by Ellery Adams
“If it isn’t Molly Appleby,” he said with a laugh. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“I need your help with something,” she said.
“Are you ready to work for me?”
“No.” Molly smiled. He’d offered her a job, which she’d politely turned down. She wouldn’t work for him in a million years, but she’d taken the offer as a compliment. “I’m trying to find some people and the Internet isn’t getting me anywhere.”
“Why don’t you ask your cop friend to help you out?”
“I don’t want to bother him with this, in case it doesn’t pan out.”
“All right. I’m intrigued. What are you up to?”
“I need the contact information for three people who owned the same house in Burlington where a murder was committed fifteen years ago.” She gave him a summary of the Pruett case. “I want to ask them if they have any idea how the coins ended up hidden in the bathroom vanity. Someone has to know how they got there.”
“Someone who was paranoid put them there,” he said. “I’m going to make a guess that it was some little old man or little old lady, but instead of hiding them under the mattress, they went one step further. Then they died, and no one knew they were there.”
“You could be right, but I won’t know unless I can find them to talk to them. Can you do it?”
“Of course I can. I’ve got a computer guy who works miracles. Text me their names.”
Molly thanked him, and after she hung up, she texted him the three names. She felt a great sense of relief, confident that Dyson or his computer guy would be able to get the information.
He called back twenty minutes later.
“Wow, that was quick,” she said.
“It didn’t take long. My guy said two of the men are dead.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Although it was not too surprising, since they had owned the house on Webster Street going back to the 1950s and 1970s. “What about the woman, Tracy Briggs?”
“He found her. She bought the house in 1978, and sold it in 1990 to Gloria and Stuart Wilcox. She was married at the time to a guy named Dennis Briggs. They divorced in 1990, and she moved to Lexington, Mass, where she still lives. I’ll text you her contact information. Are you going to call her?”
“Yes, absolutely. I hope she knows something about the coins, because if she doesn’t, I suppose I’ll never know who put them there, or why.”
“If she’s in the dark, let me know. I can run a check on the dead guys, see if they’ve got relatives you can talk to. I still like my idea about it being some paranoid old man or old lady.”
Molly shook her head. “You’re so crude. Text me Tracy’s info.”
He laughed, and ended the call, and a minute later his text came through. Molly wasted no time. She dialed Tracy Briggs’s number, prepared to leave a voice mail, but she picked up.
Molly introduced herself. “I write for Collector’s Weekly, an antiques and collectibles magazine. I’d like to ask you about a property you owned in Burlington, Vermont. It’s for an article I’m writing.”
“Do you have Facetime?”
“What? Ah, yes.”
“Good. I’m going to put this call on Facetime. I want to see some ID”
Molly opened Facetime, and a woman in her sixties appeared on the screen. She had curly gray hair, and wore round eyeglasses, which made her blue eyes look enormous. Molly showed her a driver’s license and her business card. “Is that enough ID?”
“Yes, it is. Thank you. You can never be too careful these days. I didn’t want to give you any information without knowing who you are. So, what’s this about?”
“There was a murder that took place—”
Tracy cut her off. “A murder? At the condo?”
Molly was confused. “What condo? It’s a house on Webster Street.”
“Oh, that house.” Tracy waved her hand. “I never lived there. I bought it for my father.”
Molly tried not to show her frustration, but all she could think about at that moment was that this was going to be complicated, and she didn’t want complicated, she wanted easy.
“Is your father still alive?”
“No, Dad died in 1990. I sold the house to a couple with a baby. I don’t remember their names.”
“It was Gloria and Stuart Wilcox.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” Tracy frowned. “Was it one of them who was killed? My God. What happened?”
“It wasn’t them. Did your father collect rare coins?”
“Yes. Why?”
Molly felt like fist-pumping the air, but she controlled herself, since Tracy could see her.
“The man who was killed was named Larry Pruett. He bought the house from Gloria Wilcox. About four years later, he was renovating the bathroom and found some coins hidden under a false floorboard someone had built under the vanity.”
Tracy laughed. “Oh, my gosh. It must have been my father. He loved to do woodwork, until he got too senile for it. What kind of coins are they?”
“They’re from the Civil War era. There were originally twenty-five coins. Only five have been found. They turned up recently in the course of another homicide investigation.”
Tracy was shocked. “Do you mean to say that those coins are the cause of two murders?”
Molly nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. I truly am. I feel like it’s my fault. I should have kept track of my father’s coin collection. He brought it with him when I moved him out of our family home in Culpepper, Virginia, after my mother died. He didn’t want to move.”
Molly smiled. “I thought I heard a soft Southern accent. You grew up in Virginia?”
“Yes. Our home has been in our family for generations. Dad was afraid we were going to sell it. I can hear you’ve got an accent, too. Where are you from originally?”
“North Carolina. We moved to Vermont for my husband’s work.”
“I loved living there, even though my marriage fell apart at the end.” Tracy sighed. “Anyway, my brother ended up buying the house, even though he was working overseas at the time, and couldn’t live there. Dad was happy it was going to stay in the family, and I was happy he was willing to come live in Vermont.”
“And you bought the house for him.”
“Yes. In 1978, it wasn’t expensive, and my ex and I were living in a condo, so he couldn’t move in with us. It was only a ten-minute walk to the Webster Street house.” Tracy smiled. “Dad was a stubborn, proud man. He wanted his independence. He lived on his own for years, until the dementia got bad, and I had to hire visiting nurses. He’d set up a little workshop in the garage, and puttered around the place. I suppose he hid the coins in the early stages of dementia. He kept his coin collection in the spare bedroom. I took it after he died, not realizing he’d squirreled some away.” Her gaze grew thoughtful. “I wonder if those are the same coins I found when I was a teenager. I was rooting around in my father’s desk for God knows what, and I came across this burlap bag filled with coins. I showed them to my brother, and he told me it must be loot stolen during the Civil War. I put them back, and never gave it another thought.”
Molly nodded. “The coins are actually worth a lot of money. They’re unaltered, in near original condition. Do you have any idea how your father came to have them?”
“Oh, yeah, I think I do.” Tracy smiled. “It’s a family story. Have you ever heard of Mosby’s Rangers?”
“Of course. Remember, I’m from North Carolina.” Molly had grown up hearing stories about Mosby’s Rangers, also known as Mosby’s Raiders, or Mosby’s Men. They made up the 43rd Battalion of the Virginia Cavalry, under the command of Colonel John S. Mosby, who was also known as the Gray Ghost. Known as a band of Confederate partisans, they struck fast and for the most part eluded capture. They were famous for disrupting Union communications and supply lines, stealing whatever treasures and money they could get their hands on.
Tracy s
aid, “I grew up hearing stories about Mosby’s Men because my great-grandfather, Tillis Lyons, was one of them. He was only eighteen when he joined, but he kept a journal. My brother has it. He took part in the Greenback Raid. Have you heard of it?”
“I don’t think so. What happened?”
“They derailed a Union train, and stole the money that was supposed to be used to pay Sheridan’s Army. They divided up the loot, and supposedly he used his share to build a home after the war ended. But there were other raids, too, ones he didn’t name in the journal. Just some cryptic notes about gold and jewelry, and money. I suppose the coins could have come from any one of those robberies.”
“Was he involved in the robbery in Fairfax County?”
“The one where they stole a treasure and buried it somewhere in the woods with the intention of coming back for it, but no one ever did?” Tracy laughed. “Not too bright, if you ask me, if someone didn’t make a note of the spot. It could still be out there.”
“I’ve always wondered if it’s a made-up story,” Molly said. “You would think by now, with all the development in that area, someone would have dug it up.”
“Yeah, you’d think so. Either that, or they really did hide it well.” Tracy smiled. “All this time, I never connected any of Dad’s coins to any of those raids, but now I’m wondering. I’ll have to check the dates. Honestly, they’re sitting in a closet. I never even look at them.”
“Your brother didn’t want any?”
Tracy shook her head. “He has no interest in the coins.”
Molly felt thrilled. She was certain she’d found the original owner of the coins, or at least his daughter. “Do you want the coins? Because if you do, I can give you the name of the detective in charge of the case. She could put you in touch with the victim’s son. Otherwise, they’ll most likely be returned to him, but he might be willing to work something out with you. Those five coins all together, sold at auction, would bring in around seventy thousand dollars.”
Tracy whistled. “That’s a lot of money,” she said. “I had no idea. Now I really will check out Dad’s coins. I could be sitting on top of a fortune.” She laughed. “I’d talk it over with my brother, but I know exactly what he’ll say, once I’ve explained everything.”
“And what is that?”
“We’ll take a pass, Molly. Let the victim’s son keep the coins. His father was murdered for them, and although I know it can’t heal his wounds, or replace his father, maybe the money can be put to good use somehow. My brother and I don’t need them.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, let me know. You’ve got my number.”
“I will.” Tracy smiled. “Thank you for calling. This has been a, well, fascinating discussion. Brings back a lot of memories of Dad. I miss him. Are your parents still alive?”
“Yes, my mother lives here in Vermont.” This was the first time Molly could remember anyone asking her about her father, after she’d met him. She was finally able to say, “My father lives in New York.”
Chapter 33
When Molly was a child, she loved trick-or-treating with her friends. They carried big pillowcases, and filled them up until they became too heavy to lug around anymore. Only then would they go back to her house and dump the candy out on the living room carpet, before heading out for round two of the neighborhood, then they would return home and swap candy.
I’ll swap you my Baby Ruth for those M&Ms.
Of course, being Molly, she wasn’t one to spend much time on a costume. Clara tried to interest her in elaborate creations that looked like something you would find on the pages of a magazine, but Molly never gave in to her mother’s whims. She insisted on simple. Her favorite go-to costume was a hippie, since it was easy to make. Her hair was already long, and all she had to do was add a headband, some bell-bottom jeans, and a cool denim jacket with peace patches bought at a vintage clothing store. Easy-peasy.
When it came time to choose a costume for Tyler, however, there was no getting around her mother. Clara was not going to allow her only grandchild to go out trick-or-treating as he had the previous year when Molly had pushed him around in his stroller as a baby hippie. She took him shopping, alone, and let him pick out his costume, which she later proudly displayed to Molly. Tyler was going as Spiderman. Molly tried to explain to her mother that he had no idea who Spiderman was, but Clara didn’t want to hear anything negative. Tyler was the one who had pointed the costume out to her, and Spiderman is what he was going to be.
Molly was excited about Halloween, not only because it would be the first time Tyler could actually walk around the block with them while holding hands, but because Starling and Lombardi would be announcing their engagement. Clara and Sean were still in the dark, and so was Molly’s father. After not hearing back from him, she had sent two more text messages, and left a voice mail, repeating her invitation. She was still hoping he would reply.
On the brunch menu was her Aunt Tessa’s pancake recipe, sausage, bacon, a veggie frittata, and a strawberry salad with basil and avocado. Matt was in charge of grilling the sausage and bacon, and he made the champagne mimosas. Bubbles had to be present for the engagement announcement. Starling made the salad, and her mother was bringing the frittata.
Clara and Sean arrived at eleven thirty on the dot. Lombardi walked in the door fifteen minutes later carrying two flower bouquets, red roses for Starling, and a hostess fall flower collection for Molly, made up of orange fall roses, yellow button mums, and burgundy carnations. Molly knew her gift was probably a smokescreen, to draw attention away from the red roses, since he and Starling weren’t even supposed to be dating anymore. Starling played her part well. She acted surprised, and innocent, and commented on how beautiful both of the bouquets were. Then she put them in separate vases, and set the vases on the sideboard in the dining room.
Clara took Tyler upstairs to dress him in his costume, despite Molly’s reservations about him eating with it on. When they came back downstairs, she made a big production of showing him off, asking Sean to play the original Spiderman theme song from the 1960s cartoon. It was the first time Tyler had ever heard it, and he loved the song. He danced in the middle of the room holding on to his grandmother’s hands, which inspired Lombardi to grab Starling’s hand and start twirling her around the room.
By the time the music ended, everyone was thirsty, including Molly and Matt, who were cooking. Starling poured mimosas, and Molly poured the last of the pancake batter on the griddle. Starling was a beautiful young woman, but Molly thought on that day she looked positively glowing. She couldn’t believe her mother hadn’t noticed. She had an eagle eye about such things.
When the bacon was done, Matt stirred the sizzling sausage. Molly’s pile of pancakes had grown in the chafing dish, the frittata was warming in the oven, and the salad was on the kitchen table. They had set everything up buffet style, and when everyone was together in the room, Lombardi tapped a spoon on his champagne flute to get their attention.
“Real quick, before we eat this wonderful meal, I want to thank Molly and Matt for hosting. I really can’t wait to go trick-or-treating with Tyler. But it’s also a special day for another reason, because Starling and I have an announcement to make.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “I asked her to marry me, and to my joy, and amazement, she said yes!”
Clara squealed with delight. “I knew something was up with those roses!”
Sean pumped his hand, and kissed Starling on the cheek. “Congratulations to both of you.”
Matt winked at Molly. They had kept the engagement a secret, and felt proud of themselves.
Lombardi reached into his pocket and took out a small jewelry box.
“Starling was very particular about the kind of ring she wanted,” he said. “You all know her love of antiques and vintage clothes.” He opened the box, and took out an emerald and diamond ring that Molly immediately recognized. “I have it on good authority that the previous owner of this ring was a
lovely, kind woman, who would have been thrilled to know that another lovely, kind woman would be its new caretaker.”
Starling blinked back tears. “Oh, Tony. It’s stunning. I love it.”
She hugged him, and everyone cheered. Over her shoulder, Lombardi glanced at Molly and gave her a big smile. He knew she had recognized the ring.
Matt lifted his glass. “A toast to the happy couple,” he said. “We are, all of us, extremely delighted to hear this fantastic news, and to welcome Tony, officially, to the family. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
Lombardi laughed. “I sure do, and I consider myself the luckiest man in the world.” He kissed Starling, and everyone drank to their future happiness. “I also want to take a moment to thank Molly, not only for being the best secret weapon a detective could hope for, but for being such a good friend. If we hadn’t met on a murder investigation years ago, while she was planning her wedding, no less, I never would have met Starling, and I wouldn’t be here right now, surrounded by people I love best in the world.”
Clara fanned her face with her hand. “Oh, my dear, if you keep going on like this, I’m going to need smelling salts.”
Matt said, “To Molly.” They lifted their glasses once more.
Molly laughed. “All right, enough of this touchy-feely stuff. It’s time to eat before it gets cold.”
A line formed, and after they had filled their plates and were seated around the dining room table, Lombardi, who was seated next to Molly, leaned over and said, “You knew about the engagement, didn’t you?”
Molly looked at him. “No, of course not.” She wasn’t going to throw Starling under the bus. “I’m really happy to see you bought the late Mrs. Pruett’s ring.”
