Shadows at the Spring Show (15 page)

More likely, thank heavens, the show could be disrupted by people. Protesters, maybe. But protesting what? The motive for all of this was murky. Or what about vandals? In any case, there would probably be more than one person involved.

Maggie shuddered. If a person or persons were determined to be violent, there were also guns. And Rob Sloane’s gun was still missing.

Chapter 19

Pomfret Russett.
Lithograph of three views of a green apple done “on stone by F. J. Swinion,” and published by R. H. Pease, Albany, for
Natural History of New York,
1851. 8.5 x 11.75 inches. Price: $60.

Classes had been over for a week, but Wednesday was the official last day of the semester. Claudia had piles of papers for each American Studies professor to verify or fill out or sign. Maggie spent the morning at her desk on campus. Claudia was a treasure at times like this. Never once had Maggie been late with a required document, and it was all to Claudia’s credit. At this stage in the teaching year, students, unfortunately, were the lowest priority. Feeding the great paperwork mill in the administration offices was the all-consuming goal.

“Maggie, I’ve been reading, and I just wanted to make sure you knew.” Claudia stood on the other side of Maggie’s desk, a grim expression on her face.

“Yes, Claudia? You’ve been reading. What?” Maggie pulled her thoughts away from the two makeup exams she still had to schedule.

“I’ve been reading about—that.” Claudia pointed to the second
of the Diet Pepsi cans Maggie had finished in the past two hours.

“You’ve been reading about Diet Pepsi?”

“Not just Diet Pepsi. All diet sodas. They’re not good for you, Maggie.”

“No?” Maggie asked in mock disbelief.

“Have you read the ingredients on this can?” Claudia delicately picked up the offending can with two fingers. “This is serious. This stuff has no vitamins in it. No minerals. Not one thing that is good for you. It has zero nutritional value.”

“But it has caffeine, which must be a nutrient,” Maggie replied, trying to find some humor behind Claudia’s serious expression. It was the last day of the semester. She didn’t really need a lecture on nutrition.

“I knew you wouldn’t pay attention. But I’m concerned about your health. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before vacation, since I’ll bet you drink a lot of that stuff during the summer.”

Maggie nodded. “True.”

“I read on the Internet that the chemicals they put in to sweeten soft drinks can kill you. They might cause brain cancer. Or bladder cancer. Or stomach ulcers! You should be drinking milk. Or water. Or juice.”

“Juices are full of carbohydrates and sugars. They’d make me fat,” said Maggie, reaching into her bottom drawer, where she stored a backup supply of Diet Pepsi.

“Then drink water. Maggie, this is your health we’re talking about. After all, you’re not getting any younger!”

And my birthday isn’t for another ten days, thought Maggie. Do I need a reminder? “And I suppose I should be eating more chocolate?” It was hard to think of Claudia without thinking about chocolate. There was always a dish of chocolate kisses on her desk, and she left them like a trail of bread crumbs when she visited people’s offices.

“Actually, yes,” said Claudia, her curls bouncing and her glasses a bit askew. “Eating dark chocolate can lower your blood
pressure. And it makes you happier, not more jittery, the way cola does. And it has the caffeine you want. And antioxidants! Red wine is good for you, too.”

“That’s what I need to do. It will really secure my job to keep a bottle of red wine in my bottom drawer.”

Claudia shook her head.

“I’ll think about the cola connection,” said Maggie. “But in the meantime I’ll definitely eat more chocolate. Maybe the good ingredients in chocolate will counteract all the evils I’m drinking. Speaking of chocolate, did you happen to bring any in today?”

Claudia smiled. “It’s on my desk. I’ll get you some. But you should really think more about the cola. I almost didn’t tell you. After all, you’re the professor and I’m just the administrative assistant.”

Maggie wondered when Claudia had stopped being a secretary.

“But it wouldn’t be right to hold back information. Eating or drinking the wrong things could ruin your life. Or end it prematurely.”

“Claudia, I promise to drink more water and red wine. Within limits. Will that make you feel better?”

“A little.” Claudia looked doubtful; red wine was clearly not the substitute she’d prefer for Maggie’s Diet Pepsis. But she
had
suggested it.

“And I’ll eat more chocolate. I’ll force myself. Now, why don’t you bring me some chocolate kisses so I can get through the rest of this paperwork, and I’ll finish this one last Diet Pepsi that was in my drawer. I wouldn’t want to waste it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Claudia said quietly. “I’ll get the chocolate.”

“Maybe the other professors could use some chocolate, too. The last day of school is always stressful.”

Claudia looked back at Maggie as she left the office. “Sometimes I don’t know when you’re serious and when you’re not.”

“Don’t worry. I’m always serious about chocolate.” And Diet Pepsi, Maggie added to herself. She took another swig and glanced at her watch. It was almost time for her meeting with the students and faculty who’d volunteered to help with the antiques show.

Chapter 20

Everlasting Flowers.
Painted for
Vicks Monthly
(an American botanical magazine) and lithographed by Rahn & Karle, Rochester, New York. Bouquet of various wildflowers; colors mainly greens and pinks. 1879. 6 x 9 inches. Price: $45.

There weren’t as many people at the gym for the volunteers’ meeting as Maggie had hoped, but the show was being held between semesters. How many students or faculty wanted to return to campus when they didn’t have to?

“Hi, Sarah,” Maggie said as Sarah Anderson joined them and sat next to Kendall Park and Kayla Martin. Sarah, Kendall, and Kayla had been housemates last semester in Whitcomb House, the dormitory for single parents. Since the death of one of their housemates, some of the parents had gone their separate ways. Maria Ramirez had transferred her credits to the four-year College of New Jersey. Sarah was living with her mother. And Claudia’s gossip sources were, as usual, correct: Kendall and Kayla were holding hands. “How’re all the kids?”

“Doing fine,” answered Kendall. “Josette is running all over the place now, and Katie and Aura are still best friends at day care.”

“That’s great,” said Maggie. “Thank you all for taking the time to help out at the show!”

As she spoke, Claudia joined them, notebook in hand. She was followed by Hal Hanson, the quiet young man living with Carole Drummond’s family.

“We figured, you helped us out a few times,” answered Kayla. “We owe you more than a couple of hours of work.”

Maggie shook her head. “You don’t owe me a thing. Now, who else is here?”

Abdullah Jaleel was, as he had promised, and a short blonde girl who introduced herself as “Violet, who loves children.” And Paul Turk, a fellow American Studies professor, appeared in the doorway.

“Paul! I didn’t know you were joining us.”

“Thought you might need some extra muscle,” he said, sitting at the far end of the table.

“Then everyone is here,” said Maggie, glancing around the room. “Except Eric Sloane. Hal, it’s nice to see you.”

“Mrs. Drummond said I might be able to help, so I’m here.” He slumped down in the chair at the far end of the table, leaned the chair back on two legs, and put his hands in his pockets.

Clearly, Carole had volunteered him. She’d made sure Hal went to every adoptive-parent social event this spring and was hoping to get him to register at the college in the fall. He certainly didn’t look thrilled to be at this meeting. He was going through a rough time. Losing both of his parents at the same time, and so suddenly. “We’re glad you’re here,” said Maggie, trying to sound cheerful and welcoming.

Abdullah raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“Professor, maybe you didn’t hear. The police found the body of Eric’s brother yesterday afternoon. I don’t think Eric will be coming this morning.”

“They found . . . Jackson’s body?” Maggie thought of the news flash on the television last night. “They’re sure it’s him?”

“It was on the radio this morning.” Abdullah looked somber. “They said he was murdered.”

There was a rustle around the room as everyone digested the information. It was a small campus. Most of them knew who Jackson was, even if they weren’t close friends.

Murdered! Maggie tried to focus. Jackson had been murdered. He hadn’t run away from home. Holly and Rob and Eric must be devastated. And all the other children. And Carole. How would this affect the agency? Or publicity for the antiques show?

She felt embarrassed for even thinking about the show.

Maggie tried to shake off a growing sense of dread. She looked at the contingent of volunteers and quickly handed out assignments: Kayla and Kendall preferred to work while the day-care center was open, so they were going to help set up tables and mark booth boundaries Friday morning. Sarah said she’d help out at the café on Saturday and Sunday. Violet wanted to be a porter. And Paul, to Maggie’s surprise, volunteered to be a porter both Friday night and Sunday late afternoon. Abdullah also said he’d come Friday morning to help out, porter, and would then be happy to help with any clean-up chores. Even Hal got into the spirit of things and said he’d partner with Abdullah and be available throughout the show. Maggie noticed Abdullah smiling and nodding at Hal. They must know each other from somewhere.

Good. Hal looked as though he could use a friend, and Maggie couldn’t remember seeing Abdullah with anyone on campus.

“I’m going to be here the whole time,” Claudia assured her. “From Thursday morning until you lock the doors Monday morning. You never know when you might need me!”

Maggie said a mental “Thank you” as well as one out loud. Claudia could be counted on. If someone didn’t show up for an assignment, or there was more work in some area than anticipated, Maggie could use another person who was dependable. Knowing Claudia’s obsession with organization, and her own lack of concentration
just now, Claudia would keep her focused. Even if that focus meant Maggie would have to hear about the evils of artificially sweetened soft drinks throughout the weekend.

And Will would be here. And Gussie and Ben.

Maggie closed her book, her mind already in another place.

Jackson was dead.

Who had murdered Jackson? And why?

And were any of the nightmares the Sloane family was living through connected to those threatening letters? Or to the message on her answering machine?

The antiques show would be filled with people Maggie knew and loved, from antiques dealers to students. She was responsible for them.

Whatever was happening had to be stopped. Now.

Chapter 21

Woman Peeling Apples.
A silhouette, one of only seven heliotypes done by Winslow Homer. They illustrate James Russell Lowell’s limited edition of
The Courtin’.
Lowell had trouble selling his long poem to a publisher, so his friend Winslow Homer agreed to illustrate it and drew the silhouettes. They were then heliotyped: reproduced by printing the drawings directly from a gelatin film exposed under a negative and hardened with chrome alum. 1873. Very special examples of Winslow Homer’s versatility as an artist. 7.25 x 9.5 inches. Price: $225.