Miraculously, the three elderly ladies made their way to the newly revealed storage room with only one minor mishap—when Maxine’s cane caught under the leg from a chest of drawers and nearly sent her flying.
But the old lady caught herself on the solid top of the dresser, and no harm was done.Thank God,Fiona thought, envisioning the elderly woman crashing to the floor amid shattered lamps, bulbs, and vases…
“This is where you found it?” Iva asked, taking Fiona’s arm as soon as she got close enough and urging her forward. “How startling that must have been!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “To find a skeleton hidden away fordecades.”
Fiona had the feeling Iva had been a Nancy Drew fan as well.
“Yes,” she replied, and, having no choice, went on to describe in detail how she’d come to discover the gruesome find.
“And they have no idea who she is? Was, I mean?” Juanita asked. She’d set Bruce Banner’s bag on the floor, easing some of Fiona’s concerns about antique casualties.
“Not so far. From her clothing, she looked as if she’d lived during the fifties.”
“Must have smelledawfulin here when she was decomposing,” Maxine growled. “Don’t know how no one could stand it. Would have been weeks, if not longer. Depends on the humidity and the temperature, and all that, you know.” Her voice was accusing, as if there was no excuse for Fionanotto know.
“The stench would certainly drive away customers,” Iva said, slowly lowering herself to a crouch so she could examine the floor—presumably for clues. Fiona didn’t have the heart to tell her that the forensics team had swept up anything that might have been important, and she and Carl had then cleaned up in their wake.
“Don’t even know what the building was at the time,” Maxine snapped. “Mighta been something else back then. Not an antiques shop.” She spun a look at Fiona, startling her by the sharp, discerning expression in her dark eyes. “When did Valente buy the building?”
“Uh…I’m not certain. I believe someone mentioned he’d owned it since he moved from Chicago to Grand Rapids in the Fifties,” she said, trying to remember who had made the comment. “That means he might or might not have owned the building when she was—uh—locked up.”
Maxine’s eyes glinted with interest and sass. “Needs looking into, missy. If you ain’t got the time, I’ll take Juanita to the library and we’ll look at them old newspapers. Damned microfishers are hard to read, but at least we can blow’em up big enough on them screens. Poor Neety can’t see hardly nothing, you know, without her glasses.”
“I can see enough to beat your patootie in Scrabble,” Juanita, who wasnotwearing eyeglasses, retorted. “That reminds me, dear,” she said, looking at Fiona. “I’m so sorry I missed your grand re-opening last week, but Maxine and I were at a Scrabble tournament in Kalamazoo. I kept my 1500 rating,” she added with a sly smile at her partner in crime.
“But you lost two games,” Maxine snarled. “And I only lost one.”
“The rating’s what matters,” Juanita replied archly. “As you well know.”
“Well, I—”
There was another rattling at the front window, and Fiona was relieved that, apparently, someone else had paid no attention to the sign. “Excuse me,” she said, slipping away from the two bickering ladies—and at the same time, wondering how Iva could tune them out, as she appeared to have done while creeping along the edge of the wall where the skeleton had been found.
When Fiona saw a tall, half-shadowed figure at the front of the shop, her heart leapt before she could stop it. She had to plant her feet firmly on a faded wool rug to keep from rushing to the door.
Gideon.
Quelling her anticipation and pleasure that he had, indeed, wanted to see her again, even though it went against her very grain to wish for that, she walked casually to the front of the shop.
She had every intention of throwing open the door and saying, “Can’t you read the sign? The shop’s closed,” and giving a coy smile. Then he would sweep her into his arms for the kiss he’d been waiting for all day….
It wasn’t Gideon.
“Mr. Sternan?” Fiona opened the door to the investment banker and nephew of Nevio Valente, ignoring the way her heart now sank to her knees.
Of course it wasn’t Gideon. And she was a fool to have her hopes riding on it being him.
“Ms. Murphy. I’m sorry to bother you—could I come in?”
As her brain processed that it wasn’t Gideon but Arnold Sternan standing there outside her front door, Fiona blinked, then stepped aside for him to enter.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m guessing you heard about my little surprise, then.”
“I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” He glanced at her, then swept his attention over the shop. “You’ve certainly done some nice work here, Ms. Murphy.”
“Thank you.” A little uncertain as to what he wanted, she merely stood and waited.
“I’m rather surprised you didn’t contact me or Brad—or any of us—when you made the—er—unpleasant discovery,” Sternan commented.
