TWELVE

 

One month later, I was standing in the foyer of Highland House. The renovation was coming along nicely. The front entry had its mosaic tile floor refinished. The snooker table had been polished, re-felted (is that even a word?), and returned to the game room. And, much to Vance’s chagrin, the balls were still pink. My girlfriend, it would seem, wanted to keep everything as original as possible.

I headed to the living room and took a seat. I was here to pick up Jillian and, together, we were going to head to dinner. As I leaned back in the chair, I felt another twinge of pain from my right shoulder. Well, it was bound to happen. After all, I had been shot.

Truthfully, it still haunted my dreams, but I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone. Not yet, anyway. In case you’re wondering what part of me had been hit, it was my right shoulder. That’s why my right arm is in a sling and the simple act of moving it brought tears of pain to my eyes. Had the bullet hit either an inch or two in the wrong direction, I had been told, then I could’ve lost the use of my arm altogether. But, I’m told the wound could have been a lot worse.

Sure doesn’t feel that way.

Anyway, I can’t give you a firsthand experience on what had happened next because, much to my chagrin, I had passed out. Sure, I had been shot, and without realizing it, had lost a lot of blood. I do remember Jillian freaking out on me once we made it up and out of the subterranean cement room, but then that was it. The nice thing is, I know Jillian will never give me hell for passing out. Not like Vance would. Or did. But, I will say I think I earned a little more respect in my detective friend’s eyes.

Ok, let’s start with TweedleDee and TweedleDum. They, as you might have imagined, had been caught red-handed in the vault, as I have come to call it. Even handcuffed, as they were led away, the two cousins were threatening to lay into one another, as though they each believed the other was the reason why they had been captured.

As for us, we made it out of the vault before it sealed itself. How the dogs knew bad things were going to happen if that display case was damaged was beyond me. Who would have imagined that Dame Highland would have had a (for the time) top notch security system installed on her vault, and that it was still operational? And, somehow, the dogs knew they had to vacate the area, and do so rapidly. I really don’t know why I still question the dogs’ motives. They’re clearly smarter than me and they know it. I’m just thankful no one else had been hurt.

Czarina’s Tear had vanished. That’s the official report. However, both Jillian and I knew what had really happened. Shards of green glass had been discovered on the ground inside the vault, so I can only assume someone had tripped and fallen on the gem. The fact that it broke clearly identifies it as being a fake. Too bad. I would have liked to have known what it had been worth.

Speaking of worth…

The fourth display case? It had remained covered, seeing how Curtis and Bart had more important things on their mind than discovering what else was waiting for them. No, it didn’t contain the real Czarina’s Tear. In my opinion, it contained something much better. It held the Royal Danish egg.

The what, you ask?

The Royal Danish egg was one of six missing Fabergé eggs belonging to the Russian Royal Family. This particular egg was delivered to the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, born in Denmark as Princess Dagmar. She returned to Denmark for her father’s 40^th anniversary of his ascension to the throne. The egg had been a gift to commemorate the occasion. How do I know so much about this? Well, Jillian, for one, somehow recognized the egg almost immediately. I tell you, that is one well-educated woman. And second, that egg’s value has been placed somewhere in the 20 to 30 million dollar range.

Yeah, you read that right.

Before you ask what we’re going to do with the egg, I can tell you it has already been done. The egg has been returned to Russia. Well, it was given to the Russian Embassy in San Francisco, if you want to get technical. To say they were flabbergasted that a missing Fabergé egg had not only surfaced but was to be returned, no questions asked, was a serious understatement. They passed along their eternal thanks. I’m told the Russian government is trying to find some way to thank us, only I have no idea how.

Bear in mind, this happened while I was in the hospital, on some pretty powerful pain meds. I don’t remember a thing about any of it. But, that’s okay. I have no qualms about returning a stolen object to its rightful owner.

Work on Highland House was back on schedule. In fact, I do believe they’re focusing on the kitchen today. If you’re wondering about all the hidden rooms and compartments scattered throughout the house, I can pretty much tell you that everything has been indexed and catalogued. Well, what was left. I can’t begin to fathom how many valuables Curtis and his partner must have stolen over the years. Or his family, for that matter. The contractors have strict orders to leave all hidden compartments and rooms exactly as they are. Jillian was serious when she said she wanted the entire house renovated. Every nook and cranny is being inspected to be certain it is safe. For the record, two more hidden rooms and five more hidden compartments had been found. Empty, of course, but I think it’s still cool as hell.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention the jewelry. In order to address that topic, let me take you back two weeks, to the time I had finally stepped foot back inside Highland House after being shot.

Jillian had her hands full with the corgis. I had volunteered to take one of the leashes, but Jillian wouldn’t hear of it. The last thing she wanted to see happen, she told me, was to have one of the dogs accidentally pull me off balance. And, since the corgis are strong little boogers, I knew it was a possibility. Without the use of my right arm, or hand, I felt like a complete invalid, even though Jillian constantly reminded me I had another perfectly useful hand. Ever try sign your name with your opposite hand? Yes, some can do it, but the vast majority of us can’t. I would fall into the latter category.

“How are you doing?” Jillian asked again, concern evident in her voice. “I don’t want you overtaxing yourself. If you get tired, you’re to let me know, okay?”

“It’s a promise,” I said.

Let me cut in here again and tell you something. I really enjoy having an attractive woman fawn over me. I can definitely get used to it, especially when I actually needed the help. Again, not that I’d ever admit that.

“Do you think Dame Highland ever had the real Czarina’s Tear?” I asked, as we headed to the living room.

Jillian nodded, “I do. I mean, think about it. Take that Fabergé egg, for example. It’s Russian. It was stolen from the Russian Royal Family. What do you want to bet that egg, along with Czarina’s Tear, were gifts from a prospective suitor?”

I shrugged, and then bit my tongue to keep myself from groaning aloud.

“Robert tells me they’re going to begin repairing and replacing the wallpaper upstairs. The electrician will also be onsite, since he needs to identify… Zachary? What are the dogs doing?”

Sherlock had suddenly perked up, as though someone had blown a dog whistle. Watson had perked up, too, only she was a few seconds behind Sherlock. Together, the dogs rose to their feet and headed for the stairs. Detecting taut leashes, both dogs turned to look back, but not at me. They were watching Jillian, as if they knew she was the one to talk to when it came to the control of their leashes.

“Should we follow?” my girlfriend asked.

I painfully rose to my feet, “Sure. We’d be fools not to see where the two of them take us, especially in this house.”

The dogs led us up the stairs, slowly, as if they knew I had trouble keeping up, which I did. Jillian had given the dogs as much of the slack as she could, which afforded her the ability to follow me up the stairs. What she was going to do, if I lost balance, was beyond me. I had at least a hundred pounds on her.

“We’re back in the master bedroom,” Jillian observed, as we walked through the large double doors. “What’s in here, guys? Is there something you need us to see?”

Sherlock and Watson walked straight over to the large bas-relief sculpture encompassing the entire eastern wall of the room and immediately sat. Curious, the two of us approached the large carving and then stared at each other. Sherlock turned his head just then, looked straight at me, and then woofed once. Then, the tri-colored corgi returned his attention to the huge piece of art.

“I’m not sure what we’re looking for,” I confessed. “Yes, this is a magnificent piece of work, but what the significance is, I don’t know.”

About ready to say something, Jillian’s mouth suddenly closed. Curious, she edged closer and ran her hands along the many intricate details that had been incorporated into the sculpture. Her hand stopped and then her index finger started tapping.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Have you looked at this thing?” Jillian wanted to know. “I mean, really looked? It’s covered with carvings.”

“I can see that.”

“No, I mean, look at the carvings. This is a tower. If you look closer, you can see Rapunzel at the window, and strands of her hair have been let down, almost to the ground.”

I nodded as I studied the scene, “That’s pretty cool.”

“And this here?” Jillian continued, as she moved to another scene. “This looks like it depicts a forest. See? There’s a path running through the trees. And look! There’s Little Red Riding Hood.”

I nodded again, “Okay. I see that. So, it’s full of nursery rhymes? Is that it?”

“Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” Jillian reported, tapping a scene depicting the inside of a cottage and three bears seated at a table. “Here’s a workshop with… are those shoes?”

“The Elves and the Shoemaker,” I said. “I know the story.”

“The Elves and the Shoemaker,” Jillian repeated. “Zachary, the whole sculpture is filled with nothing but fairy tales.”

I suddenly remembered Sherlock and Watson running free inside Cookbook Nook and where they had stopped, namely the Specialty Cakes section. If memory serves, Jillian had a picture hanging on the wall right beside the display.

“Specialty Cakes,” I whispered.

“What was that?” Jillian asked. “What about it?”

“Your store. Your Specialty Cake section? Sherlock and Watson broke free and were found sitting in front of that section. Refresh my memory. Don’t you have a picture hanging right next to that display?”

Jillian nodded, “I do, it’s… you’re kidding! Are you serious? That picture is a scene from Hansel and Gretel!!”

“Another fairy tale,” I said, as I looked down at the dogs. “And every time we come in here, the dogs are looking this way. Honey, what do you want to bet there’s something else we need to discover with this carving?”

Jillian fell silent. Concerned, I looked her way. She was looking at me, almost as if I had started speaking tongues. Had I? Said something weird, that is?

“You called me ‘honey’,” Jillian said. She gave me a warm smile. “Michael called me that all the time.”

“Oh. Uh, I’m sorry. I can…”

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t tell me you’ll find something else to call me. I like it.”

I smiled back, “You’re on. Now, what do we need to do here?”

“Well, let’s see. We have four fairy tales represented so far. Can we spot any others?”

“This looks like Aladdin’s lamp,” I said, as I pointed to an almost life-sized replica of the genie’s lamp. “That belongs to the genie, right?”

Jillian nodded, “I believe so. Okay, we’re up to five. Now, what about that castle? Whoever carved it did a fantastic job. There’s so much detail! Why, it even looks as though one of the windows is a keyhole. How strange.”

“Is that from a fairy tale?” I asked.

Jillian shook her head, “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“There’s a dragon over here,” I said, as I tapped an area in the top right portion of the carving. “Weird. It has two heads.”

“There’s a sea on the left,” Jillian reported, “and it looks like there’s a pirate ship being attacked by a sea serpent. I don’t know what fairy tale that’s from, either.”

We spent the next hour studying every square inch of the wall. Oddly enough, we couldn’t identify any other fairy tales, only the five: Goldilocks, Red Riding Hood, Elves and the Shoemaker, Rapunzel, and Aladdin.

So, what the hell does it all mean?

“I’m at a loss.”

“I’m not sure what we need to do, either,” Jillian admitted. “It’s almost as if… Zachary! This piece moved!”

I hurried – as best as I could – over to her side. Jillian’s hand was resting on the tiny hammer the Shoemaker was holding. Sure enough, I could see that it was gently pivoting in place, alternating from the ‘ready-to-strike’ position to the head resting on the tiny table. Bemused, Jillian left the hammer in the ‘down’ position and tried a few of the other tools. They, too, pivoted in place. Eager to see what else was interactive, Jillian began poking and prodding the scene. When she pressed on the shoe the Shoemaker was holding, we were surprised to see it recess a fraction of an inch and emit a soft click.

“It’s a button!” Jillian exclaimed. “Oh, how clever!”

“What is?” I wanted to know.

“This whole carving,” Jillian explained, sweeping her arm across the fairy tale-themed bas-relief. “It’s a giant puzzle!”

“Does anything else move?” I eagerly asked.

Jillian checked other various parts of the Shoemaker scene, but the tools were the only items that were able to be moved.

“Nothing else here. Let’s try another scene.”

Several minutes later, Jillian let out another exclamation of surprise.

“The trees! Here, next to Red Riding Hood. These three, no, four trees can move! Not much, mind you, but just enough to signify… well, it could signify the trees swaying in the wind.”

“Are any of them buttons?”

“No. Let me see. Oh! Look! Red’s basket!” I then heard a soft click. “The basket is the button. How exciting!”

“Look for more!” I suggested. “There are three other scenes. There must be more buttons!”

I was right. The tip of Rapunzel’s hair, resting just above the ground, swung gently to the left and right. Plus, several birds sitting on the windowsill next to Rapunzel could also be moved. This scene’s button turned out to be the weather vane on the top of the tower.

As for Goldilocks, all three heads of the bears moved, as if they were going to look at each other. The button ended up being the head of the baby bear. As soon as Jillian pressed the fourth, we heard a louder click and just like that, all the ‘buttons’ were back to their original positions.

“We have to hit them in the correct order,” I guessed.

Jillian nodded, “I can get on board with that. But… wait. What about Aladdin?”

My eyes moved over to the carved representation of the lamp. Being the closest to it, I gently poked and prodded the wooden carving, but much to my chagrin, nothing moved. Not only that, there didn’t seem to be anything else to Aladdin’s scene beside the lamp. What that meant, I didn’t know.

As I was studying the lamp, trying to ascertain its role in the puzzle, my writer’s brain kicked in. These were fairy tales we’re talking about. What if… what if the order of the buttons is the order in which the stories were published?

“Order of publication,” I suddenly announced. “I think that’s the order of the buttons.”

Jillian nodded, “I’ll buy that. Do you know when these were published?”

I pulled out my phone, “I will momentarily. Let’s see. Aladdin and His Magic Lamp was published… wow. It was published before 1709. As for Rapunzel, well, Google says it was published around 1812. The Elves and the Shoemaker was 1806, and Little Red Riding Hood was 1695.”

“You forgot Goldilocks,” Jillian reminded me.

“Right. Sorry. Goldilocks… that was 1837.”

Jillian turned back to the huge bas-relief.

“All right. If we drop Aladdin out of the picture, since there doesn’t seem to be a button over there, then that would mean the oldest is Little Red Riding Hood.” She pressed the basket. “Then, it’d be the Elves and the Shoemaker.” The shoe was pressed. “Up next, we have Rapunzel.” The weather vane clicked when pressed. “And finally, we have Goldilocks.” The baby bear’s head was pressed.

My mouth opened, intent on asking, “What now?”, only before I could say anything, Aladdin’s lamp popped free of the carving. I actually managed to catch it before it could fall to the floor.

“Nice reflexes!” Jillian praised.

I was about to hand the thing over when I noticed the lid of the lamp move. Curious, I lifted the lid and looked inside. Shocked senseless, I turned to Jillian and gently rotated the lamp.

Something large and heavy, wrapped in black felt, tumbled into my hand. I carefully unwrapped it and damn near dropped it when I saw what it contained. It was green, sparkly, and the size of a chicken egg: Czarina’s Tear!