replicas?” a familiar male voice asked.

Louisa turned. Xavier walked toward her.

“It’s stunning. And looks lethal.” The professor set his empty champagne glass on a nearby tray and stopped just a little too close to her. His slurred speech and pirate-eye told her he’d already had too much to drink.

“If it were sharp, it would be. The artisan tried to mimic the original process as closely as possible.” Louisa resisted the urge to check on Conor. Other than Damian and Louisa, Xavier was the only other person at the fund-raiser who’d met Conor in person. Would Xavier give him away? Thankfully, it appeared he was drinking champagne rather than mixed drinks. She doubted Xavier would want to admit any association with Conor, but she didn’t want to test that theory and hoped Xavier wouldn’t make a trip to the bar, not in this unstable, unpredictable condition.

“The police came to my office today,” Xavier said. “Did you know they found a body? They won’t speculate, of course, but I know they think it’s Zoe.”

“Yes. I know about the body.” Sadness coated Louisa’s throat.

He leaned closer to the display case. “Which one was the model for the stolen replica?”

“I didn’t put it out.” His callous question reminded her that someone at this event could be a killer. But who? The girl had been killed Wednesday evening. Where had Xavier gone after he’d stopped at the café to speak with her and Conor? Was Xavier on the list of suspects?

“Tactful as always.” Xavier’s tone dripped with uncharacteristic resentment. He signaled a circling server and plucked a full flute of champagne from the tray. “I heard about your accident.”

“It was unfortunate, but as you can see, I’m fine.”

“Your beautiful face.” He reached out and touched her chin.

So much for the expensive color-correcting concealer the saleswoman at the cosmetics counter had sold her.

“It looks worse than it is.” Louisa removed his hand with a deliberate motion. She took a slight step back, reclaiming her personal boundary.