A Fatal Appraisal (14 page)

"I'm glad you'll have your lawyer present. You
shouldn’t be alone right now," Molly offered by way of comfort. "And
of course I don't think you murdered your husband."

"Well, that's nice," Victoria replied dryly,
"but in the meantime, someone else will be doing my job until this gets
straightened out." She brushed a few locks of tangled hair off her
forehead. "I wonder what gave Frank that attack. True, he got on my nerves
on a regular basis, but I never wanted him dead."

"The police didn't tell you what killed him?"
Molly was surprised. She decided there was no harm in filling Victoria in about
the mold.

"Who would do that?” Victoria was clearly
flabbergasted. “I know Frank was annoying with his constant health problems,
but I'm the one who lived with his ... persnickety habits."

"Someone else must have had a reason to hate your
husband," Molly pointed out. "Can you think of a likely
suspect?"

Victoria shook her head. "If he offended someone that
much, I don't know about it He was extremely fair over the prices of the items
in his shop and he never insulted people who brought him bad pieces of
furniture to appraise, even if they were complete fakes. He had too much
respect for his role as the Great Educator to be rude to anyone who brought him
a piece of furniture to examine." She sighed. "I just don't get
it"

"Did anyone else go inside Mrs. Sterling's house except
for those of us that came with you?" Molly asked.

"Not that I know of. Frank told me he gave
you
the keys."

Molly started. "That's right! Well, that narrows the
group down to Jessica, Borris, Alicia, and Garrett. Besides myself, they were
the only ones who knew about the mold."

Victoria waved her hand in dismissal. "No motive there.
That crowd gets along with everyone."

At that moment there was a knock on the door. "Mrs.
Sterling?" a deep voice called. "Are you ready?"

"That's my lawyer." Victoria stood up. "Come
in!" she called and the door was opened by a portly man wearing an
exquisitely tailored business suit. "One moment, Mr. Fielding."
Victoria told the lawyer before turning back to Molly. "I'll see you at
the appraisers dinner tonight. I sure could use a good meal," she added
with an attempt at brevity, but Molly thought her eyes looked heavy with worry.
Molly said goodbye to Victoria, exited the room with Clara, and closed the
door. In the lobby, she linked arms with her mother.

"I'll drop you off at Mrs. Sterling's house. I've got a
lot to do today at the museum. I need to photograph antiques, get a few more
interviews, and somehow find out who had it in for Frank."

"And tomorrow is the last day of the show, right?"
Clara asked.

"That's right. I'm running out of time!"

"Just be careful," Clara warned. "Maybe you
should take that handsome Garrett along when you start doing your
snooping."

"But he was in the house," Molly argued as she got
in her car. "He could be a suspect."

"So no one mentioned the mold afterward?" Clara
asked.

"Oh!" Molly slapped her forehead with her palm.
"It
was
mentioned. In the cafeteria, in fact. Everyone was
listening to
me
talk about how nasty the bathroom was. I went on and on
about how it had taken over the entire room. Half of the cast and crew were
sitting right there as I described everything in detail. Oh, now I'll
never
find out who did it!"

"You will because someone needed those house keys. Find
out who took them and you’ll have your man. Or woman," Clara added.
"Did you have the keys on you the whole time?"

"No. I put my bag in the staff office while I had
lunch. I have no valuables in there except for my digital camera and I didn't
think anyone would mess with it."

"Well..." Clara pulled down the sun visor, checked
her reflection in the mirror, and added a coat of rose-colored gloss to her lips.
"Try to think who
wasn't
in the lunchroom with you. That person
took the keys from your bag, got into the house, and brought the mold back to
the museum while you were eating. Think of who was missing."

Molly pulled up in front of Mrs. Sterling's row house only
to find Lex pacing on the front lawn like a dog on a short leash. He was
talking animatedly into his cell phone. He wore a vexed look that instantly
evaporated when he spied Clara. She waved the signed contract out of the car
window like a victory flag.

"Thanks, Ma," Molly said, patting her mother's
free hand. "You've given me a place to start."

"Sure thing." Clara slid out of the car and then
leaned in the open window. "But like I said, be careful while you're
snooping. Guilty people are most unpredictable."

~~~~~

It was after opening time when Molly finally arrived at
the museum. The people who’d lined up early had already begun to filter their
way inside, leaving the rest of the crowd to dart quick glances at the sky with
justifiably anxious expressions. An ominous tier of thunderclouds had begun to
gather above them and a hint of a breeze began to tickle strands of hair here
and pluck at a scarf there.

A breeze in Richmond in September meant that a storm was
about to arrive and the waiting members of the crowd were wondering whether
their foresight in bringing an umbrella would be enough to prevent any rain
from spalshing on their precious possessions. Those without umbrellas were
looking desperately ahead, clearly willing the line to move faster.

Molly decided to interview members of the group who had
already made it inside. They would be much more relaxed than the sky-watching
throng outside. She was immediately drawn to a young, African-America woman in
her early twenties who held the hand of the most beautiful little boy Molly had
ever seen. The boy had creamy brown skin, the color of a rich latte, huge
blue-green eyes winking with excitement, and a mop of unruly, frizzy hair that
bobbed up and down as he danced a merry jig around his mother’s legs.

"I'm sure you hear this all the time, but your son is
so cute," Molly said, staring at the little boy. She then introduced
herself to the mother and asked if she could conduct a short on-the-spot
interview.

The woman seemed a bit uncomfortable. She was Molly's
height—almost five feet nine, but while Molly was all curves, this woman was
bone-thin and had the long, languid legs of a flamingo. Her bright brown eyes
looked downcast and she put a protective arm around her son, stilling his
movements.

"I really don't know anything 'bout this stuff. My late
husband left me a coin and I've never thought of selling it 'til now, but I
need the money. He said it was in his family since before the Civil War and if
I ever needed cash, to go sell it. Otherwise, he wanted Erik here to get
it."

Molly gazed into Erik's twinkling eyes. "Well, you
definitely need to find out how much it's worth before you try selling it. It
was smart of you to come here." Molly complimented the nervous woman and
she seemed to relax.

"I'm Jasmine," she finally said. "Jasmine
Jones. Yeah, it was a good idea, but Erik's getting awfully antsy and I've got
to get to work. Here's the coin." Jasmine unwrapped a small, dingy
bandana.

Molly picked up the treasure and examined it She was no coin
expert, but she recognized the bust of Lady Liberty. Stars surrounded her head
and below her shoulders the year it was minted was represented by a stamped
‘1836’. Turning it over, Molly saw an eagle grasping an olive branch in the
left talon and a bunch of arrows in the right. A shield covered the feathers of
his breast. The text read, "United States of America 50 Cents." The
coin was shiny and looked as if it were newly minted.

"I can't believe what good shape this is in,"
Molly said as she returned the coin. "I know the woman who does the coin
appraisals. She won't mind if I let you skip this line. I think it would be the
best thing for you to get her opinion of what it's worth and where you should
sell it. Just follow me."

Jasmine's grateful smile rendered her instantly beautiful.
"Thanks!"

 Molly led Jasmine and Erik through the complicated
stanchion maze until they reached the next room where the head appraisers were
meeting with members of the public or waiting for a camera crew to arrive. When
Molly and her companions reached Alexandra's area, she was surprised to find
Garrett seated at her table instead. He was peering intently at a coin with the
aid of a jeweler's loop.

Garrett straightened and returned the coin to its owner, an
attractive middle-aged man wearing a neatly tailored light blue suit.

"I'll take it, Jared. I'll drop by your shop later this
afternoon to see what else you've got. Put this aside for me, will you?"

The older man nodded as he and Garrett shook hands.

"Friend of yours?" Molly asked.

"He's a coin dealer. Operates a small shop in a place
the locals call the Bottom. I hate to even ask what that stands for... I see
you've picked up some locals of your own. Keeping busy, are you?" Garrett
smiled kindly down at Erik.

"Actually, I'm looking for Alexandra. This young lady
has a coin that needs to be appraised."

"Then look no further." Garrett puffed out his
chest. "I am here to save the day. Let's have a peek, shall we?"

"You?" Molly gaped.

"Sorry to shock you, but Alexandra has taken over
Victoria’s hosting duties and as I told you a few days ago, coins are one of
the things I collect." Garrett faced Jasmine. "If I can't give you a
proper value, I shall send you to Mr. Freeman, the dealer who just left. He is
a fair and honest chap, to be sure."

Jasmine, won over by Garrett's easy manner, handed him her
red bandana. Garrett examined the coin carefully using his jeweler's loop and
though Molly studied his expression closely, she couldn't tell what he made of
the coin's value just by watching his face.

Suddenly, Molly heard her name being called from farther
down the aisle. Alicia was beckoning her excitedly.

"Excuse me a minute," Molly told Jasmine and
hustled toward Alicia's area. Propped on an easel was the most detailed and
colorful painting Molly had ever seen. The scene was of New York City, complete
with billboards, taxis, and hundreds of tiny pedestrians walking the sidewalks.
In the distance, a folksy Statue of Liberty held a bright light bulb aloft as
glossy tugboats surrounded her in the harbor. Every inch of the painting was
covered in bright, shiny paints—down to the tiny skyscraper windows and the
waves in the water.

"This is wonderful!" Molly exclaimed. "Folk
art, right?"

"Yes, a contemporary piece by a North Carolina artist
named Benny Carter. This is one of his early works. I thought it would make a
nice addition to your story. Mrs. Wilbur here only paid two hundred dollars for
it over ten years ago, and I'm about to tell her that she should insure this
piece today for five thousand dollars."

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Wilbur exclaimed as Molly dug out
her camera and began to take pictures. As she was writing down how Mrs. Wilbur
had bought the painting from the artist's house for $200 plus a six-pack of his
favorite beer, Molly looked up and caught Alicia smiling at her.

Was Alicia at lunch when the house keys were taken? Molly
tried to remember. Yes, she had been there. Molly remembered that Alicia had
sat across from her, flanked by Lindsey on one side and Patrice on the other.
Garrett and Alexandra had been there, too. Borris and Jessica hadn’t arrived
until after Molly had already started her lunch. Had either of them had enough
time to get to Mrs. Sterling's house and back?

Returning Alicia's smile, Molly thanked her and then headed
back toward Garrett to see what he conclusions he’d drawn about Jasmine's coin.
Before Molly reached his table, she could see him counting out a pile of
twenties and slipping them into Jasmine's hand. Jasmine hugged him quickly and
then stuffed the money in her purse.

"Thanks again!" she said as she scooped up her son
and turned toward the exit. "I've got to go! Bye!"

"Well, that looks like a happy customer." Molly
remarked as she moved to Garrett's side. She watched Jasmine hastily maneuver
through the crowd. "Was the coin worth anything? I hope so, because she
really seemed to need the money."

Garrett looked grave. "I know, she told me that, too.
Unfortunately, her coin was a fake. A good one, but still a fake. I didn't have
the heart to tell her that, though, poor mite, so I just told her it was of
small value but that I could sell it to a friend of mine."

"So you paid her for it even though it was a
fake?" Molly was astonished.

"What's a bloke to do?" Garrett blushed and looked
away.

A warm feeling rushed through Molly and before she knew what
she was doing, she threw her arms around Garrett's neck and planted a warm,
grateful kiss on his lips. When he remained rigid, Molly was mortified at her
forwardness and she immediately detached her arms and crossed them over her
chest in embarrassment.

"Well! I say," said Garrett teasingly. "I'm
going to get involved in all sorts of good works if
that's
the result it
produces."

"That was so sweet of you, Garrett." Molly gave
him a shy smile and settled for squeezing his hand as a means of illustrating
her admiration. "Why did Jasmine rush away in such a hurry?"

"Had to push off for work. She's got a shift at the
hospital starting in an hour. Nice of you to hustle her through the queue like
that. I should be kissing
you
for being the picture of kindness."
Garrett took her hand.

At that moment, Molly longed to confide in Garrett, to tell
him all about the mold on the desk and ask him to help her find Frank's killer,
but for some reason she kept silent She released his hand in order to grab her
notebook from her bag.