Daphne reached up with her hand to tap her nose—right on the nose. “I convinced my boss that I should be the one visiting your grandfather in prison. I told him he was too busy and that your grandfather was like a beloved uncle to me. He didn’t like the idea at first, but I wore him down. And you know what, I thought he was going to tell me. He seemed to be softening since I was the only one visiting him,” Daphne said, throwing Mom a nasty look. “Then he says, ‘I’ll take care of it.’ I pointed out that was a little difficult to do from where he was sitting, but he says, ‘I’ve written my daughter.’ Just like that. I was dismissed because he had a daughter,” she said with disgust.
Madelyn smiled at Mom, thinking being a daughter was a pretty good thing. Then, since she was willing to talk, Madelyn said, “So, were you the one who invited them out that night?”
“Aren’t you the clever one.” She laughed. “As a secretary, I’m invisible. I call and say, ‘Mr. Musil wants to meet with you,’ or ‘Mr. Musil wants to invite you out for drinks,’ or ‘Mr. Musil recommends this defense attorney.’ No one thinks I’m doing it. It’s the attorney, the great Mr. Musil.” Her laughter turned to snickers. “What a fool. My boss was actually going to return that painting to France. They aren’t even searching for it. They assumed it was lost long ago in the war, never to be recovered. It was the perfect opportunity, and he wouldn’t see it for what it was.”
“Who did it? Who actually killed him? Who killed Mr. Holliwell?”
“Those two so-called witnesses. It was a two-for-one deal. They’re in the wind now, on to their next job, I suppose. I got to set up your grandfather, get him out of the way, and take care of a loose end all at the same time.”
Just then, one more person entered the room—Thinker.
Daphne smiled. “Let me introduce you to Robert Forrest. He’s been a great help to me.”
She reached over to kiss him on the cheek, but he pulled back. Instead, he grabbed her gun and turned it on her. “I think this stops here.” The surprise on her face made him laugh. “You never fooled me, you know. I’m not the boyfriend. That would be your beloved Peter Bruce, now wouldn’t it?”
She again registered surprise and tried to mutter a denial.
“You didn’t think I knew, did you?” He said. “I’ve gone along for the ride on this one, but I’m done.”
“But … but, you came and got me. You told me they were here finding the painting. You …”
He laughed. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? I’ve been camped out in the hallway, just waiting for you to spill the whole story. I figured you couldn’t resist bragging about your own brilliance.”
“I never, I…” Her face was red.
“Officers? Have you heard enough?” Robert called to the hallway. Several officers came into the room, with handcuffs and grins.
Madelyn surprised Robert—who would forever be Thinker to her—by throwing her arms around him. “Thank you!”
He looked chagrined. “You shouldn’t thank me. I was knee deep in this myself, until … well, until today.”
“Why until today?”
“I have a sister who has Down syndrome. She’s an adult, but she’ll always be a child, a very special child. This place … this is a wonderful place. I couldn’t go through with it. I fought back when your uncle attacked, but then I was sorry I did. I started wishing he had come off victor.”
He was shaking his head. “I’m ashamed of my actions. Your uncle is just as loving as my sister. I had to make things right for him—for my sister. She would never understand what I’ve gotten myself mixed up in.” He gave Madelyn a rueful smile. “I’m still likely going to jail, but I’m okay with that. I’ll do my time. But after that—never again.”
“I believe you,” Madelyn said, and he smiled in appreciation.
. . .
The rest of the day was a blur. They took Uncle Tommy back with them to Aunt Dory’s for the night. Even though their home was now safe, it was comforting to stay there. She did have to scramble a bit to make another bed for Uncle Tommy, but she arranged some blankets on the floor of the family room and called it good. He was just another one of the family, and she was glad to have him.
There had been a hurried call to Dad, but it consisted of Mom saying, “Just want you to know everything’s fine. All the danger is past, but I’m too tired to explain. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Everyone had questions, but they put them off for just one day.
“Dory, you may as well call and invite Zane and Delia to come over in the morning too,” Mom mumbled, just before drifting off into a heavy sleep.
Tuesday
Retelling their story to everyone present turned out to be almost as exhausting as living it, but without any of the worry since they knew how it would all turn out. As they were finishing their tale, there was a knock at the door. It was Officer Patterson, the police officer who had taken their statements the day Mom and Madelyn had been followed.
“I just thought you’d like to know that everyone is behind bars including Peter Bruce and the two witnesses who actually killed Mr. Holliwell. It turns out they weren’t in the wind as much as Daphne McDonald believed.”
“What happened to Thinker? I mean Robert Forrest?” Madelyn said.
“Well, we’ve been interrogating everyone much of the night. Mr. Forrest was quick to turn on the others. I can’t say for sure yet, but it’s likely he’ll get off easy because of it.” Madelyn smiled.
“It turns out Peter Bruce is guilty of incompetence and giving his girlfriend, Daphne McDonald, the names of former clients to help with her scheme,” he continued. “But he didn’t actually know anything about the painting or even the murder. Miss McDonald has been manipulating him all along. He is, however, facing serious charges for aiding and abetting, as well as encouraging those former clients to break parole. At the bare minimum, he’ll lose his law license.”
“How long has Daphne, Miss McDonald, been planning this?” Mom said.
“She claims that originally she wasn’t going to steal anything. But it appears once the appraiser’s report crossed her desk, greed got the better of her. That report said the artwork was likely a long-lost Renaissance painting. The artist wasn’t known in his own right, but he painted in Leonardo da Vinci’s studio. That’s enough to make it very valuable.”
“No kidding,” Aunt Dory said. “Just the thought that Leonardo may have hovered over that work, adding a stray brush mark, or directing parts of its composition … Can you just imagine? That would make the public salivate.”
Officer Patterson was nodding. “Miss McDonald knew it, and she couldn’t let it go. Her plan, as we’ve pieced it together, was to find the painting and hold on to it long enough for William Knight to disappear—one way or another. The appraiser was next on her hit list, once he verified she had the right painting.”
“Oh, I was wondering about him,” Jillian said. Young as she was, she appreciated the gravity of the situation.
“Yes. Then Miss McDonald’s plan was to claim finding the painting in an attic. The ensuing feeding frenzy would have her set for life.”
None of them could disagree. “Thank you for being kind enough to personally come by to tell us,” Mom said.
“My pleasure, Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat on his way out the door.
“Well, I was going to call your dad tonight and tell him everything,” Mom said, “but now there’s a whole lot more to tell.”
. . .
The one mystery that remained was the painting itself. They all wanted to see what the fuss was about, even Uncle Tommy, who was usually eager to get back to the workshop and his routines. But even though they’d waited this
long, they decided to wait just a little bit longer.
Tuesday afternoon, promptly at 3:30, Miss Jane Wentwood rang the doorbell of Aunt Dory’s home. When they called the Denver Art Museum that morning, it had taken some doing to get them to believe the story they were relating. But once it was believed, they were treated like royalty. Miss Wentwood jumped at the chance to come personally to secure the health of the “painting in question,” as she called it.
Jane, as she told them to call her, gloved her hands then laid out a protective coating on the dining room table. They could tell she would have preferred doing this in a museum setting instead of an unknown environment like Aunt Dory’s kitchen, but it was the deal they offered her.
Even Daniel drew in a breath as the painting was unrolled before them. Small, yet with exquisite detail, it was a portraiture of two figures—a woman and a child. Madelyn’s gaze was first drawn to the woman’s fingers. They were graceful and delicate, hanging in the air, yet posed as if she might pluck a rose to smell. Her wrist was touched with lace attached to a vibrant green dress. Sparkling jewels—how a painting could portray sparkling jewels was beyond Madelyn’s understanding, but sparkle they did—were sewn in a line the length of the sleeve. They ended at the neck, where the scooped-out neckline was filled in with the daintiest of lace, painted in elegant detail. Her auburn hair was pulled back under a lace cap, and her expression was one of pure contentment.
The other figure, though smaller, was just as richly attired. She wore a rose-pink gown with white lace at the wrist, around her waist, and along the neckline. A thin gold necklace lay on top of her dress, and her hands were folded neatly in her lap.
The second figure was clearly the woman’s daughter. She was gazing up at her mother with adoration and something Madelyn could only describe as trust. Madelyn glanced up at her own mother. Mom’s eyes left the painting and connected with Madelyn’s.
“Wow. They’re just like you, Madly and Sissy. Only they’re a lot richer,” Uncle Tommy said.
Madelyn’s eyes never left her mom’s. There were many ways to be rich, and she was feeling pretty wealthy at the moment.
Wednesday
Madelyn answered the phone around lunchtime the next day. On the other end was a cheerful Officer Patterson. “Thought you’d like to hear how things are wrapping up.”
“Yes. Do you want me to get my mom?”
“It seems to me you’ve been in the middle of this enough. I can pass it along to you, if you’d like.”
“I knew I liked you,” Madelyn said. “Go ahead.”
“Well, last night Mr. Bruce learned Robert Forrest was talking. Once that happened, he started to spew forth anything he could think of. It seems potential jail time as a crooked lawyer wasn’t one of his life goals.” He chuckled. “He hadn’t been let in on any schemes, but he figured out a lot of it on his own.”
“That’s surprising.”
He laughed again. “That’s what I thought. And, of course, Daphne McDonald, as a lawyer’s secretary, won’t be in much better shape in the general prison population, and her crimes were far worse. So, you can guess what that means.”
“She’s tattling on everyone else, trying to blame them?”
“Exactly. It seems everyone involved is having a contest to see who can throw whom under the bus the fastest. However,” he continued to chuckle, “according to the district attorney, none of them will be getting off. Robert Forrest is the only one being accorded that privilege.”
Mom walked into the room where Madelyn was on the phone. “Who’s that? I need to use the phone.”
“Just a minute,” Madelyn whispered to her. “Thank you so much for the update. My mom’s going to love it.”
“You’re most welcome,” Officer Patterson said before saying goodbye.
Mom was pleased, as was everyone else. But after sharing her information, Madelyn noticed her mom quickly picking up the phone to make several phone calls.
“What’s she up to?” Madelyn asked Aunt Dory.
“There’s a lot to be worked out. You know how we let Miss Wentwood take the painting for safekeeping yesterday?” Madelyn nodded. “Well, they’re having people authenticate it today then they’re offering to clean and restore it. So, your mom’s been on the phone off and on with them all morning.”
Just then Mom hung up the phone. “Madelyn, I’m heading down to Ross Musil’s office in a few minutes. Would you like to go with me?”
“Sure,” Madelyn said, but then a picture came into her head of Mr. Musil’s office—including his secretary’s desk, the desk of the woman who had caused them so much trouble and heartache. “You know, I think I’ll stay here instead.”
“Are you sure? If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have figured any of this out.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Once Mom left, Madelyn wandered aimlessly around Aunt Dory’s house, eventually making her way to her own home. She walked in and out of rooms, turning on and off lights, touching doorframes, walls, pictures on the wall. It was as if she were claiming it again, making it hers, making it ready for her family again.
She paused at the door to Dad’s study. It would be good, yet odd, to share it with him again. She had slipped The Hobbit into her pocket, and now she pulled it out. Stepping just inside the room, she opened it at the bookmark. The second to last chapter stared back at her—The Return Journey. Madelyn pulled it in close and made her way to one of his easy chairs, sinking into its comforting embrace.
Before beginning to read, Madelyn reached up to release her hair from its ponytail—only to discover it wasn’t in a ponytail at all. In fact, other than keeping it out of her eyes while weeding, Madelyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually put it in one.
Snuggling down into her chair, Madelyn settled in for her last read. When she finished the last page some time later, she hugged the book to her. “I can’t wait to tell Mom,” she said, hopping up out of the chair.
She found her in Aunt Dory’s laundry room, washing a few of their things. “I see you’re back. When I got home and you weren’t here, I wondered where you’d gone, but Daniel came and told me,” Mom said.
“He knew where I was? How? I didn’t see him.”
Mom laughed. “He was probably spying through the window or something. What did you expect from Daniel?”
“Oh, right. I guess it’s good he’s back to normal, isn’t it?” Madelyn said, and Mom nodded. “You know, I think I’ll go find Jilly. She might like to play a game, or maybe I can braid her hair.” Madelyn started to walk out of the room when she remembered the book in her hand. “Oh, Mom, look,” she said, holding up The Hobbit. “I finished it. It’s all done.”
“That’s great. What shall we do to celebrate?”
“Why don’t I start reading it to you? And then you can read something to me.”
“I’d like that,” Mom said.
Thursday
After breakfast on Thursday, Mom announced, “Today is moving day. It’s time we live in our own home again. Dory’s been wonderful, but we’ve stayed here long enough.”
Aunt Dory surprised them by tearing up. “I can’t say it won’t be nice to have my house back to myself, but I’m going to miss having you all around.”
“Well, we’re just next door—and we’re not strangers anymore,” Mom said while the others leaped up to embrace Aunt Dory.
“Oh, and one more thing. Zane and Delia will be here right after lunch to help.” Madelyn had trouble hiding her smile.
. . .
When Zane and Delia arrived, Mom was just getting off the phone. She was trying to keep a straight face, but the light in her eyes g
ave her away.
“What’s up, Mom?”
“Well, I just had two phone calls. First, the museum called to tell me about the painting. It’s been authenticated. It really is from an artist in Leonardo’s studio.”
Everyone cheered. “That’s great, Mrs. Osborne,” Zane said.
“Yes, it is. And they also said the restoration should go quickly. They expect to be done by the end of September. Fortunately, this dry Colorado air was a godsend. You couple that with the careful and, until recently, undisturbed wrapping, and the painting is in remarkable shape.” Then she got a twinkle in her eye. “But that’s not the best news.”
“It isn’t?” Madelyn said. “What is then?”
“That last phone call was from Ross Musil. Pop’s coming home!” She couldn’t continue as tears streamed down her cheeks. The only sound for the next several minutes was the sniffles as everyone choked back tears or, in Madelyn’s case, let them flow unabashedly.
When Mom found her voice again, she said, “Mr. Musil has been very helpful. This isn’t his specialty, but he’s been hovering over the lawyers working on Pop’s case. He should officially be cleared and released in the next few weeks. And then-” she paused, looking around at the group, “on Monday, October 13th, our whole family, including Tommy and Dory, of course, will be accompanying Pop as he returns the restored painting to the church where it hung before the war.”
“That will be the painting’s true restoration, won’t it?” Madelyn said. Mom nodded.
. . .
Moving took much of the afternoon, but it was pleasant, and they didn’t hurry themselves along. “I can’t believe we ended up with this much stuff at Aunt Dory’s,” Madelyn said to Zane, as they carried yet another load of clothes and towels.
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