A Fatal Appraisal (9 page)

“What did you think happened?” Molly asked.

Frank looked at the desk angrily. "Some moron in the
owner's family must have rifled through this piece in case there was anything
of value inside. Damn amateurs."

Molly sat with him as he searched the rest of the
pigeonholes, but no more secret compartments were discovered. She felt sorry
for Frank, odd as he was, for missing out on the desk's treasures. She was
disappointed, too. After all, it would make a great article if she had been an
eyewitness to the finding of some rare document or precious gem.

Handing the fake drawer front back to Frank, she noticed
black smudges on her palm. Frank's hands were also dusted with black smudges
and a long streak of pale black darkened the tip of his nose and upper lip. His
eyes had begun watering and just as Molly was about to tell him about the marks
on his face, he jumped up, rubbing vigorously at his eyes and said, "I've
got to get my nasal spray! Excuse me."

Molly watched him scurry off down the wide aisle dividing
the exhibit areas. Then she picked up the discarded penlight and directed the
beam around the pigeonholes. Black smudges were everywhere, but without direct
light on them, they could barely be seen. Molly wondered why Randy and Chris
had not done a better job cleaning the desk’s interior. Putting down the pen,
she went off to the restroom to wash her hands.

Just as she was drying them off, Jessica entered and headed
for the sink.

"We're all eating Italian tonight," she said,
rubbing her hands vigorously under the tap. "Garrett's found us a place in
Carytown that is supposed to have delicious, authentic Northern Italian
cuisine."

Molly examined her curvy figure in the mirror and after
tugging her blouse over her hips, frowned. "I could do without all those
heavy sauces," she answered.

Jessica appeared next to her at the mirror and deftly
applied lipstick in a brownish-rose shade. She ran thin hands through her
cropped hair and asked, "Got a boyfriend?"

"There's someone from work I'm interested in. We've
been out on a few dates, but our schedules seem to be keeping us apart."

'Take it from me, honey"—Jessica spritzed on some light
perfume with a fruity bouquet—"my husband got too busy for me. Too busy
with another woman, that is. That's why we're divorced. You don't want a man
like that."

Molly opened her mouth to defend Matt but instead asked,
"What's the deal with you and Borris?"

Jessica immediately began to fumble in the depths of her
hemp purse. "We're just friends."

"I think he'd like it to be more than that," Molly
suggested gently.

"Well, I'm not going down
that
road again."
Jessica quickly changed the subject. "Oh, listen to this. Just before I
came in here, I overheard one of the security guards saying that the power
failure was intentional."

"Someone hit the switch, so to speak?"

"Yes. I wonder why. Nothing's missing or anything. It
was probably Tony, playing a prank. He set off a fire alarm in Sacramento last
year. Claimed it was an accident, but no one believed him," Jessica said,
rubbing a fragrant herbal lotion on her hands and forearms. "Come on,
let's go eat."

Molly thought about the pinprick of light she had seen. It
had been right near the display cases housing the rare coins and the
daguerreotypes. A shiver ran down her spine, but she pushed thoughts of the
blackout away. Someone had a penlight and nothing was missing. That was all.
What was there to worry about when good food and Garrett's handsome face
awaited her?

~~~~~

The head appraisers were all gathered just inside the
museum's front doors. Garrett was handing out sheets of directions to
Ristorante Amici. "Everyone set?" he asked.

"I'm not coming," moaned Frank who was sitting in
a chair with his head propped back against the wall. He looked even paler than
usual and sounded completely congested. Beads of sweat had sprung out on his
forehead and a damp ring was forming around the neck of his shirt. His eyes
watered and his shoulders were slumped with fatigue. "I'm going to the
hotel to lie down," he whined as he rose gingerly and walked off slowly in
the direction of the parking garage. The other appraisers watched him silently.

"He looks awful," said Alicia sympathetically, her
kind, wide face turning toward the group. "He might really be sick this
time."

"Nonsense," replied Victoria dully. "Let's
go."

"I'll ride over with you." Alexandra sidled up to
Garrett and grasped his arm possessively. Molly stared enviously at Alexandra's
trim figure. She looked sophisticated and cool in a bisque-colored linen
pantsuit with a chocolate brown silk blouse. Her hair shimmered beneath the
track lighting and her makeup accentuated her high cheekbones and smooth hips.

Molly again carpooled with Jessica and Borris while the
other appraisers divided themselves amiably between the two other rental cars.

'Take Monument Avenue so we can show Molly the sights,"
Borris suggested to Jessica.

"The architecture of the historic houses on this street
is stunning," Jessica said, turning left onto Monument. "Many of
these are million-dollar homes."

Molly's eye was immediately drawn to a statue of a Civil War
soldier on horseback. It looked just like the statue she had hid beneath during
the blackout, but in a much larger scale. "Is that Stonewall
Jackson?" she asked.

"Indeed, it is," Borris said. "The statues on
Monument are all dedicated to Civil War heroes, except for the most recent
addition of Arthur Ashe. All great men, I would say, but many Richmonders are
upset over the latest addition. I've got a friend who lives here and he thinks
the Civil War theme should have been left... uninterrupted, but I think it’s a
wonderful addition.”

Molly gazed in awe at the enormous mansions lining both
sides of the city street. Wrought iron gates surrounded the small yards of four
thousand square feet, three-story homes that sat on wide haunches behind
tree-lined sidewalks. Even though the rows of large houses seemed uniform,
Molly noticed that upon closer scrutiny, the architectural styles were actually
quite varied. A colonial was neighbor to a Spanish villa, which bordered a
traditional Georgian. Ancient magnolias and oaks stretched their arms out over
the neat lawns or front gardens and well-dressed pedestrians walked dogs and
exchanged friendly greetings.

"Up next is the monument to Jefferson Davis,"
Borris continued his role as tour guide. Molly craned her neck in order to view
a pillared arc with an obelisk rising from its center. She was more interested
in watching the homes pass by, but Borris pointed out Lee sitting astride
Traveller and finally, another general on his mount, J.E.B. Stuart.

"Are you a Civil War buff, Borris?" Molly asked.

"Not really. I just pick this stuff up by default.
Hazards of the occupation so to speak."

"You mean, becoming a tour guide is your occupational
hazard?" Jessica teased.

"No, being smarter than everyone around me is."

The women laughed as Jessica pulled into a parking space on
Main Street, right in front of one of the many Carytown antique stores. Molly
noticed a long row of boutiques, specialty shops, and eateries lining both
sides of the quaint downtown street. The whole area had a lively, colorful
atmosphere. No wonder Clayton loves this part of town, Molly thought.

The restaurant featured a narrow downstairs room seating
couples only and a cozy upstairs with larger tables crammed next to one another
in the style of traditional European caffs.

After their party was seated and had ordered a tantalizing
selection of entrees, Molly dipped a thick slice of warm Italian bread into
olive oil seasoned with parmesan cheese and sipped a glass of smooth red wine.
Once again, she felt extremely comfortable in the company of the appraisers.
While they feasted on penne in vodka sauce or Veal Marsala, Jessica, Borris,
and Tony entertained their fellow diners with stories of the most ridiculous
objects the public had brought them to be appraised.

"A box of used
Playboy
magazines. And I mean
used
..."
Borris was saying.

"Ha! What about that beehive wig someone brought me in
San Francisco?" Lindsey burst in on his story. "That thing was full
of bugs!"

Molly enjoyed her homemade gnocchi in creamy pesto sauce and
the delightful chatter of the head appraisers. Over frothy cups of cappuccino,
she also remembered that Lex and her mother would arrive tomorrow. All she
needed was Matt by her side, and all would be right with the world.

Sensing that Jessica and Borris were going to linger over a
second cup of decaf, a fatigued Molly joined Victoria and Alexandra in
Garrett's car.

"Three lovely ladies in my car, how lucky I am,"
Garrett said as he drove toward Victoria and Alexandra's pricey hotel located
near the museum.

At the front door, Victoria bid them a brief good night
while Alexandra hesitated, seemingly trying to think of some way to keep
Garrett near her a little while longer. Shooting Molly a nasty look, she asked
Garrett to pick her up in the morning.

"Can't put up with a quick ride with Frank and
Victoria?" Garrett teased.

Molly watch Alexandra's stiff face force itself into a grin.
"It's just nice not to be surrounded by sneezes and tissues for a
spell."

"Right-O, see you in the morning."

During the brief car ride back to the bed-and-breakfast,
Molly asked Garrett to compare the British and American versions of
Hidden
Treasures
. He pointed out that most of the objects brought to the British
show were far older than the ones he saw in America. He mentioned several items
from Portuguese side tables to Delft tiles and before Molly knew it, they had
reached the bed and breakfast and had climbed the stairs to their rooms. She
looked at her watch and was amazed to see that it was after midnight. If she’d
been at home, she’d be in bed by ten , curled up with a book and her two cats,
Merlin and Griffin.

Turning the key in her door, she was even more surprised
when Garrett laid a restraining hand on her arm.

"Nightcap?" he asked. "I've got some lovely
brandy in my room."

Brandy, Molly thought. Who drinks that? Having a nightcap in
America only meant one thing: sex. Molly wondered if it meant the same thing in
Britain, too. But when she raised her bent head to tell him she was too tired,
his face was suddenly inches from her own. Molly could feel the warmth of his
body as he leaned in against her. She felt frozen in place. She was very
attracted to this man, but yet, did she really want to kiss him? What about
Matt?

With Garrett's lips approaching hers, Molly knew that her
indecision was about to lead to a kiss, and she resigned herself to being swept
away by the moment. However, her lips remained untouched as another one of the
guest room doors creaked open and Garrett immediately leapt back to a
respectable distance.

Borris stepped out of his room still wearing his suit
jacket. He and Jessica must have returned just minutes before Molly and
Garrett. Looking at them in concern he said, "Listen, I've got Victoria on
the phone. Frank never returned to their room. You didn't see him on your way
home did you?"

"No," Garrett answered while Molly tried to
discern the gravity of the situation.

"Has he ever stayed out all night before?" she
asked curiously, thinking about what Jessica had told her about Frank and
Victoria having different bedrooms at home.

"No," Borris answered. "Okay, I'll have to
tell her we have no news. He may have gone back into the museum for some
reason."

"Could he have gotten locked in?" Garrett asked.

Borris looked thoughtful. "Don't think so. All the
night guards would identify him by his
Hidden Treasures
badge. He could
get in or out if he really needed to. Well, let me get back to Victoria. Good
night."

 "Good night," said Molly to both men, rushing
into the safety of her room. Adrenaline was surging through her veins as she
pictured Garrett's face moving closer and closer to her own. Garrett had almost
kissed her and she had actually been prepared to let him!

Molly averted her own eyes as she stood before the bathroom
mirror brushing her teeth. She was too disgusted to look at herself, so instead
she considered the possibility that Frank was truly missing. He had looked
absolutely awful as the group left for dinner. Perhaps he really was sick.
Maybe he drove himself to the hospital instead of going back to the hotel.

Wondering briefly if she should suggest this possibility to
Borris, Molly decided she’d look foolish if she called his room with such a
theory. After all, Borris knew Frank much better than she did. Frank would
probably be in the exhibit area in the morning as usual, blowing his nose and
barking at Randy and Chris. Sliding under the rosewater-scented covers, Molly
was sure Frank was absolutely fine.

However, she couldn't have been more mistaken.

~~~~~~~~~~

When a tree is cut down its life support system comes to
a halt. Even the parenchyma sapwood cells gradually die as the wood is dried.
In no sense can wood be said to breathe after it is dead.

—The Art of Making Furniture

The next morning was an exciting one. Molly arrived at
the museum happily satiated by a three-cheese omelet, crisp bacon, and two
slices of raisin toast home made by Mrs. Hewell. She was amazed to see the
throng of people lined up for the opening of
Hidden Treasures
. The show
had pre-sold over three thousand tickets, with one thousand people arriving per
day. Those lucky few in possession of rare or extremely valuable objects would
be invited back for further filming on Saturday morning.