he taken care of any of the paperwork. With his death, and Madam Petrova’s, the egg goes back into her estate and the auction is null and void.”
“How do you know this?”
“The bank president was there—Mr. Ingstad? He answered all of my questions, which was very kind of him, considering he was intermittently—how shall I put it delicately?—sitting there filling a pan at his feet.”
I closed my eyes. This nasty image reminded me of the smell in that church, which I hoped one day to banish from my sensory memory.
“So then the guy who really benefits,” I said, “is Clifford Ashland.”
“One would think, but then he’s already wealthy in his own right. So I hardly see why he’d kill Martinette, muchless his beloved aunt! I mean, can you imagine anyone wanting to kill a beloved elderly relation?”
I looked at her. “Am I under oath?”
“No, dear.” Her smile was wicked. “But I can tell you that the death of Mr. Martinette has been deemed suspicious not because of the nature of his injuries, rather due to…now, you simply must promise to keep this from press!”
“ Mother! ”
“Sorry, dear. But imagine how excited the media will become when they learn that the Fabergé egg…is…wait for it, darling… missing .”
“ What? ”
“Several people gave statements confirming that Martinette moved from his seat and claimed the egg on the altar table, just as panic broke out.” She raised a finger skyward and waggled it. “And yet the valuable item was not found with his body!”
“Father O’Brien was right there….”
“Yes, dear…and Father O’Brien says he did not notice the egg. Of course, he didn’t search the poor man—he was more concerned with checking for signs of life, and of course giving the last rites.”
“Wow. Gotta hand it to you, Mother—you sure can soak up a lot of information when people all around you are getting sick.”
“Thank you, dear. But all is not bleak.”
“Really?”
Her smile was wide, making her face nothing but teeth and magnified eyes, like a cartoon animal. “Yes, our team brought in more money than any other…even without the million-dollar egg! So, technically, we were the winners, and will be featured in American Mid-West Magazine !”
“Well, I’m glad to see the tragedy hasn’t blurred your sense of priorities.”
“Thank you, dear.”
We pulled up in front of our house. “Mother, you have to promise me something.”
“Yes, my darling girl?”
That was bad—“my darling girl” meant that any promise I extracted from her was worth the air it was written on.
But I tried anyway. “I have that ‘bundle from above’ coming, remember? Can we please let the police do their job, and stay on the sidelines of this?”
“We don’t even know if there’s a murder yet!”
I was pretty sure there had been, but I said, “That’s right, Mother. That’s very sensible. Shall we go in and not talk about this?”
Sushi didn’t greet us at the door, which meant she was hiding somewhere because she’d been bad. At her age, this meant either number one or number two, because she wasn’t chewing furniture, anymore. In a house full of antiques, dogs who chew on furniture don’t last long.
Soosh did, however, on occasion, when she was feeling particularly put upon, sink her tiny teeth into an available shoe….
I called out that it was okay for her to show herself (sort of an olly-olly-oxen-free for dogs), but when she still didn’t appear, I surmised that the little doggie must have been really bad. Maybe the dreaded three (number one and two)….
I left my shoes on. Not a good time to go barefoot.
You see, Sushi can be quite vindictive if I miss her dinnertime, and we’d been gone much longer than that. I just hoped she hadn’t chewed up my new, black-leather Donald Pliner sandals that I’d left on my bedroom floor; I’d bought the expensive shoes end-of-season last year at seventy-five percent off, then stored
“How do you know this?”
“The bank president was there—Mr. Ingstad? He answered all of my questions, which was very kind of him, considering he was intermittently—how shall I put it delicately?—sitting there filling a pan at his feet.”
I closed my eyes. This nasty image reminded me of the smell in that church, which I hoped one day to banish from my sensory memory.
“So then the guy who really benefits,” I said, “is Clifford Ashland.”
“One would think, but then he’s already wealthy in his own right. So I hardly see why he’d kill Martinette, muchless his beloved aunt! I mean, can you imagine anyone wanting to kill a beloved elderly relation?”
I looked at her. “Am I under oath?”
“No, dear.” Her smile was wicked. “But I can tell you that the death of Mr. Martinette has been deemed suspicious not because of the nature of his injuries, rather due to…now, you simply must promise to keep this from press!”
“ Mother! ”
“Sorry, dear. But imagine how excited the media will become when they learn that the Fabergé egg…is…wait for it, darling… missing .”
“ What? ”
“Several people gave statements confirming that Martinette moved from his seat and claimed the egg on the altar table, just as panic broke out.” She raised a finger skyward and waggled it. “And yet the valuable item was not found with his body!”
“Father O’Brien was right there….”
“Yes, dear…and Father O’Brien says he did not notice the egg. Of course, he didn’t search the poor man—he was more concerned with checking for signs of life, and of course giving the last rites.”
“Wow. Gotta hand it to you, Mother—you sure can soak up a lot of information when people all around you are getting sick.”
“Thank you, dear. But all is not bleak.”
“Really?”
Her smile was wide, making her face nothing but teeth and magnified eyes, like a cartoon animal. “Yes, our team brought in more money than any other…even without the million-dollar egg! So, technically, we were the winners, and will be featured in American Mid-West Magazine !”
“Well, I’m glad to see the tragedy hasn’t blurred your sense of priorities.”
“Thank you, dear.”
We pulled up in front of our house. “Mother, you have to promise me something.”
“Yes, my darling girl?”
That was bad—“my darling girl” meant that any promise I extracted from her was worth the air it was written on.
But I tried anyway. “I have that ‘bundle from above’ coming, remember? Can we please let the police do their job, and stay on the sidelines of this?”
“We don’t even know if there’s a murder yet!”
I was pretty sure there had been, but I said, “That’s right, Mother. That’s very sensible. Shall we go in and not talk about this?”
Sushi didn’t greet us at the door, which meant she was hiding somewhere because she’d been bad. At her age, this meant either number one or number two, because she wasn’t chewing furniture, anymore. In a house full of antiques, dogs who chew on furniture don’t last long.
Soosh did, however, on occasion, when she was feeling particularly put upon, sink her tiny teeth into an available shoe….
I called out that it was okay for her to show herself (sort of an olly-olly-oxen-free for dogs), but when she still didn’t appear, I surmised that the little doggie must have been really bad. Maybe the dreaded three (number one and two)….
I left my shoes on. Not a good time to go barefoot.
You see, Sushi can be quite vindictive if I miss her dinnertime, and we’d been gone much longer than that. I just hoped she hadn’t chewed up my new, black-leather Donald Pliner sandals that I’d left on my bedroom floor; I’d bought the expensive shoes end-of-season last year at seventy-five percent off, then stored
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