The Extraordinary Book of Doors

by Nydam, Anne

  After another minute Ms Goggin loosened her hold on Polly and raised her gaze to Raphael once again. “And you, too, Raphael,” she said awkwardly, “Thank you for everything. Thank you for going after her and being with her…”

  “Miranda,” Raphael began, his voice sounding just as choked as hers, “You know I’d do anything for Polly… or you…”

  “I thought I’d lost you both! And I just kept thinking how I hadn’t told you… I never told Polly enough… and you… I never let you know how much…”

  And suddenly Miranda had thrown her arms around Raphael and they were embracing so tightly that Polly, standing between their bodies, yelped, “Mom! Raphael! Help! Can’t breathe!”

  The two adults pulled apart, Ms Goggin wiping her face again, and Raphael looking as if he didn’t know which way was up. Polly checked her cardboard box to make sure Uber was still safe inside. Then Mr Rajagopal’s office door opened, and the two policemen marched out, Ammon Blank between them with his hands cuffed. His face looked as bland and nondescript as always, but Ms Goggin gasped and stared at him intently.

  “That’s him, isn’t it, Raphael? Polly? That’s the kidnapper, isn’t it?”

  The policemen paused at the door, then one escorted Ammon Blank to the police car waiting outside. The other turned back.

  “Ms Goggin? Do I understand that this is your daughter and your business partner?”

  “Yes, Inspector Williams. They were able to escape when Mr Blank came to the bank, just like the message I showed you this morning.” Miranda gave Polly another squeeze.

  “Aha, excellent news that everyone’s safe. Can you step into this office for a moment? I’ll need to take your statements.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You, too, Miss Goggin and Mr Green.”

  Polly said, “If you want statements about Mr Blank, sir, you need to hear from Chen and Mr Salceda and everyone, too.”

  So the whole group piled once again into Mr Rajagopal’s office. The bank manager gave them all a curt nod and left the police inspector in his chair. The inspector pulled out his notebook and they were soon telling him everything they could about Ammon Blank. Chen and Polly shared many a “no lies” glance, because it wasn’t easy to explain what happened without mention of magic. But even if parts of the story must have sounded a little vague or garbled to the policeman, there could be no doubt that Ammon Blank had broken into Goggin Antiques, attacked four people, including two children and an old woman, and stolen a number of valuable antiques.

  “Can you identify this?” Inspector Williams asked, laying the Wreath Book on Mr Rajagopal’s desk.

  Miranda Goggin opened the front cover to Benjamin Franklin’s signature and nodded. “Yes, this was definitely stolen from my office. It belongs to Ambrose P. Hinkelman III and I’ll be selling it at auction for him in a couple weeks time.”

  “Aha, stolen goods on him at arrest. Excellent,” said the inspector, writing busily in his notebook.

  “He had other stolen stuff in his apartment,” Polly added, “We saw them when we were there. You should search the big wardrobe in his bedroom. Unless he moved them last night.”

  “What sorts of things did you see?”

  “Well, there’s another Book that he stole from, where was it, Chen?”

  “The Christopher Wren Museum in London, I think.”

  “Yeah, that was it. And a big church mace from St Salvator’s Chapel in Scotland, and a gold sculpture thingy with nymphs from some place in France. And probably some other stuff, but that’s all we know for sure.”

  Inspector Williams jotted this down. “Excellent, excellent. We’ll have the New York City police search his apartment, and we’ll communicate with the police in those other countries. Now, Ms Goggin, Mr Green, Mr Salceda, I’m sure we’ll be in touch again as the investigation continues. Thank you for your cooperation.” His formal speech completed, he smiled and added, “And I’m very glad everyone’s safe again.”

  “Thank you so much, Inspector,” Miranda replied, shaking his hand warmly as he stood up.

  Inspector Williams opened the door and gestured for everyone to leave, but Mr Rajagopal was standing in the lobby outside and he stepped crisply forward and said, “Inspector, may I please have a word with these ladies and gentlemen before they go?”

  So the inspector squeezed out past Tobal, and the bank manager squeezed in, and made his way behind his desk to take his seat.

  “Very good,” he said, pushing up his spectacles and tapping his folder on the desk to straighten it. “Now, let us discuss the Benjamin Franklin Fund. As I understand it, you had given Mr Blank the password in the hope that he would be awarded the fund. However, it is quite clear from the terms of the bequest that Dr Franklin would not wish his fund to be awarded to a criminal.” Here Mr Rajagopal fixed them all with a beady black stare. “Of course legally Mr Blank must be considered innocent until proven guilty, but I am entitled to my own judgment as the manager of the fund, and I have had my suspicions about Mr Blank’s honesty since yesterday. In any case I would be interested to hear more about how he came by the key while you came by the watchword.”

  Without an instant’s hesitation, Polly blurted, “We’re the ones who found the key, but he made us give it to him because he was going to kill Raphael if we didn’t!”

  The bank manager raised an eyebrow. Chen explained, “Polly and I were following Benjamin Franklin’s clues, and then it turned out that Mr Blank was following them, too. But when he got stuck on the last clue, the one telling how to find the box with the key, he broke into Polly’s mom’s antiques gallery where there was a bunch of Benjamin Franklin’s stuff.”

  Raphael took up the tale. “I tried to chase him down, but it ended with him locking me in a bank safe vault.”

  “And who are you, sir?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Polly exclaimed, “Mr Rajagopal, this is my friend Mr Raphael Green, my mother’s assistant. Oh, and come to think of it, this is my mother, Ms Miranda Goggin, of Goggin Antiques, Appraisals, and Auctioneers. Raphael, Mom, this is Mr Rajagopal, Manager of the Affairs of M. Joseph Charles. Is that everyone? Oh no, wait, you won’t have met Ms Whitaker yet, either. Everyone, this is Ms Pearl Whitaker, great-granddaughter of Rutherford J. Hinkelman. Mr Blank broke into her house and assaulted her, too.”

  There was much shaking of hands and then Ms Goggin beamed at her daughter. “Polly, I had no idea you were so good at these social occasions.”

  Polly shrugged cheerfully. “I guess something rubbed off on me, Mom.”

  Mr Rajagopal gave a dry little cough and brought everyone back to business. “So, you two children are the ones who solved the password and found the key?”

  “With the help of Matias and Mr Salceda,” Chen corrected quickly.

  “And Ms Whitaker helped figure out the password, too,” Matias added.

  “Interesting. So the five of you might be considered joint applicants for the Fortunate Richard Fund. Is this correct?”

  Polly answered reluctantly, “Well, I guess so, but we agreed to let Mr Blank have the money if he’d let Raphael go.”

  “But he didn’t let Mr Green go!” burst out Matias.

  “True,” Chen said, “But even when we thought we were going to get the money, we all agreed that it would go to Mr Green.”

  Polly and Matias nodded, while Raphael stared at them in astonishment.

  “And why is that, Miss Goggin?” asked the bank manager.

  “Because then he can go to college and graduate school and get the right degrees so my mother can make him a full partner and then he’ll be sure to stay with us.”

  Miranda, looking rather pink in the face again, commented dryly, “I see you’ve got this all planned out for us, Polly.”

  Polly nodded. “Yeah. See, in the front of the Book it says the money’s to be used for something about education and learning for those who’ll make the best use of it, and that’s clearly Raphael, because he’s about the sm
artest person I know and he could get straight A’s at college if he only had the money to go.”

  “I see,” Mr Rajagopal murmured, looking from face to face all around the little office. “Well, that all seems to be in order. It is within my authority to award Dr Franklin’s fund to whomever I deem to have fulfilled the requirements of his bequest. Is there any objection among the rest of you who have been involved in the discovery of this fund if I award it to Mr Raphael Green?”

  “And not to Ammon Blank?” asked Tobal.

  “Not to Mr Blank.”

  “Then that’s fine. Of course. That’s great!”

  “Very well. Mr Green, will you be able to stay here a little longer? There is, of course, a great deal of paperwork.”

  “Yes. Yes, certainly. Thank you. Polly, thank you. Thank you all! I don’t know what to say… I had no idea… Oh, but I don’t even have my wallet. Ammon Blank stole it.”

  Ms Goggin put her hand on Raphael’s shoulder, and her other arm around Polly. “I’ll take you back to the office, Raphael. I want to get Polly home, and then you can drive to your place and get some ID or whatever information the bank needs.”

  “Very good. Here is my card, Mr Green. Please contact me when you are ready to proceed.”

  Tobal looked at his watch. “Matias, we need to return Chen to his parents, too.”

  Everyone stood up, shook Mr Rajagopal’s hand again, and went back out.

  When they were all standing on the sidewalk in front of the bank Polly said, “Wait a minute, Mom. Can I see the Wreath Book for a second?”

  “Wreath Book? You mean this?”

  “Yeah. See how it’s got a wreath design on the cover? That’s why we call it the Wreath Book. I’ll be right back. Just a minute.” Setting Uber’s box down, and taking the Book from her mother, Polly took Ms Whitaker by the arm and drew her away, behind a large van parked on the street. “We need to use the Wreath Book to get you back home,” she explained, turning to Plate XXXIX.

  “Oh yes, of course. Well, I must say it’s been quite an adventure. Just the sort of thing I needed, you know. Do come visit any time, dear.”

  Polly turned the key in the page and opened the old-fashioned screen door. Pearl leaned out from behind the van and waved to Tobal, Chen, and Matias. “Thank you for everything. I had a lovely time! There, my dear, I’m ready now.” She stepped through the screen door that looked as if it opened into the van, and when she was through Polly closed the Book behind her and came back to her mother waiting on the sidewalk beside her car.

  “Look, I got a parking ticket, can you believe it?” her mother said. But she was smiling. “It’s worth every penny to see you safe and sound.” She wiped her eyes again and slipped into the driver’s seat. Polly and Raphael climbed in, too, and Polly set Uber’s box on the seat beside her and then rolled down her window to wave.

  “See you soon!” she called, as her mother pulled out into the traffic.

  Tobal said to Matias and Chen, “We may as well make use of that convenient van, ourselves. It’s time to get back to the Cleveland Museum of Art.”

  XXIII. A Few More Important Things

  Polly and her mother were sitting on the edge of the loading dock of Goggin Antiques, Appraisals, and Auctioneers. Polly was swinging her feet in their polka-dotted sneakers, while Miranda’s high-heeled pumps were set neatly beside her so as not to get scuffed. They looked out at the parking lot and the sumac trees.

  After a little lull in the conversation Polly said, “Can’t we please keep The Extraordinary Book of Doors, Mom?”

  “It isn’t ours to keep. It belongs to Mr Hinkelman.”

  “Then can we buy it?”

  “I don’t think so, honey. I’m sorry. It’s an extremely valuable item. I expect it to sell to some museum or library, and we can’t afford to bid against a big institution.”

  “But it’s really special. You don’t understand - I’ll never see a Book like that again!”

  “I do understand, but we just don’t have the money to buy a rare antique book like that.”

  Polly shook her head at the parking lot, frowning. Her mother smiled a little sadly. “Do you think I don’t know about the magic, Polliwog?”

  Polly’s head jerked up and she stared at her mother. “How?”

  “For one thing, Raphael told me everything that happened. He doesn’t understand it and he didn’t call it magic, but what else could it be? And secondly, I’ve always been able to feel something… A sort of tingling around special objects. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to work with art and antiques – there are so many wonderful objects with that little something more, beyond what most people recognize.”

  “But Mom, if you can feel the tingling, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  Ms Goggin’s face twisted. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was weird.” She shrugged apologetically. “By the time I was your age I’d figured out that feeling magic was weird, and I’ve hidden it ever since. Sometimes I wish I’d been as brave as you are, honey. It takes courage to be an oddball.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. It seems like an awful lot more work to try not to be.”

  Ms Goggin laughed. “Maybe, but I didn’t think so. Still, I’m sorry I haven’t supported you better. I’m sorry I never even asked you if you felt it, too. I was too busy pretending everything was normal.” She sighed. “I’ve spent my whole life that way. I even married the most conventional man I could find: wealthy, normal, ‘respectable’… But I won’t make that mistake again. I know now that integrity and kindness are far more important, and if I ever get the chance to try again...” She broke off, blushing, and stared out at the parking lot. Then she glanced back at Polly. “There was only one good thing that came out of that marriage. But it was a very Important Thing.”

  “Goggin Antiques?”

  “No, Polliwog! You!” She gave Polly a squeeze.

  “Miranda?” Raphael’s voice came from behind them. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time.”

  Miranda glanced at her watch and got hurriedly to her feet. “Oh thanks, you’re right. I need to get dressed.” She brushed off the seat of her suit and stepped into her shoes.

  “Making yourself look normal?” Polly said.

  “Something like that,” Ms Goggin replied with another smile. “But in this case, fancier than normal. You should get ready, too, honey. Chen and Matias will be here soon.”

  Polly peeked into the auction gallery. It was full of people in formal clothes, most sitting in the rows of chairs facing the low stage, but many standing around the back and edges of the room.

  “Look at all those people,” Polly whispered to Chen and Matias. “That’s a good sign. At least, it’s a good sign for my mom and Mr Hinkelman. Not so good for us, I guess, if we don’t want the Wreath Book to sell.”

  “Which lot is it?” asked Matias, pulling at his collar. He and Chen were both in neckties, and Polly wore completely normal black leather shoes. Her dress, at least, was bright with embroidered flowers and belted with her inevitable rubber ducky hip pouch, so she still looked pretty odd. Chen felt somehow relieved about that.

  Eleven days had passed, and Chen had arranged to sleep over with Matias again tonight, so that they could come to Wellesley and watch the Franklinia auction with Polly. The three of them had been handing out catalogues to the guests, but once the bidding started they had nothing to do except watch and wait.

  “It’s the next one,” answered Polly.

  Ms Goggin, looking respectably normal, but also quite elegant in a black satin evening gown, was standing behind a podium on the stage, while Mr Green, handsome in a tuxedo, held up Benjamin Franklin’s assorted items for people to see.

  “Sold to the American Philosophical Society,” Miranda was saying. “Thank you very much.”

  Polite applause filled the room as Raphael carried a box off the side of the stage. He returned with the Wreath Book.

  “Next up, Lot 28, is a highly unusual early edition
of Sebastiano Serlio’s architectural treatise Extraordinaire livre portes. As you know, Dr Franklin was a founder of the Library Company of Philadelphia, and gave many of his own books to that institution. Who will begin the bidding for this fine Renaissance book that Dr Franklin considered important enough to keep for himself?”

  “I counted up all my money,” Matias whispered. “I’ve got $132.”

  “I’ve only got $55.78,” said Chen. “Sorry.”

  “Mom said we couldn’t possibly afford more than $750, but that still only gives us a total of… $937, right? She’s starting the bidding at $5,000. We aren’t even close.” Polly drooped as the first bidder raised his numbered paddle and the price began to rise.

  Up on the stage Raphael was holding the Book open to show Benjamin Franklin’s signature inside the cover. As the bidding continued and the price climbed ever higher, Matias said comfortingly, “I was thinking, Polly, maybe Uncle Tobal can put your door into his Book. Then we could still visit each other any time, and you could come on adventures with me and Chen.”

  Polly smiled dolefully. “Thanks. I’d like that. I just hope the Wreath Book goes to a good home.”

  “Hey, I think this is it,” interrupted Chen.

  “Fair warning… Sold to the gentleman in the back, paddle 104. Thank you, sir.”

  Once again there was applause, and the three children all leaned around the doorway to see who had bought the Wreath Book. It was a tall dark man in a plain suit, looking somewhat less at ease than the other well-dressed people in the room. He quickly slipped around the edge of the room to meet with the woman at the payments counter.

  “Well, that’s that, I guess,” said Polly.

  The boys nodded.

  Chen suggested, “When the auction’s over maybe we can ask your mom who the buyer is, and then we’d at least just know where the Book’s going to end up.”

  “Yeah, let’s do that. He didn’t really look like he was very familiar with auctions, so he’s probably not representing a big collection or museum.”