by Lynn Donovan
Horace Tabor and his wife strolled toward them. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams. Welcome to the Brown Palace.”
Ransom shook the man’s hand and kissed the gloved knuckle of Mrs. Tabor. She blushed and turned to Laurel. “Welcome, you two. We have arranged for private dining. Please, follow us.”
Laurel smiled and dipped her head in reply as she and Ransom followed the elder couple to a wide, carpeted staircase. They walked up two flights and across a corridor. Laurel peeked over the ornate iron railing. People sat at linen covered tables and wait staff scurried about like busy ants. The Tabors stopped in front of a room with double doors. Mr. Tabor pulled a skeleton key from his vest pocket and opened the door with one swift push, as if to present a surprise.
Inside, a beautiful crystal chandelier hung over a highly polished Queen Anne table surrounded by eight matching, high back chairs. Two attendants in black aprons over white shirts and black pants stood in the far corners, flanking the table, at the ready.
Mr. Tabor tipped his head, which set the waiters into motion, pulling out chairs for the ladies, unfolding pristine napkins with a flourish and handing them to Laurel and Mrs. Tabor, who placed them across their laps. Then the waiters turned their attention on the men, seating them, and placing the linen napkins in their laps. Glasses were filled with water. Wine was offered only to Ransom. He watched as a sampling was poured. Swirling the liquid in the glass then sniffing its bouquet, he gingerly sipped and set the stemware down. His eyes lifted to Horace, not the waiter. “That will do nicely.”
Mr. Tabor responded with the slightest nod, which set the waiter into motion again. He continued to fill four glasses next to each elegant setting. Gold flatware framed each plate. Laurel observed a very different Ransom from the one she had been with since Mr. Gordon sent them on their assignment. This one was arrogant and haughty. But appropriately so.
Laurel had not eaten in such regal style since her mother left, but she remembered well the etiquette of multiple forks and spoons. Her tummy rumbled in anticipation of the meal to come. She placed her hand at her waist and smiled at her hosts. “This is lovely.”
“We’re having one of our chef’s signature dishes.” Mrs. Tabor lifted her chin a notch. “Duck a l’Orange with wild rice and steamed vegetables.”
“Mmm. I love duck.” Laurel sighed.
Ransom glanced at her questioningly. “It’s not a common dish, have you had it often?”
“Oh.” Laurel’s eyes darted from the Tabors to Ransom. “I-I haven’t had it in a long time, but I remember that I loved the way my mother prepared it.”
“Oh, who is your mother, dear?” Mrs. Tabor smiled.
Laurel’s mouth dropped open, but she pulled it closed as quickly as possible. “Well, I—”
“My wife is not from Colorado, Mrs. Tabor, I’m sure you wouldn’t know her parents.”
“Oh, I see. Well, you must invite them to visit as soon as they can, my dear.”
Laurel glanced at Ransom with widened, apologetic eyes. “We will be sure to have them visit soon.”
“As newlyweds, I’d hope you’ll have big news soon.”
Laurel felt the heat fill her cheeks. She let her eyes dart to Ransom and back to Mrs. Tabor. “Well, one never knows what the Good Lord will bless upon us.” She smiled her best artificial smile. How rude of Mrs. Tabor to insinuate such an early announcement of a child. Besides, with this marriage arrangement, there would never be such a declaration. Laurel clenched her teeth to suppress the annoyance.
“Well said, my dear.” Mrs. Tabor patted her hand. “Ah, here is our first course.”
The meal was served in seven courses ending with a chocolate whipped dessert with a raspberry garnish served with fresh brewed coffee in elegant china cups and saucers. Mr. Tabor leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh of contentment.
“Now dear, don’t go getting sleepy.” Mrs. Tabor admonished her husband. “You promised the Williams’ entertainment at the Opera House.”
“Of course, my heart.” Horace straightened and cleared his throat. “I was just letting that good food settle before I escort you down the street.”
Mrs. Tabor’s shrill laugh seemed forced. Laurel sensed discord between them although they put on a good show to be cordial to one another. She glanced to Ransom to see if he too felt the tension building. If he did, it wasn’t apparent in his pleasant expression.
“Well, the walk will do us good,” Mrs. Tabor conceded.
“Yes. What will we see at the Opera House tonight?” Laurel tried to lighten the mood.
Mr. Tabor clapped his hands together and rubbed them mischievously. “A play we managed to finagle from Broadway called The Forty Thieves.”
Ransom’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “How apropos.”
Ransom walked with Horace, and Laurel tried to ignore Mrs. Tabor’s endless chatter. All through dinner, nothing had been mentioned about the artifact or anything else to bait the Ghost Thief, but the very fact that they were attending a play about forty thieves had to mean something. They entered the small wood-framed opera house so unlike Horace’s other buildings, which were opulent and built with bricks.
Horace paused in front of the poster prominently displayed in a miniature replica of the stage recessed in the wall and protected by a thick glass. A long sickle-shaped sword, called a Khopesh, she thought, was propped up in front of the poster, invoking the Middle-Eastern flavor of The Forty Thieves.
Other props were arranged in front of the poster to whet the watcher’s appetite for the adventure about to be enacted—a woven basket with the lid askew, suggesting an asp might slither out; huge multicolored gems of glass; a red rock and a gouged green rock, sitting amongst a scatter of gold-painted coins. Laurel assumed these items would have more significance after they saw the play.
Horace quite obviously stopped here to brag about the process and expense he had gone through to get this play here in Denver, before it closed in New York. The cost far exceeded what would seem to be reasonable for a business venture, but Horace, in his competitive style, thought it worth the cost for the notoriety of having a Broadway play in his humble Opera House. Laurel’s instincts were tingling, but she couldn’t discern why.
“Laurel.” Ransom’s voice cut through the haze of her mind. She turned to him, but realized she shouldn’t utter a word. She mumbled something about the display being fascinating and stumbled forward, clinging to Ransom’s arm for support. What was there to say exactly? She had a feeling. Nothing more.
Ransom led her up an expanse of carpeted stairs and through a curtained opening. Of course they had box seats and an excellent view of the stage. She sat beside Ransom in a gilded chair with red velvet padded seat and back. The Tabors sat behind them. Laurel’s eyes swept the rows of seating below. It was a small theater, unlike Mr. Tabor’s usual over-the-top design.
Perhaps he sensed her observation of the undersized playhouse, without her expressing anything contrary to being impressed, he offered up an excuse. “This theater is temporary. As time and money allows, we will erect a proper house for the operas and plays. It will be a Grand Opera House.” He grinned big and proud. “But in order to bring my dear wife the entertainment she so craves, I built this modest theater in less than three months.”
Laurel mouthed, Oh, and nodded as she turned around slowly. Surely her instincts were way off. Why would Tabor use a temporary, wooden structure to house such a priceless artifact? But why else would he bring them here. He knew they were looking for something unique and priceless to lure the Ghost Thief out. Wooden buildings were so vulnerable to fire and weather-related disasters. Horace would know the risk. Still there was something about that poster display. She knew it.
Her mind ran these questions through over and again as the gas lamps dimmed and the footlights brightened, while a heavy, dark curtain was drawn open. The play began. But Laurel remained focused on the seemingly innocent promotion in the lobby. Ali Baba chopped wood in a well-crafted paper m
âché forest. Laurel’s mind chopped through information, calculating what Horace Tabor was trying to show them.
Act Two, Ali Baba brings gold home to his wife, a terrible actress. Laurel wondered if Mrs. Tabor had overacted as poorly as the actress when Horace brought home his priceless statue.
Jars and cups, painted a dull yellow to simulate gold, lay at Ali Baba’s feet. The actor said his lines while digging in dirt—a hole to hide the treasure. Where had Horace hidden his treasure? Had he buried it? Why had he deliberately stopped at the display in the lobby?
Laurel’s father said Horace had hidden it somewhere, and wanted her to learn where that was. Mr. Tabor had brought her and Ransom to the shadow box for a reason. What was it in that display box that set her senses afire? She reviewed each item on display in her mind—the poster, the sword, the basket, the rocks. She’d seen two of them in the play… but what did the rocks have to do with the story? Especially, that green one that looked like it had been chipped or… carved—
She gasped and swirled in her seat to face Ransom.
It was there! In her memory, she had seen it but didn’t realize what it was. It was different than she had imagined. That was why she hadn’t recognized it right away. But it was there among the props—the ugly, gouged green rock was the jade statue from Ahhotep the Second’s tomb. Small but priceless nonetheless.
The tomb had been discovered in 1858 and then destroyed in 1859 by fire with no known artifacts salvaged. Or so the archeological community thought.
How on earth did Tabor acquire such a rare piece of history? Laurel’s head spun with the very idea that Tabor had this invaluable statue on display at his opera house, with no mention of what it was or where it had come from. In the shadow box it appeared to be a just another prop from the play. But Laurel now knew better.
How to get in? Laurel needed to look more closely at the recessed box. Surely Tabor had it securely locked. The opening had to be behind the wall.
Did Ransom see it too? Did he know, but wasn’t saying anything in front of the Tabors? How could he not? But then again, he wasn’t looking for the ancient artifact. He only knew he was needing an item, rare and expensive enough to draw out the Ghost Thief. She had to bring his attention to it. But how?
No. First, she needed to get word to her father that the artifact was here in the opera house. Perhaps during the intermission, she could excuse herself and get word to him. That is, if Mrs. Tabor would allow her a moment’s privacy to attend to a personal matter. Her mind reeled. She glanced around the theater. Surely a street urchin was available just outside the lobby doors. If she could get away from Mrs. Tabor—
Ransom squeezed her hand. She darted her eyes to his. Did he know? Or was she being so obviously distracted by her thoughts. His smile indicated he questioned her sudden movements. Her lips quivered a slight smile. She licked her lips. The desire to tell him what she knew screamed to be let out of her mouth. But she couldn’t reveal her knowledge. What Tabor had, and she hoped would offer as bait, had to appear to be unknown to her until Tabor pointed it out. If not, then her father’s entire plan would be ruined. As would her cover to become a Pinkerton agent. If those two things went awry, so did her freedom.
She had to be very, very careful not to reveal what she knew, and yet, she needed to get word to her father. How could she do both? Or should she wait until she and Ransom discussed this discovery? Her father needed to know what trap the chief would set for the Ghost Thief. Perhaps it would be better to wait until she could tell her father everything.
Then again, knowing her father… she looked around the theater. He might be here waiting for an opportunity to talk to her, like he had done twice now in the restaurants. Surely, he wouldn’t have a waiter spill something on Ransom in the theater? A chuckle escaped her mouth.
Ransom turned to her.
She lowered her chin to stifle the amusement. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his back.
All in good time, my dear husband.
CHAPTER NINE
House lights brightened. Applause and chatter filled the theater. A waiter parted the back curtains of the box seats, offering effervescent champagne in fluted glasses on polished silver trays.
“The first act was certainly exciting!” Laurel lifted her hand to decline the champagne. Her eyes met Ransom’s. She wanted to convey what she knew, but how could she? Unfortunately, he wasn’t a mind reader. But did he know? Had he figure it out too? Then again, how could he? He had no idea the artifact even existed.
“Could you excuse me?” Ransom and Laurel said at the same time. Laurel’s eyes darted to his. Did he know?
“But of course.” Mr. Tabor stepped back and aside. Mrs. Tabor took Laurel’s arm as she stepped up to pass the elder woman. “I’ll come with you dear.”
Laurel’s eyes darted to Ransom. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Tabor.” She cleared her throat. “But I… need to step outside… and get some fresh air.”
“Oh. Well.” Mrs. Tabor stammered. “Of course, dear. You and Mr. Williams go get your fresh air.” Mrs. Tabor reached for a tall glass of bubbly liquid and took a long, wanting sip. “Mr. Tabor and I will wait for you here.”
Frustration filled Mr. Tabor’s face with a grimace. “Perhaps I should check on the director, to be sure everything is alright for the second half of the play.”
Mrs. Tabor’s eyes dropped to the floor with despondency. “Alright, dear. I’ll wait here for the three of you.” She sat down hard and downed her champagne, then reached toward the steward for another. She seemed accustomed to disappointment. Laurel hesitated, but Tabor gestured for her and Ransom to go before him. Ransom smiled and escorted Laurel out of the box-seat area.
He walked quickly, pulling Laurel ahead of Tabor. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure. We thought we were invited to dinner and the theater so that an item for bait could be offered discretely, but—”
Ransom glanced over his shoulder. “But what?”
“Well, nothing has been discussed. I wonder if we missed something?”
“What do you mean?” Ransom kept his pace swift, as if to stay well ahead of Tabor’s hearing.
She had to be careful what she said, and how she said it. But this was her chance to reveal she suspected there was something of value in the poster display. “I’m not certain, but—” she peeked over her shoulder. “But why would he make such a big deal about the display? My gut tells me there’s something in with that poster that Tabor wanted us to notice.” She shook her head. “I can’t say what.”
Ransom nodded, thoughtful. “I thought it odd for him to make such a point to show us a shadow box also. Did you notice how thick the glass is? It’s as if it were something much more than just a display window.”
“Yes.” Laurel had the perfect opportunity to point out the overly sturdy structure of the shadow box. “I noticed that, too. It looked far more secure than just a simple wooden display case.”
“Shall we admire it once more?” Ransom grinned mischievously.
Laurel snickered. “Yes, let’s.”
He led her to the poster, slowing their pace as they neared the display. Tabor caught up and paused behind them, breathing heavily. “It’s a fascinating exhibit, don’t you think?
Laurel nodded.
Tabor’s grin faded. “Such trinkets to represent an intriguing play. All of significant value, I assure you. Yet, hidden here in plain sight.”
Laurel searched his face for meaning. Did he refer to the artifact? Surely he was hinting, waiting for one of them to realize what he truly had on display. Should she point the jade statue out? Or should she wait, and hope that Ransom would realize the jade was nowhere in the play?
She would give it a leap of faith. “A poster? Replicas of props? How can you boast of significant value in such things as these?”
“Look more closely, my dear.” Tabor’s grin returned.
Here was her chance, but she knew to tread carefully. She turned with Ransom a
s if to gaze upon the display. Perhaps it would take a bit of acting on her part. “Mr. Tabor, are you trying to show us something that would answer the question presented last night?”
“Ahh, that could be. Do you concur with the chief’s promise. Amnesty, unconditional forgiveness, shall be granted?”
“Of course.” Ransom turned to face Tabor. Laurel remained silent and let the two of them have this exchange. “Absolutely. Solving this case and bringing the Ghost Thief to justice is that important, as we said last night. If you have something valuable enough to lure the thief out, please let us know what it is.”
Tabor’s grin widened. He held an uplifted palm to the display. “Hidden in plain sight, my good man, yet inside an impenetrable vault. It may appear to be a cheap prop, but there is one item in there that you will not see in the play, ever. Because it’s not even from the same era of the forty thieves.”
Laurel jumped on his hint. “The jade statue!” she barely breathed the words.
Mr. Tabor’s eyes rounded. “Very astute of you, my dear.”
Ransom’s brows darted high on his forehead. He turned to address Tabor. “What is that statue?”
“A rare find, indeed.” Tabor took their elbows and directed them out onto the boardwalk. He glanced at the people walking past the theater. Once no one was within hearing distance he hissed the name. “Queen Ahhotep, the Second.”
Laurel feigned shock with a loud gasp. “You’re kidding! The female mummy found in Egypt in the seventeenth century? How—you must be teasing us, Mr. Tabor.”
“No, my dear. I am not offering a tease to you, but to the Ghost Thief, himself.”
