Page 114 of The Maid's Secret

“One more word and I’ll raise your threat charges to three,” says Stark.

The detective and the officers lead Beagle out of the room as Speedy follows close behind.

Once they’re gone, Brown approaches me, his face a mask ofshock. “Molly,” he says. “I didn’t know any of this. I had no idea my own husband could be capable of such a thing. All I wanted was for you to sell the egg so it would change your life for the better.”

“And for your commission,” says Angela.

“Yes, for that, too,” admits Brown. “Is that a crime?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not,” I say, “but do you realize our families are connected?”

His eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean exactly?”

“Your father, Algernon Braun, was once my gran’s fiancé, but the wedding was called off. And I can tell you that as far as eggs go, your father was a particularly rotten varietal.”

Brown looks down at his feet. “I suspected as much,” he says. “I don’t know much about my father because he died so young. My mother avoids talking about him. And my grandfather, well, let’s just say I never trusted his accounts of his own son. There are questions he would never answer about his biggest art acquisitions. He even made us change our family name from Braun to Brown after someone accused him of falsifying a certificate of authenticity to make a big sale. He was never charged, but those accusations made me wonder.”

“Your grandfather, Magnus, and your father, Algernon, stole the Fabergé from Baron Beagle. I have proof.”

“Proof?” Brown repeats, incredulous.

“Her gran’s diary. Written testimony,” says Stark.

“Where’s your grandfather now?” I ask.

“Six feet under,” Brown says. “I’ll admit I never looked into the allegations against him for fear of what I’d uncover. When Magnus died, the accusations died with him. Since the day I took over the firm, my dealings have been squeaky clean. Whatever my father and his father did, I was never a part of it.”

“So we have something in common,” I say, “besides the Fabergé.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

“We both come from a bad lot, and we want to do better.”

“Regrettably, it seems that way,” says Brown.

Just then, Juan rushes into the greenroom, breathless and shaky.

“Speedy told me what happened. Molly, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “We’re all fine.”

“Thank goodness,” he replies as he hugs me tight. For once, I don’t care if we’re in the workplace and if we’re breaking a contact rule.

“Where’s Beagle?” Juan asks.

“In handcuffs, off to the precinct,” says Angela.

“We caught him in flagrante,” I say. “Where’s the egg?”

“In the safe. Mr.Snow and two officers are keeping a close watch.”

I turn to Baxley Brown, who looks dejected. He’s the only one who can answer my burning question. “Mr.Brown,” I say, “what happens now, with the egg, I mean?”

“By rights, it belongs to my husband,” he says. “The bill of sale proves his grandfather was the last legal owner, so whoever Madame Orange’s wealthy buyer is, the egg won’t be theirs for long.”

“Drat,” says Angela with a shrug. “I guess I’m no gatrillionaire.”

“Wait, you’re the wealthy buyer?” says Brown.

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