Chapter 12
Dear Sophie,
My mom says if I refinish the antique sideboard that I inherited from my grandmother that it won’t be worth anything. Is that true?
Afraid to Touch It Now in Paint, Pennsylvania
Dear Afraid to Touch It Now,
Your mom is right. You may restore an antique by carefully cleaning it. Consult an expert regarding repairs. But anything that changes the finish may cause it to diminish in value.
Sophie
The other woman sighed. “So Stella is loaded now?” “No! Apparently, the kids got most of it in trust. He was generous with Stella, but she didn’t even get the store!”
“That’s horrible! Who would do that to their child? I’m, well, just aghast! Poor Stella. Who did he leave it to? That woman who was going to marry him?”
“Partly. I heard a rumor that he had a mistress on the side who got the store.”
Nina jabbed me with her elbow.
“That’s not ironic! It’s cruel. A slap in the face from the grave. Lordy, if my daddy did that to me, I’d never recuperate. I always thought so highly of Orson. He was very kind to me when I needed a dining room table because my folks were coming for the holidays. I was scraping by, but I had my heart set on an antique. I would go by his store and dream of the day I could afford what I wanted. One day, he saw me there and said he might have something that would work for me. It was an English table that had probably been beautiful once, but someone had ruined the top with water marks. It was ghastly, and you know me, I’m not the handiest person. But the price was right, and Orson said I could pay for it in installments, and he even threw in a tablecloth to cover the top. I still have that table. A tablecloth covered it for years until I had the top refinished.”
“You refinished an antique? I thought that ruined the value.”
“Believe me, the marks on the top had already done that. Besides, it’s the right size for my dining room and I love the design. Have you heard when the funeral will be? I’d like to go to pay my respects.”
“I haven’t heard a thing. Remember when funerals took place within three days? Now there’s always some excuse about kids who are in school or family members who can’t fly in on a moment’s notice. They’ll probably have it a month from now.”
The women tossed their cups and napkins in the trash and walked along King Street.
“Interesting,” said Nina. “Now I wish I had shopped there. I didn’t know Orson would let a person pay over time.”
“Really? That’s what you took away from that conversation? What about Jordan dating Joan Jankowski?”
“That was interesting, too.” Nina lowered her voice. “She’s on Orson’s bulletin board, isn’t she?”
“It might be interesting to talk with her.” I finished my latte. “On the way back from Myra’s house?”
Nina nodded. We cleaned up the table and headed to Myra’s place.
I had walked by hundreds of times, but had never been inside. The exterior had been painted once upon a time, but the white paint had chipped and faded until the red bricks underneath took on a pinkish color. An oval medallion designating her home as historical was mounted on the brick. Black shutters flanked the windows, and a matching black door was slightly recessed.
“Aw, look!” Nina pointed at the door knocker in the shape of a cat’s head with a ring in its mouth. It appeared to be antique or at least vintage. She clanked the ring.
Myra opened the door with a kitten clutched to her chest. “Hi. Come in fast before anyone escapes.”
We scuttled inside and she quickly closed the door behind us. Five cats sat on the stairs in the small foyer.
“I had no idea you were such a cat lover,” said Nina.
“Most of them have come from the shelter,” said Myra. She held tight to the orange and white kitten, even though it was sinking its tiny little claws into Myra’s caftan. Turquoise with a museum-worthy, purple, floral toile print, it screamed expensive, not to mention the jangling gold bracelets on her arm and the chunky statement necklace of turquoise and pearls.
“It’s a scorcher again.” Myra smiled at Nina, but when she glanced my way, her hospitable smile stiffened. She led us into a large living room.
Myra clearly had an eye for decorating. As one might have expected of the former wife of an antiques dealer, she had gorgeous furniture and exquisite paintings. The room was painfully formal. The kind where you instinctively knew to sit up straight even if it killed your back.
We sat down on blue velvet chairs that matched the leopard print and blue pillows on two white sofas.
“How can I help you?” Myra asked, unhooking the tiny claws and moving the kitten to her lap.
“First, allow me to say how very sorry we are for your loss,” I said.
“Are you really? It seems to me that you of all people would be thrilled. I know you’re divorced, Sophia, but Orson was much older than you are. I was married to him for a long time and I know he was bullheaded. I can’t imagine what you saw in him”—she paused for emphasis—“unless it was money.”
I started to correct my name, but Nina snorted as if stifling laughter. “Myra, it wasn’t like that at all. Sophie is as astonished as you must have been. We think there’s some reason he left the store to her. She’s quite the sleuth, you know. And as it turns out—” Nina became very solemn. “Have the police talked with you yet?”
“If you’re getting around to telling me that Orson was murdered, I am aware of that. That policeman—” She snapped her fingers in the air.
“Wolf Fleischman?” I asked.
She pointed at me. “That’s him. Thank you. Yes, he came by for a rather ugly interview. He thinks I killed Orson. Can you imagine? I spent years married to the cantankerous old coot. If I had intended to kill him, I’d have done it then. Not that the thought didn’t cross my mind. In any event, why would I knock him off now when I’m rid of him? Granted, I was forced to see him once in a while. Grandchildren complicate things. Birthday parties, recitals, and such. But for the most part, I avoided him and that suited me just fine. Old Town was plenty big for both of us.”
“That’s why we’re here,” I said, having decided not to correct my name. It was more important to keep her talking. “Is there anyone who would want to kill Orson?”
“I think you’d be better off asking the tart he planned to marry.”
I desperately wanted to defend Wanda, though a few memories came to mind where she had chased men and been a bit bawdy about it, but right now we needed information from this woman, and she was already miffed about me getting the store.
“Why, Myra!” Nina cooed. “Spoken like a woman who still loves her ex-husband.”
A red wave rose up Myra’s face. “Nonsense! Orson will always be special to me. He is the father of my only child, and while our marriage was far from perfect, I also have many happy memories. In spite of his shortcomings, Orson has a tiny place in my heart, though true to form, he exited this world in a way that made me so angry all the hatred I felt for him came flooding back. I am furious with him for not leaving his estate to Stella in its entirety. What kind of man skips a generation?”
“One who worries that the second generation might use it all up?” I suggested.
Myra shot an ugly look at me. “I’ll tell you what kind of person does that—one who turns every penny and nickel over twice before parting with it.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “If Wanda was looking for money, she’d have soon found out that he didn’t willingly part with a penny.”
Myra scowled at me. “Stella deserves every cent of his estate”—she jabbed a finger in my direction—“including the store. Tight as he was, Orson was the most devoted father I have ever seen. He watched Stella like she was a Rembrandt. I used to tell him that he needed to loosen up and let her be a kid. But he couldn’t do it. No sleepovers unless he knew the parents. Sleepaway camp? Out of the question. He showed up for all her activities. Soccer, volleyball, school projects, you name it. She didn’t have a single teacher that he did not meet personally.”
“It’s a wonder Stella ever married,” Nina joked.
“You jest, but it was even tough convincing him that she should live in the dorm at college. She needed some room and the space to make her own mistakes. That’s how kids learn. She met Jordan there, which Orson always blamed on me. Orson hated him from the get-go. I told Orson there wasn’t a man on this earth he would think worthy of Stella. But between us, I wasn’t too keen on him myself. I’d rather she had married a man who was more mature. I don’t mean older. I mean one who knew what he wanted to do with his life and was working toward something. Not someone like Jordan, who has no ambition. He has certainly had a lot of misfortune in his efforts to become a restaurateur. Not every business runs smoothly. I recognize that, but I don’t think he tries hard. I can’t help comparing Jordan’s lackadaisical attitude to how much effort Orson put into getting the store off the ground. Of course, Stella made us very happy grandparents, but she had her hands full taking care of babies and toddlers and is just now getting around to her own ambitions.”
“When was the last time you saw Orson before the engagement party?”
Myra paused and met my eyes. “Good heavens. I barely remember where I was yesterday. Let’s see. Oh! Of course. It was little Lili’s birthday party. Divorce doesn’t stop doting grandparents from spoiling their grandchildren.”
“When was that?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill Orson? Anyone who threatened him, perhaps?” I watched her carefully.
Myra’s eyes shifted to the fireplace. “Karl Roth, Orson’s former business partner. He hated Orson. I’m told he lifted a glass of champagne upon hearing of Orson’s demise.”
“He was at the party, wasn’t he?” I asked.
“I saw him there, though I would be surprised if he was on the guest list.”
“Why do you say that?” Nina stroked a tuxedo cat who had sneaked onto her lap.
“Who invites a bitter, angry, archenemy to a party?”
“Archenemy?” Those were strong words.
“Oh yes. Karl used to go to auctions and bid against Orson just to raise the price. It infuriated Orson. But then Orson decided to give Karl a taste of his own medicine. He would bid on a piece until the price was absurdly high and when Karl bid a ridiculous amount, Orson would stop bidding.” Myra chuckled at the memory. “Karl didn’t have Orson’s eye for fine furniture and art. Sometimes Orson would find a piece that was worthless and place a bid on it. When Karl bid higher, Orson let him win the piece of junk.” She was laughing so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh my. They were definitely adversaries.”
“Does Karl have a shop somewhere?” asked Nina.
“Last I heard he had a place on North Saint Asaph Street. I’ve never been there.”
“Did you expect Orson to leave something to you?” I asked.
The red in her cheeks flared. “And why not? He could have trusted me to leave it to our daughter. It would have been a much better solution than the chaos he has created with that bizarre will. There’s a marvelous painting in the store of a mother cat watching her kittens at play. It’s not a Renoir or anything, but it would have been nice if he had left it to me, just because he knew it would have made me happy. Did you tell him to make that video?” She glared at me.
“No. Ronin said he saw it in a movie.”
She exhaled loudly. “What an idiot. I’m furious with him for creating such a mess of things. At the very least he could have created a foundation for Stella to run. That’s what sane people do.”
“Myra, did you see anyone acting strange at the party? Doctoring a drink or anything like that?”
“The only person who was close to him, and by that I mean practically attached to him, was the not-at-all-blushing bride. If anyone murdered him, it was Wanda. She knew he had changed his will in her favor, and I think she murdered him before he woke up to reality and altered his will to Stella’s benefit as he should have.”
She was bitter, there was no question about that. I couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did. Part of me wanted to explain that Orson thought he was doing Stella a favor by encouraging her to work and make her own way in life. But Myra would surely argue with me about that, so it was best left unsaid. I wasn’t family and she was highly annoyed with me anyway because of the store.
Nina blathered with her about the kitten, which she had found the previous evening.
“Honestly. How does one kitten end up alone? No sight of mama or other kittens. She was mewing in the doorway of Fleur Couture. Poor baby. I couldn’t just leave her there. She’s a sweet little girl. I like to think these things happen for a reason. That I was meant to find her.”
When we departed and were walking away, Nina said, “Don’t hold it against Myra. You would be miffed, too, if your ex-husband left your daughter part of his estate and gave his successful business to a virtual stranger.”
“I totally agree. I would be highly suspicious. I would think someone had forced him to do that. Or that he had been duped.”
“A lot of people are suspicious.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means a lot of people in town are asking why he would have left the store to you if there was nothing going on between you.”
“Gossip. There’s nothing I can do about that. Hopefully, we’ll identify Orson’s killer, and all the gossipy nonsense will be put to rest.”
Nina checked her watch. “Are you still up to paying Joan Jankowski a visit? Maybe grab a real lunch after?”
“Sure. The art gallery where Joan works is on the next block anyway. Might as well pop in.”
We were one store away from the Brickhouse Gallery when we heard a scream.