Uncovering Secrets: The Third Novel in the Rosemont Series

by Barbara Hinske

  Maggie shivered. “That’s gruesome. Why would the Martins have the Donaldson’s flatware? Maybe they bought it at a tag sale?”

  Judy shook her head. “Not likely. The Martins wouldn’t buy at a tag sale. It wouldn’t conform to the Victorian sense of propriety and status.”

  Maggie nodded. “What, then?”

  Judy leaned against the sideboard and contemplated the object in her hand. “They were probably friends with the Donaldsons—maybe very good friends. There weren’t that many rich people in town. Maybe they stored the flatware in the attic for the Donaldsons so that their bill collectors wouldn’t get it.”

  “Makes sense,” Maggie agreed. “Flatware is easily portable—they could liquidate a piece at a time. It wouldn’t be like trying to sell a tea set. And there are a few pieces missing.”

  “And when they killed themselves, the Martins just left it there. What else could they do? They couldn’t use it.”

  “Yes,” Maggie agreed. “They couldn’t sell it, either, because they wouldn’t want anyone to know that they had been helping the Donaldsons conceal assets from creditors.”

  The women exchanged a conspiratorial glance. “I’d use these, if I were you,” Judy said. “Just think of them as the ultimate conversation piece.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know about that. I’m finding them a little bit creepy and depressing. Plus, I really don’t like that crest. It looks like a raven perched on rocks.”

  “You need to get it appraised and insured. In fact, you should do that with all of this as soon as possible. You’ve got a small fortune spread out here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Maggie said. “I’m really glad you came over tonight.”

  “Let’s see what other treasures await,” Judy said with a gleam in her eye. “Look at these demitasse spoons with the zodiac symbols engraved on their handles. Do you know why they did this?”

  “No idea,” Maggie smiled, drawn in by Judy’s enthusiasm.

  “The Victorians were fascinated with astrology, of course, but they also would have used these to mark the seating arrangement. Any hostess worth her salt would have known the sign of each of her guests.”

  It was almost midnight when they finished their first pass around the table. Maggie was exhausted, but Judy seemed to gather steam as the night wore on. “We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow,” Judy said as Maggie ushered her to her car.

  “Nonsense. You’ve done enough already—I wouldn’t dream of interfering on your day off.” Maggie stated firmly. She was happy with her newly uncovered treasures, but she wanted to relax and spend the day with John. This stuff had been in her attic for almost a decade—a few weeks on her dining room table wouldn’t matter.

  “Nothing I’d rather do,” Judy replied in tones that indicated she would not be denied. “We need to catalog what you’ve got, and you’ll need to call your insurance agent first thing Monday morning. They’ll send an appraiser out here. We’ll start right after early church. Have the coffee on. See you tomorrow,” She patted Maggie’s arm. Maggie stifled a yawn and waved as Judy pulled away.

  Chapter 22

  Maggie opened an eye and looked at her bedside clock. Ugh, she thought. Time to get up and feed those kittens. “Come on, Eve, we’ve got to get moving.”

  She snatched her cell phone from the nightstand and headed downstairs. She checked for messages after she’d fed Eve and the kittens and found a text from John:

  Tied up at ER. No church for me. Will call later.

  Maggie sighed and wandered into her dining room. She flipped the switch to the chandelier and the room jumped into brilliance, the silver spread out on the table acting like a giant mirror. What a remarkable find, she thought. And what remarkable tales Judy Young will be telling about it. Maggie didn’t want word to get out. At least not until she had it all insured and safely stored.

  There would be no going back to bed for her. She’d get ready for church and be there in time to stop Judy before she got started.

  ***

  Maggie entered the parking lot at church forty minutes before the start of the first service. Judy pulled in behind her.

  “I’ve never known you to be here so early,” Judy called. “You normally slink in during the first hymn.”

  “I’m not that bad,” Maggie protested. “I’m in my pew at least thirty seconds before the processional.”

  “What’s up?” Judy asked, looking pointedly at Maggie.

  “I wanted to catch you,” Maggie stopped and pulled Judy aside. “I don’t want anyone to know about the silver. Not yet. I was thinking about what you said. I want to get it insured and have most of it stored before we let anyone know it’s at Rosemont.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Judy nodded. “I know I’m a blabbermouth, but I wasn’t going to say anything. You should talk to Sam Torres about installing a safe.”

  “Good suggestion. He and Joan are going to stop by this afternoon to pick up their kitten.”

  “That’ll leave you with how many?”

  “Four. David Wheeler took one, too.”

  Judy shook her head. “You’ve got your plate full.”

  Maggie stifled a yawn. “I hope I don’t fall asleep during the sermon. Someone kept me up very late last night.”

  She managed to stay awake during the service, aware of Judy’s watchful eye on her. She wasn’t concentrating on the pastor’s message or thinking about the silver, however. She was wrestling with the standstill in the investigations that were frustrating both Special Counsel Scanlon and Chief Thomas. She’d call her daughter in California this afternoon. Susan wasn’t a prosecutor, but her instincts as a high-powered litigator were dead on and her insights were invaluable. Susan would offer practical solutions. Talking things through with her always helped Maggie organize her thoughts.

  Maggie abruptly realized that the people on either side of her were standing. She reached for her hymnal and joined in the final hymn.

  Judy intercepted her as soon as she shook the pastor’s hand and stepped away. “Let’s skip the social hour and get back to work, shall we?”

  “Sure,” Maggie said as she and Judy headed to their cars. They were halfway there when Maggie heard her name being called from behind. She turned to find Glenn and Gloria Vaughn hurrying toward her.

  Maggie motioned for the elderly couple to stay where they were.

  “Darn it,” Judy muttered. “You’re sunk now.”

  “Sorry,” Maggie said over her shoulder to Judy. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll call you when I’m on my way home?”

  “Just try to keep it brief, okay?” Judy grumbled.

  Maggie smiled at Glenn and Gloria, newlyweds at seventy-seven and eighty-two, respectively, and accepted a hug from each of them.

  “How’s the best mayor in the United States?” Glenn asked.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Maggie replied.

  “Spirits a bit low, dear?” Gloria chimed in.

  “Things aren’t exactly coming up roses in Westbury—or hadn’t you heard?” she laughed.

  “You helped us get Fairview Terraces out of foreclosure. Don’t you forget that,” Glenn stated sternly. “This mess didn’t happen overnight, and it won’t get fixed overnight. You’re on the right track.”

  Maggie squeezed his arm. “That’s just the vote of confidence I need right now. As for Fairview Terraces, I think that your ideas to rent out the recreation hall to the Westbury West Coast Swing Society and sponsor a farmers market on your campus put your finances in the black.”

  Gloria beamed. “He did a great job, didn’t he?”

  “We didn’t call you over to brag about me,” Glenn said.

  “We heard you have kittens to give away,” Gloria interjected.

  Maggie laughed. “Word gets around in a small town, doesn’t it? Are you looking to get a new cat?”

  Glenn put his arm around Gloria. “Tabitha finally went to her reward a couple of weeks ago.”
/>   “I’m so sorry,” Maggie replied.

  “After seventeen wonderful years,” Gloria said. “She was a terrific companion.”

  “Gloria’s been miserable without her. I became quite fond of having a cat around, too. So we thought we’d adopt a stray. If you have some you’d like to find homes for, we’d love to help.”

  “Actually,” Maggie said, thinking, “That would be terrific. And they’ve just been weaned, so your timing is perfect. I started out with six kittens and two have been spoken for. I was going to keep all four of them, but that’s a bit much. Why don’t you stop by to see if any of them strike your fancy?”

  “How about this afternoon? Will you be home?”

  “That’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

  So much for a quiet Sunday afternoon at home, Maggie thought, shaking her head as she made her way to her car.

  ***

  Eve began barking while Maggie was upstairs, changing out of her church clothes. She quickly shrugged into an oversized sweater and her favorite pair of old jeans and raced downstairs to open the door for Judy.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” she said, sweeping past Maggie, bound for the dining room. “I was afraid you’d be stuck there for over an hour. People always want to corral you to suggest this or grumble about that. I feel sorry for you, I really do. As mayor, you can’t be off the clock, even at church on Sunday morning.”

  “That’s for sure,” Maggie replied. “I don’t dare run out to the grocery without my full hair and makeup, either. It gets to be a bit much.”

  Judy didn’t respond. She was already lost in the magical world represented by the objects on the dining room table. She pulled out her laptop and opened a blank spreadsheet. “I set this up while I was waiting for your call. This will be our inventory record,” she stated proudly.

  “Wow,” Maggie replied. “You’re so organized. This is really helpful.”

  “Let’s get started. We’ll begin with this nine-piece tea set. Hand me the teapot, will you?”

  Maggie complied. “Careful—it’s surprisingly heavy.”

  “Must be solid silver. This will be worth a fortune in silver content, alone.” She turned the elaborate item over in her hand and studied the silversmith’s mark. She let out a low whistle. “Maggie,” she said breathlessly, “this is Martin-Guillaume Biennais. Do you know how valuable this is?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

  “Him,” Judy corrected. “He was a French gold and silversmith in the late eighteenth century. He made items for Napoleon.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened.

  “I’ve seen his work in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I can’t even guess what this is worth.”

  Both women stared at each other.

  “Do you have a good camera?”

  “John does. And he knows how to use it.”

  “Good. We’ve got a job for him this afternoon. We’ll need photos of all of this. And you need to rent a safe deposit box for this.” She held Maggie’s gaze. “I don’t care what’s on your schedule. You need to get this out of Rosemont and into a vault.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll do just that.” And I’ll go to a bank in a nearby city. She didn’t trust her local banker to keep quiet. Some secrets couldn’t be kept in a small town.

  ***

  By the time John arrived to photograph the collection, they had cataloged valuable items by Tiffany, Gorham, and Lunt, as well as lovely pieces that bore no mark.

  “Quite the haul,” John remarked as he set to work. “Who’d want to polish all this? No wonder it was in the attic.”

  Judy shot him a reproachful look.

  Maggie addressed them both. “It’s obvious we’ve uncovered a significant collection of vintage silver, possibly worth a small fortune. I’m not sure what I want to do with it, or even if it’s all mine. They say possession is nine-tenths of the law, but I’m not so sure when you’re talking about items of this value.”

  John put his camera down.

  “We’re the only three people who know about this—other than David Wheeler. And he took little interest in it and has no idea of its value. For now—until we can sort this all out—I don’t want to breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  “Of course not,” Judy agreed. “I won’t tell a soul. And you shouldn’t be alone at Rosemont with all of this spread out.” She glanced at John. “Someone should stay here with you until all of it is secured.”

  John smiled. “That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all day.”

  “It’s settled, then. Let’s shut the doors to this room and keep this secret to ourselves, for now.”

  Chapter 23

  Eve began barking furiously, and Maggie was halfway to the front door before she heard the knock. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the entryway and couldn’t believe it was almost three o’clock. Her oldest and dearest friends in Westbury, Sam and Joan Torres, stamped their feet against the cold.

  “Is this a good time? You look like you’re in the middle of something,” Joan said, eyeing her tarnished apron.

  “Perfect time,” Maggie replied brightly, avoiding the implied question. “The kittens are in the laundry room. Follow me.”

  She turned and led the way past the closed dining room door, through the kitchen, and paused outside the laundry room. “It’s quiet in there, so they must be asleep. As soon as I open this door, they’ll wake up and start to scatter. They’ve gotten so much faster than the last time you saw them, Sam” Maggie said. “Get in there as fast as you can.”

  Sam cracked the door, and he and Joan slipped through. As predicted, the laundry room erupted into a scene of flying fur and plaintive meowing.

  Maggie eased into the room behind them. “I think you’ve got a favorite, don’t you, Sam?”

  Sam started to protest and Joan laughed. “He’s got a favorite, all right. Don’t try to fool us, Sam Torres,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “He’s told me all about the one with gray stripes and black hind feet. That one, I think.” She pointed to a kitten as it bounded over to Sam.

  Sam scooped him up and cradled him against his chest. Both women laughed. “Okay—I admit to being partial to this guy. But you can pick whichever one you want, sweetheart,” he said, turning to Joan. Sam handed her the kitten, and he nuzzled Joan’s neck, coming to rest under her chin. Joan beamed.

  “It looks like this one’s smart enough to know he’ll find the perfect home with both of you,” Maggie said.

  “Sweetheart?” Sam asked, hopefully.

  “He’s the one,” Joan said. “We’ve got a carrier in the car. Let’s get him home. We need to change and head over to Fairview Terraces. We’re teaching lessons at four and dancing starts at five. I thought you and John were going to join us. With a little practice, you’d both be good. And it’s tons of fun,” Joan turned to Maggie as Sam slipped out the door to retrieve the carrier.

  “We will,” Maggie hastily assured her. “It’s just been too hectic.”

  “You’re not working twenty-four hours a day, are you? All work and no play, you know.”

  “It’s not that,” Maggie replied. “Caring for these kittens has eaten up all of our free time. Once they’re a bit older, we’ll have time to attend.”

  “I’m holding you to it,” Joan said as Sam returned with the carrier. She extracted the kitten, claw by claw, from her sweater and placed him, protesting mightily, into the carrier.

  “Thank you,” Sam and Joan said in unison.

  Maggie smiled. “I’m thrilled he’s going to a loving home.”

  They exited the laundry room without allowing any additional escapees, and Maggie walked them to the door. “I’ve got some projects here that I’ll need help with,” she said to Sam. “Can you stop by next Saturday?”

  “Whatever you need,” he replied. “See you then.”

  Maggie was closing the front door when she glimpsed another car approaching through the trees that lined the long, wi
nding driveway up the hill to Rosemont. She paused in her doorway as Glenn Vaughn’s old Cadillac came into view. She waived as it pulled to a stop and Glenn got out and went around to the passenger side to open the door for Gloria. Maggie smiled. It was heartwarming to see the old-fashioned chivalry of these newlyweds.

  “What in the world are you doing, standing around in the cold?” Gloria fussed as they climbed the steps to the entryway.

  “Sam and Joan just left with their kitten,” Maggie replied. “I was closing the door when I saw you.”

  “Busy afternoon for you,” Glenn remarked.

  “I’m happy to get some of these guys adopted out,” Maggie replied. “They’re very cute, and I’ve had lots of fun with them, but six cats is a lot.”

  “Too many,” Gloria agreed.

  “But you don’t have to take one,” Maggie hastily added. “Only if you find one that you’d really like to have.”

  She retraced her steps to the laundry room and abandoned all hope of getting the elderly couple to quickly slide through the doorway. This time, however, it wasn’t necessary. The kittens were occupied dismantling a stack of paper grocery bags and paid no attention to the new visitors.

  Glenn and Gloria stood quietly and watched the inquisitive group. A tiny white kitten with gray tips on her fur finally broke away from her siblings and cautiously approached Gloria. She wound around Gloria’s feet in the familiar figure-eight pattern that cats favor and allowed Gloria to pick her up. Gloria cradled her gently, stroking her between the ears and along her back. She began to purr and Gloria nodded to Glenn.

  “Whatever you think, my dear,” he said quietly.

  Gloria turned to Maggie. “I’ve always thought that cats pick their owners, not the other way around.”

  Maggie nodded. “There’s some truth to that.”

  “This little gal has picked me, so I think we’re all set. How much is she?”

  “Nothing, of course,” Maggie replied. “I’m just thrilled you’re adopting her. Let me get you a cardboard box to take her home in.”