Page 63 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
“No, sir,” Jack said, extending his hand to shake. He was smiling, but I saw him shooting furtive glances at the crowd around us.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Marc’s not here. Rebecca said he was still at the house, taking the brunt of Harvey’s anger over the sporadic power and equipment failures.”
Jack gave me a slow, warm grin. “What a shame.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.” I grinned back, sliding my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Oh, speaking of Marc Longo,” Yvonne said, her tone bitter enough that if she’d been anyone else I’d have expected her to spit on the ground at the mention of his name, “I’ve been doing more research about the Vanderhorsts and Gallen Hall in particular, trying to see if there was anything else that might help you find what you’re looking for. I haven’t had time to photocopy and e-mail you this yet because I had my appointment at the beauty parlor today and time got away from me.” She patted her shining helmet of hair.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I couldn’t stop thinking about that note from the marquis to the Swamp Fox, and the rumors of a treasure from the French king to the Americans that was never found. I haven’t even been able to find anything definitive that would clarify what the treasure actually was. However...” She closed her mouth, and her cheeks puffed out slightly as if they were finding it hard to contain the secret.
“Yes?” I prompted, afraid Jack might lose his mind if he had to drag out every word.
“So I decided to focus my search on specific treasurelike words, like jewels, gold, and metal.”
Once again, her cheeks filled with anticipation, and even I had a hardtime restraining myself from shaking her a little to get the words to pop out of her mouth. “And?” I prompted.
“And,” she said, drawing out the word in a way that would make any Charlestonian proud, “I happened to get a hit on something very unexpected. It might not mean anything, but then again, since there’s no such thing as coincidence, it might.” She winked at Jack. “I found an article in an ancient Charleston architecture text that focused on the various craftsmen and metalworks in and around the city. We do have the most beautiful iron gates and fences, don’t we?”
We all nodded, but I could see the tic starting in Jack’s jaw. “Anyway, I saw mention of a Samuel Vanderhorst, a respected metalworker in the city around the end of the eighteenth century. The name popped out at me, of course, so I did a little digging and found a small biography of him in the antiquated volume that also mentioned Elizabeth Grosvenor.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have missed it the first time I went through the book, except he didn’t have his own listing, because...” She paused but quickly continued when she spotted the manic look in Jack’s eyes. “Because Samuel was a freedman and former slave on the plantation and therefore was mentioned only briefly, his name tucked in amongst about twenty other craftsmen on the plantation. His owners freed him when they discovered what a gift he had for metalworking. All the gates and fences at the plantation, including the cemetery, were designed and made by him. I might not have taken note of his name and occupation, except that the listing mentioned that he also made jewelry.” She raised her eyebrows and I fully expected her to waggle them for effect, but she didn’t. “Aren’t you going to ask me what keyword I used in my search that ended up on the listing?”
With a tight smile, Jack said, “Yes, please. I don’t think I can take any more suspense.”
“Pinchbeck! After the Revolution, Samuel left the plantation and set up shop in Charleston, where most of his work involved forging gates and fences in and around the city. But in his spare time, he also made costume jewelry for less affluent clients, most of it with pinchbeck.”
Jack and I stared at each other. “The brooch,” we said simultaneously.
“It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he made the peacock brooch Eliza Grosvenor is wearing in her portrait at Gallen Hall,” Jack finished.
“Does that help?” Yvonne asked.
“I hope so,” Jack said. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s a piece of the puzzle. I’m just not sure yet where it fits.” He looked up at Harold. “Is it all right if I hug Yvonne?”
“Go right ahead. I think she’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Jack hugged the older woman and kissed her on the cheek. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?”
“Now, hush, Jack. Harold can hear you,” Yvonne said, giggling.
We all laughed, then said our good-byes, with Yvonne promising that she’d e-mail the photocopies of what she’d discovered.
As Jack and I walked across the lobby to join our group, I looked around to make sure no could hear, then said, “Rebecca just told me that Marc is looking for one of the papers we found in the box Anthony gave us. It’s a drawing, and apparently Marc has one that matches it—it’s the one copied by Joseph Longo at the Vanderhorst house. All Rebecca knows is that Marc believes they’re connected. Do you think he has any idea what he’s looking for?”
Jack stopped walking and met my gaze. “I doubt it. The only thing Idoknow is that Marc doesn’t know anything more than we do—yet. Meaning we’re probably still a few steps ahead of him. I think the brooch is important—you said that Eliza wanted you to notice it. Regardless, we need to find it before Marc does. Remember how Anthony said that Marc had used a metal detector on the floor of the mausoleum? A metal detector can’t detect pinchbeck—it’s made of copper and zinc, which are both nonferrous metals.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that there’d have to be a heck of a lot of it to be detected with a metal detector. And the amount of pinchbeck used in a brooch wouldn’t be enough. It also means that Marc doesn’t know what he’s looking for.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think you could ask Eliza about her brooch?”
“You know it doesn’t work that way...” I began.
“I know. But I thought you could maybe try, see where it goes. I’m sure Jayne would love to help, too.”
I swallowed. “Sure,” I said. “Because Jayne’s always happy to help.”
Jack gave me an odd look.
“She is,” I said, squirming under his gaze. “That’s a good thing, right? And don’t say what you’re thinking.”
