“Only tea for me.” Mrs. Brodigan’s gaze stayed fixed on Arthur. “I haven’t decided how long I’m staying.”
Excellent.As the waiter disappeared, Arthur gestured broadly to the menu. “Obviously my treat. Whatever you’d like—”
“Some truth from you.”
Arthur rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. “I am at your service.”
She gave him a withering look. “You can save the charm and the big blue eyes for the younger ladies, dear.”
She set his letter box in the center of the table. “You paid double for my time, so I daresay you’re entitled to waste it, but I would like to know what you’re playing at.”
She opened the carved lid, displaying the stack. “Twenty-one letters purported to be written by the abolitionist Frederick Douglass. Twenty-one forgeries by twenty-one New York forgers, some of them truly excellent.”
Arthur held his breath.
Mrs. Brodigan reached into her substantial handbag and withdrew an envelope, then laid it on the bare table. “One genuine letter, handwritten by Mr. Douglass to a Miss Hannah Fuller of the Skaneateles Ladies Anti-Slavery Society.” She folded her short arms and leveled an unamused stare across the table. There was an angry set to her jaw, defensive, almost protective. “There was a lot of sleep lost to find that single letter. What’s your game, Mr. Kenzie?”
Arthur could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He picked up the genuine letter, tucking it away in his jacket and setting his briefcase on his lap. “I needed to know I could trust you.” He dialed the combination into the lock then withdrew the ring box from the briefcase, setting it on the table between them. “For what’s in this box, I had to be certain that you could do the job.”
Mrs. Brodigan glanced at it, then back at Arthur. “I told you to save the charm for the younger set. That means the jewelry too.”
But despite her irritation, there was also interest now, as she looked at the tiny box. After a long moment, she pulled a pair of reading spectacles out of her handbag, balancing them on her nose. She then picked up the box without a flinch.
“This is heavy,” she said, weighing it in her hand.
“It is.” Arthur was impressed. Even Jade didn’t like to touch the box. Mrs. Brodigan’s control over her psychometry must be impeccable.
“Hmm.” She turned it in her hand. “And are you wanting this box appraised too?”
Arthur snorted. What a wonderful actress. She had to recognize the feel of the lead in the box’s lining and know her psychometry would be useless. But if she wanted to pretend, he’d play along. “You’re welcome to try,” he said dryly.
“Hmmm.” She peered more closely at the box, and then reached for the lid.
“Wait.” Arthur set his hand over hers, stopping her just in time. “You can’t open that here.” What a nightmare that would be—
“Mr. Kenzie.” Her gaze was cold again. “I was very clear yesterday. We do not appraise weapons.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like.” Arthur drew his hand away, relieved when she made no further move to open the box. “A ring.”
She set the box back down on the table with a scoff. “Then why can’t I look at it?”
“You most certainly can—and indeed, I’m rather fervently hoping you will—but not yet and not here.” He clasped his hands. “I will explain everything to you, but please believe me when I say that you will want more privacy when I do.”
“Hmmm.” Her mouth was a thin line. “I suppose we might be able to use the shop later this morning—”
“You Arthur Kenzie?” It was the waiter. “A Mr. Zhang just called our telephone. Had a message for you.”
That was unusual for Zhang. “Is he still on the line?” Arthur asked.
The waiter shook his head. “He wants you to come see him. Said it’s urgent.”
Arthur’s stomach dropped. He swiped the ring off the table and stuffed it back into the small square in the padded briefcase, then shut the lid and locked the briefcase tight. He held out his hand to Mrs. Brodigan as he got to his feet. “My sincerest apologies.”
“You’re leaving?” Mrs. Brodigan raised an eyebrow and ignored his hand. “Taking the job with you, I suppose?” She shook her head. “It’s just as well. I don’t think I trust you very much.”
“Is that right?” She was slipping through his fingers. No one was looking their way, so Arthur quickly reached into his jacket and withdrew a fat envelope, which he set on the table. “For last night, including a tip. And if you’ll appraise that ring, I’ll pay triple.”
Her eyes widened.
