Shadows at the Spring Show (31 page)

A few minutes later the lights and the air-conditioning came on. Maggie limped out into the hallway. Will was standing there. She hobbled into his arms. “Thank God you’re all right,” he said, holding her tightly.

Then he let her go and looked down at her. Her face was bleeding in patches from the duct tape. And she had left a trail of blood from the locker room. “I think I may have broken a toe. Or two,” she said. “Is the show still open?”

“It will be as soon as we know all the lights are on and no one’s in danger,” said the officer.

“That’s good,” said Maggie, leaning on Will’s arm and limping toward the lobby. “The show must go on.”

Chapter 40

Gloucester Harbor.
Winslow Homer wood engraving, 1873. One of Homer’s well-known “Gloucester Series,” among the finest of his wood engravings from
Harper’s Weekly.
Seven children lounging in two dories in the harbor, looking out at vessels in full sail.
H.W.
signature in water, lower left. 11 x 15 inches. Price: $360.

The rest of Maggie’s Saturday went by in a haze. The show stayed open. Claudia and Carole and Al answered questions; Josie and Sam kept track of admissions; Ann supplied food to everyone, whose appetites increased as soon as they knew any danger was past. Al called George, who came in and took over the maintenance job.

Gussie insisted that with Ben’s help she could watch Will’s booth as well as the one she was sharing with Maggie, so Will went to the emergency room with Maggie and Eric. Rob Sloane met them there, looking pale, but grateful when his son was pronounced fine except for some bruises and scraped skin. Rob had already lost one son that week.

Maggie had fared worse. Besides the bleeding scrapes on her face (and the pain from the hair that had been pulled out), she
had, indeed, broken three of her toes. She left the emergency room with a green cast on her right foot.

As soon as Will had driven her home, Maggie called Al to check on how the show had gone and invite him for a Chinese dinner, delivered. She told him to bring Claudia. Al readily agreed. “But I won’t stay long. I’m already looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

Will contributed the bottles of wine Maggie had requested he stop for in New York State, although he made sure Maggie stuck with Diet Pepsi. Wine and painkillers were not a good combination.

By the time Gussie and Ben had gotten home and reported that even in their absence Will and Maggie had each totaled several hundred dollars in sales, the Chinese food was on plates, the wine and Pepsi cooled, and Maggie was happy to stretch out on the lounge chair in her study with her foot up, per doctor’s orders.

“Maggie, did you know it was Hal?” asked Gussie. “He seemed so polite, and enthusiastic, and helpful. Just a nice young man.”

“I wasn’t sure,” admitted Maggie. “But I kept eliminating other possibilities. At one point I was even suspecting Ann, because she has a major problem with Our World Our Children. But I didn’t think she’d set a bomb. I knew Abdullah was sad, and troubled. And I knew he questioned the ‘America as melting pot’ myth; he wrote a paper on it this spring. So for a while I thought he was the one responsible. Especially after what you told me about his mother, Al.”

Al nodded. “I remember. I told you I’d met Abdullah’s mother, and she was blonde.”

“I realized that, like Jackson, Abdullah had parents who represented two different cultures. Not races, but cultures. And Eric had said Jackson’s new friend was ‘like him.’ It all came together when I was setting up the booth yesterday and noticed an engraving of skulls that were supposed to represent different
racial groups. They included a Caucasian skull, a Negroid, a Turkish, a Chinese, and so forth . . . and I realized that, of course, the word
race
means different things to different people. Do you know,” Maggie continued, putting on her professor’s hat, “in New York City at the beginning of the twentieth century some Protestant families refused to adopt children of Irish parents? They said they were of another, lower race.” She shook her head. “Perspectives change.”

“But it wasn’t Abdullah who was responsible. It was Hal!” said Gussie.

“That was the hard part,” Maggie agreed. “Eric said he thought his brother Jackson had found a couple of new friends. Friends who understood him. Hal had moved home about six months ago and would have met all of the Sloanes at adoptive-parent activities. When Abdullah brought Hal to the show a couple of days ago, I realized they knew each other. Then I found out Hal had a history of mental illness and violence.”

“Then was Abdullah involved at all?”

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it. From what Hal said in the locker room, Abdullah might even have argued with Jackson and Hal about their anger at their parents and the agency. I don’t think he knew anything about Hal’s shooting Holly, or killing Jackson, and he certainly didn’t know about the bombs. He was really scared when my van blew up. After all, his brother died as the result of a terrorist attack.” Maggie took another sip of Pepsi. “Basically, it was a process of elimination. I wasn’t absolutely sure, but Hal was the most likely suspect.”

Al nodded. “But the best thing you did, Maggie, was to suggest getting the dog in before the show started. After your van had been blown up, bombs were on all of our minds, and the bomb squad agreed checking would be a good idea. Everyone knew I was planning to spend the night in the gym, so there would be lights on. The dog found the bombs right away. They were in cartons dealers had unpacked and left empty under their booths to use when they pack up tomorrow afternoon. The
explosives weren’t very sophisticated.” He paused. “But they could have done a lot of damage.”

“So at least I knew something Hal didn’t: I knew the bombs he’d left yesterday were gone. But I didn’t know whether he might have other explosives. And he had that gun.” Maggie winced slightly. Her foot hurt. “I never asked you, Al. What booths were the bombs in?”

“Yours and Gussie’s,” he answered with a grimace. “And that crystal dealer’s in the other gym.”

Maggie shivered. “Can you imagine the damage crystal would have done if it had blown up?”

“I know I shouldn’t,” said Gussie, “but I keep thinking about all the young men involved. Hal had a traumatic childhood and even a caring family couldn’t help him. Jackson never felt accepted, even when he was. Abdullah lost his brother and his mother. All of them were trying to make sense of life in their own ways. I hope at least Eric and Abdullah are able to get through all of this and have good lives. They deserve them.”

Al shook his head. “It is sad. Jackson Sloane didn’t get a chance. He may have just been starting to figure out who he was when he made the fatal mistake of choosing the wrong friend.”

They were all silent for a few minutes.

“What are you going to do, Maggie? You can’t drive anymore.” Ben pointed at her cast. “And your van blew up.”

Maggie burst into laughter. “You’re right, Ben,” she agreed. “Those are real, immediate issues.”

Then she burst into almost hysterical giggling. Maybe it was the pain pills. Maybe it was the relief of not having to worry about threatening letters and telephone calls. Maybe it was just that the semester was over and the antiques show was going on. Will reached out to touch her shoulder.

Then she pointed to a corner of the room. Winslow had somehow dragged a small insulated bag of Chinese barbecued pork there and was carefully and neatly devouring it.

“That is going to be one sick cat,” Will predicted, risking
being scratched as he retrieved the pork from an indignant Winslow. “And, Ben, you don’t have to worry about Maggie. I’ve decided to stick around here for a couple of weeks, while she’s still limping. Most of my inventory is in the RV, so I can manage the next show without going back to Buffalo. Somehow we’ll get her prints into my RV for the Rensselaer County show, and while she’s healing, we’ll investigate used vans.”

“So you’re not going to change your plans for the summer, Maggie? You’re still planning to come to the Cape?” asked Gussie.

“Absolutely. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m mobile again. I plan on spending the summer buying and selling prints, eating well, and”—Maggie smiled at Claudia—“drinking red wine. I don’t want to think about school, or antiques shows, or even about adoption, for at least the summer.”

“And Aunt Nettie is looking forward to seeing you in Maine, Maggie,” Will reminded her. “You have friends Down East.”

“Not as many as I have right here,” Maggie said, looking around the room. “And I’m so glad you’re all here. Because the show isn’t over. And I’m going to need all the help I can get to make sure it runs smoothly tomorrow.”

“I suspect you’ll have a few extra customers,” Al added. “News of everything that happened today will hit the newspapers, and there will be people coming just to sightsee.”

“As long as they pay admission and we make money for OWOC that will be just fine,” said Maggie. “But if they want another antiques show next spring—they’d better look for someone else to run it!”

About the Author

Lea Wait comes from a long line of antiques dealers, including her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandfather. She has owned her antique-print business for more than twenty-five years. She now lives in Edgecomb, Maine, where she runs the business and writes historical novels for young readers as well as the Maggie Summer series.

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In the Maggie Summer Series

Shadows on the Ivy: An Antique Print Mystery

Shadows on the Coast of Maine: An Antique Print Mystery

Shadows at the Fair: An Antique Print Mystery

And Novels for Children and Young Adults

Wintering Well

Seaward Born

Stopping to Home

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2005 by Eleanor S. Wait

Originally published in hardcover in 2005 by Scribner

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ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-7559-4

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