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Wednesday, December 12
Agnes expertly poured everyone a glass of wine, beginning with Adam, Beverly, and Jinks, and working her way around to Prospero and Harlan. They were all crammed into Harlan’s office since the antiques store could get drafty at times, and the office sported a wall heater. When she’d finished filling the glasses, she raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to one of the nicest antiquers in the business. Long may he reign. And stay out of jail.”
Adam did a double-take when Agnes winked at Harlan, and he winked back. He glanced at Beverly, who had a surprised smile on her face. Were their two older friends flirting? Nah, couldn’t be.
Prospero lifted his glass to add, “Hear, hear,” then asked, “So Fern Gery cooked up this whole scheme to get revenge on her ex? And framed Harlan?”
Adam nodded. “Framed him to throw suspicion away from her. And to allow her to go through Harlan’s things while he was in jail, looking for that coin.”
Prospero frowned. “But what about Braddon Hopper?”
“When Fern and her cronies saw that the evidence against Harlan wasn’t going to stick, they had to come up with a new suspect.”
Adam had checked in on Braddon last evening after the sessions at the jail with Fern, Redbeard, and Bruno, and was pleased to find the man sitting up in bed watching TV and feeling much better. Beverly had gone with Adam and struck up a long conversation with Sharon Bogren, the secretary at the conference center who hadn’t believe Braddon tried to commit suicide.
Adam was pleased to see Beverly connecting with the young woman. He knew she was still reeling from having trusted Fern at first, hoping they could get to be friends, something rare in Beverly’s life.
Harlan slurped some of his wine, but he didn’t need any spirits to lift his spirits, because he was floating in a cloud of relief. “All this to get back at one cheating husband. Guess hell hath no fury, etc., etc.”
Adam saw Beverly getting ready for a retort, but Agnes beat her to it. She bopped Harlan lightly on the arm. “Present company excluded.” They all smiled, but Adam would never forget the way Beverly went after Reginald Forsythe after what he did to her grandmother. Hell and fury, indeed.
Prospero downed the rest of his glass, and Agnes filled it up again. Adam had the impression Prospero wasn’t a regular drinker and was enjoying his encounter with the grape a shade too much.
But it reminded Adam of something Bruno Giacometti had told him. That Fern bumped into Wallace Ryall quite by accident at some function where he was soused. In his inebriated state, he told her about the valuable coin and his father’s estate, and thus the whole, sordid, rotten-egg-of-a-plan began to be hatched.
Beverly perched on the edge of Harlan’s desk. “Have to admit I’m disappointed Mayor Lehmann wasn’t involved. I’d love to see him behind bars.”
“I haven’t ruled out any involvement on his part. Yet. But we may never find a way to tie him to it. And Fern wasn’t exactly forthcoming. She was as tight-lipped as Bruno Giacometti was free and loose. And neither admitted to the bombing at my house.”
Beverly asked, “What about Redbeard? Has he said anything yet?”
“Funny thing about Redbeard. One quick phone call, and he had a high-priced attorney at his service and was out on bail. Xenakis warned me about him.”
Beverly paused with her glass in mid-air. “He did?”
“It appears Redbeard is pals with one Ivon Kozak. Another of Forsythe’s colleagues.”
Adam didn’t like seeing the apprehension return to Beverly’s face when she’d been looking happier than he’d seen her in quite some time. He probably shouldn’t have brought up Kozak. And he certainly didn’t want to bring up the fact that the bombing was still unsolved, and two of the leading suspects, Redbeard and Kozak, weren’t yet behind bars.
Nor did he want to tell her about the threatening note he’d received after the bombing. Or the fact that the doctors at the hospital where Forsythe was lying in a coma said they thought they’d seen some brain activity on the monitor lately. That could wait for another day.
Jinks saw the look he gave her, warning her not to mention any of this, and she nodded and said, “Was this coin thing all a scam the father cooked up? To tease the two sons he hated so much? I mean, there are days I want to give my little Jacob a one-way ticket to Siberia. But seems like he could come up with something less goofy than a magic coin.”
Harlan shook his head. “Not magic, but very valuable, you see. One sold at auction a few years ago for two million.”
Adam rubbed his chin. “How big would you say that coin is, Harlan?”
“Silver-dollar size. Pretty heavy, ‘cause it’s gold. There are only about twelve of ‘em left in the entire world.”
Agnes sighed. “Fern and Bruno looked through all the pieces from Ryall’s estate here and all the items at my shop and came up empty. Or it was all a hoax.”
Adam got a tingly feeling in his stomach as he stared at Harlan’s desk. “Maybe not all the pieces from Ryall’s estate.” He pointed to the ugly Syroco Clown Lux clock he’d noticed days earlier. “You said that’s from Ryall’s estate, too, didn’t you?”
Harlan sat up straight and put his wine glass down. “So, I did. You don’t think. . .”
Adam picked up the clock and held it up in the air, then shook it around. Nothing rattled. But, shouldn’t the clockworks inside rattle, at least?
He reached over and grabbed a small screwdriver from a workbench behind the desk to pry open the clock face on the clown’s stomach. He looked apologetically at Harlan when a slip of the tool caused some scratches, but then, at long last, he had success. He gently wiggled the clock face open and peered into the clown’s belly.
Agnes had moved to stand over his shoulder, practically breathing down his neck. “Well?” she demanded.
He looked at her and shrugged. But then he poked his fingers inside the clown with a grin and deftly removed a plastic pouch containing a round golden coin. Handing it to Harlan, he said, “Please tell me it’s not Monopoly money.”
Harlan reached into his desk, fumbling around for something, but Prospero had second-guessed him and handed over a magnifying glass. Harlan scrutinized the coin. “It’ll have to be appraised. But it sure looks like a 1927-D Saint Gaudens Double Eagle coin from here.”
Agnes clapped her hands. “You’re rich!”
“Well, now, I guess since Ryall left everything to me, that would include this here coin, right, Adam?”
“Reckon it would, Harlan.”
The older man looked at the coin half dazed. Then he said, “Part of this belongs to you, Agnes. After what I put you through with the lien and all.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said. “I mean, could I?”
Agnes, Harlan, Prospero, and Jinks crowded around the coin to admire it, while Adam motioned to Beverly to join him outside the office. She looked around the store. “I guess all’s well that ends well?”
“Mostly,” he replied. “Lots of loose ends to tie up. Then there are the court dates and attorneys and plea bargains and, well, this could drag on for quite a while. I’m sorry to make you have to testify at some point.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.” She smiled at him, but then her smiled dimmed as she grew more serious. “There is some other unfinished business, too.”
“Oh?” Did she mean Reggie Forsythe? Or maybe Zelda? Or Mayor Lehmann or Ivon Kozak. But instead, she stood on tiptoe, so her mouth was level with his ear. “Right before that bomb went off, remember?”
“Oh?” His voice sounded high and squeaky to his ears. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I think I’d like to take you up on that offer of dinner. If it’s still on the table.”
She looked uncertain, and he realized his mouth was hanging open. He shut it with an audible snap. “Dinner—dinner, yes, I think that would be good. Great, no, great. I mean, it could be Italian or Mexican or Greek or whatever you’d like. Or I’d make something. Or—”
She smiled at him. “Did you know you babble when you’re uncomfortable?”
He’d have to be careful around this one. She never forgot anything, not even an off-hand remark he’d made a week ago. “Touché, Miss Laborde. And who says I’m uncomfortable?”
She hooked her arm around his and dragged him back toward the office like he was hooked, and she was reeling him in. As far as he was concerned, Beverly Laborde could fish for Adam Duttons any day. And if she ever did, this was one fish who might bite on that line and never let go.
