Authors: Rett MacPherson
Family Skeletons: A Spunky Missouri Genealogist Traces A Family's Roots...And Digs Up A Deadly Secret (26 page)
“Well, Sylvia,” I began diplomatically, “if Sheriff Brooke wants to âcorner the market,' so to speak, he certainly has his inalienable rights.”
“Oh, pooh,” she said. She narrowed her gray eyes on me. “I know for a fact that Marie Dijon had some very rare and expensive pieces in her possession. I think that the people who have a little knowledge of antiques and a respect for historical items should be allowed to at least view what she had and have a chance to bid on them,” she said. She was very serious.
It felt suddenly stuffy in the office. It is small and has only one window covered by a lace curtain. One wall has an antique rose of sharon quilt hanging on it. It is a beautiful quilt with pink appliquéd roses and a swirling green vine. No matter how beautiful it is, it makes the room more confining. And Sylvia did not help my claustrophobia any.
“It will be some time before all the legal junk is finished and anybody can really make a serious offer. Sheriff Brooke is probably just blowing hot air,” I said. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Why, tell him he cannot do this, of course.”
I laughed at her. I laughed heartily because I knew just how serious she was.
“Victory, you are treading on thin ice, young lady. You show me the respect that I deserve.”
“Yes, Sylvia.”
I tried to straighten up and act right. It was sort of like in the fifth grade when Miss Thomas told us all to “straighten up and fly right.” It didn't work then because she had a long piece of toilet paper hanging out of the waistband of her pants. This didn't work either because I could just imagine me telling Sheriff Brooke that he wasn't allowed to bid on an estate. The vision it evoked brought me to laughing again. “I'm sorry, Sylvia. I'm trying.”
“Marie Dijon was a very generous and giving woman,” Sylvia said. “I don't think that she would want one stingy human being to get everything she had.”
“What do you mean,
generous?
” I asked.
Sylvia looked uncomfortable. “Well, you know the earrings that you wear with the chenille-ball fringe dress?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “The gold ones with pearl drops?”
“Those are the ones. Well, they were on loan from Marie.”
“On loan?” I asked.
“Yes. She said to just pay her whenever, and I never paid her.”
“You stole the earrings?” I asked, amazed.
“Of course not. They are very expensive. They are prerevolutionary France. Something like seventeenth century.”
“Oh, crap,” I said.
“No vulgarities in the Gaheimer House, young lady.”
“How expensive?” I asked. “Sylvia? How expensive?”
“At least twenty thousand.”
“Dollars?!”
“Now you know why I hadn't gotten around to paying her for them. I intended to, but then she died.”
I thought about this for a minute. “So, in other words, since the earrings aren't paid for, you have to return them to the estate, to be auctioned off.”
“If I want to be honest about it. I could keep them and nobody would ever know the difference, but I can't do that. I have to be honest about it. But I'd like to keep them in the Gaheimer collection, and I can't if Sheriff Brooke buys the entire estate.”
“Twenty thousand,” I repeated.
“They are rumored to have been worn by Anne of Austria.”
“Well, that's one expensive rumor.”
“Do you know who Anne of Austria was?” Sylvia asked me.
“Yes, the wife of Louis the ⦠uhâI hate Roman numbersâthe thirteenth,” I said.
“Yes. I'm impressed,” she said.
“I'm sure if you ask Sheriff Brooke, he'd be happy to make a settlement over the earrings.”
“I want you to do it. I refuse to speak with him,” she said and arose from her chair. “There are a few things in the top drawer that need to be returned to her estate, as well as the earrings. Please see to it that Mr. Reaves receives them. I will keep the earrings in my safety deposit box until an agreement can be met.”
“How do you know that Mr. Reaves is handling her estate?”
“Victory, there's very little that goes on in this town that I don't know about,” she said and then added, “Bernice Thorley told me.”
She was out of my office as fast as she had come in.
I picked up the telephone and called the law office of Wilbert Reaves. A young, feminine voice answered the phone.
“Wilbert Reaves, attorney at law,” Jamie said.
“Hello, Jamie. This is Torie O'Shea. I need to speak with Wilbert.”
“He's not here. Won't be for the rest of the day.”
“Well, can you see when he has an opening? I need to bring him some things and speak to him regarding the Marie Dijon will.”
“Tomorrow around two, or you can catch him out at the Dijon place this evening. I'm pretty sure he said that he'd be out there around seven this evening.”
“All right. I'll try that. Thank you.”
A VEILED ANTIQUITYâ
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A MISTY MOURNING
A COMEDY OF HEIRS
FAMILY SKELETONS
A VEILED ANTIQUITY
NOW AVAILABLE IN HARDCOVER FROM
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KILLING COUSINS
FAMILY SKELETONS
Copyright © 1997 by Lauretta Dickherber.
Excerpt from
A Veiled Antiquity
copyright © 1998 by Lauretta Allen.
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ISBN: 0-312-96602-4
St. Martin's Press hardcover edition published March 1997
St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / June 1998
eISBN 9781466888845
First eBook edition: November 2014
