Being The Steel Drummer - Part 2
Library

Part 2

Cora examined the dog expertly, holding it in the sunlight, as she and Farrel discussed price in low voices.

I leaned to Kathryn's ear and asked, "How much did Farrel pay for the dog?"

"She got it in a booth full of things tumbled together in cardboard boxes. She made an offer of forty-five dollars and the dealer took it after asking if she'd pay cash," whispered Kathryn.

"Really? Hmm."

"What's Cora paying her for it?" Kathryn asked.

"I think I heard $350."

Kathryn quietly gasped in surprise. "Why? What is it?"

"It looks German, mid-1800s, maybe Dresden, and it's very fine. Cora loves this kind of thing. Don't worry about the mark-up. Cora doesn't begrudge Farrel a profit. Cora never buys something unless she can triple the price. It may take her awhile but she'll make a lot more money than Farrel did. And Cora didn't have to get up before the freezing February dawn to find it."

Amanda fished a large magnifying gla.s.s out of her copious bag to inspect the fragile-looking silver spoons. Amanda was a collector, a very different animal than a dealer.

"Quite early, are they not, Farrel?" she said, tracing her finger over the figural designs on the backs of their bowls.

"Shall I look up the maker?" asked Farrel.

"There's no need. I recognize the marks of the silversmith. Mannerbach, about 1820. Made just about sixty miles from here. The urn is very distinct and the bird is lovely. I can clearly see the cage."

Kathryn asked me, "Why is it called coin silver?"

"I don't know as much about this as Farrel, but in the United States, real silver spoons are always marked with the word 'sterling' if they were made after 1865. Sterling literally means 92.5% pure silver. Before 1865 in the US, silver pieces were made in the same standard as silver coins, about 90% silver, and they only have the maker's name and sometimes the town where they were made. Right now, sterling is at a very high price per ounce. So spoons like these, even though they're real antiques, are at risk. Somebody might sell them for 'melt' just to get a quick return."

"Isn't the art museum selling some old silver things that were donated to them in the past? Didn't you tell me that, Farrel?" asked Judith.

Farrel looked up; her negotiations with Amanda were apparently finished. "Yes, they're selling some of the works they never show, from their stockpiles in storage. Mostly duplicate items. I asked Piper Staplehurst about the sale when we were at Amanda's. Piper's in charge of the liquidation. She said I could make a bid on some of the lots."

"I'm not sure selling off the museum collections is a wise idea," said Amanda.

But the antique dealers in the group firmly disagreed.

"Oh no, dahling, museums have tons of pieces they never show. The Metropolitan Museum in New York has ten blocks of underground storage with thousands of pieces that haven't seen the light of day for a hundred years. It's good for the Fenchester museum to thin. And money supports the museum much better than a full closet," said Cora.

"I'll get a box for these spoons, Amanda," said Farrel.

Amanda dug in her handbag for her checkbook.

"Was the bird escaping the cage to celebrate America's Independence?" asked Judith looking at the small design on the back of one of the spoons.

Amanda nodded, and Judith pa.s.sed the spoons to Kathryn so she and I could see the intricate designs. Amanda said, "Good show, Farrel. You know just what I like, and I'll be a happy pauper by the time you're through with me if you keep bringing me lovely finds like this."

"I'm glad I could rescue these little pieces of history from the sc.r.a.pper," said Farrel.

"Do antique dealers often sell to each other?" Kathryn asked me.

I said with a laugh, "Don't you know that old joke? It goes, Five antique dealers were stranded on a desert island... And business was brisk!"

Kathryn responded with an unbridled laugh. I glanced over at Farrel, who was watching Kathryn. She raised her eyebrows at me. I felt a tingle and hid a smile.

I cleared my throat, then asked Kathryn, "Did you find anything interesting at the market?"

Farrel said, "I think Kathryn found some things that were really good. I'm dying to hear what you all think."

"But we should all eat first!" said Kathryn.

"Yes, please, everyone eat," said Jessie, sitting at the head of the table. Conversation was lost to food consumption for the next ten minutes. The warm scratch biscuits with Jessie's homemade peach jam from the peach tree in their backyard were a runaway hit. The main focus was a corn and potato pot pie with a flaky crust. Haute comfort food for a cold February morning. The appreciation for it flowed like the peach jam.

"We have a lot to talk about this morning. I had one of those... A brush with fame. But later for that," said Cora. "Ghosts in... what do the old-timers call it... Skeleton Park? Yes, tell about the ghosts."

Judith and Cora had missed the neighborhood meeting at Amanda's, so first I filled them in on what had happened.

"Wouldn't the descendants of the departed be unlikely to support cementing up their family crypts? Was there anyone who supported Gabriel Carbondale's plan?" asked Judith.

Jessie grunted. Judith looked from her to Farrel. Farrel shrugged. "Jessie doesn't like Gabe."

"He has that lovely big dog," said Judith and Amanda, nearly in unison.

"We were friends with Suzanne and when she left Gabe we tried to be supportive to him, but... well..." Farrel trailed off.

Jessie grunted again.

"Why did Suzanne Carbondale leave?" asked Amanda.

"Because Gabriel Carbondale is an arrogant jerk," said Jessie flatly.

"Such strong language, dahling!" said Cora with surprise. "You know it takes two people to end a relationship, just like it takes two people to start one. But tell about the ghosts."

"We heard a noise and found toppled headstones. The vandals who pushed them over must have run. Then we saw The Lost Bride in a shaft of moonlight. She was ghostly. We doubled back to the entrance but didn't see anybody. I'll go back in the daylight to look around."

"For clues?" asked Kathryn, partly teasing. "The Lost Bride sounds like it must have a romantic Victorian story," said Kathryn as she pa.s.sed a bowl of homemade apple sauce.

"The story of The Lost Bride is indeed quite a romantic one, Kathryn," said Amanda in a professorial voice. "Before Judith retired, she and I taught a course on the history of Washington Mews Cemetery. A trifle late in the 19th century for me, but the Victorian memorials were right up Judith's street. You know the Carbondales wrote a book on Fenchester history that covered all the local figures. You may have encountered it: Fenchester - A History of Love, Loss, and Generosity from the Civil War to the Roaring Twenties, by Gabriel and Suzanne Carbondale? Maggie, you and Kathryn really must read it."

Jessie grunted and got up to clear some of the dishes. She muttered, "Suzanne wrote the book."

"We have a copy of it here; you can borrow it," said Farrel.

"Evangeline Lavender Fen was the great-great-niece of Elias Fen, for whom Fenchester is named. She was also a direct descendent of the founder of Irwin College, Walter Irwin, and the College's first President, James Clymer. All these old families had close ties," Amanda explained.

"Evangeline was betrothed to General Merganser Hunterdon. He was a decorated Civil War hero. Hunterdon was a coa.r.s.e, self-made man who may have been the wealthiest in the State. He was a ruthless capitalist, yet he ultimately balanced his wicked ways by becoming a generous philanthropist."

"Evangeline Lavender?" I said. "This may sound silly but, I think I smelled lavender in the cemetery when I saw The Lost Bride."

"Not silly at all, Maggie. I believe General Hunterdon had lavender planted all over the Mews, and even the dried-out winter plants have a noticeable fragrance when disturbed," said Amanda. "Evangeline was quite educated for a woman of her time. She studied art at Irwin College. She traveled to Europe and lived in Rome in the late 1860s and early '70s, but she returned to Fenchester and moved into her mother's home," said Amanda.

"Her engagement to Hunterdon was perhaps a strategic move, don't you think, Amanda?" said Judith taking up the yarn. "You see, her father died fairly young and her mother was quite dest.i.tute, having lost their money in the Panic of 1873, when major banks collapsed and thousands of businesses failed. There were also two younger sisters who would not have been aptly described as comely, and a young brother. Really quite like a Jane Austen plot. Evangeline's only hope was a good match."

Amanda agreed. "It's all in the Carbondales' book. As a matter of fact, Evangeline and her family lived in the house Gabriel rents, and I think Suzanne Carbondale was distantly related to Evangeline, though the house belongs to the college now. It's just two doors south of my house. Those were tradesmen's tiny homes overlooking the Mews stables in the 1860s. Not quite suited for Fen family lineage, but it was all they could afford. The smell of the... uh... horses... must have been very unpleasant."

"Luckily," went on Judith, "Evangeline was quite beautiful, though in her late twenties. There are several daguerreotypes of her in the Fenchester Historical Collection. One of them is reproduced in the Carbondales' book, I believe."

"The photographs of General Merganser Hunterdon are not so flattering. Rather an unfortunate-looking man," said Amanda.

"Yes, quite," said Judith.

"Maybe that's why they named him after a duck," said Jessie quietly.

Judith continued, "They were engaged in the 1870s for quite a few years. But... she died."

"How sad," said Kathryn. "What happened?"

"She was riding her horse in the foothills and fell."

"They found Evangeline's body in a ravine. General Hunterdon was distraught. How did you say it in the lecture, Judith? He became a professional mourner?"

"Merganser Hunterdon donated a great deal of his money to community projects. He also committed a significant part of his fortune to building monuments in Evangeline's honor. They were commissioned to an important sculptor of the day-surprisingly a woman, Victoria Willomere Snow. She came to Fenchester just a few years before Evangeline died to do a commission for the College."

"The Lost Bride sculpture and many other commissioned pieces were paid for by General Hunterdon at a retainer rate of twenty dollars a day for life. Snow created five Evangeline works for the cemetery alone. She lived into her nineties in Fenchester and so did Hunterdon. The commission turned out to be a record sum," said Judith. "Very little is known about Victoria Snow other than the quality of her work, because she was quite reclusive. Not unlike Emily d.i.c.kenson."

I'd avidly studied women sculptors of the 19th century when I was in college. Victoria Willomere Snow was a favorite. She had sometimes used found objects in her sculpture, which was considered very avant-garde for the day. She'd studied in Rome with Harriet Hosmer and was probably part of Charlotte Cushman's circle. Cushman was a famous actor who was notorious for her Lesbian affairs, but little was known about Victoria Snow's personal life.

Amanda was saying, "As time went on, General Hunterdon became a bit of a roue; dueling, womanizing, although his grief for Evangeline was apparently genuine. Hunterdon eventually ran for State Senate, but after he won the primary he withdrew, insisting that his grief for Evangeline kept him from going on. He lived austerely because his money all went to civic projects-bridges, parks, the original library downtown, which is now the art museum. He had the Mews park designed and built as a gift to the city. His money set up some foundations to support widows and orphans. It all was dedicated to Evangeline. He established a scholarship fund for women at Irwin."

"You mean the Fen Scholarships? Those are named for Evangeline Fen?" asked Kathryn.

Amanda nodded. "Yes, I was granted some money from the fund when I was a young professor, to finish my doctorate. Of course that was years ago. I've heard the fund is rather low now."

Kathryn mused, "And there are five statues of Evangeline in the cemetery. That's interesting."

"I think it's about to get more interesting," said Farrel. "Tell everyone about our buys today, Kathryn."

"Well, Farrel was buying Cora's dog in a booth set up in the field behind the main antique mall. I'm sure that field is packed with booths in the summer, but it was frigid tundra out there today. Only a few people bothered to set up," Kathryn said, as she lifted a canvas bag from the floor and reached inside.

She put several objects wrapped in paper on the table. Kathryn pushed back the wrapping on the largest object, revealing a lyrical clay figure of a woman reclining on cushions with her hair swirling around her shoulders. The area between her legs was covered, but full b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the perfect angle of hip and thigh were fully exposed.

"Well, I would have bought that! May I see it?" I asked.

Kathryn handed it over as Farrel unwrapped a similar figure she had bought and set it on the table.

I carefully turned the sculpture over in my hands until I spied a small stylized VWS within an impressed snowflake design. "It's by Victoria Willomere Snow; here's her mark," I said in a hushed voice.

"Really? There's a signature? I didn't even see it. I just recognized the other pieces and hoped," said Kathryn.

"Either it's a Snow or a very good fake," said Farrel frankly. "Show them the others."

Kathryn unwrapped ten small ceramic faces each decorated with sea sh.e.l.ls. "I knew she perfected a mold process that helped her make faces like this. I'd never seen any with sh.e.l.l decoration before, though," said Kathryn.

"I've seen some of her found object faces. But I've never seen any full figure nudes, and believe me I would have remembered. But I've seen this woman before," I said looking at the face. And very recently.

Farrel moved around the table staring at the statues.

I said, "You see it, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, it's Evangeline Fen," said Farrel. "The same face as The Lost Bride."

Judith Levi asked, "Did the two women even know each other? Perhaps Victoria Snow studied death masks to create these accurate features?"

Ew, I thought. I'd seen dead bodies when I was on the Fenchester Police Force, but there was something about making a mold of a dead person's face that was not only divorced from art but downright creepy.

"We don't even know whether they're really by Snow," I said.

"Perhaps you should take them to the Fenchester Museum tomorrow," said Amanda. "The woman who came to the meeting last night is cataloging the museum's holdings, including an important collection of Victoria Willomere Snow's work. Perhaps she could authenticate these."

"Yes, Amanda, we should do that. Maggie, shall we see the statue of The Lost Bride in the cemetery after brunch?" said Kathryn with an aesthetic urgency that shone in her steel-blue eyes.

"Sure, I want to see The Lost Bride again in the daylight. Besides, it'll give me a chance to look for clues."

Kathryn's smile was so erotically charged, I barely noticed what anyone was saying until Jessie brought a luscious black raspberry compote to the table and handed out small plates.

Conversation quieted until Cora Martin said, "Well this isn't nearly as exciting as Kathryn's luck at the market, but dahlings, I went into the city for an auction at Sotheby's."

"Sotheby's? The prices must have been terrifically high! Did you purchase anything?" asked Amanda, who was unaware of Cora's frequent dealings with the international auction house.

Cora winked and said, "I was selling, dahling, and I did very well! But guess who I saw in the subway. I always take the subway. I'm a New Yorker originally."

Farrel snorted faintly because Cora's New York accent was thick enough to stop a rhino.

Judith said, "Yes, dear, we know that," without a hint of sarcasm.

"Well, I got off the Lex and transferred to the Shuttle. And I saw that actress... married to that Kevin, who is always at sixty degrees?"

Judith and Amanda both looked blank.

Farrel leaned over to explain who we were talking about as Jessie rushed back to the table.

"Did you talk to her?" Jessie asked in an animated voice.

"Well, as a matter of fact..." Cora paused for effect, "she got up and gave me her seat. Ha! It's good to be old!"

So the Sunday morning game of Brush With Fame was afoot.

"The theme this time is Transportation," said Farrel.

To herald the beginning of the game, twin black cats appeared in the dining room doorway. Griswold and Wagner wove their way around all our ankles.