Free A Fatal Appraisal by J. B. Stanley Page B

her
cropped hair and asked, "Got a boyfriend?"
    "There's someone from work I'm interested in. We've
been out on a few dates, but our schedules seem to be keeping us apart."
    'Take it from me, honey"—Jessica spritzed on some light
perfume with a fruity bouquet—"my husband got too busy for me. Too busy
with another woman, that is. That's why we're divorced. You don't want a man
like that."
    Molly opened her mouth to defend Matt but instead asked,
"What's the deal with you and Borris?"
    Jessica immediately began to fumble in the depths of her
hemp purse. "We're just friends."
    "I think he'd like it to be more than that," Molly
suggested gently.
    "Well, I'm not going down that road again."
Jessica quickly changed the subject. "Oh, listen to this. Just before I
came in here, I overheard one of the security guards saying that the power
failure was intentional."
    "Someone hit the switch, so to speak?"
    "Yes. I wonder why. Nothing's missing or anything. It
was probably Tony, playing a prank. He set off a fire alarm in Sacramento last
year. Claimed it was an accident, but no one believed him," Jessica said,
rubbing a fragrant herbal lotion on her hands and forearms. "Come on,
let's go eat."
    Molly thought about the pinprick of light she had seen. It
had been right near the display cases housing the rare coins and the
daguerreotypes. A shiver ran down her spine, but she pushed thoughts of the
blackout away. Someone had a penlight and nothing was missing. That was all.
What was there to worry about when good food and Garrett's handsome face
awaited her?
     
    ~~~~~
     
    The head appraisers were all gathered just inside the
museum's front doors. Garrett was handing out sheets of directions to
Ristorante Amici. "Everyone set?" he asked.
    "I'm not coming," moaned Frank who was sitting in
a chair with his head propped back against the wall. He looked even paler than
usual and sounded completely congested. Beads of sweat had sprung out on his
forehead and a damp ring was forming around the neck of his shirt. His eyes
watered and his shoulders were slumped with fatigue. "I'm going to the
hotel to lie down," he whined as he rose gingerly and walked off slowly in
the direction of the parking garage. The other appraisers watched him silently.
    "He looks awful," said Alicia sympathetically, her
kind, wide face turning toward the group. "He might really be sick this
time."
    "Nonsense," replied Victoria dully. "Let's
go."
    "I'll ride over with you." Alexandra sidled up to
Garrett and grasped his arm possessively. Molly stared enviously at Alexandra's
trim figure. She looked sophisticated and cool in a bisque-colored linen
pantsuit with a chocolate brown silk blouse. Her hair shimmered beneath the
track lighting and her makeup accentuated her high cheekbones and smooth hips.
    Molly again carpooled with Jessica and Borris while the
other appraisers divided themselves amiably between the two other rental cars.
    'Take Monument Avenue so we can show Molly the sights,"
Borris suggested to Jessica.
    "The architecture of the historic houses on this street
is stunning," Jessica said, turning left onto Monument. "Many of
these are million-dollar homes."
    Molly's eye was immediately drawn to a statue of a Civil War
soldier on horseback. It looked just like the statue she had hid beneath during
the blackout, but in a much larger scale. "Is that Stonewall
Jackson?" she asked.
    "Indeed, it is," Borris said. "The statues on
Monument are all dedicated to Civil War heroes, except for the most recent
addition of Arthur Ashe. All great men, I would say, but many Richmonders are
upset over the latest addition. I've got a friend who lives here and he thinks
the Civil War theme should have been left... uninterrupted, but I think it’s a
wonderful addition.”
    Molly gazed in awe at the enormous mansions lining both
sides of the city street. Wrought iron gates surrounded the small yards of four
thousand square feet, three-story homes that sat on wide haunches