Diary and Death
by Teresa Ives Lilly
Published by Forget Me Not Romances Copyright 2020
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means,or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The characters and events portrayed in the book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author
See Teresa’s other books at www.teresalilly.wordpress.com
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Chapter 1
“Wait right here, Bill. I won't be long.” Sylvia May spoke in short, clipped words as she unfolded herself from the taxi's back seat and swiped down her mid-calf length gray skirt.
“But Miss Sylvia, you know I might have a call come in, and I can't wait too long.” He spoke in a pleasant Southern drawl, which always turned people’s heads, since he lived in Maine.
Sylvia cocked her head sideways, her short-cropped silver hair remaining in place, then allowed a small smile to twitch across her face. Her eyes sparkled with mischievous laughter.
“Bill, you know everyone in town is here today. No one will be calling for a ride. Look around.” She slowly moved her arm in a semi-circle indicating the street and driveway jam packed with cars.
Bill, a fortyish, balding man with a gentle smile and piercing blue eyes, pressed his lips together. He knew there was no point in arguing with the older woman. After all, he was the one who always told his friends on the Wednesday night bowling league, “When a woman turns seventy, you just have to give the lady her way.” And Miss Sylvia was seventy-two.
“I’ll have to keep the meter running.” His voice sounded stern, but Sylvia noted his hand reaching across the front seat and pushing the meter lever to off, not that it mattered as they had a special deal worked out.
“You are a dear. I was just writing in my diary this morning about our unique relationship.”
“Relationship!” Bill's eyes bulged with surprise. “I’d say it’s more of a dictatorship. You give the commands, and I do the driving.”
Sylvia turned and gazed at the Mansion. This was one home in Maine she loved. It was considered one of the finest Italian Villa style homes in America. Built by the Pendecot family in 1858 near the city’s earliest gas and sewer lines, it boasted hot and cold running water, flushing toilets, central heating, gas lights, a servant call-bell system and wall to wall carpeting from day one. Over the last century and a half, the family changed the home very little, with the exception of modernizing only the essentials.
Sylvia noted the crowd near the front door of the old mansion beginning to move. She patted the large book bag hanging off her shoulder, which was currently empty.
“I promise not to be long,” she called back after turning and beginning to scuttle to join the crowd.
Bill sat back with a deep sigh. He knew what “not too long” meant when Miss Sylvia was on the hunt at an auction or estate sale for a handwritten diary.
There was no doubt, in a place as large as the Pendecot mansion, Miss Sylvia would be scouring every room for books and diaries to add to the unique collection she kept on hand at Good Old Days Antiques, which was nestled in the Harbor Inn Courtyard. She would be no less than one hour.
“Don't know what that woman sees in diaries written by other people, but she sure goes wild for them.”
Bill relaxed and closed his eyes. His bark was worse than his bite. He had a soft spot for Miss Sylvia and wasn’t about to go off on another call when she might need him.
“Morning, Miss Sylvia,” a heavy-set man in his late forties called out as Sylvia entered the mansion. Hubert Acorn was the Estate Sale Guru in Harbor Inn, Maine. He'd been raised in the business and took over after his father passed on. He had a boyish smile and friendly way about him, but Sylvia was aware that he knew the value of every item in the homes where he ran the estate sales. There was no haggling with him.
“Good morning, Hubert. Did you locate anything I would be interested in?” She eyed him carefully.
Hubert stepped closer and pulled her away from the front door so she wouldn't block the way. “Not this time, I’m sorry to say. It seems the whole lot of Pendecots didn’t believe in keeping track of their daily lives. I searched the bookshelves but found no diary.
A bit of the sparkle left her eyes. “Hmff. Well, I suppose there are other items I can purchase for my shop. Especially since next month is the Coast Drive Mile Long Yard Sale. I want to be well stocked. Those crazy people, who come from all over the United States, will buy almost anything.”
Hubert chuckled. “Well, it’s your turn to get the leftovers from this estate sale. I gave the last bunch to Hatty. There wasn’t much in that sale so she wanted me to give her the leftovers from this sale as well, but I told her it was your turn.”
Sylvia reached over and patted his hand. “Bless you, Hubert. I appreciate you dividing up the leftovers from estate sales to the different antique dealers in town. You could just donate them all to the Senior Thrift Store. However, I better stay out of Hatty’s way for a while. If she’s upset, I’m sure I’ll suffer, one way or another.”
“I’ll have Jennifer log everything that’s left over, box it up and have it delivered to your shop. Probably be two weeks. Of course, you can’t expect any jewels; the famous Pendecot jewels were lost.”
Sylvia cocked her head, “Hmm, jewels. I think I remember hearing about jewels.”
“Well, it seems there weren’t any jewels anywhere in the house; at least none have been found. They would be part of the estate, though, which would be quite a chunk of money.”
“Who gets the money?” Sylvia asked inquisitively.
“I’m not sure. They read the will a month ago, but family members have been pretty tight lipped. I was called in to do the estate sale. The lawyer, Drake Johnson, is in charge of getting the final check from me. He’ll be the one to tell me whom to make the check payable to.”
Sylvia smiled. Just then Hubert called out, “Jennifer, go help Mrs. Blackston. She’s trying to reach something on a shelf that’s too high for her.”
Miss Sylvia noted the girl behind the counter, smiling at a young man who was slung across a chair nearby. The girl jumped up and rushed across the room, just in time to catch a vase, which a woman almost toppled off the shelf.
“It must be nice to have your daughter here on summer vacation working for you.”
“It is, but it’s not just vacation. She’s finished with college now. Trying to decide if she wants to come into the business or not. It would be great, except that Jason Jones is hanging around her.” His brow furrowed.
“Jason seems like a nice young man.” Sylvia tried to smooth his ruffled feathers.
“I don’t trust him. He has a record, didn’t you know?”
“A juvenile record for breaking and entering the high school several years ago. He was with a group of boys who thought it would be funny to put peanut butter on the principal’s chair. I wouldn’t call that a real record. He does work for many people in town now. He just needs a good steady job. I wouldn’t worry about Jason and Jennifer.”
Hubert didn’t look convinced but shrugged and turned when he noticed someone waving for his attention. He excused himself.
Sylvia turned and faced the open floor plan and scanned the rooms. The gorgeous woodwork throughout the house pulled her attention. The spiral staircase seemed to call to her, but bedrooms usually held the least interesting things, so she decided to start on the downstairs floor.
Not the kitchen, or
living room. What she needed was a library.
Hmm, since there is no diary to worry about, I think I better start with the bookshelves. Never know when I might find a first edition.
Sylvia May took three steps in the direction of the library where she could see shelves loaded with books, but before she could go further, she noticed Hatty standing across the room, arms akimbo, staring at her. Sylvia took another step toward the library but Hatty moved quickly, pounded into the room and began pulling one book off the shelf at a time; flipping open to the first page.
There’s no point in looking at the books. Hatty is sure to make it unpleasant. I’ll leave those first editions to her this time. Sylvia turned, feeling irritated. She didn’t want to be in competition with Hatty, but ever since Hatty opened her Blue Willow Antiques across the square from Sylvia’s Good Old Days Antiques, Hatty’d considered herself in competition with Sylvia.
Well, the one thing I know Hatty won’t fight me for is larger pieces of furniture. Her shop is too small to hold them. Sylvia noted a large desk, shoved against the far wall. For now, she would start there, and work her way in any direction Hatty didn’t go in.
Sylvia pushed her way through the crowd, but she made a beeline for the desk. There were several large boxes sitting on top of the desk. She looked around, hoping to see Hubert, but decided he must be in another room, so she carefully lifted one of the boxes off the desk and set it on the floor here it could easily be found. She was surprised that the box was empty. The other few boxes were also empty.
It’s as if someone placed them here on purpose, to cover the desk.
Her eyes scanned the room again. No one seemed interested in what she was doing. If someone was trying to save this desk for themselves, they weren’t in the mansion now.
Sylvia stepped back to take in the whole desk. Although it needed a bit of work, she was amazed at its beauty. It was a Queen Anne Style Burr Walnut Leather Top Desk, probably from the 1920s. It was a pedestal desk with fine carvings all over. The top boasted three tooled leather inserts. The graduated drawers were serpentine shaped with the original brass handles and locks. The feet were carved from solid walnut.
Sylvia moved closer and slipped open the top drawer. There were several pens and a stack of paper in the drawer. She pulled out each drawer but found nothing else. Finally, she pulled out the front drawer, bent down and basically crawled under the desk hoping to find a date or inscription hidden under the drawer, but to her surprise, wedged at the far back, behind the drawer in an obviously added on secret compartment, was a black leather book. More than likely a ledger of household accounts.
Sylvia pulled the book from its hiding place, stood and stepped toward the window to get better lighting. Without her magnifying glasses, she could no longer read fine print, but in good lighting she could easily get by with most print.
When she opened the book to the first page, a rush of excitement shot through her. This was not a ledger.
The first page read, “The personal diary of Mrs. Mary Pendecot….”
Sylvia put the diary back into its hiding place and turned slowly around to see if anyone was watching her. When she saw Gathe Denver across the room, she held up a hand and waved. He was one of her favorite antique dealers. He always found good deals and passed them on to her. He’d recently married a girl from Texas named Tricia. It was a bit strange to see him here. He and Hubert were not on very good terms. They were both vying for the same estate sales in town.
Just then Sylvia saw Hubert again and waved him over. She pointed at the desk. “Hubert, I think I’d like this desk.”
Hubert’s eyes opened wide in shock. It wasn’t like Sylvia to purchase such a large item. She usually chose books, knick-knacks, and small end tables.
“It’s mighty big for your shop.”
“A bit, but I think I can turn it quickly. Besides it has some unique features I’m especially interested in.” She cocked her head and winked at him.
The man stared at her as if she were crazy. “Got something in your eye?”
Her shoulders shrugged. Hubert was a nice guy, a shrewd businessman, but a little dense around the edges.
“No, I’ll just take the desk. I’d like to pay for it now, before anyone else gets interested in it. There were some boxes sitting on it, as if someone had already laid claim.”
Hubert shook his head. “No one mentioned a desk. But I think it’s the same one that was in that article last week.”
“What article?”
“The Harbor Inn Gazette ran an article about lost jewels and missing coins from the Pendecot estate. No one knows exactly where they are, but that desk was in the main photograph of the article.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to get a copy. That’s probably why the desk wasn’t in a specific room, just pushed against the wall.”
Hubert wrote out a ticket and told her to take it up to the front door.
Before she reached the front, a tall, thin woman with greying hair approached. She wore a beige pencil skirt and pleated white button shirt.
“So, you’ve found my grandmother’s desk?” She looked directly at Sylvia, but her lips formed a thin line. There was nothing pleasant in her question.
“Oh, is it? Wasn’t it for sale? Hubert told me I could buy it.”
“Unfortunately, it was for sale, and Hubert just informed me you were purchasing it.”
Sylvia felt a wave of dismay. If she wasn’t able to purchase the desk, how would she get the diary.
“So, is it for sale or not?”
“Yes. I would love to purchase it, but I couldn’t get the funds, no matter what.”
Sylvia was taken aback. “But…but if you are the granddaughter… there should have been…”
“Indeed. There should’ve been plenty of money left to me. But my grandmother didn’t leave any money to and one in her family. There were some jewels I’d hoped she would leave to me. She knew how I loved them… But she left the entire estate to charity.”
Sylvia felt awkward; it was obvious the woman was bitter about this. “I’m very sorry, but I heard the jewels were lost.”
“I’d hoped to find a clue to where my grandmother hid them…” The woman’s voice faded away. “My grandmother used to write in an old book.”
Sylvia swallowed. She should tell this woman about the diary in the desk, but something held her tongue.
The woman stared at the desk and seemed to be mesmerized as she spoke. “I can remember as clearly as if it were yesterday, watching my grandmother sitting at that desk, writing…” her voice faded and her eyes met Sylvia’s.
Sylvia stood silent, wondering what to do or say. Estate sales were awkward enough, but to actually have to purchase items while family members were standing by was completely uncomfortable.
The women stepped to the desk and began pulling open the drawers. Sylvia watched her open each one and then slide it closed. Sylvia fidgeted with her purse, hoping the woman didn’t find the diary.
When the woman had opened and closed all of the drawers, she straightened, her face pale and even grimmer looking.
Sylvia put out her hand. “I’m Sylvia May, by the way. And you are?”
“Alice Pendecot.” The woman did not return Sylvia’s handshake.
“Do you live in the area?” Sylvia asked, edging her way to the front counter.
“No. I wasn’t able to get here until yesterday. I missed the reading of the will, but that doesn’t matter since no one in the family gets anything. After the estate sale, I’ll be heading home.”
“Where is home?”
“Georgia.”
Sylvia smiled; she had noted the southern drawl in the woman’s voice. “It was nice to meet you.”
The woman just turned and walked away.
That was strange. However, I can understand her attitude if she wanted to own this lovely desk. But it seemed like she was looking for something.
Sylvia frowned. By the way Alice was searching the drawers, she
wondered if the woman knew about the diary. Sylvia wanted to look around the sale a bit more, but the idea of leaving the diary behind worried her. Alice might come back once Sylvia was gone and find the book. Sylvia got down on her knees, crawled under the desk and plucked the diary out of its hiding place again. She slipped it into the bag on her shoulder; then she stood and looked around the room. Several people might’ve seen her, but Jason Jones was definitely staring at her. He leaned over and whispered something to Jennifer.
“Sooo, I found a few surprises on the bookshelves,” Hatty’s voice caused Sylvia to jump slightly. “There was even a first edition.”
Sylvia shrugged. She wanted to moan when Hatty told her the title of the book. She would love to have the book, but she wouldn’t have missed out on the diary, even for a first edition.
“I’m glad you found a great deal.” Sylvia stepped aside and began to head toward the front again. Hatty noticed the ticket in her hand.
“What are you purchasing, Sylvia?”
Sylvia sighed and pointed at the desk. Hatty’s eyes grew large, and Sylvia was sure they turned green with envy.
“That desk. But, well, you don’t usually purchase…”
“No, usually I look at books first.” Sylvia almost laughed when Hatty covered her mouth with her hand in surprise.
Maybe that will teach her not to shop the books first in the future.
“There’s been some talk about this desk,” Hatty stated.
“Really?” Sylvia asked.
“Yes, several stories going around. Something about jewels and coins.”
“I hadn’t heard anything.”
Hatty stepped closer and reached out as if to open a drawer. Sylvia cleared her throat.
“I’m purchasing the desk, Hatty.”
Hatty pulled her hand back as if she’d been burned. Her eyes squinted at Sylvia. “Did I see you slip something into your bag?”
Sylvia shook her head and walked away. She didn’t want to outright lie, but she wasn’t going to tell Hatty about the diary in her purse.
Diary and Death Page 1
