Day
2
I guess
I was more jet lagged than I’d thought as I woke to the sound of children playing outside my window on the third floor.
Children? I could only hope that they hadn’t explored the grounds more extensively as there were some snow covered ditches
in the lawn and overgrown (and untended for decades) garden that one could easily fall into into.
I grabbed
my robe, and padded to the bay window (that had once been in the stern of an
18th century sailing vessel) and found myself (safe behind the antique glass) being pelted with snowballs.
Lee
and Edith were congratulating themselves on their aim, Edith’s squeal sounding more like a 7 year old than a grown woman.
They’d
apparently spent the morning building snowmen, snow ‘angels’ and there was even a functioning igloo if the thin
wisp of smoke from the ‘smoke stack’ meant anything. (Probably due to Lee’s Arctic survival skills.)
I could
only wonder what Ms. Bates of the Boston Museum would say if she arrived to see my family like this.
Checking
my watch, I discovered that I’d better get moving if she was supposed to arrive around 11 a.m. as planned. (It was 10:45)
But just then the museum’s limo drove up. Lee and Edith got a kick out of racing each other to the gate to open it up
for the car. Edith raced back to the house, yelling at the top of her voice for me to wake up as we had company.
I could
see Lee shrug his shoulders apologetically to the driver as he indicated the limo should drive
up to the house while he closed and secured the gate.
I am
not a quick change artist, but did manage to pull on a pair of sweat pants and a flannel shirt. I’d slept in my socks
so I didn’t have to bother with them as I pulled on some shoes.
“Ms.
Bates?” I called out as I finally (well, okay, it was only a few minutes) waved from the stairs as I headed down to
the entry.
“Miss
Bates, if you don’t mind,” the elderly woman removed her wooly scarf at the entrance while Edith took her coat.
“ You can wait over there,” she told the chauffer while Lee came in, dusting off his own snow. Was it my
imagination or had Lee done something to his hair that I hadn’t noticed when he was playing outside? Some of his hair
was streaked with white (not snow)and his eyes looked a bit different, but I couldn’t put my finger on just what the
difference was.
One
thing was for certain, the changes hadn’t made a difference about the way women looked at him. Miss Bates was actually
appraising him.
“And you are?” she asked almost hungrily.
“No
Habla Englase,” Lee gave her his quirky grin but not before winking at Edith and I on the sly.
She
was all but drooling at the sight of him up close and personal.
“Kit
- chen,” Edith had picked up on what Lee was trying to do right away, or maybe she’d known since this morning,
and pointed to the driver, then down the hall and rubbed her stomach in the universal sign of ‘food’ .
“Sie,
senorita,” Lee grinned again and led the chauffeur down the hall while Miss Bates tried to recover from her brief trip
to Heaven.
“Your
man is a sight for sore eyes.”
“Yes,
too bad he’s rather simple,” Edith sighed. “But has a good heart and we're trying to make life easier for
him. Lives for his best girl back in Santa Barbara. No getting him away from her for long. Not usually. I guess Harry must
have used some pretty strong incentives for the weekend.”
“Er,
yes,” I said, “ but I won’t bore either of you with them. Now, why don’t we go discuss things in the library."
I
led the way to the ornate sliding (and ornately carved) wooden doors. In minutes we were sitting in upholstered chairs facing
an empty fireplace.
“I
guess we forgot to light the fire in here. You have to understand that Edith and I hardly ever use the place, and there’s
no staff aside from a monthly cleaning service. And, er...my man, well, it’s not really his job to fetch and carry,”
I lied. How many times Lee had done just that I couldn’t count.
“I’ll
get right to the point," she began. "As you know, only the Nelson jewels were stolen from the museum. What we didn’t
know when we called the police was that the vault holding the rest of them that hadn’t been on display, had also been
broken into. The jewels gone except for a couple of earings and a bracelet that had fallen to the floor. Why leave them is
anyone's guess. We're very concerned. Nobody gets into the vault without a key code. Either the owner or the curator. And
it wasn't me, I assure you.”
“An
inside job? But why our stuff?” Edith asked.
“The
jewels would only bring in a few thousand dollars for the gold and silver settings. But, genealogically speaking they’re
quite valuable.”
“But
Edith and I are the only members of our family left,” I said. “Why would anyone be interested in our family history?”
“Mr.
Nelson, or do you prefer Admiral? Mr. Nelson it is then,” she said after I had nodded, “everyone has family. Even
if there’s no living memory of who begat who, etc.in your line, if someone
found a common ancestor you share, and could prove it with the locks of hair and their DNA, it’s
conceivable that they might try to bilk you out of some of your property. A lot would depend on a last will and testament, but
it’s highly unlikely a third cousin twice removed or a thirteenth cousin, for example, could or would be entitled
to anything. But even just wanting something from your family could explain why
anyone, aside from historians, would steal mourning jewelry. Have you received any inquiries lately about looking up your
family tree? Or anyone saying they discovered you were a distant cousin, etc?”
“I’m
sure I’d remember, but a lot of personal mail does come through to my NIMR office. If it did, my Administrative Assistant
would have asked me about it.”
“Well,
you will let me or the police know, won’t you. Our accountants will go through the list of items and submit the total
loss to the insurance we have. We are very sorry about your loss. But, at least you can take heart in the fact that at least
it wasn’t a Rembrandt!”
Just
then Lee rolled in a cart with three mismatched cups and saucers and a small pot of coffee. And only one spoon for the little
packages of sugar and cream.
He
gallantly poured a cup, added too much cream and a sprinkle of sugar, then took a sip, sloshed it around in his mouth
before swallowing, then handed it to our guest as if he’d done her a great service by making sure it was perfect
.
“Heavens,
look at the time,” she said, flustered as she looked at her watch pointedly. “Thank you but I really must be going.
My chauffeur?” she used her hands to indicate a steering wheel to Lee.
Lee
nodded happily and went to collect the man, while it was all Edith and I could do to keep from laughing at the ruse, for whatever
reason it was that Lee had entertained using it.
After
our guests had gone, the gate shut, Lee leaned against the door and
sighed.
“What
the hell was that all about?” I asked.
Lee
simply shrugged his shoulders and laughed, ‘No Habla Englase’.
“Damn
it Lee, what’s up? Did you know about this Edith?”
“A
little diversionary tactic," Lee said. "And no, she didn't know, well, not all of it. Harry, trust me, ‘Miguel’
will be better able to blend into Boston society without anyone batting an eyelash after Miss Bates has told everyone
all about your dense headed servant who doesn’t speak English.”
“But surely
other people will recognize Lee Crane!"
“Not with these," he pulled ona few strands of white
hair at his temples, "or these," he removed his contacts, “Miguel has black eyes, Lee Crane doesn’t.”
It
remains to be seen if Lee's ruse will help discover who stole the jewels and why, but I think it’s a safe bet that it
just might.
