Uncovering Secrets: The Third Novel in the Rosemont Series (8 page)

Chapter 21

“Hey, John,” Judy Young said, never taking her eyes from
the treasure spread out on the massive dining room table at Rosemont.

“I
can see I’m not needed,” John said, winking at Maggie. “I’m on call tonight at
the emergency animal hospital, so Roman and I will just head on home.”

“Coward,”
Maggie said, walking them to the door.

“You
better believe it. You won’t get rid of her before midnight.”

“That’s
fine by me. I’m lucky that she’s knowledgeable and interested.”

“What
was it my grandmother used to say? Always count the silver?”

“I’m
not worried about Judy,” Maggie said.

John
leaned in to kiss her. “Call me if you get lonely later.”

Judy
was circling the table like a lion stalking its prey when Maggie returned to
the dining room.

“Incredible,
isn’t it?’ Maggie asked.

“I’ll
say. You’ve got quite the collection. And it’s from different periods. Mostly
Victorian, but that little creamer in the center—next to the
teapot—is almost certainly Revolutionary War era.”

“Really?
I thought it was too unadorned to be a contemporary of most of this stuff, but
I had no idea it could be that old.”

“If
it’s Paul Revere, you can probably retire. Let’s take a look,” she said as
Maggie handed the piece to her.

“Nope.
Sorry. But it’s got a stamp and the patina is consistent with the era. Here,”
Judy said, handing the piece back to Maggie. “Hold it while I snap a photo of
the mark with my phone. I’ll go online and do some research.”

“You
don’t have to do that,” Maggie protested.

“I
want to do it,” Judy stated firmly. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.
Makes me wish I had an attic full of old junk.”

“Did
you see this flatware?” Maggie asked, pointing to the sideboard.

“Holy
cow—how many pieces are there?”

“One
hundred and fifty-five. I don’t even know what some of them are supposed to be
used for,” Maggie said. “I know this is a teaspoon, of course, and one of these
must be a soup spoon, but what about this other spoon? It’s almost the same
size and shape as the soup spoon. Why are there two similar, but slightly
different shapes?

“Good
question. Very observant of you. The smaller of the two is a bouillon spoon.
You’ve also got both teaspoons and coffee spoons. See? The coffee spoons are a
bit smaller.”

“You’re
right. I hadn’t noticed that. There’re also fish forks and knives. The original
Mrs. Martin must have been a very particular hostess to have owned all of these
specialized pieces.”

Judy
turned one of the soup spoons over in her hand, examining the decoration on the
handle. “I’m not sure that Mrs. Martin ever used this,” she said.

“Really?
Why do you say that?”

“Take
a look at this. It’s a family crest. I don’t recall hearing about a Martin
family crest. But I do remember the story of a wealthy English family named
Donaldson who lived in a mansion that stood where the high school is now. They
made their money in banking and lost everything in the Great Depression. The
story has it that the old couple jumped out of a third-story window on the
night before they were to lose their home to foreclosure. A joint suicide.”

Maggie
shivered. “That’s gruesome. Why would the Martins have the Donaldson’s
flatware? Maybe they bought it at a tag sale?”

Judy
shook her head. “Not likely. The Martins wouldn’t buy at a tag sale. It
wouldn’t conform to the Victorian sense of propriety and status.”

Maggie
nodded. “What, then?”

Judy
leaned against the sideboard and contemplated the object in her hand. “They
were probably friends with the Donaldsons—maybe very good friends. There
weren’t that many rich people in town. Maybe they stored the flatware in the
attic for the Donaldsons so that their bill collectors wouldn’t get it.”

“Makes
sense,” Maggie agreed. “Flatware is easily portable—they could liquidate
a piece at a time. It wouldn’t be like trying to sell a tea set. And there are
a few pieces missing.”

“And
when they killed themselves, the Martins just left it there. What else could
they do? They couldn’t use it.”

“Yes,”
Maggie agreed. “They couldn’t sell it, either, because they wouldn’t want
anyone to know that they had been helping the Donaldsons conceal assets from
creditors.”

The
women exchanged a conspiratorial glance. “I’d use these, if I were you,” Judy
said. “Just think of them as the ultimate conversation piece.”

Maggie
shook her head. “I don’t know about that. I’m finding them a little bit creepy
and depressing. Plus, I really don’t like that crest. It looks like a raven
perched on rocks.”

“You
need to get it appraised and insured. In fact, you should do that with all of
this as soon as possible. You’ve got a small fortune spread out here.”

“I
was thinking the same thing,” Maggie said. “I’m really glad you came over
tonight.”

“Let’s
see what other treasures await,” Judy said with a gleam in her eye. “Look at
these demitasse spoons with the zodiac symbols engraved on their handles. Do
you know why they did this?”

“No
idea,” Maggie smiled, drawn in by Judy’s enthusiasm.

“The
Victorians were fascinated with astrology, of course, but they also would have
used these to mark the seating arrangement. Any hostess worth her salt would
have known the sign of each of her guests.”

It
was almost midnight when they finished their first pass around the table.
Maggie was exhausted, but Judy seemed to gather steam as the night wore on.
“We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow,” Judy said as Maggie ushered her to her car.

“Nonsense.
You’ve done enough already—I wouldn’t dream of interfering on your day
off.” Maggie stated firmly. She was happy with her newly uncovered treasures,
but she wanted to relax and spend the day with John. This stuff had been in her
attic for almost a decade—a few weeks on her dining room table wouldn’t
matter.

“Nothing
I’d rather do,” Judy replied in tones that indicated she would not be denied.
“We need to catalog what you’ve got, and you’ll need to call your insurance
agent first thing Monday morning. They’ll send an appraiser out here. We’ll
start right after early church. Have the coffee on. See you tomorrow,” She patted
Maggie’s arm. Maggie stifled a yawn and waved as Judy pulled away.

Chapter 22

Maggie opened an eye and looked at her bedside clock.
Ugh,
she thought.
Time to get up and feed those kittens.
“Come on, Eve, we’ve
got to get moving.”

She
snatched her cell phone from the nightstand and headed downstairs. She checked
for messages after she’d fed Eve and the kittens and found a text from John:

Tied
up at ER. No church for me. Will call later.

Maggie
sighed and wandered into her dining room. She flipped the switch to the
chandelier and the room jumped into brilliance, the silver spread out on the
table acting like a giant mirror.
What a remarkable find,
she thought.
And
what remarkable tales Judy Young will be telling about it.
Maggie didn’t
want word to get out. At least not until she had it all insured and safely
stored.

There
would be no going back to bed for her. She’d get ready for church and be there
in time to stop Judy before she got started.

***

Maggie entered the parking lot at church forty minutes
before the start of the first service. Judy pulled in behind her.

“I’ve
never known you to be here so early,” Judy called. “You normally slink in
during the first hymn.”

“I’m
not that bad,” Maggie protested. “I’m in my pew at least thirty seconds before
the processional.”

“What’s
up?” Judy asked, looking pointedly at Maggie.

“I
wanted to catch you,” Maggie stopped and pulled Judy aside. “I don’t want
anyone to know about the silver. Not yet. I was thinking about what you said. I
want to get it insured and have most of it stored before we let anyone know
it’s at Rosemont.”

“I
was thinking the same thing,” Judy nodded. “I know I’m a blabbermouth, but I
wasn’t going to say anything. You should talk to Sam Torres about installing a
safe.”

“Good
suggestion. He and Joan are going to stop by this afternoon to pick up their
kitten.”

“That’ll
leave you with how many?”

“Four.
David Wheeler took one, too.”

Judy
shook her head. “You’ve got your plate full.”

Maggie
stifled a yawn. “I hope I don’t fall asleep during the sermon. Someone kept me
up very late last night.”

She
managed to stay awake during the service, aware of Judy’s watchful eye on her.
She wasn’t concentrating on the pastor’s message or thinking about the silver,
however. She was wrestling with the standstill in the investigations that were
frustrating both Special Counsel Scanlon and Chief Thomas. She’d call her
daughter in California this afternoon. Susan wasn’t a prosecutor, but her
instincts as a high-powered litigator were dead on and her insights were
invaluable. Susan would offer practical solutions. Talking things through with
her always helped Maggie organize her thoughts.

Maggie
abruptly realized that the people on either side of her were standing. She
reached for her hymnal and joined in the final hymn.

Judy
intercepted her as soon as she shook the pastor’s hand and stepped away. “Let’s
skip the social hour and get back to work, shall we?”

“Sure,”
Maggie said as she and Judy headed to their cars. They were halfway there when
Maggie heard her name being called from behind. She turned to find Glenn and
Gloria Vaughn hurrying toward her.

Maggie
motioned for the elderly couple to stay where they were.

“Darn
it,” Judy muttered. “You’re sunk now.”

“Sorry,”
Maggie said over her shoulder to Judy. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll call
you when I’m on my way home?”

“Just
try to keep it brief, okay?” Judy grumbled.

Maggie
smiled at Glenn and Gloria, newlyweds at seventy-seven and eighty-two,
respectively, and accepted a hug from each of them.

“How’s
the best mayor in the United States?” Glenn asked.

“I
wouldn’t know,” Maggie replied.

“Spirits
a bit low, dear?” Gloria chimed in.

“Things
aren’t exactly coming up roses in Westbury—or hadn’t you heard?” she
laughed.

“You
helped us get Fairview Terraces out of foreclosure. Don’t you forget that,”
Glenn stated sternly. “This mess didn’t happen overnight, and it won’t get
fixed overnight. You’re on the right track.”

Maggie
squeezed his arm. “That’s just the vote of confidence I need right now. As for
Fairview Terraces, I think that your ideas to rent out the recreation hall to
the Westbury West Coast Swing Society and sponsor a farmers market on your
campus put your finances in the black.”

Gloria
beamed. “He did a great job, didn’t he?”

“We
didn’t call you over to brag about me,” Glenn said.

“We
heard you have kittens to give away,” Gloria interjected.

Maggie
laughed. “Word gets around in a small town, doesn’t it? Are you looking to get
a new cat?”

Glenn
put his arm around Gloria. “Tabitha finally went to her reward a couple of
weeks ago.”

“I’m
so sorry,” Maggie replied.

“After
seventeen wonderful years,” Gloria said. “She was a terrific companion.”

“Gloria’s
been miserable without her. I became quite fond of having a cat around, too. So
we thought we’d adopt a stray. If you have some you’d like to find homes for,
we’d love to help.”

“Actually,”
Maggie said, thinking, “That would be terrific. And they’ve just been weaned,
so your timing is perfect. I started out with six kittens and two have been
spoken for. I was going to keep all four of them, but that’s a bit much. Why
don’t you stop by to see if any of them strike your fancy?”

“How
about this afternoon? Will you be home?”

“That’ll
be fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

So
much for a quiet Sunday afternoon at home,
Maggie thought, shaking her head
as she made her way to her car.

***

Eve began barking while Maggie was upstairs, changing
out of her church clothes. She quickly shrugged into an oversized sweater and
her favorite pair of old jeans and raced downstairs to open the door for Judy.

“That
wasn’t too bad,” she said, sweeping past Maggie, bound for the dining room. “I
was afraid you’d be stuck there for over an hour. People always want to corral
you to suggest this or grumble about that. I feel sorry for you, I really do.
As mayor, you can’t be off the clock, even at church on Sunday morning.”

“That’s
for sure,” Maggie replied. “I don’t dare run out to the grocery without my full
hair and makeup, either. It gets to be a bit much.”

Judy
didn’t respond. She was already lost in the magical world represented by the
objects on the dining room table. She pulled out her laptop and opened a blank
spreadsheet. “I set this up while I was waiting for your call. This will be our
inventory record,” she stated proudly.

“Wow,”
Maggie replied. “You’re so organized. This is really helpful.”

“Let’s
get started. We’ll begin with this nine-piece tea set. Hand me the teapot, will
you?”

Maggie
complied. “Careful—it’s surprisingly heavy.”

“Must
be solid silver. This will be worth a fortune in silver content, alone.” She
turned the elaborate item over in her hand and studied the silversmith’s mark.
She let out a low whistle. “Maggie,” she said breathlessly, “this is
Martin-Guillaume Biennais. Do you know how valuable this is?”

Maggie
shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

“
Him
,”
Judy corrected. “He was a French gold and silversmith in the late eighteenth
century. He made items for Napoleon.”

Maggie’s
eyes widened.

“I’ve
seen his work in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I can’t even guess what this
is worth.”

Both
women stared at each other.

“Do
you have a good camera?”

“John
does. And he knows how to use it.”

“Good.
We’ve got a job for him this afternoon. We’ll need photos of all of this. And
you need to rent a safe deposit box for this.” She held Maggie’s gaze. “I don’t
care what’s on your schedule. You need to get this out of Rosemont and into a
vault.”

“Don’t
worry, I’ll do just that.”
And I’ll go to a bank in a nearby city.
She
didn’t trust her local banker to keep quiet. Some secrets couldn’t be kept in a
small town.

***

By the time John arrived to photograph the collection,
they had cataloged valuable items by Tiffany, Gorham, and Lunt, as well as
lovely pieces that bore no mark.

“Quite
the haul,” John remarked as he set to work. “Who’d want to polish all this? No
wonder it was in the attic.”

Judy
shot him a reproachful look.

Maggie
addressed them both. “It’s obvious we’ve uncovered a significant collection of
vintage silver, possibly worth a small fortune. I’m not sure what I want to do
with it, or even if it’s all mine. They say possession is nine-tenths of the
law, but I’m not so sure when you’re talking about items of this value.”

John
put his camera down.

“We’re
the only three people who know about this—other than David Wheeler. And
he took little interest in it and has no idea of its value. For now—until
we can sort this all out—I don’t want to breathe a word of this to
anyone.”

“Of
course not,” Judy agreed. “I won’t tell a soul. And you shouldn’t be alone at
Rosemont with all of this spread out.” She glanced at John. “Someone should
stay here with you until all of it is secured.”

John
smiled. “That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all day.”

“It’s
settled, then. Let’s shut the doors to this room and keep this secret to
ourselves, for now.”