“Huh.”
“Murder usually comes down to an abuse of power,” Calvin explained. “Money is a form of power, and according to Harmony, a serious point of contention between both victims. If the hired muscle knew how much Brad stood to make off Sandra’s death, maybe he got greedy and wanted more of the pie. It’s a more believable scenario than another loon like Asquith on the loose.”
“Sure. But it doesn’t explain the spiritoscopes. Or the tangible items suggesting the story of the Fox sisters’ long con.” I set my phone down and then tapped one of the photos. “Nor does it explain the Victorian flatware.”
Calvin was quiet for another long minute. He rubbed his jaw and admitted, “No, it doesn’t.”
I took Robert Hare’s book from the pile I’d dragged inside with me, flipped through the first few pages to Plate III, and turned it toward Calvin. “This piece right here, the scale, that’s what was left with Marie. Obviously it’s just a portion of a much bigger spiritoscope design.”
Calvin studied the illustration. “Looks the same. And was the apple in her hand a message as well?”
“Yup. Kate and Maggie used to tie apples to strings and use them in the bedroom to create disembodied sounds. They convinced their mother the home was haunted, and before you knew it, they were off scamming greater New York and eventually the entire nation.” I flipped a few pages in reverse to Plate II. “I think this was supposed to be the spiritoscope left with Brad. Only, what was left wasn’t an antique at all.”
“It was a rubber band,” Calvin clarified. “One of those industrial sort used for moving.” He pointed at the illustration of a woman seated at a table on wheels, a circular index printed with the alphabet on the front so she couldn’t see its face, which in turn was attached to the wheeled legs via a pulley system. “Was the rubber band supposed to represent this contraption?”
“I think so,” I agreed. “I’m wondering if the perpetrator only owned the complete tabletop spiritoscope found with Sandra and the partial left with Marie, and is now improvising based on these plate designs. Maybe they didn’t expect to commit more than one or two murders.”
Calvin grunted. “And the quarter in his hand?”
“I think it might be a reference to the first public séance the sisters performed in 1849. That was while they lived in Rochester. The event was advertised in the local paper and they were selling tickets to the public—believers and skeptics alike—for twenty-five cents.”
“It was the first time they made money off well-meaning people.”
“Correct.”
There was a quick succession of knocks on the conference room door before it opened and Quinn poked her head in. “Sinclair is here. Hasn’t lawyered up yet, but I’d suggest you talk to him now, before he changes his mind.”
“All right.” Calvin rose as he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He offered a small smile and left the room.
The first thing I did was study the crime-scene photos under my magnifying glass. I was thrilled to realize that whoever had snapped them thought to include one extreme close-up of the maker’s mark found along the blade of the carving knife—Tiffany & Co. The second thing I did was fill the empty conference room with cussing, because who the fuck used antique Tiffany flatware with murderous intent? Not only was it extremely valuable—the name alone brought its worth up more than other brand names—but the quality in craftsmanship and artistry was next to none during the late 1800s. For the upper class during this time period, dining was considered an art form, and everything on the table had to reflect as such. But even if you didn’t take the history of Tiffany into account, their flatware was also made of sterling silver. And sterling silver always had resale value.
I wasn’t yet certain what these three roast-carving utensils would fetch on the market—pattern, production year, wear and tear, as well as whether there was a set they belonged to had to be taken into account. But briefly, for shits and giggles, I pulled up Tiffany’s website on my phone. It looked like they were still in the business of selling flatware, although only a handful of patterns were currently offered these days, and I nearly choked on the price tags. Over a grand for a set of five—that is, the five most common utensils a single person used throughout three courses—and here me and Calvin had argued over whether to buy the thirty- or fifty-dollar silverware to go along with the rest of our affordable European home furnishings. So the carving pieces, after a thorough appraisal, would likely fetch whatever asking price was slapped on them—being evidence in three brutal murders notwithstanding.
I flipped open one of the flatware reference books and then double-checked the close-up of the maker’s mark. Thankfully, Tiffany always included the patent year of the design, and this one was from 1895. I found the chapter on the year in question before noting a curious asterisk. One pattern in particular, the Colonial, was marked with the year 1895, the anticipated patent year, but internal delays caused the company to not receive the patent until 1896 and the cost to redesign the dies with the correct date was considered too costly.
I held the magnifying glass to the photographed pieces of the Colonial. Considered to be one of George Paulding Farnham’s more modest and simplistic designs, compared to his later flatware collections and jewelry pieces—all of which were very ornate and of traditional Beaux Arts style—the pieces here were bordered by four bands, creating a sort of scrolled-leaf aesthetic at the base of the handle. Classic and timeless. I held one of the photographs to the book for comparison.
A match made in heaven.
Although, the murder weapons had an additional mark on the handles—a stylized T, which no doubt was a monogram. Personalized dinnerware for the very well-to-do family who’d originally purchased the set back in the day. And speaking of the set, I returned my attention to the book and made note that the pattern had been discontinued since 1913 and had been offered in a customized storage chest that held all ninety-six pieces—of which a three-piece roast-carving set was included.
The giddy satisfaction in my gut was a pleasant change from the roller coaster of emotions the day had produced thus far. I wrote everything down for Calvin, including the reference book and page number, in case he needed to go back to it for any reason.
The conference room door opened as I was cleaning up and consolidating photo piles. I opened my mouth to tell Calvin about the potentially useful information I’d uncovered, but was instead met with the boyish and eternally hopeful Radcliff in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.
“You’re not. I was just finishing.”
“Detective Winter asked that I let you know he’s going to be a while longer, and that you should catch a cab home.”
“Oh. All right, thanks.” I stood and offered the sheet of paper with my notes. “This is for you guys—do what you will with that information.”
Radcliff raised his eyebrows, accepting it. “A monogrammed Tiffany set?” he asked after reading the notes over.
“That’s right.”
His expression sharpened. “How unique is that? Can we track the owner via the monogram? Does Tiffany retain records of sales for custom wares?”
