Illicit Artifacts Read online

  Something else bothered her. Maybe Jess hadn’t been that far off the mark. If Elise had that kind of cash, maybe that Monet had been real. Maybe Elise had only told everyone it was a replica so she wouldn’t be robbed—a smart move.

  So what else around the house posed as a replica but was secretly valued at a million dollars?

  Jil took another long drag on her cigar, then took a seat on a stone bench, sheltered from the wind by a few evergreen trees and a rock face. She drew her knees up to her chest to keep warm as she smoked, breathing in Elise’s comforting presence and letting it cling to her hair and her clothes like perfume.

  *

  “Jil, I’d like you to meet Elise.”

  Jil stood on the threshold to the white house that looked like a large cottage. She took note of the red door, the clinging ivy, and the giant oak tree out front that looked like a great hiding spot, high up in its thick branches. This didn’t look like any foster home she’d ever seen before, with worn climbing structures and minivans parked in the driveway.

  She tried her best to look up to meet the gaze of the woman who would be her warden for the next two years, but felt like her eyelids were being magnetically pulled toward the stone porch upon which she stood.

  “Lovely to meet you, Jil.” Elise’s accent sounded like Padraig’s—soft and rich with the singing lilt of the Irish brogue.

  Finally, Jil looked up and attempted a smile at the slight woman with graying curly hair and bright blue eyes.

  Elise extended a small, warm hand, and as Jil shook it, she noticed the gold bangles that jingled on her wrist and smiled. “Do come in,” said Elise.

  Jil swallowed hard and crossed the threshold into the foyer. The smell of blueberry muffins and vanilla candles enveloped her.

  “Let me put on some tea.”

  *

  She stubbed out her cigar butt against the stone wall and slipped back inside, down to Tamara’s office.

  “All right?” Tamara asked.

  Jil attempted a smile, then sat down. “Can I ask you for a referral?”

  “You need a tax lawyer?”

  “No…Well, yes, probably, but more immediately I need an appraiser.”

  “You want a second opinion?”

  “I always want to see for myself.”

  Tamara’s eyes lit up. “I have just the gentleman for you.”

  “Another question, actually, if you have a sec.”

  “Sure.”

  “Elise left me this key. Do you have any idea what it’s for?” She took out her keychain and showed Tamara the old silver key.

  “Oh, that’s where it went. Good.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a key to a vintage safety deposit box at the bank. I have one for you for the primary door, but this is for the antique box inside that.”

  Jil chuckled. Trust Elise to have a safety deposit box inside a safety deposit box. She accepted the utilitarian key from Tamara, added it to the chain, and left smiling.

  *

  Mr. Hollands squinted at Jil’s lighter through a tiny monocular, turning it side to side and making a small humming noise at the back of his throat. His balding head shone in the bright light from the overhead lamp. “Sterling silver,” he announced. “Ireland, nineteen twenty-two.”

  Jil sat back in her chair. “Thank you,” she said, though she hadn’t asked him to appraise her cigarette lighter.

  According to her background check, this man was sixty-three, had a PhD in art restoration, had authored two textbooks on historical artifacts, and had helped the FBI in the States track down several missing pieces. In short, a good referral from Tamara.

  “No trouble, my dear. You say there are more pieces you wish me to examine?”

  Jil sighed, unsure of how much to say. “Would it be at all possible for you to meet me at home? Well, not my home…um, my foster mother has died and left me some artifacts.”

  “Ah. And you’d like to determine their worth?”

  “Yes, but more than that…I’d like to determine which of them are replicas, and which, if any, are real.”

  “Genuine artifacts?”

  “Some art as well, if you could help me with that.”

  Mr. Hollands rose from his desk. He couldn’t have been more than five feet two inches tall. “What kind of art?”

  Jil thought about all the artwork that hung in Elise’s place. She had to have thirty pieces.

  “She was an art history professor. A wide variety of things interested her, and I’m afraid I’m not quite sure how to describe her collection.”

  “Ah. An eclectic collector,” Mr. Hollands said. His thin lips stretched into a genuine smile, and he pushed his round tortoiseshell glasses a little farther up his nose.

  Jil nodded. “She liked Fabergé,” she said, glad to be able to contribute something.

  Mr. Hollands nodded, and she noticed a flicker of doubt cross his eyes. She realized hardly anyone outside of a museum or a millionaire art curator would have a genuine Fabergé, but it seemed Elise belonged to the latter class after all.

  “Tomorrow, around ten?” he said brightly.

  She stood and shook his hand. “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you.” Before leaving, she scribbled out her name and Elise’s address. Bizarrely, she hoped she might have a few genuine artifacts to show him. He seemed like he’d be so excited to see them.

  But if most of the artifacts at home were real, that only deepened the mystery she hesitated to solve.

  *

  Jess closed the door to her office and sat on her small loveseat, coffee firmly in grip. She shook her head angrily at herself. When had she ever cared about idle gossip from the teachers?

  When you started losing their respect.

  The answer came as a jolt.

  Had she lost their respect? When?

  Could it be that gossip about her and Jil had filtered down into the rumor mill? She thought that when Jil’s identity had been revealed—in a closed-door, not-to-leave-this-room staff meeting—that would put to rest any lingering whispers about their frequent tête–à–têtes.

  But perhaps not.

  A rap on the door made her jump, and a small trickle of coffee leaped over the edge of her mug and began sliding down the side. She swiped at it with the edge of her scarf. “Come in.”

  Rosie McMonahan stood at the door.

  “Prep this morning?” Jess asked, gesturing her inside.

  “Independent study. They’re doing health in the library. Evan is supervising.”

  Evan Strauss was the head gym coach but would be retiring this year, with Rosie next in line for his position.

  Rosie stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “I might be compromising my promotion by stepping out of line, but I came to check on you.”

  Jess gave her a sideways smile. “Take a seat. My door’s always open.”

  Rosie sat in the opposite chair and put her elbows on her knees, leveling her gaze with Jess’s. “Not lately.”

  Jess took a careful sip of her coffee. Her heart sped up a little. “You find me hard to reach?”

  Rosie shrugged.

  “It’s okay, Rosie. Say whatever’s on your mind. Life is easier that way.” It would be even easier if she could follow her own advice.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course. You wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

  “You’re right. Ever since the—incident—it seems like you’re only half here. I’m not the only one who’s noticed. People are talking.”

  Jess felt a band constrict around her chest. So she hadn’t been imagining it. But what were they talking about, specifically? She wanted to ask, of course—almost did—but how could she press for gossip and still be a respected leader? She couldn’t.

  “People always talk about their bosses, Rosie,” she said and attempted to smile.

  “It’s not mean-spirited. The staff care about you, Jess. It’s just that they need a leader too, and they�
��re used to it being you.”

  Wow. She’d asked for a straight shot, but hadn’t been prepared for how much it might stick.

  She shook her head. An effective leader—what a joke. She’d been picked on purpose for her inexperience and her idealistic nature, set up in this school that was partly haunted and partly cursed, because the Old Boys needed a straw principal. She’d let the Sons of Adam funnel right through the bedrock of the school’s foundation. A kid had died here this year, and her closest confidante and friend had turned out to be a private investigator sent to scrutinize her.

  And then, she’d ended up sleeping with her.

  Not to mention pursuing an ongoing relationship.

  By some miracle—or curse, she didn’t know which—she’d kept her job here and managed to hold the school together. But she’d hardly call herself a pillar of faith and leadership.

  She couldn’t even show her face at Mass.

  How could she possibly lead a team?

  Rosie’s brow wrinkled, but she didn’t look away. “Jess? What’s going on?”

  She could have said so much, if it had been Jil sitting here. But Jil was absorbed in her own problems, and—she gave herself a mental kick—she had never been here in the first place. She wasn’t a teacher!

  She’d known Rosie for years, ever since she’d been an upstart first-year teacher, with her shiny gym whistle and glowing smile. She’d protected Rosie when questions had come up about her relationship with Ivan.

  But sharing her personal life with her staff had never been something that came easily to her. The less people knew the better. Still, she’d almost sloshed hot coffee all over Rosie this morning; she owed her something.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, Rosie.”

  Rosie looked like she wanted to say something—not just me, probably—but kept silent, her brow still furrowed.

  “Getting the school back together has been…it’s been a challenge.”

  “Are you stressed out? Not sleeping?”

  How had she guessed? Her question must have shown in her face because Rosie answered her.

  “Because you have dark circles under your eyes and you look like you’re walking through quicksand half the time.”

  “Not to mention I almost gave you a third-degree burn this morning.” Jess smiled wryly.

  “That too. It looked to me like you couldn’t hold on to it.”

  Jess bit her lip. “Observant.”

  “I just want to help, Jess.”

  “I know.” Jess set her coffee down on the side table, even though she knew it would leave a ring. “I would like to accept some help, believe me, but there’s not much anyone can do.”

  “Are you sick? Got PTSD? What is it?”

  “RA.” Her hammering heart sped up even more. She’d never told anyone she worked with. How would they feel when they found out she was defective as well as distracted?

  “What is that?”

  “Rheumatoid arthritis. It’s—complicated. Anyway, this morning when I woke up, my fingers were numb. Usually, it goes away within a few hours, but today, it’s lasting longer. That’s why—”

  “Why you can’t hold on to things.”

  “Yeah. That’s right.” She sat up straighter. She’d said as much as she possibly could with a teacher—even Rosie. The person she really wanted to talk to, of course, was Jil, but lately that seemed impossible.

  Chapter Nine

  The last bell had rung and the mass exodus had occurred in a record three minutes. Jess watched through the main office doors as students poured into the atrium and out onto the sidewalk, some of them lighting cigarettes between the double set of doors.

  Her heart thudded faster in her chest.

  It made her nervous when they congregated in swarms like that.

  Some of them huddled against walls in cliques. What were they whispering?

  Who had a secret that could undermine the life of another student—or teacher? Were small groups still meeting? Had other leaders for the Sons of Adam taken over? Or were the investigating teams doing a good enough job?

  In her gut, she felt like it wasn’t over, but waiting for the other shoe to drop would only make her paranoid.

  She walked back into her office and shut the door. The department heads had submitted their monthly reports, and she had to review them all before leaving.

  She wanted to be the last one out. To do her nightly tour of the school, making sure the classrooms were empty and the custodians were remembering to lock all the windows. Even in winter, some teachers liked to leave some windows open. Some of the upper rooms got so hot.

  At four thirty, Jess set down the last report and gathered her coat.

  The outer office was empty; outside, the sky had faded to a pink-streaked blue. Her own footsteps echoed back to her as she traveled through the atrium, past the religion department. She paused for the briefest second, looking in the window of where Jil’s office used to be.

  Twilight cast long shadows on the walls.

  She walked down the hallway to the special needs corridor, the home studies classrooms, and the music rooms.

  Dark.

  Once she’d circled the auditorium, her hips were aching in protest, and she still had two more floors to go.

  Why was this happening now? She’d always had a bit of stiffness, but never this bad. Never so bad that she couldn’t walk her own school.

  As she stood at the bottom of the staircase, Brian, the custodian, came bounding down, his ring of keys jangling. “Howdy, Jess. You on your tour?”

  Jess looked at him and tried to smile. “Well, since you’ve beat me to it, I guess it’s just the lower floor today.” Thank God.

  “All’s good upstairs. The chess club just cleared out and they were the last today.”

  “Thank you, Brian.”

  “No problem. I’m just about to do one last check, then hand it over to the evening shift.”

  Jess nodded, and turned away to head back to her office. The evening shift came from five until eleven. She never saw them.

  How well were they vetted? What did the hiring protocol for custodians look like? Did they have to have police checks? Were they supervised?

  She’d thought briefly about this before, of course, but now she found herself wanting answers. Who came in the school when she left?

  This job was getting to her. In more than one way.

  Maybe tonight she’d talk to Jil. Get her take on things.

  Maybe the two of them could plan a vacation after everything with Elise had died down. Just get out of town for a while. Could they?

  *

  “It’s only for a few days,” Jil said as she opened a small suitcase onto the bed.

  Zeus looked at her doubtfully, cocking his head to the side.

  “You’ll like it there. It has a nice yard for you to play in, and a park where we can walk.”

  At the W-word, Zeus’s ears perked up.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean now. Later.”

  He harrumphed and settled back down on the carpet to watch her pack.

  She turned to the closet and riffled through for some pajamas and sweatshirts. This week, she’d had time off from work, but next week, she had to get back to the pile of cases on her desk, and Padraig’s. Fraser had been right. She did indeed have a few cheating spouses to spy on.

  As if in response to her thoughts, her phone buzzed with a text from Chet. Greetings, fearless leader. Sorry to report the computer problem is not solved. Do you think you could drop everything and run over here with Daddy’s credit card?

  She rolled her eyes. The boys were enjoying harassing her. No sympathy at all. She texted back. Engage a tech specialist. Assuming you know how to use the Internet. If not, open a phone book. Get her to invoice me when she’s finished.

  Too busy to see your friends? Chet joked.

  Busy solving a case. What’s your excuse?

  Already solved all mine. Now I’m taking a nap.
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  How about beginning on Padraig’s? Or are you on salary now?

  She grinned as she tucked the phone back in her bag. It would be good to get back to work, especially to see the boys—and to take her mind off this mystery of Elise’s she still wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

  Just as she finished packing up her toiletries, the front door opened. She looked up.

  “Hi,” Jess said, standing in the bedroom doorway.

  Jil’s stomach flipped. “Hey. You’re home early.”

  Jess looked from Jil’s face to her suitcase. “Going somewhere?”

  Jil swallowed hard. “No. Well, yes, to Elise’s. Or rather, Zeus is going to Elise’s, and I’m going to keep him company.”

  “Okay. For a while…?”

  “I just need to keep an eye on things there.”

  Jess frowned. “Right.”

  Jil smiled wanly. She didn’t feel like explaining. Why didn’t she feel like explaining? Jess, you were right. The painting was real. Now I’m afraid I’m leaving a whole lot of valuable artifacts unattended…

  Instead, she grabbed her coat from the back of the door and rolled her suitcase into the front hall. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” Jil asked.

  Jess looked at her skeptically. “A cup of coffee? What, are we back to dating?”

  Jil felt her temper flaring but worked hard to keep it in check. “No, but don’t you feel like we’re U-Hauling, just a bit?”

  “Wow.” Jess took a step back, her face flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to move in on your space.” Her green eyes clouded, and she clenched her purse more tightly.

  “Jess, it’s not that—”

  Jess put her hands up. “No, you’re right. We never said we were exclusive. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “Maybe not. I don’t have a date or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, would you like to?”

  Jil clenched her teeth. “I don’t know. I haven’t had much time to think about it.”

  “Because I’ve been hogging your bed and taking over your kitchen?” Jess snapped.

  God, she was beautiful when she was angry. And so goddamned infuriating at the same time.