were all dumped in the big rubbish container amidst much shouting and flouncing after Mr Marple had settled the bill.
‘So, where shall we start?’ Grace said cheerily as she put the diary down on the dressing table and looked at the jewellery box, determined to unravel the mystery of Mrs Connie Donato’s life and reach a happy outcome.
‘Here is as good a place as any,’ Larry nodded, lifting the padded lid of the jewellery box.
A moment of silence followed.
Grace glanced inside, looked at Larry, and then they both gasped in unison.
‘These stones can’t be real … surely?’ Grace managed, going to touch the sapphire- and diamond-encrusted bracelet nestling in its own little velvet tray inside the box. She hesitated, unsure if she should let the tip of her finger even dare to make contact with such an exquisite piece of jewellery. What if she damaged it somehow? She would spend a lifetime trying to save enough money to replace the bracelet, if it turned out to be real and therefore worth an absolute fortune.
‘I sure hope not.’ Larry carefully picked up the bracelet, worry etched on his aged face. ‘Because if it is, then Mrs Donato definitely isn’t insured for such a valuable item.’
‘I wonder why she stored it here then? Surely a bank deposit box would have been more secure?’ Grace looked at the other items: a dazzling ruby ring, a silver – or was it platinum? – short chain with a Star of David dangling from the end, a small diamond at each of the star’s six points. A tiny silver expanding bangle, the kind that babies are sometimes given soon after they are born. Three pairs of sparkly drop earrings – one pair with diamonds, another with the darkest blue sapphire stones and the third with the palest, creamiest pearls haloed with yet more diamonds.
‘This is way out of our league,’ Larry exclaimed as he swept a hand through his hair. ‘We’ll need to get these jewels examined to see if they are genuine, but if it turns out they are then … well, I can’t believe they’ve just been sitting here for all these years.’ And after carefully closing the lid, he lifted the jewellery box up with both hands.
‘What shall we do?’ Grace asked.
‘Let’s get the jewellery box into the safe at least, just in case the jewels are the real deal, and then decide where we go from there. We need a contact, a lead, something to get us started on our quest to find Mrs Donato.’
‘So we’re definitely not going to list the unit for auction?’ Grace checked optimistically, feeling excited.
‘No. But, like I said, let’s give it a couple of weeks. You go through all the suitcases, read the letters and see what you can find. I’m sure Betty won’t mind holding the fort in reception. And I’ll make a start on sending out the invoice letters tomorrow; it’ll give me a chance for a nice sit-down … now that I’ve done my exercise for the week by coming over here to the oldest and furthest part of the warehouse to find you,’ he laughed.
‘Thanks, Larry. I’ll get on it right away!’ And she turned towards the pile of suitcases, keen to get started. Then an idea came to her. ‘How about your nephew? The one in America?’ she suggested hurriedly, pivoting to face Larry again. Her mind was working overtime now in figuring out the quickest and best way to find Connie Donato, who was clearly a woman of considerable means … if the jewellery was genuine.
‘Ellis?’
‘Yes, doesn’t he work at an auction house?’ Grace looked at Larry.
‘He does!’ Larry jubilantly lifted the jewellery box up, as if in celebration of this fact. Something to set them on the right path in tracking down Mrs Donato.
‘Then perhaps he can tell us if the jewellery is real … or if it’s just paste with pretty coloured plastic bits and nothing to get excited about after all.’
Larry brought the jewellery box back down as he added, ‘Ah, but Ellis works in the Fine Art department. He won’t know about diamonds and suchlike.’ And he turned to leave with a deflated look on his face.
‘But … hold on.’ Grace darted around the back of the chaise longue. ‘Maybe he can take a look at these instead.’ She gestured to the framed paintings. ‘I can take photos of them and you could email them to Ellis.’
‘Yes. Good thinking, Grace, you’re always full of good ideas.’ Larry put the jewellery box back on the dressing table and walked over to where she was standing by the paintings. He lifted one out to take a look. ‘Now I’m no art dealer but this looks pretty impressive to me. None of your mass-produced printed stuff here! You know, the kind of thing that you find in IKEA. No … this is a proper oil painting. And thankfully we have the correct climate control in all the units, even the older ones such as this, as I wouldn’t want to be held responsible for such a wonderful work of art getting ruined with mould or mildew. It’d be a travesty.’
He carefully touched the corner of the canvas with a look of relief on his face. An exquisite scene of Venice’s famous Grand Canal was displayed before them, with tall, creamy-caramel-coloured buildings flanking either side of the water’s edge. Gondolas on glittering blue water under an atmospheric cloud-streaked sky led up to two marble domes with delicately intricate detailing. ‘And a skilled artist by the looks of it … see how he or she has captured the detail of the cornicing on the domes right there?’ Larry paused to point at a beautifully impressive building in the top right corner of the painting. ‘The famous Salute. It’s a church. And built as a thank you when the plague ended in 1630, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Gosh, that must have taken the builders years to create. It’s incredible.’ Grace studied the picture; it reminded her of the 1950s film, Summertime, starring Katherine Hepburn. She’d only watched it again a few months back and had been swept away in the gorgeous, romantic scenery of Venice’s magnificent waterways.
‘It’s breathtaking up close,’ Larry said, carefully placing the painting on the chaise longue.
‘Have you actually seen it in real life then?’
‘Oh yes, I took Betty there on a mini-break back in the day. We were young and carefree, and this was long before the nippers came along and you could just up and do all that spur-of-the-moment stuff.’ He smiled wistfully, as if remembering the lovely time he’d had with Betty in Venice. ‘And we hadn’t been married long, so it’s a wonder we saw anything much at all outside of our hotel room,’ he added, doing an exaggerated wink. Grace put a hand over mouth to stifle a giggle as she really couldn’t imagine Larry and Betty cavorting in bed all day and night long. ‘Ah, those were the days.’ He pondered quietly for a moment before rubbing his palms together. ‘Anyway, enough of the melancholy – shall we make a start in snapping some pics then?’
Grace lifted her phone up and took several pictures of the Venice Grand Canal painting, wondering if she should put some filters on to enhance the scene, but thought better of it as Ellis would most likely need to see the original work in all its naked glory. She repeated the process with all the paintings, and there were a dozen at least, many in the same style. They couldn’t make out the marking in the bottom right corner; it wasn’t even a proper signature and gave them no clues as to whether Connie herself was the artist. The thought had crossed Grace’s mind, though, after reading her diaries – the imaginative style of her writing showed that she clearly had a creative talent. Perhaps painting was in her repertoire, too, and that’s why she went to Italy … to capture its beauty on canvas.
Twenty minutes later, and Grace had photos of every painting.
‘I’ll email them to you,’ she told Larry as he stowed the last painting back in its place.
‘Thank you, Grace. I’m so pleased we have you here with all the good ideas,’ he said kindly.
‘Really?’ she said without thinking, unused to impromptu praise.
‘Of course,’ he nodded. ‘And don’t be worrying about being late now and again, I know it’s hard for you at home.’ A silence hung in the air between them