Illicit Artifacts
Page 1
Table of Contents
Synopsis
By the Author
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
About the Author
Books Available from Bold Strokes Books
Synopsis
Jil knew her foster mother, Elise, was sick. So why does her death seem so sudden?
Unable to shake the feeling that there’s more to this story, Jil begins unearthing secrets. Her quest leads her down unexpected paths teeming with uncomfortable questions about the woman she thought she knew. Why does Elise have stolen art in her home? And where did she get the substantial amount of money she’s left Jil in her will?
Jil and her lover, Jess, are used to confiding everything, but Jil just can’t let Jess into this part of her life. As she gets closer to learning the truth about Elise’s past, Jil collides with memories of her own past she thought she’d let go. Did she ever know Elise at all? Can she get a grip on what she’s discovered before her silence drives Jess away forever?
Illicit Artifacts
Brought to you by
eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Illicit Artifacts
© 2015 By Stevie Mikayne. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-458-2
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: November 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Jeanine Henning
By the Author
UnCatholic Conduct
Illicit Artifacts
Dedication
To the fabulous staff at the Carp Chiropractic Clinic. Thanks for letting me crash your space to get some writing done and for folding me into your crazy crew. (And yes, I do know you’ve been passing around a copy of UnCatholic Conduct, giggling to yourselves!) You’re inspiring, uplifting, and downright hilarious. Cheers to all the times—good, bad, and complicated.
With love,
Stevie
Chapter One
Jil stood in Elise’s forbidden library, staring for a moment at the old mahogany desk. The warm, spicy scent of old tobacco candles mixed with the lingering trace of Elise’s perfume that still clung to the heavy drapes. Smells triggered memories, right?
That’s why she felt like she’d just run into the broad side of a truck.
Elise’s essence wafted from the rich carpet that covered most of the floor—Jil felt like if she looked up into the loft, she’d find her sitting there in a pair of pince-nez, leafing through first edition volumes.
She put her hand to her chest as it constricted. She’d forgotten how physical grief could be. For the past three days, since Padraig had called to say Elise had died, she’d avoided this place—avoided coming home to find the house empty.
The silence in this space was tangible. She never would have come home if she didn’t have a funeral to prepare for.
She could wait to say good-bye.
A big part of her was rebelling against that as well. Screw the rituals. Screw the viewings and the hymns and the burials and the prayers. Elise would never be more missing to her than she was in her library at home.
Maybe if she let herself cry, the elephant on her chest would get the hell off and leave her in peace. Jil sat on the bottom step of the staircase and closed her eyes, letting the memories flash through her mind instead of pushing them under.
They would fade over time, like the smell of this room.
She would sell this house and someone else would live here.
She’d move on with her life and look back fondly on the woman who’d given her a home when she needed one and stayed with her long after the system said they should be separated.
She looked over to the two-story bookshelf—pristine, as usual.
The last time Jil was home, Elise had lent her materials from her precious collection to use on a case, and had insisted on talking about her will. Her impending death had been no surprise.
Then why did it seem so sudden?
Jil got up and paced the room. She felt a restless energy she usually only felt when she was about to crack a case. Only this time it was personal. She had to read Elise’s final directives—make a move toward laying her to rest.
She ran her fingers along the desk’s smooth wooden face panel, feeling for the spring that would unlatch the secret compartment. The panel shifted under her hand, popping up slightly, and Jil slid her hand in to recover the slender folder that contained Elise’s instructions.
She found a list containing the names and numbers of everyone she’d need to contact, including the lawyer whose name was sticky-noted to the front of the envelope marked “Will.”
Jil shuffled that envelope to the back. She didn’t want to see it.
The funeral home had called this morning, wanting to know if she would be bringing an outfit. They had the body and nothing to dress it with. Nobody else had keys, so she’d had to come over. Jil was as close to family as Elise had. Now the house would have to be sold. And the gutter was still falling off outside, as it had been on her last visit.
Maybe she could call the handyman before the lawyer listed the house…
The tile hallways echoed with the sound of her boot heels as she made her way upstairs to Elise’s bedroom, the folder in hand. The house still smelled as if Elise had just been in the kitchen cooking. She breathed in slowly, drinking in home for the last time.
Her phone buzzed. Jess. How’s it going? Need help?
Almost done, she texted back. Be home soon.
She walked into the bathroom, which gleamed with ornate fixtures and white marble. How had Elise had time to keep her bathroom this clean? The shower in particular was a blazing white that looked startling, even for Elise’s level of cleanliness.
Was she lonely?
; Trying to keep busy?
Scrubbing every inch of this house so Jil wouldn’t have to do it?
She sat for a second on the edge of the Roman tub, swallowing down tears. How could she be gone?
In the blue ceramic trash bin sat a bottle of cleaning solution. Jil took it out. It was unlike Elise not to recycle. Further evidence that she was tired. Not herself. “Sparkling white, then out of sight. Goes on strong and evaporates for a glistening shine!”
She caught herself mindlessly reading the directions: Mix one capful to a quart and spray on! and gave her head a shake. She had many more important things to be reading.
Garbage day wasn’t until next week. She put the cleaning solution back in the empty trash bin and turned the light off.
In the walk-in closet, she found a dry-cleaning bag hanging on the back of the door, a sticky note penned in Elise’s hand stuck to the front. For the funeral.
Jil grabbed the bag and the little makeup case next to it, into which Elise had packed some lipstick, a strand of pearls, and an ornate butterfly brooch she wanted to wear.
“Don’t you worry about grave robbers?” Jil had asked.
Elise laughed. “It’s costume jewelry. Not worth anything. Make sure to take off my emerald ring, though. That’s for you. And please remember my lipstick. I don’t want to look like a clown laid out in funeral makeup.”
As Jil packed up the last few items the funeral home needed, she heard the front door opening.
“Hello!” she called.
A slight young woman with dark strawberry blond hair and very pale skin stood in the foyer, clutching a bag with a medical emblem.
“Hello.” She smiled tentatively.
“Hi.” Jil landed on the last step. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Anastasia. The visiting aide? I’m here to help Elise with her shower and meal preparation.” Her brow creased as she looked beyond Jil without seeing Elise.
Jil stared at her for a second. “I’m…sorry,” she stammered at last. “Elise is dead.”
“Dead?” Anastasia said. “Oh dear. Oh, I didn’t know…nobody phoned me…I feel a right idiot coming here like this. I’m very sorry for your loss. You…you’re Jil?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I had no idea Elise even had a visiting aide. I suppose it would have been up to me to make phone calls. Sorry for wasting your time.”
“That’s no problem. It’s terrible for me to show up like this. I’ll let the agency know.”
Jil looked down at the white emblem on the navy background of her bag, which matched the one on her coat. She never could figure out what snakes and medicine had to do with one another.
“I just have a few medical supplies in a box in Elise’s room. I leave them here between visits. You know, to prevent spreading germs from one patient to another. Can I just fetch that back, and I’ll be out of your hair?”
Jil gestured toward the stairs. “Help yourself. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
The aide passed her, then tiptoed noiselessly up the stairs, and Jil turned her attention to the kettle in the kitchen.
She took down the tin of Irish breakfast tea—the tea she and Elise had loved to share. As she set it on the counter, the tin rattled.
Why?
Frowning, she shook the tin and heard something clatter inside. She opened the lid and sifted through the tea leaves. A sliver of silver glinted back at her from the bottom, and she pulled it out—a key.
If Elise had put a key in this tin, it could only have been meant for her.
So what did it open?
As the kettle whistled, Anastasia popped her head around the swinging door. She held a small cardboard box half-full of medical miscellanea. “Got it. Thanks for letting me in.”
“No trouble,” said Jil, turning to fill the teapot. “Would you like a cup?”
Anastasia hesitated, then put the cardboard box down and sat at the table, still wearing her coat.
Jil passed the milk and sugar and poured a cup of steaming black tea into Anastasia’s cup.
“She spoke of you often,” Anastasia said, stirring sugar in slowly. “You meant a lot to her.”
“I guess I should have been around a little more,” Jil returned. “Then I might have known she needed a visiting aide.”
“Only in the past few weeks. And only every few days. End of life can be a little…”
Jil set down her mug. “Gross?” Being terse seemed to displace the ache in her chest. She hoped she didn’t come across as unfeeling.
“Well, for lack of a better phrase…”
Jil noticed that Anastasia fidgeted with the gold bangle around her wrist. She probably made her nervous.
“Where will you go now?” she asked, trying to be kind. “More patients?”
“No. She was my last one for today.” Anastasia finished her tea. “Do let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Jil tried to smile. “Thanks.”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be the neighbors,” Anastasia said, standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder.
Jil looked at her quizzically. “Were you expecting someone?”
“No. But that’s what happens when somebody dies, I’m afraid. You’re bombarded with Bundt cakes and casseroles. I see it all the time.” She picked up her cup and carried it over to the sink. “I’ll leave you to your guests.”
“Great,” Jil muttered.
They walked to the front door, and as Jil opened it, Anastasia slipped past Mrs. Walowitz—the neighbor across the way—who held out a foil-wrapped dish.
“Jillienne darling, I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Walowitz cried. She wrapped Jil into a suffocating embrace with one arm and balanced the large casserole dish in the other. “Let me come in and make you some tea. Mrs. Franks will be over in a few minutes with a lovely banana bread she’s been making. We can all sit down and have a chat.”
Jil cringed inwardly but led the way to the kitchen. Just as she sat down, the doorbell rang again.
*
Jil hurried into the funeral home, turning down the stairs to avoid the visitation going on in the next room. The pungent scent of flowers hung thick in the air, mixed with the fine dust wafting from the formal furniture.
“I’m sorry to be late. Every neighbor on the block dropped by!”
The young funeral director looked up from her desk and smiled. Her blond hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but her red lipstick—a shade that came close to bordering on crimson—chafed against her navy uniform. A free spirit?
Her nameplate read Karrie.
“Hello. How can I help you?”
Jil held out her hand. “I’m Jillienne Kidd. I’m here to make the arrangements for Elise Fitzgerald.”
Karrie frowned. For a moment, she seemed frozen to her chair. Then she came around the desk to shake hands. “You’re Jil? I’m so sorry to be rude, but can you prove it?”
Jil took a step back but fished out her PI license and flashed it. “Didn’t know I needed ID.”
Karrie’s face had blanched, and she leaned back against the desk.
“What’s the matter?” Jil asked. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“Can you please excuse me for a moment?” Karrie pushed off the desk and rushed to the door. Jil heard muttered voices in the hallway, and moments later, Karrie reappeared, making an effort to compose herself.
“Jil, please sit down.”
Jil felt her stomach drop. “I’ll stand, thanks. What’s the problem?”
Karrie exhaled slowly. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, and I take full responsibility for the mistake I’ve made, but…Mrs. Fitzgerald left an heirloom meant for you in my care, and I’ve accidentally given it to someone else.”
“Who?” Jil demanded. “And what was it?”
“An emerald ring, I’m afraid. And the thing is…I thought I gave it to you.”
Jil raised her eyebrows. “Well, clearly you didn’t give it to me.
”
Karrie pushed her hand through her hair, undoing part of her carefully arranged bun. “The Jil Kidd I met looked almost exactly like you.”
“When did she get here?”
“Not half an hour ago. I only had time to give her the envelope, and she said she’d be back to make the final arrangements.”
Jil’s stomach plummeted. Someone was impersonating her. Why? “But I’m here instead.”
“Unfortunately, yes…um—that’s not what I meant.”
Jil felt her mouth twitch, but suppressed the urge to smile. “It’s okay. This is obviously not your fault.”
“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
“Really? Consider yourself lucky.” Jil bit her tongue. “Sorry. It’s a bit shocking to find out someone is pretending to be me. And just to get a ring?”
Karrie slid into her chair. “I’m so sorry. And worse, I have no idea how I’ll get it back for you.”
“Well, luckily for you, I’m a private investigator, so I’ll take care of that part.”
“Oh. Oh! That’s the best news I’ve had all day. My boss is just about ready to give me the axe. If we had a police investigation and the cops were here, he’d absolutely fire me. I’m pretty sure he’d kill me, actually. I’m not sure what to say, except once again, I’m so sorry.”
Jil shook her head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I will figure this out as soon as I have time. For now, my priority is this funeral. After that, I find out about my doppelganger.”
“I’ll admit, I’ll be glad to see this finished.”