Henry thought about it for a few seconds, then a light seemed to go on in his gray eyes behind his glasses. He made a hook of his index finger and waved it at Jesse.
“Come with me.”
Jesse followed him back past the waiting area, past Wilmott’s office, down two half-flights of stairs, and into an area that, unlike the wood-paneled walls and creaky-planked floor of the museum and library, was all concrete and steel. Wilmott reached into his pocket for a key and opened the large steel door before them. Inside, a ceiling light popped on. Wilmott tapped a code on a keypad affixed to the wall just below the light and motion sensor.
“Precaution, you know,” he said, turning to Jesse. “We store our most valuable small pieces in here that are not currently on display. We store our artwork at a different facility. Please, have a seat.”
Running down the center of the windowless room was a long, black marble-topped island. Six high stools on poles bolted to the floor were on either side of the island. At the center of the island were six magnifying lamps mounted on spring-loaded articulated arms. The walls of the room were actually drawers of varying sizes. Each drawer had a keypad on its face. Wilmott walked over to a large drawer opposite Jesse and punched in a code. A buzzer sounded, a lock unlatched, and Wilmott pulled out the drawer. He reached in and pulled out a foot-square blue velvet — lined tray and placed it before Jesse.
Featured on the tray were a pair of earrings, a necklace, a brooch, a bracelet, a decorative hair comb, and three bangles. All of the pieces were of a dragonfly motif, but the brooch was especially beautiful. All of the jewelry was exquisitely crafted in gold and featured diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.
“Breathtaking, aren’t they? René Lalique himself designed these pieces for Zachariah Cain Junior, who presented them to his wife, Emma, as a birthday gift. Emma left them to Maude, who donated them to the museum in 1973.”
Jesse had no idea who René Lalique was, but the beauty and craftsmanship of the pieces were undeniable. He noticed something else: an empty spot on the tray. He pointed that spot out to Henry Wilmott.
“Yes, the ring. It was the one piece in the set Maude could not part with. We are to receive it upon the execution of her will.” Then Wilmott made a face, not a happy one. “Oh, no, Jesse. Are you telling me you haven’t found the ring among her possessions? What a tragedy. You see, the endowment the Cains left to us has been drained away over the years as a result of foolish spending and poor investments. The auctioning off of this set was to infuse the endowment with new cash. With the ring, the complete set would be worth millions.”
“But even without the ring—”
“Yes, it is still a valuable collection, no doubt. But the ring and the brooch are the stars of the set. It would be like
“Have you got an image of it?”
“I do. Come up to my office.”
Following behind Wilmott, Jesse asked, “Do you know why Maude was selling her house?”
“She was too old to manage any longer and it was falling into terrible disrepair. She knew it was time for her to take whatever funds she could get out of the place and find an assisted-living facility.”
“Did she have any takers?” Jesse supposed he was thinking as much about his inability to sell his place as he was about the late Maude Cain’s prospects.
“You’d have to ask her agent. The fate of the house wasn’t part of our concern.”
Back on the street, Jesse stared at the image of the ring. He hadn’t had the heart to tell Wilmott that the chances of recovering the ring intact weren’t very good, though that wasn’t what was troubling him at the moment. None of what Jesse had learned from Henry Wilmott, nor the questions that information raised, had done a thing to dissipate the buzz of negative energy he’d felt while waiting outside the curator’s office. If anything, it made it worse.
46
Back at the office, Jesse was working off some of his energy by pounding a hardball into the pocket of his old glove. Then, as suddenly as he had started, he stopped and called Alisha into his office.
“What is it, Jesse?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. You shouldn’t have been put in that situation.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me, Jesse. Where would I be if you didn’t hire me? I know I wasn’t who they wanted you to hire. I was happy to help. Proud that Molly trusted me enough to ask.”
“I’m grateful, but that’s not the point, Alisha. It’s not your job to babysit me. It’s not Molly’s, either. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
There was a knock at the office door and it opened before Jesse could answer.
“This a private party or can anyone join?” Molly asked, stepping in and closing the door behind her.
Alisha said, “Is that all, Jesse?”
“Sure.”