by Anita Higman
Leaning in with my flashlight, I noticed two of the tables had a turbulent air about them, with their chairs turned over and their goblets broken on the floor. Looks like they may have had to leave in a hurry. Perhaps they’d become fearful of a raid, locked up hastily, and then never got the chance to return. Did they vanish only to resurface somewhere far away, or were their lives suddenly taken?
Once again, Volstead Manor had a boat full of questions with nowhere to dock and unload them. I continued to study the room, still blown away with my discovery.
At any moment, the need to tell Max would overpower me. I wanted him to know, to share in all my discoveries. Even though no fortune was found, I was thrilled to finally put a closure to the myth of the treasure. The relief was greater than any disappointment I might have felt.
I shined the light more closely on one of the ornate chairs. From the thimbleful of knowledge I had about antiques, the chairs appeared to be Victorian and well made. I doubted the furniture was worth a fortune, but they were certainly fascinating with their carvings of grape clusters and leaves. My Granny would have loved the chairs and tables, and I would have enjoyed giving them to her.
Then suddenly, my attention got snagged on an object a few feet away—something red which sat on a tall and elegant display pedestal. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Even with the film of dust, whatever it was appeared to be the color of blood. But with the light playing on it, the ornament also dazzled. And blood certainly didn’t dazzle—especially not eighty-year-old blood.
Without wasting any more time, I strode over to the pedestal and dusted off the object of my study. Red crystal. No, not red glass. It looked like a gemstone of some sort.
My heartbeat sped up. I knew a little about precious stones, since I’d worked in a jewelry store the summer after high school. I picked up the cut stone, polished it with my shirt, and then held it in front of the flashlight. I gasped. I knew enough to identify what the stone really was—a faceted oval ruby. Oh, my, my, my. I shook my head in awe. The treasure—about the size of my thumb—was brilliant enough to take one’s breath away. And yet so small a thing to cause so much grief.
I turned the cool hard jewel around in my fingers, allowing the beam of light to dance and play with the many facets. The stone came to life with darts of fire crisscrossing the room like red lasers. Just guessing, the gem looked to be about ten carats or more, and appeared to be of fine quality.
Could it be a rare stone? Perhaps even named? It was no doubt worth a fortune.
I let out a long breath of air.
I’d found the treasure. It was that easy, and yet that impossible to believe.
23 – A Dark and Dangerous Business
I wanted to collapse from the burden of what had just been discovered, but I held steady and simply eased down onto one of the chairs. Dust rose around me. I covered my mouth with my shirt and breathed slowly, waiting for the particles to settle again.
As I sat in the dim light, my mind buzzed with new questions. How could the Sisterhood of the Penumbra generate enough money from bootlegging to buy such an extravagant object? Were the ladies of the shadows dipping into other illegal activities such as the running of a brothel or a gambling house? Or had they bypassed all the formalities and simply stolen the jewel? I held the ruby tightly in my hand. What was the significance of possessing such a rare jewel? Was there import in the crimson color?
And what about the Sisterhood’s untimely exit? Leaving valuables behind and disappearing was no small thing. Could it have sprung from a betrayal within the group, or a threat from the outside? Surely if there had been treachery in such a dark and dangerous business, there wouldn’t have been an easy pardon. Or a lot of mercy. Blood may have been spilled even within the Penumbra.
I released my aching grip on the stone. I knew all the queries would simply generate more of the same. It would always be mere speculation. Since all the people involved were most likely dead, only God knew the right answers. But one thing I did know—if anyone ever discovered the whole story, it would make one incredible mystery novel.
Breathing slowly, in and out, I relaxed a little. It seemed I’d been holding my breath for weeks. Since the first night I’d walked into Volstead Manor, it had started to change my life. It was still changing my life. Should I scream? Do a dance? I wasn’t sure. What I had in my hand was worth a great deal of money. But oddly, I didn’t feel rich.
The time had come to tell Max. Since I couldn’t think of a secure place for the stone—that is, until I could get to the bank—I returned the ruby to its vessel on top of the pedestal. If no one had found it in eighty years, I doubted they’d find it in the next few hours.
Going back up the staircase, I made a cautious maneuver over the lethal tripwire and then pushed the crypt-like door shut. Some internal mechanism locked, making a loud echoing clunk.
Then a wave of fatigue swept over my body, making me want to crumble to the floor. But there would be plenty of time for collapsing later, so I rallied at the thought of seeing Max and telling him all that had happened. He would be stunned, of course, to see the journal of the Sisterhood and their cellar and the treasure. But he’d be thrilled too. And maybe, hopefully, he’d forgive me for being a little distracted, a little preoccupied. Okay, a lot distracted and a lot preoccupied.
I rang Max’s home phone first and then his cell. Nothing. Had he turned off his cell phone? Was he angry with me? But then, he had every right to be. Not only had I been distracted from the wedding, but because of my reclusive tendencies, I’d forced a big family wedding celebration into something that resembled a closed funeral. Didn’t sound too sociable or good-natured. Of course, I’d never been all that sociable or good-natured.
Looking up toward the heavens, I offered God a beseeching look. But I really want to change—let You expand my horizons. And I had. He had. But I still felt there was a long way to go. I didn’t think I was up for the journey. But I should have let Max have more say concerning the guest list. I shouldn’t have insisted on a small wedding, not when it was going to hurt the feelings of so many people Max loved. And now loved me.
I rang the numbers again, but when Max didn’t answer, I folded the phone and slipped it in my pocket. What kind of person was I anyway? A jerk. A royal one with my own court jester on retainer. No wonder Max wasn’t answering his phone. I was surprised he still wanted to marry me. At least I hoped he still wanted to marry me. In fact, it was a miracle he’d seen anything in me at all. I’d clearly gotten the better deal in the relationship, and yet I’d ruined it. Stifled it.
Just when slumping to the floor in a pathetic heap sounded appropriate, the doorbell rang. Max. I hurried to the door and opened it.
Joby stood there on my porch, looking distraught, her eyes puffy and red. “Can I come in? May I please come in?” she corrected herself.
I clasped my hands together, trying to calm myself and reset my runaway thoughts about the cellar. “Sure.” I opened the door wider, and she stepped inside. I wondered what was wrong. Joby had no doubt been crying, but it appeared she’d tried to cover it with face powder. Perhaps she didn’t want me to know. Or maybe she was hiding her tears from her foster parents. I leaned down to her. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“My foster keepers. . .they’re going to get rid of me.” Joby chewed on her lower lip. “I guess they told me weeks ago, but I don’t know, maybe I forgot. Maybe I didn’t really want to think about it. What should—”
“I don’t understand. You mean they’re going to send you somewhere else?”
“It’s like I told you. They don’t love me. They were just my keepers like I’m an animal in their zoo.” Her slender shoulders drooped to an all-time low.
“Tell me everything.” I shut the door and then led Joby into the living room. We sat on the folding chairs. “What did they say to you?”
“They said I was a trouble maker, but I know that’s just an excuse. They don’t want me anymore. They’re ti
red of me. They probably found a cuter kid. Some girl with big blue eyes that sounds like this,” Joby said a few nonsense words in a syrupy-sweet voice. She let out a puff of air and looked at me with anxious eyes.
My heart tore in two at her desperation. Who were these people to toss Joby away so easily? But why had they called her a trouble maker? Had Joby become known for committing some rather dubious acts, which I too had worried about, or were her foster parents as morally flimsy as they sounded? Hard to know the truth, and yet my heart wanted to believe her. “I’m so sorry.”
Joby folded and unfolded her hands. “My foster keeper is always using one of those recycling bins. But now. . .it’s like I’m getting recycled.” Her hands went up in the air, and then they fell limply in her lap.
I knew Joby was part drama queen, and yet I felt her words were real. “How soon?”
“I think tomorrow morning.”
Oh, no. I took hold of her hands. They were so small and cold. And they trembled at my touch. I took off my sweater and put it around her shoulders. Then I rubbed some warmth into her hands.
“Miss Bailey, I’m scared to leave.”
“Why?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Cause I’ll never see you and Max again. Not ever.” She took her hands away and wiped her face. “I’m used to it. Sort of. Always moving on to somebody who claims I’m real cute. But my cute always runs out before Christmas. Why is that? Why can’t somebody love me at least until Christmas? I suppose they don’t want to buy me any presents. Guess I’m not worth it.”
I had to do something. But Max and I weren’t ready to take on an adoption yet. We weren’t even married. What could I say to her to calm her fears? To make her feel loved and wanted? But I wasn’t about to make promises I couldn’t keep. Joby had already had way too much of that. “I don’t know what to say, except that I’ve grown to care for you.” I gently wiped the hair from her face.
“You have? Really?” She perked up. “What sort of caring are we talking about? I gotta know. Like the way you care about your house?” Joby studied my face. “Or a daughter?”
Tears burned my eyes. I couldn’t stop the flow, and I didn’t want to. And yet what did I really know about this girl? Who was she really? Since she admitted to lying, what was truth and what was fiction in her life? Had she lied about B.J. too? Could she have gone into his house and caused his death? Possibly in revenge? If we adopted Joby, would I be inviting a murderous youth into my home? I couldn’t go there. I would not believe it.
I leaned toward her, smiling. “I have grown to care about you, Joby. Like a mother would love a daughter.” I couldn’t believe those words had come out of Bailey Marie Walker’s mouth. But apparently she wanted to give up her hermit’s badge for a real heart. You’re out on a limb now, girl. And there’s no climbing back.
Joby stood up. “So, you and Max are going to adopt me?”
I pulled her onto my lap as my arms draped around her. My response felt so natural it surprised me. “Well, to be honest, Max and I have talked about it, but we’re not married yet.”
She rested her head against me. “Why does everything seem so impossible?”
I wanted to tell her that with God all things were possible, and that I was living proof of that truth, but I was afraid she’d think I was just brushing her off with a lecture. “You are a delightful girl. I’ve never met anyone like you.” I stroked her hair. “But I thought there would be more time for us to get to know one another. More time for you to see if you liked me. What if I’m not the person you think I am? I might turn out to be a terrible mother. A real monster.”
“Well, besides having a creepy house, I think you’re okay.” She shrugged with one shoulder. “You might screw up sometimes, but you’re funny, you wear clean clothes, and you have a look in your eye.”
“A look in my eye? What’s that?” I tried not to chuckle, but I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant.
“Like you don’t know everything, but you’d still want to do what’s right. And that if you said you loved somebody, you’d mean it.” She pulled back to look at me. “Yep, there’s that look.”
I laughed. As I held her, I wondered what she’d say if I told her what I’d just found in the cellar. She’d think my snooping had just been lifted out of the pages of one of her mystery novels. She’d be ecstatic and brimming with questions. And then she’d say I now had plenty of money to adopt her. Guess I’d better not head down that road quite yet. In fact, perhaps Joby needed a reality check or two. “You’re easy to please now,” I finally said, “but what if I’m not able to understand the teenage mind in a couple of years? What will we do with me then?”
Joby pursed her lips and cocked her head. “But you were a teenager once.”
“That’s true, but I’m not sure that counts, since I don’t remember much about it.” I then noticed a scar on Joby’s inner arm and wondered if someone had hurt her. I thought of bringing up the subject, but wasn’t sure what to say.
Joby got up from my hug and sat back down on her chair. “I’d better not get too happy with you. Things might not work out.” The sadness in her voice had returned, and her face had lost its animation.
“I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard life, Joby. It shouldn’t be this way. You deserve so much more. . .to be loved and cared for. To wake up in the morning with real parents who not only think you’re wonderful, but ones who tell you frequently.”
“Yeah, that all sounds pretty good.” Joby tapped her feet on the floor. “So, Miss Bailey, what are we supposed to do now?”
“We both need to pray about this first. It’s a big step for you too. I’ll need to get in touch with your case worker. And I’ll have to get married.” I winked at her.
“Am I still invited to the wedding?”
“Of course you are.”
Joby rose from the chair. “Sorry, gotta go. My foster keepers told me I had to pack up my junk today. And that I couldn’t spend much time away from the house.”
I gave her hand a squeeze. “God is in control of this. Trust Him to do the right thing for us all.”
She looked down. “Okay. I guess so.”
We walked to the entry, and I opened the front door for her.
She stepped out onto the porch and then turned back to me. “But if it doesn’t work out for you, it’s okay cause you’ll still have your Mr. Max. And you’ll have babies. Lots of new ones. But if it doesn’t work out for me, I’m left with nobody. Again.” The warmth faded from her expression.
I reached out to her, but she backed away.
Joby stuck out her jaw. “That B.J. Ware was mean and scary. He had a mean face, he talked about mean things, and if he had the chance he was mean enough to shoot somebody with that gun he had. But all his meanness wadded together isn’t as bad as people who break their promises.” Joby let my sweater fall off her shoulders. “I won’t let anybody hurt me anymore.” She ran down the steps.
“Joby, come back.”
“No.” She darted down the sidewalk and through the open gate.
“Please come back!” I wanted to chase after her, but what would I say then? Offer her more promises? She needed security and hope and real commitment now, and I wasn’t in a position to give it to her. At least not for some months. Only God knew what could be done in the meantime.
I picked up the sweater, went back inside, and drooped to the floor. I sat in the entry hall just vegetating. What a bizarre life. I’d managed to seek and destroy all that was good. In a matter of days, I’d alienated my fiancé, found a treasure spawned from dubious sources, planned a wedding with the enthusiasm of a comatose sloth, wasted time on trying to solve a murder that still couldn’t be solved, and worst of all, I’d shattered the tender hopes of a foster child. I deserved to sit alone in my dungeon of a house forever contemplating my messed-up little existence.
While I mulled over those very issues, tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks—tears of sorrow for my ineptness at being
human. Then the grief took on another dimension as I once again mourned for the loss of my dear relatives. Tears, more than I had ever shed, came to me, and this time I embraced the wave of sorrow.
After a few minutes, a profound exhaustion engulfed me. I put my sweater back on and rested my head against the wall.
What felt like hours later, I woke up. I’d been sleeping on the hardwood floor in the entry with my neck in a vicious cramp. How could I have fallen asleep like that—deeply, like a bear in hibernation? I never did that. Or maybe I did. I fell asleep unexpectedly the evening Vlad had come over for coffee. He’d said I had a slight case of narcolepsy. Could that be true after all? Maybe I needed a doctor.
Before I could get up off the floor, the doorbell rang again. Great. Maybe I really did need a revolving door. I was too beat to get up, so I just yelled, “Come on in.” I was in no mood for formalities, and the door was still unlocked.
The door creaked opened, and my neighbor, the very man I’d been ruminating over, walked through the door. Vlad Tepes.
24 – Hungry for a Misstep
I wiped the sweaty hair off my face to get a better look at the Jekyll and Hyde sort of guy that I’d spent time fearing and detesting. I wanted to order him out of my house, and yet he looked so worried about me, I couldn’t muster the rage.
“Are you okay?” He stooped next to me. “Did you fall?”
I shrank away from him. “No, I was asleep on the floor.” I couldn’t believe Vlad had snuck into my house again. Well, not really. I’d actually invited him in. How stupid was I? Pretty stupid. And then to mention such a private matter that would give him ammo against me was beyond absurd.
Vlad set something down on my entry table and then helped me off the floor. “Did you go to the doctor about your. . .problem?”
