The Jewels of Sofia Tate (18 page)

And after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree.

Garnet skipped ahead to chapter 8:

And I saw the seven angels which stood before God; and to them were given seven trumpets. And another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense which came with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel's hand.

Angels! It was all about angels! Hadn't Reginald told Elizabeth to follow the angel?

But as Garnet continued, the words became strange and didn't make sense. Angels were mentioned throughout, but there were also voices and beasts and unusual images. Then in chapter 21, everything was new:
a new heaven, a new earth, and a new city of Jerusalem that came down from heaven, prepared as an adorned bride for her husband. What were they talking about? The city was garnished with all kinds of precious stones and the street was made of pure gold, as though it were transparent glass — Garnet kept reading at the mention of jewels — there would be no need for lamps or the sun to shine because God would be their light. What did all of this mean?

Her eyes were drawn to a small brown stain on the page over chapter 22, verse 16, “'I Jesus have sent mine angel to testify unto you these things in the churches. I am the root and the offspring of David, and the bright and morning star.'” Dan had said something about angels being sent as messengers or guides. Was Garnet following the right clues to find the jewels for Elizabeth?

“I need my own angel,” she whispered. “I need help. Big time. If only Dan ...” If only Dan were here to help, she almost said, but pushed that thought out of her mind. He didn't know everything. He wasn't like God who had been around longer than any of them and knew what had happened in this house.

Then Garnet knew what she had to do. She folded her hands and closed her eyes. “Dear God,” she began. “Dear God, please help me. Please help me find the jewels for my friend, Elizabeth. I want to help her but I don't know how. I don't know enough. But I know that
you do. And besides, you're the only one I have left. So please, please help me. The end. I mean ... Amen.”

Garnet opened her eyes and took a deep breath, filled with new hope. She closed the Bible and was ready to leave when curiosity tugged at her and she opened the night table drawer. She caught her breath. A pistol? Reginald had slept with a gun next to his head? It took a moment for this to sink in. Had he felt that his life was in danger? But of course, perhaps after what had happened to Johann, that was not so surprising. He wasn't taking any chances.

Garnet reached her hand inside and gripped the cold handle. Deep in thought, she wandered down to the library.

Sofia's eyes returned Garnet's gaze as she sat in the brown leather chair, facing the portrait. Garnet turned away to look in the mirror behind her and tried to imagine how this room had appeared when the tarnished one had hung over the mantel. Again, Sofia's eyes were watchful.

Garnet set the pistol down on the desk. She stood up, walked over to the mantel, and brought the clock back. Shoving the pistol aside, she settled back into the chair and popped open the glass door. On the clock's face,
four oak trees, one for each quarter hour, had a different colour of leaves to depict each season. The winter tree, though mostly bare, had several brown leaves clinging to its branches.

What would a clock like this be worth? Garnet pondered as she tried to move the pointed silver hands that were stuck firmly in place. Even though the clock didn't work, she knew from her mother when they had visited antique shops together that the unique artwork might have some value for a collector, especially if it had been done by a noted artist. Artists sometimes leave their mark. Garnet looked more closely to see if this one had. It was not long before she noticed, just above the Roman numerals VII and VIII, what appeared to be a signature cleverly camouflaged into the green foliage. Garnet squinted. Was the name “Reu”? Or “Rau”? Or “Rev”?
Rev.
A thought struck Garnet. What if it wasn't the artist's name? What if it was the name of another book in the Bible? Like Revelation.

She sat up straight. Were there any numbers? She searched carefully around Rep, and all around the foliage, but after a few moments, slumped back into the chair. There didn't seem to be any other writing. However, as Garnet stared at the clock, she realized something. There were numbers all around. Could it be that the hands of the clock were stuck in position for a reason? The short
hand was set just after the three and the long hand on the seven. Garnet reached for Elizabeth's Bible.

The thin pages crackled as she flipped through and found Revelation 3, verse 7:

And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write; These things saith he that is holy, he that is true, he that hath the key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth.

But what if the numbers were pointing at chapter 3, verse 35 for 3:35? Garnet searched for the verse but it did not exist. What about chapter 7, verse 3? She found it and read: “Saying, Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads.”

Garnet looked for Revelation 35, verse 3 but the book only went up to chapter 22. She returned to the first verse she had read, about the angel of Philadelphia and the key of David. This was the second time today she had read about David.
Who was he?

The reading in church last Sunday had been about someone with that name. Garnet recalled how the young shepherd boy had played the harp for King Saul, who
tried to kill him in his jealous rages, and that after King Saul died, David ascended the throne.

Her eyes shifted to the chiselled figure of the young man playing the harp on the mahogany panel of the mantel. She went over to it, touching the raised carving that was roughly the size of her hand. The shepherd boy's thumb was slightly lifted above the harp, as though he were about to stroke a string. Garnet knocked on the panel, noting that it sounded hollow everywhere except for the centre where the carving was. She pressed her hands against the panel. Though it seemed set in place, she thought she felt it move ever so slightly. Encouraged, she pressed again, using the tips of her fingers to try and lift it. Nothing. Applying pressure at the top, she pushed again — but it wouldn't give.

“Come on! Move!” Garnet banged her fist against the wood, but it made no difference. It was solid. She began to pummel, then strike, and finally slam the panel with all the frustrations and disappointments of the past few days, before sinking down to the wooden floor, panting and defeated. She couldn't make a dent in the panel.

Of course she couldn't. What had she been thinking? It was, after all, a fireplace, not a treasure chest. And anyway, if Elizabeth hadn't found the jewels in sixty years, how did she ever expect that she would? Garnet had been wrong to think that she could. Wrong about
the verses. Wrong to like Dan. Wrong about everything. She was hopeless.

Garnet massaged her bruised knuckles, and wiped away her tears. Slowly she stood up, placing a hand against the mantel for support. But in doing so, there it was again. Something
had
moved under the carving where Garnet's hand rested. She bent down and looked more closely. The thumb above the harp appeared to be some kind of a knob, similar to the one in Nana's desk. She pushed it again, harder this time and waited. Nothing. She pressed again, this time pushing against the panel simultaneously.

Suddenly, the panel released, easing out and folding up into the fireplace.

“Oh!” Garnet gasped.

Inside was an iron box with a keyhole in the centre. She tugged at it but it was stuck in place.

“A key. I need a key!”

She raced over to Reginald's desk and searched the drawers. Not finding a key inside, she checked to see if one might have been fastened on the outside or behind one of them. Nothing. Garnet looked over at the books, then dragged the chair over to the shelf, climbed it and pulled at
Great Expectations.
The safe swung open and she peered into its emptiness, then felt around with her hand to be certain nothing had been missed. No. She
jumped down and began to peruse the other titles on the bookshelf. Was it possible that Reginald had put a key inside a book or behind one, or in between? And if so, which book might Reginald have chosen?

“This is crazy!” Garnet cried, plunking herself down in the chair and putting her head in her hands. “Where do I look?”

She raised her head and glanced at Sofia, then at her reflection over the fireplace. Her eyes dropped to the clock on the desk.

“Think,” Garnet told herself. “The clock led to the mantel. The mantel has a box that needs a key. So far, all the clues came from Bible verses. So why would that change? Of course!”

She sprang up and pulled the key out of the side of the clock and regarded its shape. It couldn't wind the clock. Garnet looked over at the mantel. Could it be? Could it be
the key of David
e
She ran to the box, and with trembling fingers, inserted the key into the keyhole, turning it one way, then the other. She let out her breath as the lock gave way and the door slowly creaked open.

It took a moment to register her discovery, for inside were not the jewels Garnet had expected. Instead, she reached in and pulled out a wooden crucifix, about the length of her forearm and nearly as thick. The form of Jesus was made of silver, his outstretched arms with
hands nailed to either side of the cross and at the bottom through his feet. Above the engraved cloth tied around his waist was a horizontal gash in the right side of the torso with a drop of blood dripping from it. Encircling his head was a crown of thorns, and a message nailed above it on the cross: “INRI.” Garnet had seen that inscription on another crucifix somewhere before.

She inspected the cross closely for Bible verses or markings or anything else that might serve as a next clue to the jewels. She peered again inside the box and felt around with her hand. Nothing. Garnet held up the cross and turned it over. Was there something she had missed? A black shadow of doubt descended upon her.

Was this it? Was this what the big search had been for? A nicely crafted cross in an iron box? Surely not. But the words from the Bible passage on the silver angel came rushing back to her — “Ye seek Jesus, which was crucified” — and she wasn't so sure. Garnet recalled what Elizabeth had said were Reginald's words on his deathbed: “The angel. Tell Albert. The angel. Look. The cross. Remember Thomas. The angel will guide you.”

Reginald had never mentioned any jewels. Could it be that Elizabeth had been mistaken about them? Had Reginald Tate, demented as Elizabeth thought he had been, sent her on a search for a cross? Were the jewels gone, perhaps stolen long ago?

Garnet sank down into the brown, leather chair, possibly in the very place the man had concocted this wild goose chase all those years ago. Why would he have done this? Had this been some crazy joke or something, meant for Albert? Who knew? Who would ever know?

She shook herself. Taking one last look at the cross, she got up and set it back into the box and locked it. She closed the panel, then returned the key to the clock and the clock to the mantel.

The case was closed. She wasn't going to waste any more time.

Rain began to tap against the window and Garnet pushed aside the drapes. Dark clouds were wringing out another downpour.

How would Garnet tell Elizabeth that she didn't think there were any jewels to be found?

Garnet squinted at the sun as she turned the corner and pedalled up the quiet street to Elizabeth's house. Just a quick stop to check on Ginger before she continued on to the hospital. She would have told Elizabeth about her disappointing discovery last night, but Elizabeth's voice had sounded so cheerful and optimistic on the phone that Garnet didn't have the heart. It would be better to let her know in person.

But what could she say?
Sorry to break the news to you, Elizabeth, but you know those jewels you've been looking for all these years? Well, they don't exist. And that thing Reginald told you about with the angel? It was just a cross he sent you looking for. Yeah, that's right. A cross. No jewels. You wasted sixty years.

Garnet hopped off her bike and dropped it at the bottom of the stairs. She ran up and unlocked the door; the unexpected smell of cigarette smoke filled her nostrils. She stood on the threshold for a moment, not sure what to do. Voices were coming from the end of the hallway.

“No, over here!” a man said somewhat gruffly. Then came a woman's muffled reply. It sounded like Gerdie. What was going on?

Garnet entered the house and quietly closed the door behind her. Curious, she tiptoed down the hall and peeked into the library. It was Gerdie all right, with Stan. They were standing in front of the fireplace. Books had been pulled from the shelves and dumped on the floor and the Dickens section had been swung out, revealing the empty safe.

Gerdie looked up and jumped at the sight of Garnet, the book she was holding flying out of her hands. “What are you doing here?”

Stan jerked his head, a cigarette pinched between his teeth.

“I came to feed Ginger,” said Garnet.

“Ginger? But I've been feeding her.” So the cat had not been surviving on a diet of mice. “When I bring in the mail.” Gerdie's dark eyes narrowed. “How did you get in? I'm sure I locked the door.”

“I have a key. I took one when Elizabeth went into the hospital.”

Gerdie exchanged a look with Stan. Her eyes flickered down to the pistol on the desk and then back up at Garnet.