Taming Theresa (34 page)

She shook her head and wiped the tears from
her cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“Jack, what did Fred say?” John was pacing
the floor.

“He told me don’t answer any more questions,
and he’ll take care of everything,” Jack said, sliding his phone
back in his pocket.

"Vince, we’re going to get the hell out of
here and go home," said John.

Chris held up both hands. "Everybody, please
stop talking and calm down. This won't take much longer. Just a few
more questions and we're done here,” pleaded Owen. “Officer
Cangelosi, if they would all cooperate for just another few
minutes. There's really no need for a lawyer.”

"I don’t know about that," said Vince softly
as he looked around at the angry faces. “Let’s leave this up to
Fred Douglas.” He sat down to wait with his arms crossed, joining
the others, angrily glaring at Owen.

The small room again erupted into noisy
conversation while Theresa and Diane sniffled and sobbed into
tissues.

Chris put his head in his hands and tried to
rub away the growing ache, pounding just behind his eyes. I swear I
am never working with that woman again. How could she screw up a
simple fact finding interview? We found DePalma’s money. It was
over. I was ready to wrap this case up.

The shrill ring of the desk phone on the
table jarred him; he snatched up the receiver and barked, “Owen
here.”

“Yes...Hello, Mr. Douglas.” There was a pause
as he listened.

“Well, I never intended...yes, you’re right
but, I...yes, but...it was just a simple interview. I didn’t
think...you’re right. Yes, I’ll do that. Good-bye.” He let out a
lengthy sigh and hung up.

Chris had to raise his voice to be heard over
the angry discussion churning around the table. “Thank you all for
coming. You are free to go. Sorry we had to put you folks through
this." He groaned heavily and closed his notebook.

Diane stood, walked over to where Chris sat,
dabbing at her reddened eyes. "I don't care if you are in the FBI.
We've done nothing wrong and you come here and treat us like a
bunch of crooks." She shook her head. "And I thought you were a
nice guy. Dancing with me at the wedding was just part of your job,
wasn't it? I so wish I’d never met you." She turned and walked
away, followed by her four friends.

Vince remained a moment longer, finally
shaking his head at Chris, before exiting after the others.

Over by the door, Owen heard his partner
shift and cough quietly. He looked up at her and saw that the bitch
was smiling.

Exhausted from their interview with the FBI
agents, they all gathered around a table in the back room of the
tavern with Ralph. The wooden box that Vicky had discovered in the
cellar lay in the middle of the table.

Kay opened the door and bustled in with a
fresh pot of coffee and a plate of golden glazed donuts. “Who’s
ready for another cup? Ralph, Mindy’s Bun’s just sent over their
delivery, and I thought you’d all like a snack.” Placing them in
the center with some napkins, she deftly circled the table
refilling their cups. “What a pretty box. Looks old.” She looked
over the table, “Anything else folks?”

“Kay you are a doll,” said Jack passing the
donuts and napkins.

“And don’t you forget it,” she said laughing
as she slipped out the door.

John bit into a donut with pleasure. “We
deserve a little something after the grilling the FBI goons gave
us.”

“They didn’t believe your story at first,"
said Ralph. “It did look a little fishy, all of you standing there
with a pile of money on the floor. You looked like a bunch of bank
robbers getting ready to split the loot.”

"I don't know why they didn't haul Ralph in
too. It's his restaurant," wondered John.

Jack leaned back in his chair and stretched.
"Well, it’s all over now, but I'm sure that Rodriguez woman still
thinks we're guilty of something."

“Yeah, did you notice she never smiled once,
just kept staring at us with those creepy black eyes," said John.
He reached for another donut, still chewing and gave a little
shudder. “It made me feel guilty, even though I wasn't.”

"She's such a bitch. I couldn’t stand the way
she treated you, Diane,” said Theresa. "Handcuffs? What did she
think you were gonna do, hit her?"

"I shouldn't have let her get to me, but she
was so spiteful," declared Diane. "You know, I think she's got a
thing for Chris."

"How the hell did Tony's money ever get in
that closet?" wondered Ralph. "We just stacked all the presents and
stuff on the floor. Didn't put anything in the closet."

"Who knows?" said John. "It got in there
somehow."

"I guess we'll never know the answer to
that," said Vicky, still staring fixedly at the carved wooden case
that lay on the table before them. She hesitated, and then said,
"There's something wonderful inside this. I just know it.”

Vicky was relieved that they'd all had the
good sense to not mention the ancient wooden box she'd discovered
before they'd found Tony's money, because the last thing she wanted
was to have to explain to the FBI how she knew where to look.
Imagining Tamsin Van Wart hiding it in the cellar as an old woman,
sent icy shivers up her spine.

"I think Vicky ought to open it. She found
it," said Jack, gazing pointedly at her. "Vicky, how did you know
it was there? Then you hid it in the other room just before the FBI
agents came down. Did you know they were coming?"

"I told you, my cousin has a special
intuition about some things. She just knows, that's all," said
Theresa.

"Good thing you did, otherwise they might
have been interested in this too," said Jack.

"Wonder how long the thing was hidden down
there." Ralph reached out and hefted the box, turning and studying
it from every angle. "Hmmm, it's heavy. Well, go ahead Vicky. We've
got to look inside sooner or later. Don't know about the rest of
you, but I'm getting curious."

She reached for the metal clasp on its front
and tugged. It was necessary to tug a second time, a little more
forcefully before it opened. She lifted the lid. Ancient hinges
creaked in protest. They all leaned in to look.

"Holy shit," muttered John.

"Oh wow!" said Ralph.

Nestled inside recesses shaped to fit them
and lined with rich chocolate brown velvet, were two pistols. Their
mountings were silver and the wood was very dark and burnished
smooth. The curved handles were inlayed with silver.

"They're beautiful. Jack, look at the
filigree on the silver," said Vicky.

"These are antiques. They look authentic. I'd
say they're eighteenth century, over two hundred years old,"
offered John.

On top of the pair was a flat cloth bag.
This, Vicky reached for and lifted gently. Looking at John, she
handed the soft sleeve to him, who took it without question.

Noticing that the cloth had some weight to
it, he slipped thumb and forefinger inside and slowly pulled out a
silver oval. He held it up, the others watching him in silence.

"Oh my god," he gasped, as he held it up to
the light.

"What's the matter? What is it?" asked
Theresa.

"I know what it is," said Vicky solemnly. She
could clearly see the word "Fidelity" stamped on the silver medal.
John must know what it is. She watched him studying it with rapt
intensity as he carefully turned it over. On the reverse was the
inscription:

"That looks like Latin. Anybody know what it
means?" asked Jack.

"It translates as, "Love of Country
Conquers," said John reverently.

Vicky felt once more, a faint chill sensing
another presence in the room and she shivered. Of course, John
would know what the Latin inscription meant. He's going to ask me
how I knew, and I can't tell him. How can I explain that it all
came from Tori Baxter, Tamsin, and Ethan Van Wart, who only exist
in my imagination?

"They might have asked to look inside the
box," said John. "It's just a good thing the FBI didn't see this.
They'd probably find a reason to confiscate it. This has to be
Isaac Van Wart's missing Fidelity Medallion."

"It has nothing to do with their money and
they would figure it belonged to me anyway," said Ralph. Who knows
how it got into the cellar. I'm sure we'll never know." He put a
hand on John's shoulder. "You're a Van Wart. It belongs to you. You
have more right to what's in that box than anyone else, least as
far as I'm concerned."

"I really appreciate this, Ralph. You have no
idea what this means to me."

"Sure I do. I know exactly how you feel. I'm
just glad the FBI didn't haul all your asses off to jail. Pardon
me, girls," said Ralph.

"Just think," Vicky said, smiling. "You have
Van Wart's medallion, given to him by George Washington. It's
priceless. Especially since no one knows what happened to the
others that were given to Williams and Paulding. I'm really glad we
found this."

John stared at her for a long moment. Ralph
and the others also turned towards her. They all were thinking the
same thing, but John finally put it into words. "I'm sincerely glad
you found this, Vicky. It's priceless, a piece of American history.
This third medallion is especially valuable because the others,
given to Paulding and Williams were stolen and never recovered. So,
you still haven't explained, how did you know to look in that
particular spot?"

Vicky smiled enigmatically, but said
nothing.

"Hey, let's go on home," said Theresa,
changing the subject, sensing that her cousin didn't have answers
to their questions. "This calls for a celebration. You guys
remember that Vicky and I made chocolate mousse for dessert and
there's some champagne on ice back at the farm?

Chocolate Mousse - Gluten Free

1 tablespoon gelatin (1 packet)

1/4 cup cold strong coffee

6 tablespoons cocoa or 2 oz. melted
unsweetened chocolate

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup boiling strong coffee

4 lightly beaten egg yolks

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 tablespoon brandy or rum, optional

4 egg whites

1/2 cup sugar

whipped cream

Soak 1 tbsp gelatin in 1/4 cup cold strong
coffee

Combine and stir until smooth in a heavy
bottomed pot or a double boiler:

6 tablespoons cocoa or 2 oz. melted
unsweetened chocolate

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup boiling strong coffee

Stir in the soaked gelatin and then beat in 4
egg yolks

Cook and stir this mixture over low heat
until it thickens.

Chill until about to set. Add vanilla and
brandy or rum

Whip egg whites until stiff, beat in sugar,
then fold whites into the chocolate mixture.

Fill pretty glass dessert dishes. Chill.
Serve with whipped cream.

Diane carefully picked her way, as quickly as
she could, along her icy front walk and down the drive, to her
mailbox. February was only a few days old, but in weather like
this, no one much cared or believed in the ground hog's opinion on
how long winter would last. The same dirty gray snow had been piled
at the side of the road for weeks, hardened into a substance as
unforgiving as cement. She leaned awkwardly over the ice encrusted
snow mound to reach inside for her mail. In spite of all her
precautions, gusts of chill wind found their way through the chinks
in her armor of hat, gloves, and down coat. Shivering, she thought,
I don't want to be out here any longer than necessary.

Once back inside, with the mail clutched to
her chest, she leaned against the door to close it firmly. Behind
her, the arctic wind howled and beat against it. She began shedding
the cold weather gear and hanging it on the hooks alongside her
back door. "Brrrr! I hope there's something here to make that
little excursion to the North Pole worthwhile," she gasped to an
empty kitchen.

Shivering again, she tossed down the mail and
poured herself a mug of steaming hot herbal tea. Sitting down at
her small kitchen table, she sighed as she sorted through two
catalogues, a utility bill, a couple of credit card offers, and the
weekly flyer from the Henry Hudson grocery store.

Pushing everything else aside, she examined
the grocery flyer with disinterest and sipped her tea. Tossing the
ad in the trash, she took a critical look around her little house.
Maybe if I painted and got some new furniture, this place wouldn’t
look so dreary and empty.

Diane finished her tea and considered a
second cup. The stillness was broken by her phone playing, “Message
in a Bottle” the tune that signaled an incoming text. She glanced
at the screen. Nice. It’s Sandy, my BFF. Swiping at the screen she
read, “Can we talk? Call ASAP.”

A close friend, Sandy was her roommate from
Penn State. They'd managed to get together frequently until her
friend moved to Floyd, Virginia, a little town in the Blue Ridge
Mountains, to run her parent’s business. Diane missed those visits
to Sandy's New York City apartment. It could get pretty boring in
this small town; and there was always something exciting to do in
the city.

Sandy’s mom and dad had retired to Virginia
and opened a successful B & B. When her father passed away
suddenly, her mother simply hadn't had the heart to continue living
in their big Victorian home without him and had moved to a
retirement community in Florida.

A business major, Sandy had surprised
everyone by taking over her parent's B & B, quickly adapting to
southern small town life as if she’d been born there. Diane smiled
as she thought; Floyd's probably not all that different from
Pippin's Grove.

A vision of Christopher Owen swept into her
mind and she frowned. Wasn’t he building a house somewhere in
Virginia? Even though he’d called her a few times since the wedding
to apologize, she still didn’t believe his lame excuses. Come on!
He’d had his creepy girlfriend, Rodriguez, drag her handcuffed to
the police station for no reason. Just because he’s so hot, he
thought I’d just fall into his arms. Twinkling blue eyes, tall and
muscular...Mmm-Mmm, he was fine, but so not worth it.