Chapter 28
It was a good question. There was only one answer I could think of. “Orso gave it to them?”
Eric held out his hand for the sketch pad. “May I?”
I handed it to him.
The professor leaned back in his chair. “Of course. Orso removed the four items from the delivery truck and gave them to someone for safekeeping. I had been working on the presumption that they were hidden but everyone knows it’s easier to hide things in plain sight.”
“Edgar, where’s that photo of your dad?” asked Eric.
Edgar pulled it out of his wallet.
“Show it to the professor.”
Edgar passed it to him.
“Is that Orso?” asked Eric.
Professor Maxwell peered at it closely. “No. He looks a lot like Orso, but that’s definitely not him.”
Edgar exhaled noisily. “I’m glad to hear that!”
The professor drummed his fingertips on the table. “It appears that Olivia and Priss are now key. Shall we pay them a visit, Florrie?”
“You can’t just barge in and demand your sketch,” said Mr. DuBois. “You need a pretense for visiting them. Otherwise they’ll clam up.”
“Quite right, DuBois. But if I were interested in buying the building, I would surely be expected to tour the house, including their apartment . . .”
“Florrie,” said Eric, “do you think Nolan is up to showing the building this morning?”
“If he thought he was going to sell it, he would do backflips with two broken legs.” I looked up his number and called him.
I admit that I felt just a hair guilty for lying to him. He would get his hopes up about selling the house. But just as I had expected, he was raring to go and agreed to meet us there at eleven o’clock.
Eric pushed back his waving hair. “I wish I could be there.”
“No way. They would clam up. Not to mention that you’re supposed to keep your leg up.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. DuBois. “I acquainted myself with the instructions for your care, and I’m afraid you haven’t been following them.”
“I get it. I would ruin the whole plan. I’ll stay here and console myself by studying Florrie’s sketchbook.”
At ten minutes of eleven, Professor Maxwell and I set out for Dolly’s house. “They live in the second-floor apartment. When you walk in, you’ll see a wall full of paintings and photographs. The sketch is on the left in a black frame about an inch wide all the way around.”
“I hope they haven’t damaged it.”
The professor greeted Nolan warmly, asking all the right questions about the house. “What kind of heat does it have? Does each unit have its own electric meter? Has it been rewired?”
Nolan did his best to limp along. But I noted that stairs were an issue for him. “You don’t need to come down to the basement with us,” I said.
“I should be with you when you view any occupied units of the house. You can see the third floor on your own.” Nolan opened the door to the basement and stopped cold. “Seeing that it’s you, maybe I can trust you to look at the basement unit by yourselves?”
I assured him that he could. The professor and I made quick work of the basement. Not that there was much to see. The laundry room, a utility room that appeared to double as a storage area, and Edgar’s small apartment, none of which were remarkable or surprising in any way.
We walked back up the interior stairs.
Nolan knocked on the door of Dolly’s apartment. We could hear footsteps approaching on the other side. The door swung open and we stood face-to-face with Percy. There was no mistaking what he was doing there. He wore a woman’s robe of cream-colored silk embroidered with flowers. Yet he didn’t appear to be the least bit self-conscious about his attire or, far, far worse, the fact that I had caught him with another woman. Most men would have been ashamed, or at least embarrassed, but Percy asked, “Is it eleven o’clock already?”
Nolan scowled at him.
I was taken aback. “I thought you were dating my sister.”
Percy nodded. “Veronica. Nice girl.”
Really? That was all he had to say? No shame? No blushing? No rapid chatter to try to defend himself? I had been right about him all along. He was a worm.
“Don’t look so astonished, Florrie. See, Maisie and I were engaged once. And when she came back to town because of her mom’s death and all, we sort of hooked up again.”
“Good try, Percy. You were out with Veronica only a couple of nights ago.”
“Yeah, I like Veronica. We have a real good time together. So, you wanna come in?”
Percy stepped aside and yelled, “Hey, Maisie! Nolan’s here!”
I gasped when we walked inside. The paintings had been taken off the walls and the furniture had been moved.
Nolan glanced at me. “We’re getting ready for the estate sale.”
Maisie ambled out of the bedroom dressed in high-fashion jeans and a T-shirt that sparkled with blue and silver sequins in an abstract design. “Hi. Excuse us. We’ll be outside.” She crooked her finger at Percy and ushered him out the front door.
“Well that was awkward,” said Nolan.
While he showed the professor the bedroom, I remained in the kitchen, wishing I had thought to study it before Maisie arrived. Finding orange juice now would be meaningless. If Dolly’s killer had made the antifreeze drink in her kitchen, everything would be washed up or thrown away by now.
Finally, it was time for us to see the second-floor apartment. Nolan climbed the stairs slowly. After three steps he said, “Florrie, run up there and see if Olivia or Priss is home. Maybe I don’t need to walk up. Here’s the key for the third-floor apartment.”
“No problem, Nolan.”
The professor and I walked up to the door. I knocked on it. The pretty wreath and the pillow on the bench were gone.
Priss opened the door. “Florrie! Nolan told us he was showing the apartment today. Where is he?”
Whispering so I wouldn’t embarrass him, I said, “His ankle is killing him, so he’s going to wait downstairs.”
“Poor Nolan. That fall really banged him up.” Priss flitted out to the railing and looked down at him. “Hi, Nolan! How are you feeling?”
She kept talking to him, so the professor and I stepped inside and greeted Olivia. While the professor made small talk, my mouth fell open. There wasn’t a single thing left on the wall.
“Your wonderful paintings,” I gushed. “They’re gone!”
The professor didn’t show any sign of dismay. “Pity. Florrie was telling me about a painting of a sunflower. I collect them and thought I might be interested in buying it from you.”
Olivia avoided my gaze. “Really? I don’t think it’s worth much.” She eyed some boxes that clearly contained paintings. “We’re packing up for our move. I think it might be in this one.”
She dug in the box and pulled out a black frame that I recognized. I could hardly breathe.