Milo...Dresses

      By Pattie Lawler

           

            “The dresses you emailed where incredible.”

            Milo looked up from the auction catalog and grinned. “When the ring comes back from the jewelers, and I’ve gone down on one knee to beg your consent, I’d like us to go to Owswell for proper photos. Since you’ve been having so much fun dressing me up, I thought I’d take a stab at it and find you something pretty for the occasion.”

            “Well, once again you’ve displayed incredible taste. It’ll be hard to pick.”

            He returned his attention to the catalog, turning a page. “I didn’t mean for you to have to choose. We’ll take the ones you like. It’s not like you won’t use them.”

            Albany sat in silence for a minute, absorbing this. Finally, she smiled and sat back. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

            He turned another page without looking up. “And I’ll be right there beside you, yelling, Just buy it!”

            Laughing, she looked at the images on the laptop again. “Then...I’ll take ‘em all.”

            “That’s my girl. Oh! And I heard from the wedding planner.” He pointed to the computer. “Go to my email, please. There are a couple of dates to pick from. Joe’s vetted them all with Lacey, so you have your choice. I told Joe to include you on these emails, by the way, so when your inbox is at critical mass, blame me.” He suddenly sat forward. “It doesn’t rain but it pours.”

            “What?”

            “A Tear Spell going to the block this weekend. How funny is that? I can’t remember the last time I saw one on offer.”

            Albany looked at the catalog as he turned it to face her. “I’m guessing there’s no chance it’s the spell we want?”

            He shook his head. “Auctions are arranged months before they happen so catalogs can be printed, advertising dealt with...you know, stuff.”

            She chuckled. “Like an opera. We’ll be getting next year’s schedule soon. That is, I mean, they’ll be getting the schedule.”

            Milo nodded, smiling at her.

            She pointed to the auction. “What will you do?”

            “Make an appointment to see it, of course.”

            “After two please. I don’t have to go ‘til then and I feel like I haven’t see you in days.”

 <0>

            His contact at Swann’s was more than happy to book him into a reading room for that afternoon. They dropped Albany at the opera house, and as they drove across town, Simon filled Milo in on where the various cases of interest stood.

            “Wrathe is looking into Reynolds. I told him of the blackmail threat and gave him the card from the flowers. Chances are he’ll want to let Reynolds contact you for an appointment. Wrathe’ll arrange for a stand-in to play you. I gave him the hotel’s number to tap, figuring Reynolds will use that one. If he manages to call Joe, she’ll contact Wrathe directly.”

            Milo nodded, pushing on his sunglasses as he tried to keep his anger in check.

            “And as far as Phillips is concerned, the ballistics fingerprint was traced to a Riker’s inmate named Warren Brand. He claims he’d lost the gun at his last robbery.”

            “The one that landed him in prison.”

            “Yeah. Not the brightest bulb in the box.”

            “Well, feel free to share with Jameson that I’m doing what little I can on my end. I’ve spoken to as many experts on Tear Spells as I can think of. Everyone’s been more than a little upset about the murder and eager to offer help. Until I know what I need, however, all I can do is collect condolences.” His phone made its presence known. With a glance at the called ID, his face was transformed by delight as he connected. “Ira! Tell me it’s good news, and I’ll be right over.”

            Simon moved out of traffic and watched Milo in the review mirror. A quick thumbs up and Simon turned down a cross street to make their way to the Diamond District and collect the engagement ring. The conversation didn’t last long, and when Milo disconnected, he was all smiles.

            “I don’t think I’ve congratulated you yet,” Simon said.

            “Thank you. I can’t begin to tell you how this feels.”

            “You don’t have to. You should see your face.”

            “Yeah. It feels like it’s gonna crack.”

            “Where are you going to do the pretty?”

            “I think in front of the fireplace. Where we first slept together.”

            “Sweet. Dinner and flowers?”

            “I don’t think flowers make much of an impression on Albany, she gets them fairly regularly, but dinner for sure.”

            “You call Swann’s about the delay, and I’ll call the Mermaid.”

            “Tomorrow, please.”

            “You got it, boss.”

 

            Milo continued to smile as he inspected the inscription across the back of the ring. The deep cuts proclaimed, M’ama! Si, m’ama.

            “She loves me. Yes, she loves me,” he whispered, imagining Albany crying over the simple words to the aria that transformed her life.

            “It’s a magnificent stone, Mr. Scarlet,” Ira Steinberg said. “You have a good eye.”

            Recalled from his reverie, Milo turned his smile on the jeweler. “And you’ve set it perfectly. I know she’ll love it.”

            “What’s not to love?” Ira laughed, pushing the box toward him. “Mazal tov.”

 <0>

            With the ring in his pocket, Milo entered Swann’s. Frederick Raleigh met him in the lobby to escort him to the reading room and waiting Tear Spell.

            “As sorry as I am for his passing,” Raleigh said as they walked, “Phillips did my seller a tremendous favor.”

            Milo drew off his sunglasses and slipped them into his pocket. “Renewed interest in Tear Spells?”

            He nodded. “You’re the fifth person today to ask to see it.”

            Milo knew he was partly to blame since calling his associates alerted them to the murder and missing spell. “Anyone new?” Collecting on this level thinned the pack considerably.

            Raleigh shook his head. “It’s a modified snake oil, and not a very good one, about fifteen percent legible. Anyone who might have been interested quickly moved on.”

            “But the seller knows what he’s got?”

            “Oh yes. The placement was made in December, and the insurance documents referred to it as a Tear Spell.”

            “I saw the catalog listing.”

            Raleigh nodded again. “Master of the Gravedona School. I’ve put money on it.”

            Milo chuckled. “I charge for that kind of information, ya know.”

            “Yes, I do.” Raleigh paused beside a door and began entering the password into the locket. “And I pay handsomely. You’ll find the proofs for the next document catalog on the chair. Please don’t make a fuss about smuggling them out.”

             Still laughing, Milo patted Raleigh on the shoulder. “I have deep pockets.”

            “I’ve heard that. Oh, and one last thing; while I can’t tell you who the owner is, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

            Milo’s eyebrows rose. “A library stamp? In this day and age?”

            Raleigh only smiled as he pushed the door to the little room open and silently closed it behind Milo.

            The upcoming auction catalog was indeed on the seat, and Milo happily slipped it onto his pocket before removing the coat and throwing it over an empty chair. From his breast pocket, he removed a pair of 3-D glasses, a small black-light lamp, and a jeweler’s loop. On the table were cotton gloves, a magnifying glass on a stand, a pad, and a supply of pencils a safe distance from the linen covered page.

            Removing the protective cover, Milo felt the rush he always experienced when looking at a new manuscript. The detective work in piecing together clues lifted from the page thrilled him like few things could. He sat for a full minute, simply examining the page without touching or reading. When he felt he had a good visual map, he turned it over and smiled.

            “Noah, Noah, Noah,” he murmured, eyeing a small gold stamp in the bottom corner of the document.

            Noah Brooks, a.k.a the Duffer. Milo had crossed paths with Noah at entry level auctions in the past but had never heard that Noah was interested in Tear Spells.

            Or isn’t interested, since he’s selling.

            Milo wondered how extensive Noah’s collection was and if he was selling off inferior items as he upgraded, or if he was leaving the field all together. In retrospect, he hadn’t seen or heard of Noah in years. But Noah had left a lasting impression on the collecting field with his insistence on marking documents in his collection. And while it was true that the watercolor impression didn’t damage the document, it just wasn’t considered good form to take the risk.

            With a sad shake of his head, Milo began his examination.

 

            An hour later, he sat back, musing. He understood why Raleigh thought the page was Northern Italian, but there was no denying that the Tear Spell was a truly amazing forgery.

            Everything about it was accurate with one small exception.

            The letter J.

            The document itself screamed mid-fifteenth century. It bore all the hallmarks of that period and, as Raleigh had speculated, was after the Gravedona School, but the letter J wasn’t introduced into common usage, and certainly not this usage, until the following century.

            Reaching into his pocket, Milo pulled out his phone and called Raleigh.

            “It’s Milo. About Noah’s document...can you stop by?”

            “That doesn’t sound good.”

            “It’s not.”

            “On my way.”

            Milo spent the ensuing minutes smiling down at the ruby ring in its box. Snapping the box closed as the door opened, he rose and drew a chair next to his to break the news to the pale dealer.

            “The first thing I need to know is if Noah has any other documents on the block.”

            “Three others. Should I get them?”

            “Yeah. The catalog payment means you’re operating on credit at the moment and better we should know.”

            Raleigh dropped into the chair. “It’s a forgery.”

            Milo’s eyes closed as his head dipped. “It is.”

            Raleigh passed a minute swearing like a sailor.

            When he paused, Milo did his best to reassure him. “It’s subtle, Fred, really subtle. It’s probably fooled countless dealers: it’s nothing to beat yourself up over.”

            “Show me,” Raleigh croaked.

            Milo handed him the 3-D glasses and picked up a wooden pointer. “Here.” He indicated the adjective form of jury. It took a second before the dealer groaned.

            “You’re right. I would have passed over that. Heck, I did pass over it!”

            “I’ll take a look at Noah’s other lots if you want, but this will have to be pulled.”

            Nodding, Raleigh rose. “I’ll be back. And thank you, Milo.”

            “I’m sorry to be the one, Fred.”

            “No, actually. I’d rather hear it from you.”

            Raleigh was back with three more pages and Swann’s director before Milo was done telling Simon to collect him at six. As he disconnected, Milo rose, his hand out. “It’s been a while, Mr. Tomlinson.”

            The older man shook the proffered hand and tried to smile, but his frown carried the day. “I understand you have bad news for me, Mr. Scarlet.”

            “Actually, it was Raleigh that—”

            Tomlinson held up his hand. “You’re too kind, Mr. Scarlet, but Raleigh already warned me that you would try and keep his fat from the fire. I appreciate it, but what’s done is done. Raleigh’s only proved, after all these years, that he’s actually human. We’ve been taking bets on when he’d slip up.”

            Milo laughed. “Wish I had been in on the pool.”

            “And I wish my snafu had been less public,” Raleigh said.

           “Can’t be helped,” Tomlinson said, turning for the door. “Swann’s will be happy to reimburse your time, Mr. Scarlet, if you’d be so kind to send us a bill for authenticating the manuscripts.”

            Milo nodded to the retreating director before resuming his chair and picking up the next document.

 

            At six, he called a halt. Rising, he stretched long and loud before dropping a hand on Raleigh’s shoulder.

            “I’m off to the theater.”

            “What’cha seeing?”

            “Albany’s in Tales of Hoffman the next two weeks.”

            “Oh yeah! I’d forgotten you’re dating an opera star.”

            Milo beamed at him. “Got the ring in my pocket.” He patted his side.

            “Wow, Milo! Congratulations! That’s incredible. When you popping the question?”

            “Tomorrow night, if all goes as planned.”

            “When does it ever?” Raleigh laughed, rising as well, his hand out. “Best of everything to you both. I’ll be expecting an invitation.”

            “Which will be next June, and,” he patted another pocket that crinkled like paper, “I’ll be shopping for my present, you can be sure.”

            Raleigh laughed, nodding. “It’s sixteen-down, that catalog, so I have plenty of space to pull your gift, you just let me know which you’d like.”

 

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