A Fatal Appraisal (27 page)

Clara stood and clapped Matt on the back. "You and I
are going to get along just fine," she beamed. "Molly gets rather
stubborn at times and she won't listen to my advice, so I'm glad someone else
is in the picture when it comes to cautioning her to be more sensible. Ha! Just
wait until you hear what nonsense she pulled this afternoon. She probably won't
tell you but"—Clara paused for dramatic flare—"she was held at
gunpoint today!"

Don’t do that! Clara shrieked at a young police officer bent
over the interior of the slant-front desk. The man, who was as smooth-cheeked
as a boy, was so startled that the screwdriver he held in one hand crashed on
the floor while the small flashlight he held in his other hand rolled off the
surface of the desk and broke into three pieces near his black-booted feet.

 "Don't force that panel, for heaven's sake,"
Clara said more quietly, but with the same level of firmness that she'd used
when eight-year-old Molly would plead for dessert before dinner. "That
glue hasn't been tampered with since this desk was made," she explained to
the stunned officer. "There may be a secret panel in there, but it wasn't
used recently."

"Listen ma' am ..." the officer began.

"Are you looking for the Dahlonega coins?" Molly
asked him excitedly, squeezing in next to her mother and completely blocking
the remainder of the overhead light. Matt was the only person among their party
who kept his distance from both the desk and the policeman.

"Do you mind?" the officer snapped, overwhelmed.

"I'm an antiques expert," Clara said
authoritatively. "And I refuse to watch you pry apart this incredible
piece of antique furniture, bumbling about until you've ruined it, when I can
offer you my expertise. Now..." She inhaled swiftly, allowing the
bewildered officer no opportunity to retort. "Molly, show me the secret
panel Frank found."

Molly pointed and the officer carefully pulled out the
vertical pillar to the right of the cupboard door and handed it to Clara.

"That's a common place to put a secret panel."
Clara nodded without surprise as she examined the vertical drawer. "But if
the coins aren't here, there may be another hiding spot. Sometimes these
pigeonhole desks had two or three secret niches." She turned to her
daughter. "Why are you so sure the coins made it back inside this desk
anyway?"

"Because Garrett was yelling at Chris for putting the
mold on this piece and not the blanket chest. By covering the desk with mold,
Chris forced the police to seize the one piece of furniture Garrett wanted to
keep tabs on at all times. He even bought the desk using Chris's name so that
it could be shipped out of the country with the coins still hidden inside. If
there were any trouble, the desk would be linked to Chris, not Garrett. Yet if
everything went smoothly, Chris would never know that Garrett was pretending to
be him when he bought the desk."

"Both men claim to know nothing of the whereabouts of
the missing coins," the young officer chimed in.

"Have you tried a metal detector?" Clara asked.

"Yes, ma'am. But all the metal around the keyholes kept
setting it off."

"Why were you chosen for this particular task?"
Clara inquired, not unkindly.

"I'm sort of famous around the station for solving
puzzles," the young man said, embarrassed. "Crosswords, jigsaws, word
scrambles, that sort of thing. I'm real good with my hands, too," he
added.

"I'm certain you are." Clara smiled. "Can you
reassemble your flashlight for me?"

"Sure, I can do that."

A minute later, Clara was aiming the thin beam of the
flashlight into the cavity created by the missing panel. She shook her head.
"I don't see anything."

"Put your hand in and feel around, just in case."
Molly directed. "Here, hand me the flashlight while you're doing
that."

Molly opened the central cupboard door and peered inside,
shining the flashlight into the corners of the tiny, dark space. Blinking, she
thought she saw a sliver of white, no larger than a splinter, sticking down
from the top right seam of the cupboard. At the same moment, Clara gasped.

"There's a teeny hole back here. It's a release button,
my god! I need a bobby pin or a paper clip to push it in with. My fingernail is
too big. Quick!"

The officer dug around in his toolbox until he found a metal
thumbtack.

"Perfect. Thank you." Clara complimented the young
man and he smiled from ear to ear.

Clara stuck the tack's point into the minuscule hole. The
tack came into contact with a piece of wood that resisted for a moment but then
gave way with a click. The small archway above the cupboard popped out a few
centimeters. Clara had discovered a secret drawer.

"A secret within a secret." Clara breathed as her
daughter gently pulled the drawer away from the desk's frame. "The man who
made this piece was a master craftsman."

Molly pulled out a small envelope from inside the drawer.
Inside, wrapped in layers of tissue, were the six Dahlonega coins.

"Gotcha!" the officer yelled with a boyish whoop.
He scooped up the envelope from Molly's hands and dashed off toward Robeson's
office.

As Clara stood lost in admiration over the desk, Combs
suddenly appeared and jerked his meaty thumb at Molly. "You first.
Statement time."

"I'll come with you," Matt said, putting a
possessive arm around Molly's shoulders as he stared down at Combs.

It was difficult for Molly to get through her statement.
Between the disparaging comments uttered behind her by the irascible Combs and
Matt's startled exclamations of horror, she was finally able to complete her
narrative and bid farewell to Detective Robeson and the city of Richmond's
police department.

'Try to stay out of trouble, Miss Appleby," Robeson
said in parting and shook her hand. Molly thought she detected a twinkle in the
comer of Robeson's dark eyes, but before she could take a second look, Matt was
ushering her out of the office. They sat on a bench outside the front door to
wait for Clara.

"He should be thanking me!" Molly sulked. "I
helped catch the villains and Mom discovered the whereabouts of the hidden
coins. Damned chauvinists."

"I don't think that's the case," Matt said
soothingly, picking up Molly's hand. "I'm sure they appreciate your help,
but I doubt the police want to encourage the average citizens from becoming too
involved in crime fighting. That probably just complicates things for
them."

Molly wasn't listening. She was busy thinking about how she
could spin at least one of her articles on
Hidden Treasures
so that her
role in capturing the criminals was revealed, earning her a stack of fan mail
and perhaps a hike in salary.

~~~~~

As Clara finished giving her statement, she stood and
returned Robeson's firm handshake. "I know you warned my daughter about
sticking her nose into hazardous entanglements and I'm grateful for that,” she
said. "I'd certainly like to see her focus on other activities."
Combs gave Robeson a smug wink. "But..." Clara lowered her voice
dangerously. "Since Molly and I both facilitated the capture of your
murderer and his accomplice, perhaps you'd like to do us a good turn?"

Robeson stared impatiently at Clara. She blinked innocently
and plowed on. "What will happen to the antique desk once this case is
closed?"

"It will go up for public auction, along with anything
else in our evidence room that needs to be cleaned out at the time,"
Robeson stated flatly. He didn’t care if he saw another antique for the rest of
his life.

Clara pressed her card firmly into Robeson’s palm. "I
want you to call me the second you find out about that auction. My daughter is
turning thirty this year and that desk would make the perfect gift. Will you do
that for me in exchange for our cooperation and discretion?" She raised
her brows, letting the insinuation fill the room. Either Robeson’s team could
take the credit for the bust, or Clara would do her best to highlight how a civilian
had solved the puzzle.

Robeson took the card, hesitated, and then nodded. He was
ready to be done with the two Appleby women. At least Mrs. Hewell was waiting
outside with a basket of her finest cinnamon scones. He could smell the scent
of cinnamon and warm buttery dough seeping under the crack of his door. He
hoped to have a moment alone with her as she was reputed to be an excellent
cook. Perhaps she had a secret to the timing of soufflés.

"Thank you," Clara said, interrupting his
thoughts. She swept out of the room like a queen leaving a group of admiring
courtiers. Combs gazed at Robeson with a self-satisfied grin.

"You got something to say, Officer Combs?"
Robeson's eyes bored holes into the burly, red-haired officer. Combs blanched.

"No, sir."

"Then send in Mrs. Hewell." Robeson let his
enormous bulk settle into his creaky chair. "And get us some coffee to go
with those scones."

~~~~~

That night, Mrs. Hewell made a pot roast with glazed
carrots and potatoes followed by a blackberry pie. She invited Molly, Clara,
and Matt to join her for dinner as her husband was still out visiting a friend
from church.

"I don't usually do dinners for my guests, but we've
been through so much together that I feel we're more like family now."
Mrs. Hewell bustled about the table, seemingly unfazed by the day's events and
pleased to have company for the evening.

"I'm ready to go back home and kiss my seven
cats," Clara said, digging into the deep bowl of mashed potatoes.
"But I will miss you, Mrs. Hewell. You must come visit me in Hillsborough
some time."

"I'd love to!" The older woman flushed with
pleasure. "And that way, I could visit the newly weds, too."

Clara looked hopefully at her daughter's ring finger.
"Oh?" she squeaked breathlessly.

Mrs. Hewell beamed at her guests. "Borris called this
afternoon. He and Jessica are eloping tomorrow. They’re Vegas-bound! Isn't that
wonderful?"

"It is indeed," Clara agreed. "I hope Jessica
doesn't get in too much trouble over the fake coin business."

"Me, too." Molly turned to Matt. "Isn't it
romantic how Borris rushed down to Charlotte and wouldn't take no for an
answer?"

Matt squirmed in his seat, painfully aware that the eyes of
three women were watching him with the utmost intensity. "Uh ... sure.
Could you pass the rolls?"

Later, when Matt and Molly were clearing the table, Clara
pulled Mrs. Hewell aside. "Is Mr. Harrison staying in his own room?"

Mrs. Hewell's eyes flew open wide. "Of course!
Whereelse would he be staying? I've given him the Limoges, the one Jessica had
occupied."

"Can't you tell him all the rooms are full?" Clara
whispered rather maniacally. "Then he'd have to stay with my daughter, you
see."

"Oh, no, I couldn't lie, Mrs. Appleby." Mrs.
Hewell looked simultaneously insulted and horrified. Then her expression
softened and she put a warm hand on Clara's cheek. "Don't worry, my dear.
They'll find their way to one another. I can just tell that they’re meant to
be."

Clara's shoulders drooped. "I suppose, but I never even
knew Molly was interested in this man."

"They're sweet on each other, that's clear enough to
anyone. Let nature take its course and you’ll be throwing your lovely Molly a
bridal shower by springtime. Good night, my dear. I'll see you in the
morning."

"Good night." Clara smiled and then headed up to
her room humming. Pausing on the stairs, she heard her daughter's laughter and
Matt's placid voice from within the kitchen. "Mrs. Hewell’s right. Maybe
I'll be buying that desk as an engagement present instead," she told
herself gleefully.

~~~~~

The next morning, Clara left for home in Molly's, car
while Matt and Molly were still lingering over a late breakfast. Afterward,
Molly decided to ignore the serious penalty for impersonating a police officer
and called human resources at Richmond Doctor's Hospital to discover if Jasmine
Jones was one of their employees. She was told that Mrs. Jones worked the day
shift in the hospital cafeteria.

Unfolding the roll of bills she’d found in Garrett's shoe,
Molly placed them inside a padded manila envelope and asked Matt to drive her
to the hospital on their way home.

"What for?" he asked, instantly concerned.

Molly filled him in on how Jasmine had brought her coin to
be appraised and was tricked out of a large sum of money by the wily Garrett.
Matt's face flashed through a variety of emotions as he listened to the
injustice inflicted upon the single mother.

When Molly was done with her story, she impulsively leaned
over and kissed Matt at the next red light. She loved the way he wore his heart
on his sleeve. He was nothing like Garrett, she thought. Some shallow, handsome
stranger would never attract her again. She was ready to work on her commitment
to Matt, and she had an idea of how to get to the next level of their
relationship. She was more than ready to claim this fine man as her own.

"How much money is in there?" Matt glanced at the
envelope as he merged onto the highway.

"About ten grand, all told. This should help Jasmine
with her bills."

"Wow! Ten grand! So you're leaving her all that money
in an envelope? Why don't you just go in and give it to her?" Matt asked,
pulling in front of the hospital.

Molly held the envelope tightly in her hand. "I don't
want her to be embarrassed over having been tricked her or make her think I
feel sorry for her. It's better if she gets to open it after work, when no
one's staring at her. It's going to be a pretty big shock, after all. I think
she'll need some privacy."

Matt hopped out of the car and opened Molly's door.
"You're an angel, Molly Appleby."