Chapter 6 - THE SILVER CASING
The cramped hallway of the apartment building was flooded with the blue and red flashing lights of police cruisers outside. Five uniformed officers pushed into the apartment, followed closely by Theodore Ashford and his mother, Marguerite.
Marguerite looked around the destroyed apartment with a sneer of triumph, though her eyes darted nervously.
"Officers, arrest her," Marguerite ordered, pointing a gloved finger at Cora. "She stole a priceless family heirloom from our estate this morning."
The lead officer stepped forward, hand resting on his belt. But he stopped dead when Drake Holloway stepped out of the shadows of the sewing room, placing himself smoothly between Cora and the police.
"Chief Miller," Drake said calmly.
The officer swallowed hard. "Mr. Holloway. I didn't know you were here."
"I am," Drake said. "And I would ask why you are allowing the Ashfords to command your officers to trespass on private property."
Theodore puffed out his chest, trying to look brave behind the wall of police. "She stole from us! And she has a book—a ledger that belongs to our company! It has sensitive financial data!"
"Sensitive financial data," Drake repeated, the lethal calm returning to his voice. He held up the leather-bound book. "You mean this?"
Marguerite’s eyes locked onto the book like a starving animal. "Give that to me! It is Ashford property!"
"Actually," Cora stepped out from behind Drake. Her voice was steady, holding no trace of the girl who had nearly wept on the church floor. "It is my grandmother's handwriting. It belongs to me."
"It's just a seamstress's diary!" Marguerite snapped, her panic beginning to show through the aristocratic veneer. "It means nothing! It's the ramblings of a poor, mad woman!"
"If it means nothing, why did you send men to destroy this apartment looking for it?" Drake asked.
The police chief looked from Marguerite to Drake, clearly realizing he had stepped into a war he could not win.
"The ledger mentions a silver casing," Drake continued, stepping closer to Marguerite. The older woman took a step back. "It says Arthur Ashford paid to have a ship sunk. A ship carrying my mother. And the proof is in the casing."
"Lies!" Theodore shouted. "You have no proof! You have an old book!"
Drake slowly reached into his shirt. He pulled out the heavy silver locket he had worn around his neck since the day his mother died.
"Then let's see," Drake said. He pressed the release on the locket, but it didn't open. He pulled harder, his knuckles turning white, but the metal was fused shut. "It's jammed."
Marguerite let out a sharp, breathless laugh. "You see? A dramatic performance over a broken piece of jewelry."
Cora stepped forward and gently placed her hands over Drake’s. "It's not jammed, Drake. It's not a metal lock."
She lifted the locket to the light. "Look closely at the seam. It's bound with silk wire. It's an old textile trick. Pulling it only tightens the knot."
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Cora reached to the lapel of Jonah's jacket, pulled a tiny, sharp safety pin he always kept there, and expertly slid it into the microscopic gap of the locket.
With a soft click, the silver casing popped open.
