He frowned at her question and ignored it. “I’ll show you quickly where everything is since Brighton thought he deserved the day off. Show me your hands.”
Emma wondered whether she had heard correctly. She hesitated then put out her hands, palms up.
He turned one hand over. “Good. I’m glad to see you don’t have those awful long fake nails. The agency is finally listening to me. Ladies can’t clean with those long nails; they scratch my highly-polished antique furniture.”
Emma nodded. “Where do you want me to start?” She looked around the foyer to see that it was even bigger than it looked from the outside.
“To be perfectly frank with you, I don’t know where my last maid was up to. She used to go from one end of the house to the other and then start over again. What she did everyday was clean the kitchen and the two main bathrooms and my bedroom. My bedroom is the last room at the end of the corridor up the first flight of stairs. Got it? Dust it and vacuum and make the bed.”
Emma nodded hoping she could remember everything and find all the cleaning equipment. “Where shall I find the …
“You’ll find all the things you need in the room next to the kitchen. Since you won’t have much to do today, you can cook me lunch. You look like you know how to cook.”
Emma smiled. “Yes, I can cook.”
“I’ll be back at 1.00 p.m. sharp. Lunch should be on the table waiting for me, when I arrive.” He stared at her curiously for a moment. “Miss Cook, you have a strange accent; where are you from?”
“Just from around these parts. My parents were foreign.”
Her answer appeared to satisfy his curiosity. As soon as he’d rattled off his long list and advised her to touch nothing that did not concern her, he left the house. She heard the hum of a car’s engine and then she made her way to the window. She watched him drive the low, sleek black car up the winding driveway and through the huge gates that opened as he neared them.
Surely, he hadn’t left a new maid home alone in his house with all his precious objects and antiques. Emma looked around about her at all the decorative items. She looked up at the lights which were massive arrangements dotted with crystal cut glass. Emma had seen smaller chandeliers than these at one of the antique shops in town.
She remembered Bailey’s words that she was solely there to observe, and Emma knew that if she did not do a good job then Richard Starks would not keep her employed. After gathering up cleaning equipment, she made her way to his bedroom.
As Emma made the bed, she saw a book lying on the dresser. She picked it up. It was an art auction booklet; a glossy book full of paintings, and they were to be auctioned on the 14th February, just weeks away. Emma leafed through and looked at the paintings and wondered if Richard Starks might be planning another robbery at the auction house. She noticed a piece of paper fall out of the catalogue, and it landed gracefully onto the floor. Emma crouched down, picked it up read it.
Starky,
I want the one on page 59 and the one on page 72. I’ll pay two if you get both, and half each if you only get one of them.
Blowfish
Emma’s heart beat wildly. This was an order from someone named Blowfish to her new boss, and he was asking for paintings. Did he mean he’d pay two million for the two paintings? And was the half, half a million? Emma placed the note down on the nightstand and took the photo with her tiny hidden camera just as Bailey had instructed her to. She placed the note inside the book then photographed the cover of the catalogue.
Emma finished cleaning his room and went back downstairs. She looked at the clock on the wall of the kitchen. Mr. Starks would be home in an hour. She’d have to start on his meal.
Mr. Starks came back home right on time, at one sharp.
“Mmm, something smells good,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.
“Thank you. I hope you’ll like it.”
Emma served the food onto a plate and then brought it to the table in the kitchen. “I didn’t know if you would be having it in here or in the dining room.”
“I only use the dining room when I’ve got guests. Ahh, my favorite, steak and potatoes, with beans.”
Emma smiled at his approval and figured that was his favorite since there was barely anything else in the refrigerator.
“I’ll keep on with the cleaning then,” Emma said and left him to eat since he did not reply.
When she had just walked out of the room, his phone rang. She stayed around the hall, pretending to dust, so she would still be in earshot.
“I told you, I’m not convinced. I’m going to meet him.” Then there was a long pause, before he spoke again. “Yes, he wants to meet tonight, but I have too much to think about. He wants those two paintings, and now he says he wants another one. I’m not sure if we can pull it off this time.”
His voice suddenly went softer, and she had to strain to hear what he said.
“He’s made us an offer, but I don’t think he’s offering near enough for the risk involved. Unless he’s prepared to up his offer, we’ll have to move on to someone else.”
Mr. Starks spoke again, “That’s right. I guess it all depends on what he’s prepared to pay.” Another long pause, and then he said, “I’ll think about it and let you know a little later. Anyway, we’re meeting up with him tomorrow night. Talk to you later, Buzz.”
Buzz! She wasn’t sure who Buzz was, an accomplice? She’d have to remember that name to tell Bailey that afternoon. She hurried away from the wall, on the off chance that he would come around the corner. She thought about the conversation and what little she could gather from his words.
It was clear that someone had offered him a lot of money to steal something from the auction house, but Richard Starks was not happy with the price the person was willing to pay. She also found out that they were meeting with him tomorrow night.
Chapter 9.
He that getteth wisdom loveth his own soul:
he that keepeth understanding shall find good.
Proverbs 19:8
While Richard Starks was talking on the phone, the doorbell sounded.
An older gentleman stood on the doorstep, holding a box in his hands. “Good afternoon. I was wondering if you could see that Mr. Richard Starks gets this.”
Emma took the box from his hands. “Certainly, I’ll see that he gets it.”
“Thank you, Miss. It is extremely important that he doesn’t disregard the contents. You be sure to tell him that, will you?”
She nodded slightly. “I will pass it along.” When Emma closed the door, she stared at the box. She wanted to open it prior to giving it to him, but she knew that that would not go over well. Instead, she walked back into the dining room. He looked up, with an expectation. “You received a package, sir.” She handed the box to him. He glanced down at it, but did not open it. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. “The man who dropped it off said that you should not disregard what’s inside.”
“Thank you, Miss Cook.” She hesitated to leave, until he looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “You may go.”
She nodded, upset that she didn’t get a chance to see what was inside. She went back to her vacuuming. Emma found it hard to merely observe, she wanted to do something more, but there was nothing she could do. At least she had found that note hidden in the book. She glanced up and looked through the opening of the kitchen walkway, where she could see him sitting. She would wait until he left and then see if he left the package behind.
When she heard the low hum of the car, she raced to the window and saw the large iron gates swing open. She went back to the kitchen and glanced around. She did not see the box. She took a deep breath and set about cleaning the kitchen and washing the dishes. When Emma was satisfied with the cleanliness of the kitchen, she wandered about to see what else she might be able to clean before the day ended.
When Emma reached the edge of the dining room, something caught her attention. She looked closer and saw that it was an old fan
cy key. Maybe it had fallen out of the box. Did that old man deliver him a key? But why?
She didn’t know if it fell out of the box, or if it had always been there. She picked up the key and carefully studied it. The numbers 422 were engraved into the large round section and above that was delicate, filigree working. Emma knew whatever this key fitted was something very grand. Her first thoughts were that it might belong to a grand jewel box or a grand cupboard of sorts. She slipped the key into her pocket and went about her work.
Half an hour later, she saw the postman delivering mail to the box near the front gate. Surely that would be the job of a maid, to bring in the mail. Emma walked out of the front door and headed straight to the mailbox.
She opened it up, revealing the stack of envelopes. She took them back into the house and leafed through the pile. “Bills, bills, bills…” she said aloud, flipping through the stack.
Her hands stopped at an envelope that looked appealing. She held it up to the light and saw that there was a lot of writing inside.
“Looking for something?”
She jumped when she heard the gruff voice. It was Mr. Starks; her heart pounded as he snatched the envelope from her hand. She hadn’t even heard him come in.
“I’m waiting for an answer.” He looked down at the letter and then stuck it with the rest of his mail.
“I…I was just admiring the handwriting,” she heard herself babble. It seemed lame, but she was stumped. “I thought that you had gone. I just collected the mail for you. Isn’t that part of the maid’s job?”
“Hm…” he said, turning from her.
“I’m sorry; I thought you drove away.” Emma chewed on a fingernail as she always did when she was nervous.
“You saw Trevor, the man who looks after my cars, taking my car in for servicing.”
“Oh, I would have checked with you before collecting your mail if I knew you were still here.” Trevor? Emma had not seen anyone else in or near the house. Where had this Trevor person come from? There were no cars outside so he couldn’t have come by car. Had he been there all that morning? Was there a secret section to the house of which she knew nothing?
He turned back to face her directly. “So, you thought instead that you would sit down and read my mail?”
“I was not reading your mail. The agency told me that I’m entitled to a forty-five minute break in the middle of the day, and I was just beginning my break now. I’m sorry I looked at your mail, but I was not doing anything wrong on purpose.”
“I see. That’s quite all right, I suppose you’re entitled to a break.” He clutched his letters to his chest. “I don’t like anyone looking at my mail.” He glared at her until she nodded.
“I’m sorry; it won’t happen again.”
He waved his hand in the air. “Very well. Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen if you didn’t bring anything with you to eat. The kitchen is always well stocked.”
“Thank you.”
He left Emma just inside the front door and walked into the kitchen.
Emma’s heart was still pounding at the close call she’d had. She was pretty sure that she had evaded his suspicion, but she should never had looked so closely at his mail, but then again, she was sure that he had left the house.
Emma knew he was in the kitchen. She wanted to keep away from him, but at the same time she was hungry so took him up on his offer. As she walked into the kitchen, she said, “I’ll take you up on your offer and make myself a sandwich.”
Mr. Starks was on hands and knees. Emma knew he was looking for the key that she had found. “Miss Cook, have you been a maid for long?”
“Yes, I have,” she replied to the crouched figure on the floor.
“I don’t wish to be spoken to. I have enough friends and certainly don’t need any more. I don’t need to know what you’re having for lunch or that you’ve got problems with your boyfriend or that you’re having a bad hair day; got it?”
Emma nodded, turned and opened the fridge. She should have realized that he would not want a maid to be talkative. That’s two mistakes she’d made on her first day. The first was looking at his mail, and the next was speaking to him. She’d have to try harder to be a better maid if she was going to help Bailey.
“You didn’t see…” he began. As he frantically searched the dining room, she had an idea what he was on the lookout for.
“Yes?” she asked.
He opened his mouth, but then quickly shut it. “Never mind. I’m sure you didn’t. I might have left it in my office.”
“Do you want me to help you look for something?” Emma hoped that he would say ‘yes’ because that would be a perfect opportunity for her to have a better look around the house. Even though Bailey had told her not to snoop, the temptation to do so was overwhelming. Not because of her curious nature, but because she wanted to help Bailey and get this whole thing over with as soon as possible.
Mr. Starks seemed to think about her offer to help for a moment and then shook his head. “No. I’m sure I left it in my office.” Before he left the kitchen, he turned back to her. “I’m sure that I can trust you not to look at any more of my mail?”
She nodded, “Of course!” She smiled as nicely as she could to him.
He walked back up the stairs. Emma wondered what was up the stairs. Is that where he had the painting hidden, somewhere upstairs? Emma felt the key in the pocket of her maid’s uniform – it was still there. She nearly took it out to look at it, but then remembered Bailey had mentioned that Starks might have surveillance cameras installed in the house.
By the way, Mr. Starks had searched for the key it was obvious that it was for something important.
Chapter 10.
And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye,
but considerest not the beam that is in
thine own eye?
Matthew 7:3
When Emma’s first day at the Starks’ house was over, she waited for Bailey to collect her from town as per their arrangement.
Emma was not brave enough to tell Bailey that she had been caught looking at the mail. A professional agent or police officer would not have been so silly as to get caught doing such a thing. She got in his car and waited until they were just past town and said, “Bailey, he dropped a key onto the floor. He didn’t know he dropped it and he was looking for it everywhere. I’ve got it here in my pocket.” Emma pulled the key out and showed it to Bailey.
“No, no, no, Emma. I distinctly said to you to not do anything. You are only there to observe goings on. You’ll have to take that key back tomorrow. Tell him that you found it on the floor, popped it in your pocket and forgot to mention it to him.”
Emma’s eyes fell to the key. She was sure she had done the right thing and thought it might open a secret door to where the painting might be hidden. Emma realized that Bailey was staring at her. “Okay, I’ll take it back tomorrow.”
Bailey pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Look Emma, the more you do, the more danger you’ll be in – don’t be foolhardy. For all we know he could have hidden cameras in the house, he could play them back and see you take the key. That’s also why I told you not to do any snooping. I just need you to be there to see comings and goings. Wil would kill me if anything happened to you.”
It was going to be hard to do nothing. “I’ll do what you say,” Emma said.
Bailey nodded.
“I also found a note in a book he had beside his bed. I took a photo of it.”
“Great, give me the camera.”
Emma unhooked the camera and gave it to Bailey. Bailey put the camera into his pocket. “I’ll be able to download the photo. Do you remember what it said?”
“It was in the middle of an art auction catalogue. That’s right; it wasn’t just a book it was for an art auction that is going to be held in February. It sounded as if it was an order for two paintings. Whoever wrote the note signed his name ‘Blowfish,’ and he said he’d giv
e him ‘two’ if he managed to get the two numbers and ‘half’ if he got one.”
Emma noticed that Bailey did not look happy. “Where did you say that you found the note?”
“In the art auction catalogue next to his bed.”
Bailey put his head in his hands and then looked up and stared into the distance. “This is not good. He might know that we’re on to him. Unless he’s just plain careless.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked.
“He leaves evidence around like that for a new maid to find. He might be trying to throw us off the scent of something. He could want us to think that he’s going to steal something at that art auction. He’d expect we’d use all our resources there and then he will be somewhere else stealing something, but where?” Bailey rubbed the back of his neck.
Emma thought back to what the note had said. “I don’t think that he’s suspicious of me. The note wouldn’t be very good evidence because it didn’t say much. No real names were used and only numbers were mentioned. They could say that it meant anything.”
“Hmm. I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not so sure. He hasn’t gotten this far by being careless.” Bailey drummed his fingers on his chin. “Emma, I don’t think you should go back there.”
“I’ll have to go back or it will look too strange. His old maid just can’t go back as if nothing’s happened. It will look really odd and he’ll know something’s up for sure.”
“All right, if I decide that you do go back, you have to give the key back. Say you found it on the floor and forgot to mention it. Can you do that?”
Emma nodded. “Of course I can.”
“All right, you can go back, but you have to take a cell phone with you just for security measures. If you get into trouble, call my number which I’ll program in for you, or if it’s a real emergency, phone 911.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll need to know which art catalogue it was as well. Can you remember what it said on the front cover?”
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