The Jewels of Sofia Tate (13 page)

An impatient glance at her watch told her it was seven-fifteen. Where was Dan? He could at least call if he was going to be late. Or had he forgotten? That was a possibility. After all, it was Saturday night and he did have plans to go out. And if he was with Laura, why wouldn't he forget about Garnet? She brushed the thought aside and tried to think what to do. Should she wait a little longer for him? She decided to check out the attic and see the items Elizabeth had called “junk.” She made certain the front door was locked and hoped that she would hear the knocker if Dan came.

Garnet unlatched the attic door and jumped when the hinges squeaked.
Curiosity killed the cat,
she thought, and she felt a tingle go up her spine.

Pull yourself together, she chided herself. How am I ever going to find those jewels if I let stupid notes and little noises spook me
? This was exactly what the writer of that note wanted. Garnet took a deep breath.
Be brave, be brave,
she told herself as she climbed the creaking steps of the steep, narrow staircase.

She opened the door at the top and was met by a wall of trapped daytime heat. The evening sunlight streamed into the back window, and if it hadn't been for one of the small panes missing from the side window, the temperature would likely have been unbearable. Cobwebs lined the rafters where outdated knob and tube wiring ran across them and wide wooden floor planks were covered with all types of disused objects. Idle radios, a gramophone, lamps, a rocking horse, a rocker cradle, and a wooden high chair were only a few of the items Garnet could see. And despite her previous misgivings about being alone, it suddenly felt like Christmas and she couldn't wait to discover what treasures lay before her.

She lifted the lid of the large, wooden box nearest to her and smiled. On the underside of the lid, in a childish hand, the name
Albert
had been scratched in pencil. She wondered if he had written it himself and recalled the time when she was six years old and had written her own name in red marker on the underside of a coffee table. At
the top of the box lay a well-worn brown teddy bear, a set of painted lead toy soldiers, and a pull-along wooden horse with wheels and a string. Stacked underneath were textbooks and notebooks that had belonged to Albert.

Garnet closed the box and moved on to a black bound leather trunk. She raised the lid and saw, at the very top, a yellowed silk christening gown. Carefully, she pulled it out, and underneath found another article she recognized from the wedding photographs: Sofia's silk wedding gown. It was trimmed with lace and seed pearls in a floral motif, and had also yellowed over time. Garnet lifted it out and discovered more gowns, all with long skirts, which had been the fashion before the 1920s. One by one, Garnet pulled them out.

At the bottom, she came across a violet gown and knew immediately where she had seen it before. It was Sofia's gown from the portrait hanging in Reginald's library. She lifted it out and admired the silk as it hung straight down with three rows of tiny ruffles adorning the bottom of the skirt. Garnet ran a finger along the beadwork and lace that graced the neckline and the long row of buttons to close the back of the dress. A real classic. She held it up to herself and realized that Sofia had been nearly the same size as she, only slightly slimmer. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to be Sofia, living in another time, only a few years older
than herself, with a husband and a baby, not knowing she would live only a short time longer. Garnet felt a lump rise in her throat. How unfair it would be to die so young. She carefully folded the gown back up, returned it with the others to the trunk, and closed it.

She moved on to a small stack of cardboard boxes. In the top one, she discovered colourful hand-blown glass Christmas-tree ornaments and metal candleholders with the stubs of white candles and hardened wax dripping down them, the remnants of Christmases past. The next box contained thick records for the gramophone. And underneath that, a box filled with copies of ninety-year-old
Harper's Monthly
magazines and Eaton's catalogues. It was an antique collector's dream come true.

Garnet looked up and noticed a small wooden box on top of a large old radio. She picked it up and lifted the lid. Twenty tunes were listed on the underside with hand-painted pictures surrounding the titles. She had seen one of these before in one of the antique shops she and her mother used to visit. The owner had shown them how it worked. Garnet selected a tune, wound the hand crank and flipped the switch to “Play.” To her delight, the music began.

The sound of a slamming car door jerked Garnet back to the present. So he was finally here. She set the music box down on top of the magazines and hurried to
the front window. But to her dismay, it was not Dan's black sports car that was in the driveway. The balcony limited her view, but what she did see was the tail end of a dark blue car.

Like the one that had nearly hit her. Garnet's heart began to pound and she suddenly felt paralyzed.

What should I do? Think, Garnet, think!
She would be crazy to confront the person by herself, but she had to at least find out whom it belonged to.

Okay. She would go downstairs to Elizabeth's bedroom where the window overlooked the driveway. The person would knock at the door, and when no one answered, would leave. Then Garnet could check who it was.

Feeling barely able to breathe, she began to descend the staircase before coming to an abrupt halt.

The person hadn't knocked, and yet she now heard heavy footsteps. They seemed to be coming up the stairs. She hadn't heard any smashing of windows, which could only mean one thing: whoever it was either had a key or else had picked the lock. She turned around and took a step before stopping again. The stairs were too creaky, and yet she was horribly aware of the music box that continued to play. What if the person heard it?

She took two steps at a time, then another two, keeping to the edge of the staircase where the stairs were
less likely to creak. Just as she reached the top, the music stopped, all by itself.

She crept behind a large flat package wrapped in newspaper and tied with a string where she waited, listening for footsteps, her heart pounding inside her ears. She felt a drop of sweat trickle down her chest and she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. It was so hot.

Dan, where are you?
Garnet glanced at her watch. It read “7:30,” but she knew it had to be later. The light coming through the back window was turning to an orange, rosy hue. Just what was this person doing here, anyway? Perhaps those dreams Elizabeth had talked about of someone walking around in the house hadn't been dreams at all.

Finally, heavy feet descended the staircase and receded. Garnet heard the front door slam shut and she sprang to her feet from her crouched position. She had to see who it was. But as she stepped over one of the boxes, she suddenly felt something soft brush up against her cheek. She pushed it away, thinking it was only a stray lock of damp hair, but when she looked up, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy outline as it flew up to the rafters. Without warning, it swooped past her again, this time flying through the broken side window. Another figure followed.

“Oh, no! Bats!” Garnet cried. Instinctively, she covered her hair with her hands, and crouched back down on the floor, squeezing her eyes shut, and listened for fluttering sounds. After a few moments, she peeked over her elbow. It seemed clear. She jumped to her feet and over the rocker cradle, swinging it high into motion, her toe catching the edge of it. As the cradle swung back, it knocked over the large, flat object she had been hiding behind and something smashed inside as it fell to the floor.

With arms flailing about her head, Garnet bolted down the stairs before the next bat swooped her way.

Garnet slammed the door shut behind her and fumbled with the latch. A loud knock sounded downstairs. She froze. Had the intruder returned? Then she realized the intruder wouldn't be knocking. She ran downstairs, the odour of cigarette smoke filling her nostrils as she reached the main floor. She peeked through the front window.

“Where were you?” Garnet practically shrieked as she unlocked the front door.

Dan's eyes opened wide. “I had to —”

“You said you'd be here at six-thirty!”

“I know. But there was a bit of a family crisis.” His eyes narrowed. “What's up, anyway? You look like you've seen a ghost!”

“A ghost.? Oh, there's more than ghosts around here,” Garnet snorted. “Let me tell you what I've been through. First, there was the chewed-up dead mouse, courtesy of Ginger. Then there were the bats in the attic —”

“Bats? You mean those harmless little furry flying creatures that keep the mosquito population under control?”

Dan's amusement only managed to infuriate Garnet more and she felt her jaw tighten. “Yes. Bats. And they weren't harmless. They were practically attacking me. What's so funny about that?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” he replied and shrugged. “Except when I picture you trying to fend them off.”

Garnet glared at him and flexed her hand. She had a sudden urge to smack that crooked smirk right off his face. “Oh, and that's funny, is it?” she said icily. “Well, wait until you hear the rest. Someone driving a blue BMW was here. I saw the car through the attic window. They came right into this house, which was
locked,
and wandered around —”

“The BMW guy was here?”

“Yeah!”

“Who is it?”

“How should I know? I was too busy hiding up in the bat-infested attic!”

“So, you didn't even see who it was?”

“No! And anyway, what do you expect me to do? Go up and say, 'Hi, I'm Garnet Walcott. Who are you and how do you do' when I'm here all by myself? Like I said, whoever it was let themselves in.”

“Well, the only person I know of who has a key is Gerdie, but she drives a white Sunbird,” Dan said.

“Does she smoke?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“'Cause the person smokes. I smelled it when I came down. Don't you?”

Dan sniffed the air and frowned. “Yeah, I do.”

“So that leaves only one other possibility. The person cracked the lock. Maybe we should look around and see if she's been robbed.”

“But how will we know?”

Garnet pursed her lips. “Good point. I suppose we could check if drawers have been pulled out and that kind of thing. I heard the person come upstairs.”

“All right.”

They quickly checked the main floor, then went upstairs. But nothing looked out of place.

“That's so weird,” Garnet said. “I wonder what the person was doing here, just walking around and smoking.” She looked over at Dan and her eyes fell to the book he was carrying. She had been so upset about the intruder that she had almost forgotten why she and Dan were meeting in the first place. “Is that your Bible?”

“Yeah.” Dan held up a maroon book that said “Holy Bible” in gold letters on the front.

“I guess it's a little late to start looking things up now. I mean, didn't you have plans to go out?”

“They're cancelled.”

“Cancelled? So you're staying a while?”

Dan nodded.

“Oh, okay.” Garnet let that register. “So did you have a chance to check the translation on that verse?”

“Yeah. I brought the New King James Version. I thought it was our best bet since it's close to the old King James but a little more modern.” Dan opened the Bible and flipped through the pages until he came to the verse. “1 Corinthians 13, verse 12. 'For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.'”

“Hmm. It's almost the same as the other one, except it says mirror instead of glass.” Garnet put a finger to her lip. “Should we have another look at the portrait?”

“Sure,” Dan agreed.

They went downstairs to the library and stood in front of the painting, scrutinizing it carefully, looking for any details they might have missed, until finally, Garnet turned away, catching sight of her own reflection next to Sofia's in the mirror behind her above the fireplace. She walked over to it.

“‘For now we see in a mirror, dimly,'” Garnet quoted, “'but then face to face.'”

Dan went to stand next to her, then stepped closer to the mirror, turning his head back and forth between the portrait behind him and its reflection in front of him. Then he placed his hands on the frame of the mirror,
carefully pulling it from the wooden panel, and set it on the desk.

“What are you doing?” Garnet asked.

“I want a closer look.”

They examined the mirror together, both the front and back of it. “I don't see anything unusual,” Garnet said.

“Me neither,” Dan said.

But then Garnet thought of something. “Hey, what was the old translation again?” she asked, trying to recall the exact words.

“‘For now we see through a glass, darkly Dan began.

“Right. You see, both times it says something about dark or dim.” Garnet frowned. “I just remembered: Elizabeth told me there used to be a different mirror here but she removed it because it was tarnished.”

“She did? What did she do with the old one?”

Garnet shrugged. “I don't know. She didn't say.”

“How much stuff is up in the attic?” Dan asked.

“Lots.”

“Maybe we should have a look up there.”

Garnet held up a hand. “I'm not going back there.”

“But Garnet, we have to. We have nothing else to go on.”

“I know, but I can't. Not tonight, anyway.” She shivered at the thought.

“I'll tell you what. I'll go up and have a quick peek. You can stay down here.”

“Stay down here? You're going up there by yourself?”