A Fatal Appraisal (23 page)

Clara waved it away and ordered a bourbon and soda.
"With your best,
non-watered
bourbon," she added firmly.
"Do you want something, dear? A pina colada, perhaps?" Clara prompted
her unusually taciturn daughter.

"We make a terrific mango colada," the waiter
offered.

"Just a Diet Coke, please." Molly waited for Peter
to leave and then whispered fiercely, "I kissed Garrett, Ma. He did
something really sweet, or at least I assumed he did, and so I kissed him. It
was impulsive and meant nothing afterward, but I still did it. "

Clara flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture. "Oh,
that doesn't count. I've kissed dozens of people in the heat of the moment at
auction. You know, when you've slipped in a bid right before the gavel falls
and that piece of rare pottery or gorgeous cherry stand becomes yours for a
song." The waiter arrived with their drinks. Clara ordered an appetizer
and then leaned in toward Molly. "You can't seriously believe that Garrett
is the killer!"

"But I do." Molly took a deep sip of her soda.
"You see, the note Alexandra received indicated that she came to the
museum for some kind of intimate meeting, like a romantic rendezvous. The only
person I've ever seen Alexandra thaw out around is Garrett. Even Borris
mentioned how she had a crush on him for ages. They worked on the same show
back in England."

"Well, Garrett
is
a charmer, but just because
she liked him doesn't mean he wrote the note. And didn't you tell me that she
was sent here for sleeping with someone
else
involved with that
show?"

"It's not just my suspicions about the romantic nature
of the note. Garrett's a coin collector as well. He could have planned the
whole coin robbery! But then Alexandra discovered the fakes and he was forced
to silence her. Permanently."

A large plate containing a wheel of melted Brie covered in
raspberry sauce arrived at their table. Clara scooped a piece of homemade bread
into the cheese and popped it into her mouth, even though the cheese was still
so hot it was bubbling.

"Delicious! Try some, madam. It's not like you to lose
your appetite when baked cheese and fresh bread are concerned." She waited
while Molly mechanically bit into a forkful of steaming cheese. "Do you
have any proof that would incriminate Garrett?"

Molly shook her head. "Ow, this is hot!" She took
a hasty drink of soda. "No, of course I have no proof."

"You don't really know this man and you don't have a
single shred of evidence against him. This doesn't look very conclusive,
cupcake. Any member of the crew could have been wooing Alexandra for all you
know." Clara looked around and their attentive waiter instantly appeared
at their table. She ordered the chicken cooked in a creamy sherry sauce and
shitake mushrooms for herself and tornedos of beef smothered in béarnaise sauce
for Molly. "Oh, well, we can't eat Mrs. Hewell's free food the whole
time," she added under her breath as she noticed the prices for the first
time.

Molly was fully lost in thought. Suddenly, she brightened
and sat up in her chair. "Listen, Garrett knows a coin dealer in town. If
I want to find out more about his true character, I could find out from the
dealer. He has a shop around here, in Shockoe Bottom. Garrett mentioned the
location to me at the museum the other day."

"I guess it's worth a try." Clara shrugged.
"But he'll never be open tomorrow. It's Sunday."

"Excuse me, Peter," Molly asked their waiter as he
paused to refill their water glasses. "Do you know if there's a store
around here that sells old coins?"

The man held the water pitcher in midair and frowned in
thought. "Hmm, I'm not sure. There are a couple shops that sell vintage
stuff and second-hand books near the flea market on Seventeenth Street. I don't
live in this part of town, but that would be your best bet. Your entrees will
be right out."

"We'll check out the Seventeenth Street area.
Thanks."

Clara dabbed at her mouth with her white starched napkin.
"Let me guess. We're going to walk home in that direction so that you can
find the coin dealer's store."

Molly smiled. "You're so clever, Ma. Yes. And then I
will call this local expert tomorrow morning and tell him I simply
must
interview him for
Collector's Weekly
before I leave town. If I butter
him up enough, I might learn something about Garrett and how good an actor he
actually is."

"Well,
I'm
going to go on that Canal Walk Mrs.
Hewell told me about. I’ll need to get some exercise after all of this
wonderful food." She patted her flat stomach as Molly enviously eyed her
mother's trim waistline. Her own pants were feeling especially snug about the
middle. "Lex is leaving in the morning," Clara continued, "but
I'll stick around until you go. That means you'll have to drive me home, but I
refuse to leave you up here alone. You're bound to get in some enormous muddle
before the police have a chance to wrap up the case."

Sunday morning dawned with the irrefutable suggestion of
autumn. A crisp, light breeze blew across the weighty heads of saffron-colored
chrysanthemums planted in terracotta pots outside the Traveller's front door.
As Molly parted the gauzy lace curtains of her second-story room and looked out
the window. The morning sun already seemed weaker than it had the day before
and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d be dressing in sweaters and
drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate.

Molly flipped open her notebook to the page where she had
scribbled the name of the one coin shop she and her mother had located after
last night's dinner. The number for "To Coin A Phrase," was listed
under "Coins and Collectibles" in the phone book. Checking her watch,
she picked up the phone, punched in the numbers, and received a voice mail
recording providing the shop's location, hours, and the owner's pager number.
The owner gave his name as Jared Freeman. Molly paged him and waited, enjoying
her coffee and the birdsong outside her window.

The phone rang moments, later. "Mr. Freeman?"
Molly answered hopefully.

"Yes. To whom am I speaking?" the dealer spoke
with a slow, upper class Southern lilt.

"My name is Molly Appleby. I'm a writer for
Collector's
Weekly
. A friend of mine, Garrett Huntington, mentioned that you were the
area's most reputable coin dealer and I thought I would try to get an interview
with you before I leave town. I also met you associate the other day. A Mr.
Fielding? We bumped into one another at the Civil War exhibit."

"He’s been talking of nothing else since, Ms. Appleby.
And Mr. Huntington is an old friend. So you’d like an interview?" Mr.
Freeman could scarcely hide his pleasure. "I'd be delighted to accommodate
you. When would you like to schedule a meeting?"

Molly pressed ahead. "Actually, I was hoping to meet
you at your shop sometime today."

Mr. Freeman hesitated. "Well, I normally attend church
service at ten, but I could meet you around noon. Would that suit you?"

"Absolutely. I'll see you then." Molly hung up,
feeling elated at the thought of discovering the true nature of the enigmatic
Englishman.

~~~~~

Downstairs, Garrett and Clara were discussing the merits
of real butter over margarine when making Yorkshire pudding. Molly was relieved
to witness her mother's casual manner. She didn't want Garrett to realize that
she was on to him. Clara handed Molly a plate piled with scrambled eggs and
French toast while Garrett produced a winning smile for her behalf.

"I feel like I haven't seen you for days," he said
flirtatiously.

Molly glanced at him only briefly. "With two murders,
I'm sure none of us will be allowed to leave town anytime soon." Then she
forced herself to soften her tone. "I guess the D.C. show will be
postponed now."

"It does seem that way, indeed. And how will you two
lovely ladies pass a lazy Sunday?" he asked, handing Molly a pitcher
filled with warm maple syrup.

"Thanks." Molly drizzled a zigzag of syrup over
her toast. "We're going to go on that Canal Walk. Mrs. Hewell recommended
it as an entertaining source of exercise."

"That sounds brilliant." Garrett’s eyes sparkled
at the prospect. "Mind if I tag along?"

As Molly struggled to come up with a polite excuse why he
couldn't accompany them, Clara spoke up. "You don't want to come with us,
trust me. I need some fall clothes and we are going to hit every store in
Carytown until I find some decent sweater sets and a pair of black cotton
pants."

Molly wondered if Garrett would realize that it was highly
unlikely for such specialty boutiques to be open on a Sunday morning,
especially in Virginia. Most people would be at church until late morning.
Afterward, they’d go out for their large midday supper, and only then would the
shopkeepers open their doors. It was more likely that the majority of the shops
in Carytown would remain closed all day. Molly's forehead began to grow clammy
as she nervously studied Garrett to see whether he would catch Clara in a fib.

Luckily, Garrett grimaced playfully and gave off a shudder of
distaste instead. "Right. I think I'll pass on the shopping. Perhaps we'll
meet for dinner, then." He stood and took his empty plate into the
kitchen.

At that moment, Borris entered the dining room. His eyes
were red rimmed from lack of sleep and his salt-and-pepper hair remained
uncombed. His shirt was disheveled and the laces on his left sneaker were
completely untied. Saying nothing, he sank down in a chair and stared into the
empty coffee cup set before him.

Clara immediately filled his cup and began fixing him a
plate. "You might as well eat," she nagged gently.

 Borris robotically sipped some coffee and gazed down at his
food as if he didn't know what to do with it. "Has
she
already
eaten?" he asked angrily.

Molly glanced sideways at her mother. "Jessica's
gone," she replied very softy.

Twirling a forkful of eggs, Borris met Molly's eyes.
"Gone?"

"She had to go back to Charlotte," Molly
whispered. "She had no choice.

Jessica has to show the police the copy of her note—the one
telling her to keep quiet." From the kitchen, Molly could hear the sound
of riotous laughter. At least Garrett was too busy humoring Mrs. Hewell to
overhear their conversation.

Borris instantly grew alarmed. "Is she alone? Who knows
about this? She could be in danger." He flung his napkin on the ground,
stood, and then collapsed back into his chair again. "Of course, it's none
of my business is it?" He threw his arms up in anguish. "She wants
nothing to do with me. She told me to stay out of her life!"

Clara leaned forward and said sternly, "First of all,
Jessica is in the company of a police officer, so she's perfectly safe.
Secondly, she’s in love with you, you silly man. She thinks you won't accept
her know that you know about... her mistake, so she deliberately tried to push
you away."

Borris sat in stunned silence. "I don't care about
those damned coins! She loves me?" He straightened in his seat and his
eyes became lively. "Did she say that?"

"Yes." Molly jumped in encouragingly. "And
she doesn't have to come back to Richmond immediately, so—"

"I'm going to Charlotte!" Borris leaped up again.

"But you're not allowed to leave town, are you?"
Molly asked worriedly.

Borris paused in the doorway. "No, but I didn't kill
anyone, so I'm going." He fished around in his pants pocket and shyly
withdrew a small jewelry box. "I bought this ring a year ago, when we were
taping a show in Baltimore.

 Jessica appraised it for an older lady and kept talking
about what a wonderful piece of estate jewelry it was. A dark blue sapphire
surrounded by a small circle of diamonds. See?" Both Molly and Clara
admired the beautiful ring. "I followed the lady outside and bought it
from her. I know that Jess and I have only been friends since we've met, but
I've always wanted something more. After yesterday, I thought I'd throw the
damned thing in Richmond's James River, because she said she would never commit
to another relationship again. She said the first time was the man's fault, but
this time
she
was the bad seed. That I should wait for someone with a better
character. Imagine that? All she did was make some fake coins! I told her I
could easily forgive her, but she said she couldn't forgive herself."
Borris paused for air. "But if Jessica said she loves me, even if she said
it to
you
and not to
me
, then she's going to be wearing this ring
by the end of the day, so help me."

"You'd better at least let me tell the police where
you've gone," Molly warned.

"Fine, I’ll call them from the road," Borris
agreed. "But give me a head start, okay? Let me go after my girl."
Color flowed through his cheeks and a boyish smile appeared on his face,
lighting it with the expectation of bliss. "And wish me luck," he
said, taking the stairs up three at a time.

"Good luck!" Clara called after him. "I hope
they invite us to the wedding," she told Molly. "There's nothing like
eating a good piece of wedding cake while sipping a glass of champagne and
criticizing what everyone else is wearing. Come on, madam, let's get moving
ourselves."

~~~~~

"What is the Canal Walk?" Garrett asked Mrs.
Hewell as she loaded the breakfast plates into the dishwasher.

"Oh, it's a splendid little walking tour along the
James River. There's a tour group you can join for free. The walk takes about
ninety minutes and you'll hear all about the history of the two canals and get
a chance to burn off some of my Southern breakfasts."

Garrett nodded with interest. "And where would a chap
pick up this tour?"