by Suzi Weinert
“Did you go through every purse to make sure nothing’s inside?” Jennifer asked. “No? Why don’t we all do that now?”
They divided the purses and found some empty, one with a grocery list, another a program from the Naples Philharmonic and another with a $20 bill. Grammy unzipped a zippered pouch in the last purse and pulled something out. Unfolding it, they exclaimed over three $100 bills.
“Didn’t Peggy Perkins recommend checking clothes pockets, too?” Becca reminded. Together they did so, finding handkerchiefs, miscellanea and more paper money.
Stacking the purged purses, Jennifer looked at the curtains and bedspread. “Do you want these or shall we have some GT fun fixing up your new place?”
Becca laughed. “You did Girls Together? So that’s how it started.”
Grammy smiled at the memory.
Jennifer’s gaze traveled around the room. “Guess we’re finished in here.”
Suddenly Grammy gave a sharp intake of breath. “Good grief, I almost forgot—the safe!”
CHAPTER 42
Grammy’s hand flew to her mouth. Of all the important things to take, the safe topped the list.
“Becca, help me pull this bookcase away from the wall while Grammy gets the combination. When the safe’s empty, should we leave the combination with Joan Langley for the new owner?”
“Makes sense. Here.” Grammy handed Jennifer the paper, “Would you please see she gets it?”
“I’ll put it back in the file for now. Nobody should have this combination until we empty the safe. Okay if I e-mail it to her after the move?”
Nervous, Grammy ran the combination twice before the safe’s door swung open. Anticipation mounted as Jennifer and Becca waited for revelations within.
First, Grammy lifted out two accordion files of papers. Then a shoebox-size container covered in quilted material. And a wooden chest about the same size. Then a cloth bag with a drawstring top. And papers folded together in a plastic newspaper sleeve. Last, she removed a large box. “Becca, would you please kneel down to make sure the safe’s empty?” Becca did.
“Nothing left. Wait…in the back are a bunch of loose…,” she drew them out and handed them to Grammy, “…silver dollars?”
“Yes, they are. Frankly, I’ve forgotten what’s here.” Grammy looked bewildered.
“How about spreading everything on the bed? Do you prefer to look at these things privately?”
“No, I think we should all look together.” She put aside the drawstring bag. “Those are papers from the safety deposit box. Let’s do them last.”
She opened the quilted box and gently poured the contents on the coverlet. Diamonds flashed and gold twinkled in the light as earrings, bracelets, necklaces and other jewelry tumbled out. “The good jewelry Max didn’t get.” She moved the pieces around. “So beautiful. Some I haven’t worn for thirty years or more. A shame, when keeping the pieces safe seems more important than enjoying them every day.”
“Has each one a story?”
“Oh, yes. This locket belonged to my mother.” She opened it, revealing two photos, one of Grammy as a toddler and one of her father. “She said we were her two most precious possessions.” As they ooh-ed, she continued, “Your father gave me this bracelet for an anniversary—funny, I can’t remember which one. And check the engraving on the back of this gold watch, a wedding present to my father from my mother. See the date and their names?” She began putting them back in the box. “When we get to Virginia, we’ll have time to look at them all. Maybe you or your girls would like to have some of them. We’ll see.”
Next, she opened the cloth bag. Out tumbled a worn, stuffed teddy bear with only eye sockets left, the eyes long gone. Beside it lay a tattered bunny, with only stitching where eyes once attached. Next to the animals lay a cluster of lead soldiers and a bronzed toddler shoe made into a bookend. “These were your father’s when he was a boy. His mother gave them to him shortly before she died. Your daddy died at eighty-four so adding the five years since then, these are close to ninety years old.” She gently returned them to the bag.
She pulled forward a shoebox-size wooden chest secured with a padlock, and studied it. “I don’t remember this.” She shook it but heard no sound within.
“Have you the key, Gram?” Becca fingered the lock.
At Grammy’s bewildered look, Jennifer suggested gently, “Maybe inside a vase or taped under a lamp or in a costume jewelry drawer?”
As Grammy circled the room, investigating possible hiding places, Jennifer watched, intending to check those same places later for clues to more hidden belongings before the estate sale closed the door to that opportunity.
Empty-handed and dismayed, Grammy ventured. “Could we force it open without a key?”
Becca studied the lock. “Yes, but it’ll probably ruin the chest. Should I try?” At Grammy’s nod, Becca jumped up. “Tools in the garage?” Grammy nodded again. “I’ll be right back.”
When Becca left, Grammy spoke to Jennifer in a conspiratorial voice. “After your father died, I re-discovered many single women friends who I hadn’t spent much time with when I was part of a ‘couple.’ My widow friends and I, especially those of us who took care of our husbands during their final illness, found we enjoyed the self-indulgence of living alone instead of always considering our husband’s tastes and needs. We looked for happiness as singles because we agreed most marriageable men wanted a nurse or a purse for their old age.”
Jennifer laughed. “Are you serious? Someone to care for them or support them?”
“Very serious. But I…after a while, I realized I missed a man’s companionship. At a party one night, I met someone I liked. We became…friends…then very close friends for several years. He lived in Miami but preferred the Gulf Coast and especially Naples. So he visited here regularly. He explained his job with the FBI involved travel and danger, so if he disappeared one day for good, I must assume he’d died in the line of duty. Somehow, his mystery and secrecy added to the thrill of our friendship. He asked me to keep this box for him in my safe and if ever he failed to return, the contents belonged to me. To please him, I agreed. Two years ago, he disappeared, leaving me heart-broken for the second time. First losing your Dad and then…him.” She sniffled into a hankie.
Stunned at this news, Jennifer comforted her mother before asking, “What was his name?”
“Anthony Venuti.” Her voice quavered as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Although his friends called him ‘Big T.’ He…he was a charming gentleman. He had a warm sense of humor and lovely manners. He dressed well, liked the finest food and wine, enjoyed opera, had access to yachts and private planes and always plenty of money. For example, we often flew to the Florida Keys for dinner. But what appealed to me most was his interest in me.” Now she wept openly.
Becca returned, brandishing pliers and a screwdriver. But coming upon this scene, she hesitated. “Everything…all right here?”
“Grammy’s just sad for a minute,” Jennifer explained. “Moving’s tough.”
Accepting this, Becca busied herself with the tools. “I’ll try not to ruin the chest, but you see the problem.”
Grammy nodded. After several attempts, Becca pried the hasp from the box and the lock with it. She handed the chest to Grammy, who gave Jennifer a deep look before opening the lid.
They gasped.
CHAPTER 43
Inside the chest, flush with the top, lay five stacks of paper money. The top bills in each stack read $500 and $1,000, each circled with rubber bands. Grammy lifted out the top layer of each stack, revealing more packs of bills beneath and more under those. Finally, she emptied the chest.
They stared at the money piles on the bed, some packs thicker than others. “Wow,” Becca marveled. “Wow, again. Should we…count it? I could get post-it notes and pens to put the amount on each stack under the rubber band,” Becca offered.
“Yes,” Grammy whispered.
“Do you think it’s real or maybe counterfeit?”
“Let’s ask for change for one of them at a bank tomorrow to see what we learn.”
“Would they arrest us if it’s fake?” They exchanged uncertain looks.
After counting, an hour later they put the money back into the chest and closed the lid. “It’s a fortune, Grammy. How could you not remember it’s here?” Becca probed.
“Perhaps my father put it here without telling her,” Jennifer invented, to cover the true Big T story. “In any event, let’s put it back in the chest and into the safe for now.”
Then they considered the remaining items. “What’s in this case, Gram?” Becca handed it to her. Grammy opened the clasp and lifted the lid to display a matched pair of old dueling pistols.
Jennifer lifted one, turning it this way and that. “Do these have a story?”
“Not that I remember, but they look old and probably valuable to a collector. Maybe some of those papers explain, but we can read them any time. Let’s finish this job.”
“Just this quilted box left.” Becca pushed it across the bed to Grammy.
“Only your father and I used the safe, so if I didn’t put this there, he must have. What do you suppose he’s hidden inside…?” She shook the box. Rattling sounds confirmed loose contents.
Grammy poured it out onto the bed: aged coins, a rusty belt buckle, old insignia, a worn bible with a bullet in the center, a knife, a daguerreotype photo, mini-balls, old uniform buttons, some yellowed papers and a wad of modern paper currency.
“Grammy,” Becca exclaimed. “This is better than Christmas. I’ve never seen so much money in one place except a casino.”
“These look like Civil War relics.” Jennifer touched the items on the coverlet before picking up the bible. Only the cover barely opened because of the bullet wedged inside, but the date on the first page inside read “June 12, 1864.” She showed it to the others.
Just then, the doorbell chimed. They exchanged who-could-that-be? looks.
Becca stuffed the Civil War items back into their container. “If you two put this stuff back and lock the safe, I’ll answer the door. Hearing her feet pounding down the stairs, they finished this task and hurried downstairs after her.
CHAPTER 44
In the foyer responding to the doorbell, Becca performed the now-standard window check before opening the door.
“Hello, Georgie. How are you today?”
“I’m okay. He’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“The bad man in your picture.”
“You mean,” Becca grabbed the mug shot from the foyer credenza, “this man?”
Georgie nodded.
Jennifer knelt down to Georgie’s eye level. “Where?”
Georgie pointed. “Up the street that way. He walked along the other side of the street, past my house, but he looked at your house the whole time.”
Becca grabbed the photo. “He looked just like this picture, Georgie? You’re sure?”
“That’s him, except for the hair. It’s brown now.”
“Good work, Georgie.” Becca handed him a Reese Cup from her pocket. “You’re a detective. Tell us what he does and where he goes whenever he’s nearby. Okay?”
Georgie grinned and nodded.
As Jennifer and Grammy reached the doorway, Becca stopped Georgie from popping the candy into his mouth. “Would you please tell them what you just told me, Georgie?”
He did and then backed out across the porch, his mouth full of peanut butter and chocolate.
Becca closed the door. ”Do you think he really saw Max?”
Grammy looked uncomfortable. “How can we be sure? He’s just a little tyke with only a picture to go on. The hair color change seems doubtful. Or is that wishful thinking?”
“Let’s tell Deputy Goodwin what’s happened.” Jennifer dialed her phone. “Hello, Deputy?” She described the situation.
“How old is the kid?”
“Maybe seven…eight?”
“Think he’s fabricating for chocolate? Kids’ imaginations can get pretty wild for a tasty payoff.”
Jennifer considered this. “We didn’t see the man, so we don’t know if it’s Max with a dye job, or someone else, or if Georgie invented the story.”
“I’ll send someone over to look around. Meantime, be sure you’ve locked your doors and windows and turn on the security system even though you’re inside and it’s daytime. Do it day and night.”
“Movers come tomorrow morning at eight. I don’t see how we can secure the house while they wander in and out.”
“Narrow their activity to one door and lock everything else. This is only a child’s alleged sighting, but no harm in sensible precautions.”
The three women gathered their personal items in an upstairs bedroom’s empty closet and put a “Not for the Move” sign on the door. “And what better place for the valuables than in the safe while the movers work?” Becca asked.
“Should we park the Mercedes outside on the street in case they need to get bigger items to the moving van through the garage?” Grammy wondered.
“Good idea. We’ll do that first thing tomorrow morning. And shouldn’t we offer the movers donuts and coffee?”
Becca grinned. “I’ll get donuts. Maybe they have chocolate ones.”
“You and your chocolate,” Grammy clucked. “Where do those calories go? You stay so slim.”
Jennifer tapped her calendar. “Tomorrow’s your regular beauty shop day, Mom. You’ve prepared for the movers, so Becca and I can handle the situation for that hour you’re away. I could drop you off and…”
Grammy looked concerned. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Jen? With Max on the loose I…I feel uncomfortable outside the house. After what he’s already done to me, I’m scared.”
“Well…sure, Mom, if Becca will supervise the movers. Do you mind, Becca?”
“No problem.”
“And could you pick up a quickie dinner for us tonight while you’re getting donuts at the grocery? Their deli has some good ready-made choices.”
Jennifer trudged upstairs feeling worn out. She felt the final responsibility for every decision resting on her shoulders. Had she forgotten anything? Orchestrating her mother’s move was enough of a challenge without the added threat of Max–if Max was a threat. Not knowing what to expect next created its own nerve-wracking tension for her.
And then she heard the scream…
CHAPTER 45
Grabbing wasp spray, she careened down the stairs toward the shriek, unsure whether the terrified cry came from Grammy or Becca.
“Where are you?” she shouted, reaching the bottom step.
“In the garage. Hurry!” Grammy called.
Uncapping the wasp spray, Jennifer ran in that direction. “What is it?” she huffed from exertion.
“There,” Grammy said in tremulous voice, pointing to Becca, who shrank in horror against the far wall, cornered by a four-foot-long snake, its upper body coiled in strike position.
“Don’t move, Becca,” Jennifer cried. “He’s attracted to motion.”
Jennifer quickly pressed the garage door-open button. The snake’s head moved at the mechanical sound the rising door made. When she shook the aerosol can in her hand, the snake’s head snapped its gaze again toward her.
“Grammy,” Jennifer directed, “lift that beach ball near you and roll it toward the snake. Hurry!”
Reacting to the rolling ball moving toward it, the snake struck, plunging its fangs into the plastic sphere. The deflating ball hissed as its air escaped. Apparently satisfied at dispatching this threat, the snake slithered under the car and out the open garage door. When it reached the driveway, Jennifer quickly pressed the door close-button.
Becca’s eyes, wide with panic, squinted shut as she whimpered, “I can’t go to the grocery now.” She ran into the house, sobbing.
Grammy shivered. “How…how do you think that thing got into the garage? The car door was closed, but could someone have left the pe
ople door ajar? It opens right into the garden…”
“If snakes can climb into airplane wheel wells,” Jen said, “survive the flight and later drop onto the tarmac of another continent when the plane lands, they could curl up in a car’s wheel well and later drop onto the garage floor.” She hurried to the kitchen, where her daughter still trembled. “There, there…it’s gone now, Becca. Where did you get this fear of snakes, honey?”
She spoke through sobs. “Remember the snake Mike had, the one you made him keep outside? One day I found the box inside, so I opened it and the snake jumped out and bit me. He said it was only a garden snake, but it hurt a lot. I wanted to tell you but Mike made me promise not to since he knew he’d get in trouble for having it in the house. He gave me three chocolate bars if I promised to keep it a secret. But I never forgot what happened, and ever since then snakes terrify me.”
Jennifer shook her head. “And I thought I knew everything about you children growing up.”
Grammy stood. “I have a set of books about Florida in the study. I think one volume covers local snakes. Shall we try to identify it? Maybe it’s harmless.”
“Harmless ones can still bite,” Becca mumbled.
Grammy retrieved the Florida snake book, riffling across the pages as she did. “Was it this one?” She passed the book to her daughter.
Jennifer took the book and immediately saw a picture of their snake. “Eastern diamondback rattlesnake,” she read silently and skimmed the remaining text. “Largest venomous snake in North America; bites intensely painful and can be fatal to humans; range North Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and throughout Florida. Excellent swimmers. As construction diminishes their habitat, they can be found in parking lots, golf courses and residential gardens.”
“Still looking,” she pretended, continuing her silent reading, trying to maintain a neutral expression as she absorbed the frightening facts: most dangerous venomous snake in North America; extremely potent venom delivered in a dose four times the amount needed to kill a person; venom simultaneously attacks prey’s nervous system and its blood and tissues; purpose of the venom is to kill and partially digest prey with enzymes. Symptoms: severe pain at the bite site, intense internal pain, bleeding from the mouth, hypotension, weak pulse, swelling and discoloration.