The Magnolia Palace

Chapter Seventeen

1966

What the hell are you doing in my house?”

The screeching woman came to a sudden halt ten feet away from Veronica and Joshua, just as a chunk of snow slid off the skylight with a crash. In the morning light, Veronica could see that she was dressed like a Sicilian widow, in a black blazer, a long black skirt, and chunky black oxfords on her feet. The only touch of color was a green silk scarf tied in a knot at the base of her throat. She stood unsteadily, a dark figure against the white marble of their surroundings. Her hair was piled in a bun at the back of her head, several frizzy tendrils escaping behind her ears. The skin on her face was mottled with age, the eyelids layered with folds, the lips thin and straight. And eyes as blue as robins’ eggs.

“Who are you?” she demanded, shifting her weight from foot to foot, like an elderly lightweight boxer.

This wasn’t a prowler, a ghost, or the police. Only a barmy old lady.

Joshua stepped closer and Veronica moved with him. But the woman misread their approach as an attack and burst forward again, screaming, hands held out in front of her, palms flat. Before they could move out of the way, she was on them.

Joshua barely registered her touch, but Veronica, wearing the damned kitten heels, was unable to brace herself. She stepped back to stop from falling, but something banged into the backs of her knees, and before she knew it, she’d landed right on her bottom.

In the fountain.

It was only filled a couple of inches with water, but the shock of cold and wet, along with the humiliation of the unladylike position she was in, her feet hanging over the lip of the fountain, knees wide, was more than she could take. Who was this screaming banshee, and how dare she? “Get me out!”

Joshua grabbed her by her arms and helped her back to her feet. The water had soaked through her jeans and was now dripping onto the marble floor.

“That was absolutely unnecessary,” Veronica sputtered.

The old lady didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“I was trying to answer you,” said Joshua, “when you came at us. I’m an intern here, Joshua Lawrence. This is Veronica. She’s a model who worked at a photo shoot here two days ago.”

The woman sniffed at them. “Right. I heard the board approved that. Wouldn’t have happened if I were still involved, I can tell you that. Is it still going on? You think this is some kind of nightclub, don’t you?”

“No. We both got locked in. We’re waiting for Sam to arrive and let us out.”

The mention of the security guard’s name calmed her slightly.

“Are you locked in as well, Miss Helen?” asked Joshua.

So this was the infamously difficult Miss Helen. It was hard to imagine this woman planting clues for a lover around the house, or writing those coy lines of verse. Maybe they had it all wrong.

“Good God, no, I didn’t lock myself in,” Miss Helen said. “Why would I be so stupid as to do that? I stayed over next door in the library; only an idiot would try to drive in this snow. Last night I noticed lights flickering in here and figured it was the night watchman. Then, just now, I remembered that we haven’t had a night watchman since 1931, which meant something nefarious was going on. I came down to investigate.”

“I assure you, that’s not true.” He paused. “Wait. You were in the library? How did you get in here without setting off the alarm?”

“The library and the house are connected. Not information I like to share, as it allows me to come and go as I please.”

To think they could have gotten out this entire time. Although Veronica had to admit it had been a few days she wouldn’t soon forget, and it wasn’t as if they could have gone anywhere with the city closed down. “Excuse me, but I need to dry off. If you don’t mind.” She started to head toward the back stairway, but the woman stopped her with a surprisingly strong grip on her arm.

“No. I’m not letting either of you out of my sight. For all I know, you’re a couple of teenagers who broke in here for a tryst.”

“I assure you that’s not the case,” said Veronica. She was about to add that she didn’t appreciate being manhandled when she noticed Joshua’s pleading look. This internship was important to him, Veronica remembered. She would feel terrible if she got him fired. She softened her tone. “I have a change of clothes upstairs, and you’re free to accompany me if you don’t believe me.”

“No, that won’t do. I have an employee list in my office, and I plan to check it, so both of you come with me.” She made a move to go, but Veronica remained where she was.

Miss Helen hesitated, looking her up and down. “You are rather wet, aren’t you? I’ll give you something else to wear.”

As she walked past them, Veronica and Joshua exchanged looks. She could tell he was eager to see the secret door, as well as avoid further ruffling Miss Helen’s feathers.

“Are you coming or not?” called Miss Helen, impatient.

Veronica nodded. “Yes. We’re coming.”

They exited out the door at the northeast corner of the garden court, into a round room lined with chairs. “The music room,” sniffed Miss Helen. “Yet another ungainly addition. My father would not be pleased.”

At the far wall, Miss Helen pushed on what Veronica thought was just a panel, until it slid open. This house was full of tricks, it appeared.

Just behind the doorway was a small foyer with a coatroom, a half circle of a desk, and an elevator, all of exquisitely carved oak. “Where are we?” Veronica asked, confounded.

“We’re just off Seventy-First Street, in the Frick Art Reference Library,” said Joshua. “I had no idea there was a secret door that connected the two.”

Miss Helen opened the half door to the coat check and disappeared inside, returning with a couple of hangers draped with long black skirts—similar to what Miss Helen wore. “One of these should do.” She pushed the elevator button, and they all crowded in. “Would you like a tour of my masterpiece?”

Veronica just wanted to get out of her wet clothes, but Joshua nodded fiercely. A private tour by Miss Helen Frick was probably not a typical intern’s perk.

They took a sharp right when the elevator opened, into a room with four long tables, each with eight wooden chairs. A gold-leafed fresco hung on one wall and a portrait of Henry Clay Frick on another. With its red-tiled floor and thick wooden beams that traversed the ceiling, the room felt more like an Italian chapel, albeit one that gave off the slightly musty scent of old books.

“The Reading Room,” announced Miss Helen. “We had it designed like the sixteenth-century reading rooms found in Italy, although they don’t have walls specially designed to absorb sound.”

“It’s stunning,” said Joshua. “To think, this all began in a bowling alley. That’s mainly where I’ve been working.”

“Poor you, why do they have you down there?” Miss Helen asked.

Joshua opened his mouth, then closed it. During their locked-in tour of the mansion, he’d alluded to Miss Helen’s rather fraught relationship with the board of the Frick Collection, which had culminated in her resigning in a huff five years ago. Veronica knew he couldn’t answer truthfully: that he was nosing through Miss Helen’s private correspondence.

But Miss Helen had already moved on. “I founded my library in 1920, and it opened in 1924. In 1933, the building was expanded, and we now welcome six thousand visitors annually. The only time we’ve closed down was during the Second World War, when we helped the War Department draft maps of important cultural sites in Europe. In doing so, we saved thousands of treasures from destruction by the bombers.”

“Incredible.”

Joshua was in heaven, but Veronica still had a wet backside. “Can I change, please?”

Back inside the elevator, Miss Helen hit the button for the penthouse. “You can try these clothes on upstairs. I need a cup of coffee after the shock you gave me earlier, and you may partake as well, if you like.”

How generous. The woman was quite a pill.

Miss Helen led them into an office that reminded Veronica of the rooms at the Frick: large windows, tastefully restrained furnishings, the requisite portrait of Martha above the fireplace. Miss Helen seemed to read Veronica’s mind. “When I designed this, it was to keep the memory of my family very much alive. All of the hardware—hinges, doorknobs, light-switch plates, window levers—are from my father’s old bedroom.”

An odd choice, but Veronica stayed mum.

“Go try these on in my bathroom.” Miss Helen pointed to a door.

Inside, Veronica took a moment to collect herself. In all the chaos she’d completely forgotten about the pink diamond sitting in the pocket of her jeans. It felt hot to her fingers as she extracted it, even though she knew that couldn’t be possible. Her conscience was getting the better of her.

She pulled on the only skirt with pockets, which hung low on her hips, and placed the diamond carefully inside.

Back in the office, Miss Helen gave a nod of approval from the far corner where she was fiddling with a French press. “That does nicely. I don’t understand the appeal of the miniskirts so popular these days. There’s no need to show so much leg.”

“May I ask, why do you have multiple skirts hanging in the coat check?” Veronica asked. She’d heard of ties for underdressed diners at fancy restaurants, but skirts?

Miss Helen shot her a sharp look. “Because visitors to my library must conform to my dress code. No slacks, no short skirts, no spike heels on the women, and the men must wear jackets.” She nodded in Joshua’s direction. “If it were business hours, you would be in a jacket, young man.”

Veronica sat next to Joshua on the sofa.

“I have standards,” said Miss Helen. She set a tray holding coffee cups down on the low table in front of them. “What’s your last name?” The question was directed at Joshua.

“Lawrence.”

She went to her desk and pulled out a file. “Let’s see here.” She ran her finger down a sheet of paper. “Joshua Lawrence, intern, Brooklyn College.”

“That’s me,” he answered.

“Lawrence, anglicized from the French Laurent. A good, solid name. Ever since the Great War, I have washed my hands of all things Teutonic, and I would advise you young people to do the same. I live on a farm north of here, and believe me when I say no German visitor has stepped foot on my property. When I had the power, I refused German visitors entry to view the Frick Collection, and same with my library. I have softened in that aspect since. Reluctantly.” She settled her gaze on Veronica. “What’s your surname?”

Oh, no.

She could lie and make up a fake one, but her father had always been proud of their family ancestry. “Weber.”

Miss Helen recoiled as if she’d just been given an electric shock. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Veronica to Miss Helen. “You’d dismiss an entire country of people?”

“I was proven correct in World War II, wasn’t I? Yet no one would listen to me. No one.”

“My parents are English,” Veronica said, as calmly as she could. “We’ve lived there for generations. I’m British, not German.” The fact that she had to defend herself against this insanity rankled her. “Not that it matters. All that was decades ago.”

“I saw firsthand what those heathens did.” She pointed to Joshua. “He can stay. But you, take off that skirt and get out of here. For all I know, you were here ransacking my father’s home, my father’s pride. Typical German.”

Veronica rose, her heart pounding. She had been ransacking the house. It was best if she gathered her things and got out of here as quickly as possible.

“Wait!” said Joshua, getting to his feet. “Miss Helen, we have something to show you. Something that we think is from your past.”

Joshua spoke calmly and evenly, as if approaching an excitable foal. He explained that they’d found clues to a scavenger hunt that appeared to have taken place decades ago, before the Frick residence became the Frick Collection.

Veronica expected Miss Helen to get even angrier at their discovery, but instead, she withdrew into herself as Joshua talked, becoming smaller in stature, weaker.

“Can I see them, the clues?” she said hoarsely.

“Veronica, show her,” said Joshua.

Veronica reached into her sweater pocket and pulled them out.

“What are you, a kangaroo?” said Miss Helen. But her hands began to shake as she read through each note. A couple drifted to the floor, but Joshua quickly retrieved them.

“The past two days, when we were locked inside, we followed them,” Joshua said. “It was a unique way to view the art, from an insider’s perspective. It occurred to me that maybe we could incorporate these into the tours. Have visitors try their hand.”

Miss Helen stiffened. “That’s a stupid idea. This was some trifling game done for a gentleman caller, from another age.”

“Richard J. Danforth,” offered Joshua.

Miss Helen lifted her chin. “I haven’t heard the name Richard Danforth since 1919. How did you know?”

“Veronica saw it on a guest list for a dinner party, dated around the same time, and we compared it to the monogram on the watch fob we found.”

“Good Lord. I’d forgotten all about that. You made it to the end of the scavenger hunt? Mr. Danforth certainly did not. Perhaps I should marry you.”

“I, uh, we did make it to the very end,” Joshua stammered. “If you like, we can show you.”

“Lead the way, Mr. Lawrence. Lead the way.”

Veronica followed Joshua and Miss Helen through the secret door to the Frick mansion and back into the art gallery. As they neared the enamels room, her legs began to shake. She’d been so stupid to hide the diamond.

Joshua approached the first secret compartment and opened it with his pen, taking out the fob, which he handed to Miss Helen.

She rubbed her thumb along the silk. “I ordered it myself, especially for the hunt, but my intended didn’t make it this far. Funny how no one wears these anymore.” She lifted it up, holding it with her forefinger and thumb, and handed it to Joshua. “You can keep it. It means nothing to me.”

She stepped back and looked around. “When we first moved in, this was my father’s office. He used to keep a stash of peppermints inside that compartment. He thought I didn’t know, but I’d sneak in and steal a few regularly.” One hand went to her jaw. “No wonder my teeth are so bad now.”

Her voice was soft, musical, lost in her past. For a moment, Veronica could see the ghost of the younger woman she once had been. A woman with good posture and untamable hair. Not a classical beauty, more of a handsome one.

“What happened, with your beau?” asked Veronica.

Miss Helen flashed her an angry look. “I was betrayed by one of my own employees. She stole him, along with something even more valuable to me.”

“There was something else we found,” Joshua said. He opened up the second compartment and Veronica braced herself as he reached inside. He turned to Miss Helen and opened his palm to reveal the cameo.

She grabbed it out of his hand and held it up for closer scrutiny. “It can’t be. No, I don’t believe it. It’s been in there all this time?”

“I don’t know for sure,” said Joshua. “Is this what you thought your employee stole?”

“My private secretary. Yes. But that doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t have known about the panels. She wasn’t here when they were in use.”

“What happened to her?”

Outside, the sun beamed for the first time in three days, but Miss Helen looked as pale as the snowdrifts. “I don’t want to think about that. It was a terrible time.” She stood staring into the distance, clutching the cameo with both hands like it was a rosary.

“Can we get you some water?” asked Veronica. She didn’t want to be in this room right now; everything was closing in.

“No. No. I’m fine. There’s one thing, though.” She began to laugh, a note of hysteria in her pitch. “There’s a secret compartment inside the cameo, which was discovered inside a secret compartment. Isn’t that a peach of a thing? Now, that would make a good clue for a scavenger hunt. Frick’s Folly, indeed.”

Her words tumbled out like she was losing her grasp on reality.

Veronica waited, hoping Miss Helen would stop talking, show them out, and thank them for their help. But her hopes faded as Miss Helen turned the cameo over. Her finger found the tiny button, and with a soft click, the back of the brooch opened.

Veronica was done for.