by Penny Brooke
The book was a reprint of collected stories and writings about significant art and antiquities that, at one time or another, were considered remarkable and highly valuable. I paged through the book casually. It was very interesting to read and a good place to research the history of many pieces or replicas I already had in the store. There was a knock on the door, and Sylvia came in with a tray of milk and brownies. “Thought you could use a little snack while you read,” she told me, and I wondered how she knew what I was doing. I supposed she could have seen me pass by downstairs with the book in my hand.
“Thank you, how thoughtful. That looks good, and yes, this is interesting reading. No telling how much good information is down there in my aunt’s library.”
“A lady as pretty as you shouldn’t be spending her nights with a book, if you ask me,” Sylvia continued.
I blushed. “I’m fine, but thank you for saying that.”
She left, and I wondered what had prompted her to say that. Did I appear love-starved? That thought suddenly clicked. I’d bet money that Gretchen, my romance-addicted friend, had been behind it. Gretchen meant well, but her life was measured by engagement rings and alimony checks.
I read late into the night and was about to turn out the light when the book fell open; the words on the page caught my eye. I snapped upright as I read, a smile creeping over my face. Afterward, the light went out, and so did I. I’d found what I was looking for.
Things were hectic that next morning as the guests were eating breakfast, asking for boxed lunches, and wanting maps of Tempest. They’d gotten the idea that the treasure was waiting for them; they had only to scoop it up, and they’d be rich. Such stories spread quickly, and while I enjoyed the unexpected business, I didn’t want our guests to think they’d been somehow misled.
I helped Sylvia prepare the boxed lunches, and Gretchen ran down to the Chamber of Commerce and brought back souvenir maps. Apparently, we weren’t the only business in town to benefit from the excitement. The normally-empty winter parking places along Main Street were filled and the restaurant traffic had taken up standing in line on the cold sidewalk, waiting for seats. It was like the Harvest Festival all over again, but not entirely.
Just as I was hanging up my apron, the front door opened, and Peter walked in. “Thought I might find you here,” he said. “We need to talk.”
I motioned him into the library. “Let me guess. The Stolen Heart has gone missing again.”
“How did you know? Did you have something to do with it?”
“No, and if you ask me that one more time, we’re going to have a big problem, you and I. Here, sit down in front of the fire, and I’d like to talk to you. After that, I hope I have the answer, even though you may not like it.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” I motioned to the wingback, and we waited as the grandfather clock struck nine. “I made a visit to the dear Ms. Tyson.”
“You did? What prompted you to do that?”
“Actually, it was something Sylvia said. She was commenting about how much drama this house had seen, and I could tell she was a little spooked by it. I realized that that darn pendant was disrupting peoples’ lives, and they’d have nothing to show for it afterward. I mean, look what it’s done to you and to me?”
He nodded with a grimace.
“So, I realized that as much as I didn’t want to be involved in the robbery, I was already in, and it was up to me to do my best to fix things and find the necklace. I needed every bit of evidence and facts that anyone had—even if that included Bernette. So, I swallowed my pride and went over.”
“And?”
“It was miserable, but I survived. Actually, she didn’t help me at all with my search, but she did contribute some interesting information that I think you should know.”
“Which is?”
“Our dear little carny fortune teller, Marlena, is in truth a thief and a blackmailer. She bragged about it to Bernette in an effort to either intimidate or impress her. Apparently, she picks up men, sleeps with them, and then blackmails them to pay up or she will tell their wives.”
Peter’s hand went up to his chin. “Hmm… interesting. But I can’t just go out and arrest her based on Bernette’s claims.”
“No, I don’t imagine you can. But you can do a little background check on her and find out some of her past victims, I’ll bet. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince one or two to press charges, and then you’ll have either blackmail or prostitution, however you look at it. You might also find that Marlena tends to collect things that don’t belong to her. I don’t think you’ll find The Stolen Heart with her, because she doesn’t have that much power. But you might find some other items that have been reported stolen. At any rate, she deserved the time she spent in your jail and then some. I’ll leave that up to you.” I stood up and looked at him. “As for the rest, I want to get everyone together and do this one time with everyone present. Can you go and get Henry and bring him back here, please? Oh, and Bernette, too, as loathsome as that sounds. I wish you could get Marlena, but I’m pretty sure neither she nor Elliott will come, even if you do find them.”
“Does it have to be that complicated?”
“Can we just do it my way for once?”
He gave me a lopsided grin and stood up to hug me. “Okay, Fiona. Yes, you’ve earned doing it your way. I should be back within the hour.”
“See you then.”
“Sylvia, I’d like you to prepare coffee and something simple for a handful of guests who will be coming to the dining room within the hour. Tell Gretchen to be there, as well as you, and I’ll try to find Fred. The guests are out for now, which is ideal.”
18
Ouila
Sylvia brought in the trays of sandwiches and coffee and set them on the buffet before taking her seat at the huge oak table in our dining room. I was waiting, the bowling ball bag and the book in front of me. One by one, each of the people I’d requested filed in, including Marlena. I knew Bernette called her. I’d suspected the two had been thick as thieves, pun intended, since my visit. That was fine. It just served to bring Marlena within Peter’s reach if he decided to act.
I’d dragged Fred out of bed, and he found his way downstairs at the promise of fresh blueberry muffins. Even then, he sat at the opposite end of the table, two thickly buttered muffins on the plate before him. He gulped his hot coffee and shook himself like a dog in a rainstorm. Peter looked at him. “A little too much last night, Fred?” he asked dryly, earning himself a glare.
I tapped my spoon on the side of my coffee mug. “Before we get started, I’d like to ask everyone to remain seated until excused. There’s a lot to this, and I need your attention, not your arguments. I’m going to reconstruct what I believe has happened, and while it may not be entirely accurate, I think it will still be convincing enough for even the most skeptical in this room.”
Lizzie Borden wandered in, and I pointed to her bed. She hung her head a little, sniffing at the delicious smells in the room, but obliged me by trotting to her bed and lying down.
“Now, as all of you know, I used to be an investigative reporter. Fred, here, was my boss. I’d had enough of crime scenes and moved back here to my hometown to find peace and quiet. Since my return, I’ve had anything but peace and quiet, but that’s okay. At least it’s at my speed. So, now, to recap. Henry Lowden, who all you know, sponsored the exhibit for the pendant necklace, The Stolen Heart, for the duration of the Harvest Festival. This was not an inexpensive undertaking because he had to shoulder the cost of the insurance while it was here. The museum that is home to the necklace passes on that responsibility to the exhibiting party.
“Bernette, you and your friend, Marlena here, have been up to all kinds of mischief, and I know this to be true because when I visited you, I spotted the tray on your desk which held costume jewelry, namely giant rubies. It was apparent that you were trying to duplicate the missing necklace. At fi
rst, I thought you were trying to cover your own tracks, but then I realized that if you had the necklace, making a phony would be a waste of time for you. You couldn’t suddenly evidence the immense wealth the necklace would bring you in this small town without comment and suspicion. Therefore, it was plain you had plans to use the phony for another purpose. You gave me the key to that yourself when you told me about Marlena being a blackmailer. I believe the two of you were conspiring to come up with a counterfeit, if you will, and plant it in Henry’s jewelry store. You would make sure it would be found and that Henry would look guilty since he would be collecting on the insurance policy. We have not, as of yet, had a gemologist appraise the pendant, mostly because it doesn’t stick around long enough to allow it.”
“You don’t know what—” Bernette began, but I held up my hand.
“This is why I’m presenting this in front of all parties involved, including the sheriff. If Peter decides to arrest anyone, this should save him time. Now, Henry. You are guilty of nothing more than wanting a little attention for yourself and your store. You made the grandiose offer to host the exhibit, and it wasn’t cheap. Nor was Marlena as she is most likely also blackmailing you for something or other.”
Henry nodded. “Too personal to discuss.”
“That’s okay, Henry. You can speak to the sheriff about it personally after we’re done here. That part doesn’t involve me.”
Sylvia cleared her throat and offered to pour more coffee. She was the ideal hostess, timing the presentation perfectly.
“So, moving on… as many of you at this table know, I do happen to have some empathic abilities. They aren’t anything to bank on and can come or go at any time. My aunt had the same abilities, and it brought us close together. This explains my interest in restoring this house, which my great-great-great-great-grandfather built, and in opening the antique store to sell not only pieces left to me but those I find in the community. It’s how I make my living in addition to the boarding house and tearoom. About three weeks ago, when the carnival first came to town for the Harvest Festival, many of that group became guests here at Mortimer House. I was approached by Elliott and friends to buy the crystal ball you see here on the table. They were trying to raise the funds necessary to bail out Marlena, who had gotten herself into a fix and landed in Peter’s jail. I agreed and gave them the money, locking the globe into my safe.
“Now, moving forward to the story surrounding The Stolen Heart… All of you are aware it was stolen from the exhibit vehicle and has been making sporadic appearances ever since. Very odd. You may not all know the history of the globe, so I’ll enlighten you now. This crystal ball dates back hundreds of years. The same is true for The Stolen Heart. In fact, they date back to exactly the same time. The Maharajah of Valkha, a very wealthy and powerful man who was past his prime, fell in love with a Spanish princess. He wanted badly to have her for his own. However, her father saw no advantage to him in that arrangement. Since the Maharajah was too old to father children, there would be no descendants. His daughter’s value lay in marrying well to the ruler of another kingdom—a guarantee of peace and prosperity for all involved. Despite this, the princess did, indeed, love the Maharajah. Now, I got some of this story from Fred’s research, but this book I have before me here goes into greater depth. Respecting her father’s wishes, the princess didn’t marry the Maharajah. He was heartbroken and, as a token of his love, gave her the extraordinary pendant with the huge rubies. He called it The Stolen Heart, referring to the loss of his heart to her and that he could never recapture it.
“The princess, deeply in love as well, gave him a gift in return. You see it here—the crystal ball. She told him that although they would be parted, he could always look into the ball and see her whereabouts and that she was well and being taken care of. It wasn’t quite enough for the Maharajah, though. He had a ring fashioned to match the necklace, and if I’m right, I will find it right…here.”
I turned the ball over and, using a nail file, slid the tip around the ridge of the ball’s base. It gradually lifted and revealed a compartment inside. I was right and removed a beautiful ruby ring, laying it on the table before me. There was a general sound of amazement around the room. “This ring was intended to form a secret marriage between the Maharajah and his princess, one that neither would ever confess but hold close to their hearts. The Maharajah, possessing certain powers of his own, put a spell on these, declaring that the globe and the necklace were to represent the lovers themselves and the ring, their marriage. They were never to be separated, and to be sure of that, the necklace was endowed with the ability to travel. Through time, through distance, through any obstacle. It can appear or disappear at will. If the two are separated, The Stolen Heart must seek out the globe. The globe’s contribution is to reveal to certain parties who would not act to keep the two separated, the clues to find the other. So, at first, I thought I could only see what was in the globe if it didn’t include me. In fact, because I’m an empath, the globe knew it could communicate with me to help reunite the two pieces.”
Everyone reacted, but amazement was prevalent. I went on.
“I made a phone call earlier today to the museum where The Stolen Heart normally lives. They confirmed my suspicion that the reason they insist on the exhibitor paying for insurance is that the necklace has a long history of disappearing and then reappearing somewhere else. They could no longer insure it due to this, so it falls to the exhibitor. In this case, it was Henry. Now, I don’t believe Marlena had a clue as to the identity of her globe. In fact, I believe she stole it from some wealthy house along the way. Is that true, Marlena?”
Marlena growled and kicked at the floor. I looked at Peter, and he nodded. Marlena’s list of offenses was rapidly growing.
“The only way I could verify that this was, indeed, the crystal ball in the history book was to hope I could find the ring secreted in its base, right here in front of all you as witnesses. I think that has been accomplished.”
“Amazing, kid,” spoke up Fred. “A fine piece of investigation.”
I held up my finger to not only acknowledge but silence him. “Now, I’m going to ask the ball to verify, here and now.” I put my hands on either side of the ball and asked, “Have you been reunited with the real Stolen Heart?” Everyone in the room stood and leaned forward, trying to see what would happen. The smoky vapor inside the ball began swirling and then slowed as an image formed. It was of an old man in a heavy, embroidered robe and holding his hand was a young woman with flowing black hair and a crown of gold on her head.
There were gasps, and the ball went opaque again. “I believe we have our answer. I knew none of you would believe me unless you were a witness.”
Marlena leaped to her feet. “So, what is to happen to my crystal ball?”
I smiled and put both pieces, including the ring, back into the bowling ball bag. “I’m giving these all to the sheriff. I believe he knows where the pendant belongs and will return it. As for the crystal globe, he can do his detective work to find a stolen property report that matches and will return it to its rightful owner. Both acts will absolve him and Tempest of being involved, but as for the future and whether the two remain together remains to be seen. After all, love always seems to find a way.”
19
Happy Endings
Peter had deputies waiting on the front porch, and I was glad he was prepared. He bundled up Marlena, Elliott, and Bernette and took them in for questioning. I didn’t follow up on it because I’d had enough, though I’d eventually heard that Marlena had been convicted of theft, among other offenses. I wasn’t worried about being out the money—I’d had a chance to hold and curate two of the most romantic, beautiful pieces in history, and that was enough for me.
Peter also personally carried the crystal ball, the pendant necklace, and the ring with him and locked them in the department safe. He put a guard on the safe, but there was no way he could control what the objects themselves would do. It
was a very strange situation.
Our guests returned, and we spread the word that the gold treasure rumor had been a hoax begun by a less than honorable individual, and although most of them left, a few remained behind just for the ambiance.
Life in Mortimer House returned to normal, and I finally had my grand opening of Mortimer Antiques. A good part of the town turned out to help celebrate, and I sold a good deal of my inventory. I think people wanted a souvenir.
As for me, Peter and I are going to a movie each weekend now that things have slowed down. I won’t say we’re headed anywhere definite, but at least the small golden heart pendant he gave me for Christmas doesn’t disappear from my neck in the night.
# # #
To be continued in Book 3… Pre-order your copy today!
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About the Author
Penny Brooke has been reading mysteries as long as she can remember. When not penning her own stories, she enjoys spending time at the beach, sailing, volunteering, crocheting, and cozying up with a good book. She lives with her husband and their spunky miniature schnauzer, Lexi, and two rescued felines, George and Weezy.
