Amish Undercover (4 page)

Chapter 7.

For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth;

even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.

Proverbs 3:12

Bailey was at the next widows’ meeting when he shared the following information. “They won’t authorize me to put a maid at Richard Starks’ house.”

“Why not?” Elsa-May asked.

“Too much man power and too much money has already been spent, they said.”

Emma could see the disappointment in Bailey’s face. He’d worked so hard for so many years, and now he was so close.

Elsa-May’s jaw dropped. “But, they’ve given that Marvin man a deal for helping you and then they’re not going to carry through with things?”

Bailey blew out a heavy sigh. “Yup, seems so.”

“One of us will have to do it then,” Silvie said looking at the other widows.

“I’ll do it,” Emma said before she properly thought it through.

Bailey shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea that any of you do it.”

“You need someone in there, don’t you?” Emma desperately wanted to help Bailey so he could settle down and be happy with Silvie.

“It would be good if we had someone in there, but I don’t want to put anyone in danger. No, we can do it without someone in there.”

Emma saw the look of concern on Silvie’s face; her smooth forehead was furrowed with worry lines. Emma took a mouthful of hot
kaffe
and when no one else spoke she said, “Bailey, look at it this way, I’m going to get a job soon and what if I’d applied for a job and went to work for this Mr. Starks not knowing who he was? I could work for anyone not knowing if they were a criminal or not and not knowing what they were involved in.”

Bailey raised his eyebrows.

Ettie said, “Emma’s sensible, she won’t put herself into danger.”

“I don’t know. Are you sure you want to do this, Emma?” Bailey asked.

Emma nodded. She was sure, but she was not too sure how Wil would take the news. She knew that he would not forbid her to do it if she really wanted to, but he might not be happy about it.

“
Nee
, I should be the one to do it,” Silvie said.

Bailey frowned at Silvie.

“
Nee
, Silvie,” Emma said. You’ve got your job to go to, and I don’t have a job at the moment. I’m really the obvious choice.”

The widows all murmured in agreement. After all Emma knew she was right; Elsa-May and Ettie were far too old, and both Silvie and Maureen depended on the income they got from their part-time jobs. 

Bailey clapped his hands together. “Okay, that’s settled. Thank you, Emma.”

Emma smiled at Bailey, but inside she had butterflies in her tummy at the thought of pretending to be someone who she was not. She had never liked to deceive people, and she was glad that it was only going to be this one time. She did not know how undercover agents could do it on a regular basis. “You’ll have to tell me everything I have to do. I’ve never been a maid before; I need to know how to act and what to do.”

Bailey nodded. “I’ll arrange for the agency to give you a rundown of all that. I’ve already found the employment agency Starks gets his staff through. I’ll arrange for the current maid to be taken out and you, Emma, to be put in.”

Bailey ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “I’ll give you a small camera, which will look like part of your apron. Snap anything that looks suspicious and take photos of all the paintings. Not that I’d expect that he’d have anything stolen on display; he’s not that stupid. Your name will be Tracey Cook. I’ll see that you get a maid’s uniform. You can’t wear your Amish clothes.”

Emma nodded and set about memorizing her new name. Then she took another mouthful of
kaffe
wondering how to break the news to Wil.

Chapter 8.

Righteous lips are the delight of kings;

and they love him that speaketh right.

Proverbs 16:13

Emma, masquerading as Tracey Cook, walked up the long driveway to the home of Richard Starks after announcing herself at the intercom beside the two large wrought iron gates. She stopped outside and stared up at the mansion. It appeared stark and unwelcoming. Emma shrugged off her impression, after all, how could a house be unwelcoming? It was unlike other houses in the area and was built over a twelve-acre allotment, according to Bailey.

When Emma offered to go undercover as a maid, she never dreamed that she was going to be in such a grand home; no, it was more than a home, it was a mansion. By the size of the home, she knew that it would take more than one full-time worker to keep the place clean. Surely, one person would not be expected to do all that by themselves? Bailey had not mentioned that there would be other maids. She had assumed she would be the only one.

Keeping on top of the cleaning was the least of her worries; she was there to observe goings on and nothing else. Bailey’s voice rang in her ears. Emma wondered how Bailey had kept the previous maid away and how he got the Maid agency to install her. No doubt, when people know that they are dealing with the FBI they do everything they can to cooperate.

Emma wondered if Bailey was right; did Richard Starks really have all those valuable paintings stolen? What if Bailey was on the wrong track again like the time he thought that old Frank and his father had stolen paintings just because their move from Chicago to Pennsylvania was mirrored by stolen paintings, which had surfaced. What if Richard Starks was also innocent? Emma remembered how confident Bailey was that Richard Starks was the man behind the huge art theft of 1990.

She waited at the front door assuming that there would be someone to greet her since she already announced herself via the intercom at the front gates. Emma waited for a moment in front of the two large wooden doors. She studied the doors; they must have been twelve foot tall and looked as if they had originally belonged to another building, a much older building. After a moment, Emma noticed there was a buzzer to the side of the ancient looking doors. She pushed the buzzer and waited some more.

Suddenly one of the doors opened and a man dressed in a business suit with a briefcase in his hand looked her up and down. “Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t know, but the servants’ entrance is around the back. It’s about time you showed up. I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

Emma noticed that his voice was as polished as his exterior. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his black leather shoes shone like no other shoes she had ever seen. He was short, clean-shaven, and balding on top, with long strands of hair combed over his bald patch in an attempt to cover it. His skin looked smooth and soft except for deep worry lines etched between fine dark eyebrows.

“I…I’m sorry; this was the time I was told to come here.” Emma cleared her throat when she realized that arguing with her new boss was hardly a good start. “Where do I go?”

“Around the back, but just come in this way for today. It’s alright; you weren’t to know.” A smile appeared on his face, as he looked Emma up and down once more. “You don’t look like a maid.”

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but she had no idea how she should reply. She looked down at what she was wearing. She did not know what a maid was supposed to look like, but Bailey should know, and it was he who had given her the clothes to wear. She looked back up at him and shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter. Come inside.” He stepped aside for Emma to enter. “I do have a butler, Mr. Brighton, but he’s away today. He’ll be back tomorrow, and he can show you what you need to do. The maid I had just left. The agency suggested you. You won’t let me down, will you?”

“Of course not.” Emma looked down at his shiny brown leather briefcase. “Are you off to work?”

He frowned at her question and ignored it. “I’ll show you quickly where everything is since Brighton thought he deserved the day off. Show me your hands.”

Emma wondered whether she had heard correctly. She hesitated then put out her hands, palms up.

He turned one hand over. “Good. I’m glad to see you don’t have those awful long fake nails. The agency is finally listening to me. Ladies can’t clean with those long nails; they scratch my highly-polished antique furniture.”

Emma nodded. “Where do you want me to start?” She looked around the foyer to see that it was even bigger than it looked from the outside.

“To be perfectly frank with you, I don’t know where my last maid was up to. She used to go from one end of the house to the other and then start over again. What she did everyday was clean the kitchen and the two main bathrooms and my bedroom. My bedroom is the last room at the end of the corridor up the first flight of stairs. Got it? Dust it and vacuum and make the bed.”

Emma nodded hoping she could remember everything and find all the cleaning equipment. “Where shall I find the …

“You’ll find all the things you need in the room next to the kitchen. Since you won’t have much to do today, you can cook me lunch. You look like you know how to cook.”

Emma smiled. “Yes, I can cook.”

“I’ll be back at 1.00 p.m. sharp. Lunch should be on the table waiting for me, when I arrive.” He stared at her curiously for a moment. “Miss Cook, you have a strange accent; where are you from?”

“Just from around these parts. My parents were foreign.”

Her answer appeared to satisfy his curiosity. As soon as he’d rattled off his long list and advised her to touch nothing that did not concern her, he left the house. She heard the hum of a car’s engine and then she made her way to the window. She watched him drive the low, sleek black car up the winding driveway and through the huge gates that opened as he neared them.

Surely, he hadn’t left a new maid home alone in his house with all his precious objects and antiques. Emma looked around about her at all the decorative items. She looked up at the lights which were massive arrangements dotted with crystal cut glass. Emma had seen smaller chandeliers than these at one of the antique shops in town.

She remembered Bailey’s words that she was solely there to observe, and Emma knew that if she did not do a good job then Richard Starks would not keep her employed. After gathering up cleaning equipment, she made her way to his bedroom.

As Emma made the bed, she saw a book lying on the dresser. She picked it up. It was an art auction booklet; a glossy book full of paintings, and they were to be auctioned on the 14
th
February, just weeks away. Emma leafed through and looked at the paintings and wondered if Richard Starks might be planning another robbery at the auction house. She noticed a piece of paper fall out of the catalogue, and it landed gracefully onto the floor. Emma crouched down, picked it up read it.

Starky,

I want the one on page 59 and the one on page 72. I’ll pay two if you get both,
and half each if you only get one of them.

Blowfish

Emma’s heart beat wildly. This was an order from someone named Blowfish to her new boss, and he was asking for paintings. Did he mean he’d pay two million for the two paintings? And was the half, half a million? Emma placed the note down on the nightstand and took the photo with her tiny hidden camera just as Bailey had instructed her to. She placed the note inside the book then photographed the cover of the catalogue.

Emma finished cleaning his room and went back downstairs. She looked at the clock on the wall of the kitchen. Mr. Starks would be home in an hour. She’d have to start on his meal.

Mr. Starks came back home right on time, at one sharp.

“Mmm, something smells good,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.

“Thank you. I hope you’ll like it.”

Emma served the food onto a plate and then brought it to the table in the kitchen. “I didn’t know if you would be having it in here or in the dining room.”

“I only use the dining room when I’ve got guests. Ahh, my favorite, steak and potatoes, with beans.”

Emma smiled at his approval and figured that was his favorite since there was barely anything else in the refrigerator.

“I’ll keep on with the cleaning then,” Emma said and left him to eat since he did not reply.

When she had just walked out of the room, his phone rang. She stayed around the hall, pretending to dust, so she would still be in earshot.

“I told you, I’m not convinced. I’m going to meet him.” Then there was a long pause, before he spoke again. “Yes, he wants to meet tonight, but I have too much to think about. He wants those two paintings, and now he says he wants another one. I’m not sure if we can pull it off this time.”

His voice suddenly went softer, and she had to strain to hear what he said.

“He’s made us an offer, but I don’t think he’s offering near enough for the risk involved. Unless he’s prepared to up his offer, we’ll have to move on to someone else.”

Mr. Starks spoke again, “That’s right. I guess it all depends on what he’s prepared to pay.” Another long pause, and then he said, “I’ll think about it and let you know a little later. Anyway, we’re meeting up with him tomorrow night. Talk to you later, Buzz.”

Buzz!
She wasn’t sure who Buzz was, an accomplice? She’d have to remember that name to tell Bailey that afternoon. She hurried away from the wall, on the off chance that he would come around the corner. She thought about the conversation and what little she could gather from his words.

It was clear that someone had offered him a lot of money to steal something from the auction house, but Richard Starks was not happy with the price the person was willing to pay. She also found out that they were meeting with him tomorrow night.