A Fatal Appraisal (17 page)

~~~~~

Jessica and Borris led a small caravan of cars west on
I-64 toward Charlottesville. Molly, Clara, and Lex followed in Molly's Jeep,
while Alexandra, Patrice, Lindsey, Alicia, and Tony were packed into a rented
minivan. Garrett offered to pick up Victoria from her hotel, but she’d needed a
few extra minutes to change and collect herself, so Garrett let Molly know that
they would be at Elmo's about twenty minutes late.

"Save me a seat," he had said with the pleading
tone of an elementary school student.

For the first time, Molly noticed that Jessica's rental car
bore the bumper sticker EVE WAS FRAMED. Jessica and her car seemed well
matched, Molly thought. I bet she put that sticker on there herself.

After a fifteen-minute drive, the caravan got off at the
first exit in Goochland County and drove into the parking lot of a strip mall.

"This town is loaded with strip malls," Molly
complained.

"Most towns are," Lex said, "but you're only
seeing one side of Richmond. After all, we're still on Broad Street, the same
street that the museum is on."

"That's true," Clara agreed. "Think of how
charming the downtown area is, especially near Monument Avenue. I simply love
all those stately old houses lining that road."

"Maybe I'll stay an extra day and really explore the
city," Molly suggested more to herself than anyone else. Lex held the
restaurant's glass door open for Clara and Molly and they were led into a
private room by the hostess.

The room was painted a warm mustard hue above the
wainscoting and a cranberry red below. Oversized paintings of rearing horses
were hung in the center of each wall. Rotund marigolds and fern leaves filled
the small vases on their table and tea lights flickered in welcome on top of a
perfectly pressed white tablecloth.

I never expected this kind of elegance tucked away in a
strip mall, Molly thought.

After the group had taken their seats, bottles of wine
seemed to magically appear on the table. Clara ordered her usual Crown Royal
and club soda.

"No ice, please," she added and gave the waitress
a stern look which translated to, "My drink better not be weak or you will
hear about it."

When it arrived, alongside Molly's screwdriver and Lex's
Jack and Coke, Clara took a sip and beamed at the waitress.
"Perfect." She then took a bite of Elmo's fresh bread covered by a
sun- dried tomato spread and moaned in delight.

Before leaving their bed and breakfast, Molly had silently
predicated that the group would be subdued after Frank's death, but she was
wrong. The news of Randy's arrest coupled with the flowing wine and delicious
appetizers appeared to put every appraiser in the best of moods.

Clara was enjoying herself immensely. She stabbed a piece of
her Portobello mushroom appetizer cooked in a balsamic vinegar sauce and
covered in four different cheeses while telling Borris about a set of medical
encyclopedias she had at home.

 Borris's eyes were alight with interest as he speared a
shrimp cooked with butter, white wine, and garlic. Lex and Tony were laughing
over the silliness of toy commercials over the years as they shared a plate of
fried calamari. When they broke into song with the Slinky jingle, a few of the
other appraisers joined them. Alexandra rolled her eyes in disgust and turned
to Patrice for a bit of sophisticate conversation.

"I know you only
pretend
to be French, but at
least that shows you might be able to hold your wine without singing jingles
from the telly. I might need to host tomorrow and I don't think that—"

"Not to worry, Alexandra dear," said a voice from
behind Alexandra's chair. She swiveled her aristocratic chin and with a swing
of gloriously shiny hair allowed her eyes to fall upon the figure of Victoria,
looking refreshed in a white suit with a black and white polka-dotted blouse.
Victoria gave an expressionless perusal of Alexandra's outfit, which included a
form fitting, immaculately pressed silk cobalt blouse and a vintage Hermes
scarf with an equestrian design tied into a perfect knot around her graceful
neck.

"Nice scarf," Victoria said in her toneless manner
before taking her seat at the head of the table. “Too bad you won’t be wearing
it to host the show tomorrow.”

Tony grabbed his wineglass and raised it in Victoria’s
honor. "Welcome back! We knew you were innocent! Cheers to Victoria for
holding up so well after a day of hardcore questioning!" Others joined in
the toast and Victoria was given with a round of applause. Garrett took a seat
next to Molly while Victoria tugged on her pearls and smiled.

While the group waited for the main courses to arrive,
Alicia described a portrait she had appraised earlier in the day.

"It was of Ulysses Grant. Just a black and white
drawing, actually. I saw it on my way out this afternoon. This woman was
loading it in her car. It wasn't even signed, but there was something about it
that just spoke to me. Grant was sitting at a campaign desk and was leaning his
head against one hand, like the weight of all that he was facing was just too
much."

 "Did you give the woman an appraisal?" Lindsey
asked.

"Just a ballpark. Actually, I referred her to a Civil
War art expert I know." Alicia took a sip of wine. "I see so much art
every week that it takes something special to make me stop and really be
struck
by a piece. I haven't felt that pop in a long time."

"I know what you mean," Lindsey agreed. "I
see hundreds of examples of linens and quilts and every kind of embroidery
imaginable, but then someone walks in with a piece that just makes my heart
stop. That's why I do this job, I guess."

As sizzling steaks loaded with melted blue cheese arrived at
the table, Borris began to tell the group about an interesting set of books he
had appraised that day.

"Lee's biography in a four-volume set," he said,
describing the books. "They're not that rare. Dated 1937. Good shape. I've
seen a bunch of them. But these were the first set I've seen signed and dated
by the author, a guy named Douglas Freeman. He also wrote an inscription in
each volume. A quote from Lee."

"Which one?" Lex asked with interest "I love
that kind of stuff! I've watched that Ken Burn series on the Civil War at least
twenty times."

Borris nodded. "The quote was, 'A true man of honor
feels humbled himself when he cannot help humbling others.'"

The group fell silent, digesting the powerful line along
with their food.

"What is it with you Americans and this war?"
Alexandra said and looked to Garrett for support. "Do you understand it?
And this General Lee," she snorted. "You'd think he was some kind of
demigod. There are monuments and shops named after him all over this
city."

"He's much like your Lord Nelson," Clara said
calmly, though Molly could see annoyance in the way her mother's lips had drawn
into a thin line. "He was a great commander and a good man."

"Yes, but Nelson
won
," Alexandra sneered.

 "I agree with you, Alex," Patrice shook his head.
"That war needs to be forgotten down here—and Lee along with it."

"Lee is a hero," Lex said, his voice thick with
emotion. "He was honorable, courageous, and like the quote said, humble.
He was just a man protecting his home. I was raised in Virginia, and I'll tell
you one thing. If an army tried to invade Her today, I would stand, my feet
planted firmly on Her soil, and fight them off."

"Well said!" exclaimed Borris and clanked his beer
mug against Lex's wineglass.

"Did any of you look at those daguerreotypes from the
exhibit?" Lindsey asked, a hand futilely trying to replace stray hairs
back into her bun. "Some of those boys ... it's painful to look at them
and wonder if they made it through the war."

The group exchanged animated murmurs about the exhibit until
Alexandra raised her voice once more. This time, her face was aglow with
triumph. "I'll tell you what's painful," she began.

"What's that, dear?" Lindsey leaned forward, her
owl-like face waiting expectantly.

"Painful is how obvious those fake Dahlonega coins
are!" Alexandra pronounced and Jessica's hand abruptly jerked sideways,
knocking an untouched goblet filled with red wine into her lap.

"Oh!" she yelped and jumped up as a ruby stain
bled over her pink floral skirt.

"I left a message for the curator of the museum to call
me at my hotel first thing in the morning," Alexandra continued as if
nothing had happened. "It's insulting to be a part of an exhibit with such
blatant fakes.
Someone
is bound to notice."

Garrett sat staring at Alexandra, his mouth ajar in
astonishment. The other appraisers looked just as shocked.

"Are you sure?" Borris asked. "You haven't
actually handled them, right?"

"No," Alexandra said flippantly as she beckoned
the waitress. "I'll have a decaf with nonfat milk. If you don't have
nonfat I'll settle for two percent. Anyone else having coffee or dessert?"
She turned her cold, lovely face to Molly. "Molly? I'm sure
you're
having dessert."

Molly struggled to contain the anger that surged through her
body. What a bitch!

"How can you be so certain that they're fakes just by
looking at them?" Garrett rephrased Borris's question. Molly sank back in
her chair, relieved that the focus was quickly taken off of her.

"Simple, darling," Alexandra cooed at Garrett.
"The reverse should have a Letter
D
, for Dahlonega, but someone put
a
P
there instead. Or it's a
D
with a tail. Either way, it's a
major mistake that isn't some minting error. Once the curator really takes a
look, he'll see that I'm right."

"Why do you know so much about American coins?"
Lex asked, obviously deciding to play devil's advocate. "It doesn't sound
like there's much you like about our country."

"I like coins." Alexandra sipped delicately on her
decaf. "I like them regardless of what country minted them and I know my
coins well."

"That you do," Victoria said quietly. "So
it's a good thing you can get back to your regular job tomorrow as the show's
coin appraiser then, isn't it?"

Alexandra shot daggers at Victoria while Garrett busily
calculated everyone's share of the bill. The other appraisers were yawning as
they handed Garrett money. Jessica was still blotting hopelessly at her skirt
with a napkin dipped in ice water.

Molly looked over at her mother. "Score one for
Victoria," Clara whispered. Out loud she said, "Madam, you must taste
my flan. It's just as creamy and smooth as your beautiful skin."

~~~~~

The science museum was quiet at night. The clamor that
filled its enormous halls during the day died away by six o'clock in the
evening. Except for the two security guards making their usual rounds past the
dark exhibits, no footsteps echoed noisily down the wide corridors. To save
money, the museum administration had decided to keep lights on only in the
entranceway, so the guards were forced to use powerful Maglite flashlights as
they toured the vast building.

Just before midnight, the guards moved off to the small
break room near the front door. The middle-aged guard named Chuck poured two
cups of coffee and emptied a packet of sugar into each cup. The second guard, a
young man named Bruce, shuffled cards with the quick, practiced motion of
someone who has played many rounds of poker.

"What'll it be first?" Bruce asked his partner.

"Let's warm up with Hearts," Chuck said, placing
the coffee cups on the table as Bruce dealt their hands.

"What did your wife fix you tonight?" Bruce asked
as he examined his hand.

Chuck peeled back the aluminum foil covering his sandwich
and moaned. "Bologna and peanut butter again."

Bruce laughed. "I've got salami, ham, and Swiss. Ah,
the life of a bachelor."

"At least I've got the good chips this time,"
Chuck said, ripping open a bag of sour cream and onion Ruffles. Over the noise
of the crackling bag, the guards heard a pounding resound through the front
hall.

"What the—" Bruce began, but Chuck was already on
his feet, his flashlight raised though not yet switched on.

"There's someone at the front door," Chuck said,
pointing toward a waiting figure.

As Bruce approached, the figure held up a
Hidden
Treasures
identification badge and pressed it against the glass for
inspection.

"Ah, just one of those nutty appraisers," Bruce
grumbled. "Some time of night to be working." He wrestled with a
large bunch of jiggling keys until he had succeeded in unlocking the door's
formidable deadbolt.

 "Evening ma'am." Chuck smiled at the woman. She
blinded him with a brilliant smile and her beautiful face immediately
captivated both men.

"So sorry to trouble you both," she purred,
holding open the heavy glass door, "but I suddenly recalled a mistake I
must correct before the show opens tomorrow. I'll only be back there for an
hour or so."

At that moment, the woman dropped her trendy, rectangular
purse and several items spilled out and rolled hither and thither across the
marble floor. Bruce bent to retrieve a lipstick case and a pair of sunglasses
while Chuck picked up an expensive fountain pen and a roll of breath mints.

"Oh, how clumsy of me!" the woman cooed, taking
advantage of the distracted guards by quickly sticking a piece of duct tape firmly
over the door latch so that the knob could not automatically lock when closed.
She released the door and watched with satisfaction as it closed but did not
issue the soft click indicating that it was locked.

"Thank you ever so much," the woman said as Bruce
returned her purse with the gawkiness of a teenage boy. He watched the woman's
model-thin figure as she walked with elegant grace in the direction of the
Great Hall. She paused outside of the door leading to the Ladies Room.