Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery Boxed Set, page 10
part #1 of Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery Series
Cybil nodded. “I highly doubted anyone would go over five hundred for a box. You proved me wrong.”
“Yes, I did.” Henrietta paused as their sandwiches were delivered. “The interesting thing was the fact that your stepparents then began to threaten me. I think they had contacted Ralph to find you but already knew the direction you were heading in. Ralph was likely more of a warning system—if he found you, then they would know you were close—but, then again, so were they.”
“The thing that I don’t understand,” Ralph said, weighing in on the subject, “is what this whole key business is about. And how did your stepparents know about it?”
“I suppose this is the part of the story that I can fill in,” Cybil said, taking a small bite of the dill pickle accompanying her sandwich before meeting Henrietta’s gaze. “You’re right, I do know more than I’ve let on. Before you judge me too quickly though, I wasn’t sure who to trust.”
“We understand. Go on.”
“Remember I told you my mother got sick a year ago?” Henrietta nodded. “Well, on her deathbed, she shared with me a few things about our family I had never known. Like the existence of a safe that no one but she and my grandfather knew about. She told me the story of the puzzle box and how it was supposed to be her inheritance, but she would never see it.”
“That’s heartbreaking,” Henrietta said quietly.
“I agree. It’s the first time I’d heard of this. I mean, the last thing I knew of my grandfather after seeing him when I was ten was that he still disapproved of my mother’s choices. Anyway, the night she told me about the key in the puzzle box, she also told me that she’d convinced my grandfather to put me in his will back all those years ago. I was shocked, but she said that it was right and he had agreed. It was only after I left that night that I saw my stepfather outside the room. I think he’d heard the whole conversation—or at least the last part of it.”
Cybil took in a shuddering breath.
“What is it?” Ralph asked, picking up on her distress.
“Remember I said that my grandfather was sick?” They nodded in understanding. “Well, I don’t think his death was an accident.”
“What?” Ralph leaned forward even more.
“I confronted my stepfather and told him when I turned eighteen, I was out of there. That’s when he started putting the lockdown on everything I did—including hiding my birth certificate. Instead, he met up with this woman—now his wife—and they began plotting. Or, at least I assume so. I think if you look into how my grandfather died and who was around him, she might pop up. It’s a hunch and I have no evidence, but I think my stepfather heard my mother’s comments about the wealth in the hidden safe and wanted to get into the house some way.”
“But what good would it be if they didn’t have the key?”
“That’s just it. They thought they were getting the key when they exchanged me for the box.”
Henrietta began to nod slowly. “So, your stepmother worked for your grandfather as what? A nurse or something?” Cybil nodded. “She gained entrance to the house and perhaps even found the safe, but then didn’t have the key.”
“Yes. I don’t know if they realized the box would be auctioned. I only knew because I’d done some online research. Either way, they were busy looking for me while I was busy trying to get enough money to buy the box before they could get to it.”
“Still,” Ralph said around a bite of corned beef, “what do they think will happen? They’ll just slip into the house, unlock the safe, and get away scot-free?”
“I’m not sure.” Cybil picked at her chips. “I just know that the house and whatever is in that safe holds the key. Pun not intended.” She shrugged.
Henrietta stared off into the distance. “I have a feeling that there is a little bit more going on here than what we are seeing.”
Ralph and Cybil looked at her. “Why’s that?”
“Intuition, my dear,” she said to Cybil. “But the good thing about intuition is that it can always be proven—right or wrong.”
14
Henrietta sat in the dark in the attic of Patton House, legs crossed. She was lost in thought when the sound of faint scratching reached her. Her lips curved into a small smile and she waited.
“This way,” came the sound of a female voice.
“Are you sure?”
“You idiot. Of course I’m sure! I lived with the old geezer for four months, didn’t I?”
“Right.”
Then the sound of footsteps on the stairs came closer and Henrietta took in a deep but silent breath. When the sound reached the top of the stairs, she pulled the chain to the antique tiffany-style lamp and said, “Good evening.”
The man and woman stumbled back, but not before Ralph stepped between them and the stairwell.
“What is this?” the man said. He had black hair and tanned skin with wrinkles next to his eyes.
“This,” Henrietta said, “is what is known as a ‘setup’.” The man scowled. “But you know all about that, don’t you, Mister Markham?”
His eyes widened, and she heard a gasp.
“What?” the woman said, looking between Henrietta and Paul.
“How—how did you know?”
“It took a while, but you left one clue that was unmistakable. The knot you tied me up with. A classic fisherman’s knot. That and the quick nature of how Cybil’s mother found and married you in New York as well as your relatively fair treatment of the girl made me think there was more to you than meets the eye. Cybil said you were a conman, and that’s what this all felt like it was. A big con. You’re not dangerous, but you are out for your own devices, aren’t you?”
“So?” he said, looking around for an escape. “When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.”
“So, that means a few things,” Henrietta said, easing into the explanation. “One is that you’re more than a little familiar with this estate, and two, you have special reason to get into the safe first.”
“Yeah? And why is that?” the woman asked. She was beginning to get on Henrietta’s usually very patient nerves.
“Because I believe that you overheard your wife on her deathbed saying that Gerald had changed the will. The will you knew had originally given everything to your wife and would, subsequently, go to you as her successor and guardian of her child.
“Then, when it became known that the new will was missing, it was your chance to get to it before anyone else. At present, the lawyers are going over the old will he had on file with his lawyer. The lawyer swears there was a new one but, without proof—since Gerald wanted to keep everything in his possession—it means nothing.”
“How could you,” Cybil said, stepping from the shadows.
“Oh, baby, I—”
“Don’t.” She shook her head and glared at the woman next to him. “And you. You killed my grandfather!” Cybil made to lunge at the woman, but Scott stepped out of his hiding place and held her back.
“I’d convinced your grandfather to put his important papers in it, but he did it when I was out shopping one day. Your father told me it was here somewhere, that he’d overheard your mom telling you about it, but when I finally found it, it was locked and there was no way to get in.”
“You would betray me for money?” Cybil said, tears streaming down her face.
Her father hung his head. “I would never have hurt you,” he said, and he sounded as if he was telling the truth. “I did send Valerie here to look for the safe but only to destroy the will if she found it. If everything went to you, then I knew you’d leave me in the dust. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me who you were?” She was still crying, sobs wracking her body.
“Because, in more ways than one, it was better for me to be your stepfather than your real one.”
Cybil shook her head and slumped onto a dusty couch as police officers filed into the room from downstairs. They cuffed Mr. Markham and Valerie and took them out. When silence finally landed in the room, Henrietta turned to Cybil.
“Why don’t you open the safe, dear girl. I think it’s about time we see what Gerald Patton had in mind.”
The tears had stopped and, as if in a dream, Cybil went to the wall with the poorly done still life painting on it. Pulling down the painting, she inserted the old-fashioned key into the lock. The safe door swung open to reveal a stack of papers.
She moved to the table where another light had been illuminated and dumped the papers. There, on the very top, was the most recently dated—and, until now, lost copy—of Gerald’s will. Beneath it, Cybil saw a copy of her birth certificate, her father’s name left blank, and then beneath that, an image of Cybil and Gerald on the front steps of the house.
“This was during that time I was here when I was ten,” she said, wiping away more tears.
“Look,” Henrietta pointed out. “He changed the will around the same time your mother was sick.”
“I think he really did want to take care of me,” she said. “And now, he’s done just that.
With the puzzle box recovered and the confusion of the will amended, Henrietta sat behind the cash register, things having returned to normal in the antique shop. She was sad that the Blackberry Festival had ended, feeling like she’d missed most of it, but she was content as well. It really had been both the best and the most action-packed festival in her history.
She leaned back, regretting that all the unsold furniture was now back in the shop. She’d liked having an outdoor extension of her space. Something to consider for the rest of the summer, to be sure.
She also thought of Cybil. She’d asked the young woman to come by and, by the clock, that would happen any minute. It had been heart-wrenching to see a young woman estranged from her real father, not just her stepfather, but there was something to be said for knowing that her grandfather had cared for her enough to provide for her future. She would be well off if she decided to stay at Patton House or to sell it and move elsewhere.
The bells chimed at the front of the shop and a few moments later, Henrietta looked up to see Cybil come in followed by Ralph. “Saw this little lady walking and thought I’d give her a ride.”
“I’m happy you could join us.”
“I still need to get a proper license,” Cybil said with a laugh. “But I’m working on it.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I—”
The front door bells rang again, and they waited until Mayor Ricky Lawrence stepped into the room, a broad smile on his mouse-like face.
“Hello, hello!” he said brightly. “And what a surprising morning it is.”
Henrietta merely smiled.
“What’s so surprising about a Monday?” Ralph said. Henrietta wondered if he was still sore about the reality that he’d done all the work to find Cybil and would never be paid for it.
“I was just finishing up the silent auction bids when, to my surprise, I saw the winner of not only the largest auction bid, but also our most auspicious item. The puzzle box.”
“What? Who was it?” Olivia said, coming out of the backroom where she’d been cataloging a new shipment of antique books.
“None other than our very own Henrietta Hewitt!” The mayor clapped his hands together and all eyes turned toward her.
“What?” she said, shrugging. Then she asked, “Olivia, will you get the box from the safe?”
“Of course.”
When she came back out with it, Henrietta turned to Cybil. “I couldn’t bear to see it fall into the hands of someone who wouldn’t understand its significance or its secrets.” She smiled and handed it to Cybil.
“Oh, thank you so much, Henrietta. I…I’m overwhelmed.”
“As are we for your generous donation. I was thinking we could chat about next year’s—”
“Here’s your check,” she said, interrupting the mayor, “and we’ll talk come next summer. Okay?”
His eyes narrowed, and she knew he heard “the very beginning of next year” instead of the summer, but she’d take what she could get.
“Thank you, Henrietta.”
He left, and Ralph stepped forward. “So, what’s next for you, kiddo?”
She looked between the box, to Ralph, then to Henrietta. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I spoke with Mister Mallory and he’s willing to stay on and help me a little with the managing of the estate. I don’t really want to sell Patton House—at least not yet—so I’ll stay, and who knows? Maybe do some traveling. Now that my father—” She cleared her throat. “Now that…George and Valerie are out of my life, I feel a new kind of freedom.”
“I hope that you are able to discover all of what life offers but also to find good friendships with which to enjoy said offers.” Henrietta patted the girl on the shoulder.
“Thank you. And I’d better be off. I have behind the wheel driver’s training.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Wish me luck.”
“Maybe I’ll stay here for a while. You know, off the roads,” Ralph muttered as she left. Then he turned to Henrietta. “You bought the box? All that hoopla and you bought the box?”
“As I said, I think Cybil needed to have it. We found papers in the safe dictating that the box was to go to Cybil in the first place.”
“That makes sense,” Ralph said.
“As much as Cybil says that Valerie is to blame for her grandfather’s death, I don’t think she had a hand in it. I honestly think that Gerald passed away unexpectedly before he could fully arrange things. Like leaving papers out of the safe to ensure that the safe would be found.” Henrietta offered a sad smile.
She was glad that things had wrapped up as they had, the pieces indeed falling into place, but it was also difficult to think that Cybil would never see her grandfather again and her already stilted relationship with her father had only worsened with the truth. Still, Cybil was better off away from the clutches of overbearing guardians. Somehow, she thought Cybil and Chesterton would make a good team when it came to Patton House.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, Henri. That was some detective work you did.”
She shrugged. “I simply pulled the pieces together.”
He let his gaze linger on her for longer than was comfortable, then offered up a roguish grin. “You sure I can’t convince you to work with me?”
“I think you already have,” she said with a grin.
Break-ins and Bloodshed
Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery, Book 2
1
The scent of spiced pumpkin bread mingled with mulled apple cider and permeated every nook and canny of H.H. Antiques as Henrietta Hewitt came from the backroom to the register. She breathed in deeply and admired the candle her assistant, Olivia Braddock, had brought in the day before. It was the source of the apple scent, and the loaf of bread next to it made up the other fall fragrances.
“Perfect,” she breathed out, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“Henri?”
Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Henrietta turned to face Ralph Gershwin. She’d tried in vain to get him to stop calling her Henri, but it seemed to be a losing battle. One she was, admittedly, going to give up. In short, the nickname was growing on her—not that she’d ever let Ralph know that.
“Hello there, stranger!” Ralph had been gone for two weeks at a special private investigators’ symposium in Chicago and had only gotten back the night before, evidenced by a text from him at ten-thirty at night. “How was your trip?”
Ralph shrugged and eyed the pumpkin bread. Without asking, she cut him a slice and offered it over on a napkin.
“This is good, who made it?”
She feigned hurt. “Who’s to say I didn’t?” Ralph eyed her and she smiled. “All right, I got it from next door.” She bent her head in the direction of the coffee shop, Espresso Yourself.
“Gina always makes the best baked goods.”
Henrietta nodded in agreement. “Well?” she prodded.
“It was good. I guess.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
Ralph polished off the bread, licked his fingers, then crossed his arms. “Let’s just say I took one class where I learned something, and the rest of the time, I had to correct way too many mistakes at these young guys’ presentations. Amateurs. I could do a better job given the opportunity.”
“You sound like a bitter old man,” she scolded, accepting his paper napkin and tossing it in the trash.
“You’re right.” He huffed out a breath and dropped his arms. “What’s new around here? I see the fall decorations are up.”
Henrietta looked around, admiring the pumpkins that dotted the shop and the strings of leaves Olivia had finished hanging the day before.
“Yes, things are coming right along. You know fall is our busiest season.”
“So, you’ve said. Apparently, it’ll be a busy one for me too.”
“What do you mean?” Henrietta stopped brushing the crumbs off the counter to face her friend.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?” She felt alarm rising inside. This didn’t sound like good news.
“There’s been a few break-ins within the last week. I was hired by The Cliffs Housing Association to look into it.”
“Oh no. That’s terrible!”
“You wouldn’t want to help me, would you?”
She should have expected his offer. He’d been trying to get her to join his private investigation firm, Gershwin Private Investigators, with his son Scott for over a year now, but she’d declined every time. She was an antiques dealer with a shop to run, not some amateur sleuth. Then again, she’d helped him with a case not too long ago when they’d found a missing person. That had been a wild ride, and one she still thought fondly of, despite the danger of the whole ordeal.
