The Sheriff was surprised to see Judith back so quickly, given only the weekend. He had sincerely hoped she would take far longer to solve a mystery so old, but really, he wasn’t that surprised. What had truly brought out his curiosity, however, was that she brought along a bit of a retinue.
He nodded at Daniel, who was beaming like a Cheshire cat that ate a canary. But that was only the beginning of the crowd that was gathered outside his office. He’d seen the Action News team, its star reporter, during the big break in the earlier cases, but hadn’t met her.
“Good morning, Sheriff. Alexis Aldridge, Channel 4 ActionNews.”
He shook her hand; as the rest of the people jockeyed to be next to meet him. The story about the painting must be bigger than he thought, or else there is something else Judith hadn’t told him.
“Alan Voorhees? I was involved with your campaign for re-election, and thanks to your efforts, I am now on the board of regents – Aldo Rhys.
Alan shook hands with the man, though he honestly did not remember ever meeting him before. The same was true for most of the people in the room; it was clear that he wasn’t going to remember all these people, nor even be able to grasp why they were present, so to avoid any more confusion, the Sheriff raised his voice, addressing the small crowd.
“Thank you all so much for making your appearance here this morning, I am certain you have a lot of questions, so I am going to turn this conference, this gathering, over to the Special Agent for the Crimes Taskforce, Judith Price. Miss Price -?”
Judith, clearly beaming, was absolutely in perfect form, and as the Action News camera turned to her, she guided them all into the Sheriff’s office, now open, and led them to the base of the painting.
“Thank you, Sheriff, for that introduction. As you may know, I am Judith Price, and in addition to being the Special Agent in charge of the Taskforce, I am also a fairly prolific puzzle creator. Now, if you take a look at this painting, those of you with any knowledge of the history of this city, will recognize the painting, informally named the Mason Jar Madonna, attributed to the long-missing son of the infamous bootlegger, Falco Devereaux. Further, many of you know that the reputation of this painting is such that many have alleged it is a map or a guide to what is described as the “Missing Millions”, and that it may even point to the final resting place of Falco’s missing son and heir to those millions, Frances.
“We are gathered here today, because, in a moment, I am going to reveal the real story of this painting, and will explain that it is not a murder mystery, but rather, a love story.”
“Now, before we go into those details, I do want to point out that Wheeling is not only the home of this mystery, which everyone seems to want romantically to end in a callous family murder and the discovery of a cache of missing money. Wheeling also has mystery, though far less fascinating, of a donor that created the basis for our city’s Riverwalk, which has provided this city with the means to combine its affluent North side with its work-intensive Southside. Now, for the surprising connection, I want to say that the secret benefactor of Wheeling, the person that built the four walkways that interlaced the warring factions of this community back in the waning days of Prohibition, was none other than Frances Deveraux.”
The small crowd made up of law enforcement personnel, mystery buffs from throughout the valley, and community leaders whose interests were less clearly associated, exploded into a raucous wave of questions. Hands flailed, microphones jutted forward.
Like the professional she was becoming, Judith calmed them with a wave, nodding vehemently.
“I know this may be a shock, particularly to those who have spent years, decades looking for clues within the painting. But let me assure you, I have called some of you here because of your unique capacity to validate the sketchy details of my story. So please, as we go, I will want each of you to introduce yourself, and then repeat what you told me about this case when I called you over the weekend. I do have to say, it was particularly nice of you all to make the effort to be here, and I will endeavor to answer all your questions. Now, to begin with, and you don’t have to introduce yourself, Alan, but as Sheriff of Liberty County, when in particular did this painting come into the possession of the Sheriff’s department originally?”
Alan wiped his forehead, and then answered.
“The painting was taken into evidence Saturday, September 27, 1924. It was part of the evidence recovered from the now-famous Devereaux raid of that same date, at the family’s warehouse, down by the waterfront.”
Judith thanked him and turned to the porridge-faced man that had introduced himself to the Sheriff, only moments ago.
“Mr. Rhys, could you now introduce yourself, and explain perhaps your particular information that we talked about earlier?
Aldo puffed up, a pufferfish of a man, whose self-importance was only a smudge on his overall optimistic personality.
“I am Aldo Rhys, a member of the Wheeling City Board of Regents, and a personally- defined expert on the Missing Millions Mystery, and on the Mason Jar Madonna painting.”
The introduction fairly winded the fellow, and he huffed and puffed a bit, before continuing.
“What I can confirm is the rough estimate of the date of its completion, its composition, and a little on the artist himself. As noted, the painting was completed, at least a day or more before the raid, and is an oil painting on canvas, created by the son of Falco Devereaux.
As he finished his statement, the photographers snapped a few photos, and then Judith followed up with more questions.
“Aldo, why do you say it had to be completed at least a day before the raid? And how can you confirm the artist was Frances Devereaux?”
Mr. Rhys nodded, gulped a little air, his puffed-up presence losing a bit of its nervousness, and responded.
“The work is in oils, and as most any artist can confirm, working with such a medium is nearly impossible in rainy conditions, as the humidity causes the paints not to be manageable. Since the day of the arrest was reported to be in a rainstorm, he could not have finished the painting that day, but must have at some earlier point.”
“As to the veracity of the painting, as you can see the signature in the bottom right of the painting is nearly identical to this one, on one of the photographs he autographed for my great-grandmother, in 1922.”
The little man held up a photo, showing a young man and woman in a dance pose, apparently doing the Charleston, with a signature across its surface that did indeed look very similar to the one on the painting. The crowd oohed, and aahed, the photographers snapped some more, then they all quieted again, awaiting the next person to be called on by Judith.
“Finally, I want to ask Mrs. Gently, one of our town’s centenarians, to step forward. Gladys, can you tell them what you told me this morning?”
From behind the initial wall of eyewitnesses, reporters and others, a tiny button of a woman stepped forward, pushing a silver walker, and looking quite feeble. All eyes turned to her, and in a voice far stronger than her petite form might suggest, she spoke up.
“Hello, Judith. So nice to speak with you again. Yes, as we talked about yesterday, my mother was the County Clerk’s girl back then, helping file papers and keep things in order. And though the record was sealed and she was not allowed to say so at the time, Mother always claimed that the Riverwalk was Frances’s wedding gift to his life’s love.
Again, the cameras clicked, and the elderly woman beamed as if she had just won a beauty contest, making tiny waves at the cameras, and eating up the attention. Again, Judith waited for the crowd to calm down again before she pursued more questions of Gladys Gently.
“And Gladys, can you tell us, who that particular love of Frances Devereaux was?”
Gladys nodded so vehemently, she almost knocked her glasses, coke-bottle thick numbers with dark cat’s eye lenses, off her face.
“Momma always said that Frances as in love with Dolly Harrick, the daughter of one of the Harrick boys from down south, in Cajun Country.”
Cameras clicked, the crowds’ murmurs grew in volume. Once again, Judith caught their attention with a wave of her hand, and they once again turned to hear what she had to say.
“In conclusion, my friends, the Mystery of the Missing Millions is that they ended up remaining right here, in Wheeling, building bridges that a bootlegger could never do. Frances and Dolly, according to therefore to my assessment, drove out of town in a 1924 Buick, more than likely provided by the Treasury Department, as part of a trade for shuttering the Devereaux moonshine business. For the record, Falco Devereaux is said to have died in retirement here, allegedly walking along the Riverwalk, when he was ninety years old. “
“If you have any further questions, I will remain behind for a few minutes, but we do need to move from the Sheriff’s office. I am certain he has many great things to accomplish, that do not require us to take up any more of his time.”
Judith and Daniel remained at the station for the better part of the morning, answering questions, and talking about the details of the case with those who had attended the impromptu press conference.
There it was again, though, thought Alan, as he watched them leave.
Judith, once again, was smiling.