“So it’s kind of like
Wheel of Fortune
or something?” Morgan asked. “You have to piece together what it could be based on the other letters that you know for sure.”
Cal laughed. “Yes, very much like that. As long as the tops of the letters really are what was on there. Otherwise, you might end up going down a rabbit hole.”
Everyone looked at Jolene.
Jolene’s face was grim. “I
think
they are right. I can’t say for sure. I’m all screwed up and not very much help at all, I’m afraid.”
Celeste’s heart pinched. “Maybe what we find out from Finch will help us piece it together.”
Swain’s mouth tightened. “If your friend Bly was the one behind the gravestone smashing, then he probably knows what that last line is.”
“And he could be figuring out where the relic is right now,” Fiona added.
“We better get a move-on, then.” Morgan pushed up from her chair and headed toward the hall.
“Where are we going?” Jolene followed close on her heels.
“To see the only other person who might remember what that last line is,” Morgan said without breaking stride. “Thaddeus Finch.”
Chapter Seventeen
“So, where are the amulets?” Celeste asked as they drove down Shore Road on their way to the nursing home.
“They’re at the shop,” Fiona replied from the back seat where she was twisted around, inspecting the cargo area of the TrailBlazer. “I wanted to make sure the solder was cooled completely before we wore them so I left them there. We can pick them up after we talk to Finch.”
“I’m a little worried about trusting Finch’s information,” Morgan said. “It might not be reliable. You heard what Wendy said in the shop, and she would know more than anyone about his mental acuity.”
“Wendy?” Jolene had taken the piece of paper with the tops of the letters with her and had been scribbling on it as they drove. “Finch’s health aide?”
“Yes.” Fiona turned forward in her seat and then bent down to look under the passenger seat.
“She was at your shop?”
“Yeah, I guess Finch told her about it,” Morgan said.
Jolene paused, her pencil over the paper. “Well, she believed him when he told her you had a shop, so he can’t be
that
unreliable.”
“Good point.” Fiona’s muffled voice came from the floor where she was crouched down, looking underneath her own seat.
“What are you looking for?” Celeste asked.
“Belladonna. She keeps showing up and I just know she is stowing away in the car somewhere.”
“Probably. She’s pretty sneaky,” Celeste said. “But if she doesn’t want to be found, you won’t find her. Besides, she can take care of herself.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want her to suddenly show up inside the nursing home.” Fiona settled back in her seat just as Morgan pulled into a parking spot.
“Now that we know the relic is a mortar and pestle, the fact that those very items were stolen from the Oblate Museum makes me think the paranormal mortar and pestle might have been there the whole time,” Celeste said as their feet crunched across the icy parking lot snow.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Morgan replied. “Except Dorian said that she knew for sure that the bad guys didn’t have the relic after the museum break-in.”
“True.” Celeste opened the nursing home door and the nurse waved them through.
“We’ll ask Finch,” Fiona said. “Maybe he can clear it up.”
They got to Finch’s door and Jolene’s heart tugged at the sight of the old man lying in bed, his face a sickly, waxen yellow. He looked old and frail. Her questioning eyes met Wendy’s.
“He’s not doing well today,” Wendy said.
“Oh, what’s wrong?” Jolene asked.
Wendy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just tired. You shouldn’t plan to stay long.”
“Stay schmay.” Finch raised himself up to a sitting position, seeming to perk up a little. “They can stay as long as they want.”
Wendy held a small paper cup out to Finch. “Whatever you like, Mr. Finch. Just take this pill first. You need your rest.”
Wendy leaned across Finch and Jolene caught sight of a black pendant dangling down from her neck. She glanced at Fiona, assuming it was the one Wendy had purchased earlier. Wendy saw her looking and curled her fist around the pendant.
“Do you like the necklace?” Fiona asked.
“Yes, it’s very nice,” Wendy answered.
“Oh, do you know each other?” Finch asked.
“We met her here the other day,” Fiona reminded him. “And then Wendy came to our shop and bought the necklace. Thanks for telling her about our shop, by the way.”
“You girls have a shop?” Finch’s brows mashed together and he looked from one Blackmoore to the other in confusion.
“Yes, remember you told me about it.” Wendy raised her brows at the sisters and mouthed the words. “He’s not very lucid today.”
Finch tipped back the cup that held his pill, then shoved it out at Wendy. “Here. Take this. I’m going to talk to my friends.”
Wendy took the empty cup, then sidled her way past the girls. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t stay too long.” She glanced back at Finch, her face pinched with concern. “I don’t know how much energy he has left.”
A rock lodged in the pit of Jolene’s stomach. It seemed like Finch had gone downhill quickly and she was kind of starting to like the old guy. She hoped he would be okay.
Morgan launched right into a line of questioning. “Hey, Mr. Finch. Do you remember your great-grandfather’s pharmacy?”
His face brightened. “Do I ever!”
“After he died, what happened to it?”
“We kept it the way he always had it. He instructed us to do that in his will, you know.”
“You didn’t donate anything to the museum in town?” Fiona asked.
Finch pursed his lips together and squinted his eyes shut. He was silent for a long time. So long that Jolene feared he might not ever answer. If it wasn’t for his contorted face, she might have even thought he was no longer with them. Then he blurted out, “No. We didn’t donate anything from the pharmacy. It had already burned down.”
“So, what happened to the contents after the fire?” Morgan asked.
“The police took it as evidence.” Finch leaned forward and gestured for the girls to come closer to the bed. “The fire was suspicious, you know.”
“We didn’t know.” Jolene glanced at her sisters. Could the fire have been set years ago to get at the relic? If so, whoever did it had apparently been unsuccessful.
“So nothing was left from the pharmacy after the fire?” Morgan asked.
“Well, there were a few things. I went out there when my arthritis wasn’t acting up and dug a couple old bottles out, but most anything that was any good was carted off to the police station.” Finch screwed his face up. “Come to think of it, I never saw any of that stuff again.”
Celeste tilted her head to the left and looked at Finch. “If most everything was at the police station, what items did you donate to the museum?”
“Oh, that was just some old memorabilia we had in the attic. My great-grandfather had a lot of stuff and my grand-pappy saved newspaper articles about him in the attic,” Finch said. “When the museum came looking for donations, that’s what I gave them.”
Jolene felt a spark of hope. “Were the items from the attic Ezra’s most special items?”
“Oh, no. He kept the good stuff in his pharmacy building.”
Morgan looked skeptical. “And your family kept everything in there even long after he was dead?”
“Yes! Grandpappy insisted we leave it as is. No one would dare go against Ezra, even if he was six feet under,” Finch said. “He fancied it to be a museum of sorts. Especially that back wall. The one opposite the ocean. That’s where he had his collection of antique equipment.”
Jolene looked sharply at her sisters. “You mean the wall on the west side.”
Finch gave her a sour look. “Well, unless things have changed, the wall opposite the ocean would be on the west side. We never touched a thing in there. Left it just as it was on his last day. But then it burned down, so I guess nothing lasts forever.”
“Was there anything that your great-grandfather liked in particular? A mortar and pestle that was special to him or his favorite, perhaps?” Morgan ventured.
“Morty Postner?” Finch nodded excitedly. “Yes, he played cards with my great-granddaddy. I don’t think he was anything special though. Is it important?”
The girls exchange an exasperated look. Celeste tried another tactic. “Do you remember much from when your great-grandfather died?”
Finch settled back into the pillows, his small body all but disappearing in the bed. He looked so frail and sickly that Jolene wondered if he had the energy to answer. Then a smile crossed his face and he appeared to rally.
“He was quite old when he died. Almost one hundred, but still, it was quite a blow to the household. Daddy was right upset and I think I remember him complaining about some oddities in great-grandpa’s will. You know, like keeping the pharmacy open as a museum of sorts. Daddy didn’t want to have to deal with that.”
Fiona’s brows mashed together. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever visiting a museum on your farm.”
“It wasn’t open to the public,” Finch said. “I remember my parents saying something about liability and they didn’t want strangers on the farmland, so they abided by his will as best they could by keeping everything set up as it was the day he died. They just didn’t let the public come in and view it.” A smile crossed his face. “It sure was a fun place to go and play as a kid. I had to sneak in, of course. Momma didn’t want me to go in there.”
“Do you remember anything special in there?” Celeste asked. “An item you were drawn to more so than the others?”
“I don’t remember much except the night I stole a kiss from Sue Ellen Mayfair next to the apothecary cabinet. That old pharmacy building sure was a good place to take the girls,” he chuckled.
Jolene grimaced. She didn’t want to listen to tales of Finch’s adolescent exploits, so she changed the subject. “When we were at the graveyard, we noticed Ezra had an interesting epitaph on his gravestone. Do you know anything about that?”
Finch’s mouth twisted to the left. “I remember that was another bone of contention with my parents. Ezra wanted a particular poem on there and Mama said it was dumb. But he had it in his will and no one wanted to go against him.”
“I thought the poem was lovely,” Morgan lied. “It was something like ‘When two become one, the healing’s begun, in my favorite place under the sun. Look to the west, I can finally rest …’ Do you remember it?”
Finch nodded. “Yes … yes, I think I do. But wasn’t there something else?”
“Yes, there’s a last line.” Morgan’s eyes drilled into his. “Do you remember what it is?”
Finch puffed out his cheeks. “Now, you’d think I would. As a little kid I spent a lot of time there in that graveyard. It seemed so peaceful, almost as if my great-granddaddy was there with me.” Jolene’s eyes meet Celeste’s over the bed. Little did Finch know Ezra probably really was with him in that graveyard.
“Anyway, I think it was something about someone being pretty,” Finch continued.
Jolene took the piece of paper she’d been working on the whole time over to Finch’s bed and sat on the side facing him. She showed it to him. “Maybe you can help us figure it out. I’ve got some of the letters written here. Maybe these letters will help you fill in the rest of the line, just like they do on
Wheel of Fortune
.”
Finch perked up. “I love
Wheel of Fortune
!” He lifted his head to look at the paper in Jolene’s hands. “Let’s see. The beginning is already filled in. ‘It’s the’ … but I think something is screwed up. It looks like there’s more ‘e’s that didn’t get filled in. Whoever bought that vowel got ripped off. Look, they should go here, here, here, and here. Some doubles, too.”
Finch pointed to several places on the paper where there were small arcs, like the top of the lowercase letter ‘e’. Jolene filled them in tentatively. She doubted he was right, but she figured there was no harm in testing it out.
Finch stared at the letters. “Now, let me see. Is there an ’N’?”
Jolene shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes. Right here and here.” Finch pointed at two more spots and Jolene filled them with ’n’s.
Finch laid back in the bed, a satisfied look on his face. “Yes! I’ll solve the puzzle. The phrase is ‘It’s the prettiest green you’ve ever seen!’ That’s what my great-granddaddy had on his gravestone!”
Chapter Eighteen
“The prettiest green you’ve ever seen? What the heck does that mean?” Celeste asked once they were in the car on their way to
Sticks and Stones
.
“Who knows,” Fiona answered. “Could a mortar and pestle be green? None of Morgan’s are.”
Morgan’s lips pressed in a thin line. “Most modern ones are made of porcelain or brass. Some older ones could be wood. I have seen ones made out of glass but those aren’t practical, for obvious reasons.”
“But this one is magic,” Jolene cut in. “So maybe it could have been made out of glass. Green glass. I’ll text Brody and see if we can get a list of items that the police have from the pharmacy. Maybe we’ll luck out and he’ll have a green mortar and pestle.”