Murder & The Monkey Band: High Desert Cozy Mystery Series Page 4

  “This is a whole new world to me,” Laura said, “but I think I better tell you something. You know I have some psychic abilities that can’t be explained. Well, last night I kept waking up with a bad feeling about this appraisal. I don’t know what it was about or why I felt like I did. I kept getting a feeling that the murder of the woman was tied to something that’s no longer in the house. Something you won’t be able to appraise because it’s not there. When I walk through the house with you, I might be prompted with some new thoughts, and it may be a little clearer. Would you like me to tell you what I feel or keep my mouth shut?”

  Marty looked at her sister who was dressed in a chic dark blue pant suit with a cream shell under the jacket. In contrast to the turbans and heavy jewelry a lot of psychics wore, no one would ever look at the woman wearing small pearl earrings with a pearl barrette holding back her red hair and think, This woman is a psychic. There was absolutely nothing about Laura that would indicate she possessed certain unseen powers.

  “I’m no detective, and I haven’t been hired to do anything like that, but yes, even if it has nothing to do with my appraisal I’d like to know what you think or feel. Are your feelings always right? Who knows? Maybe you and I will end up solving the crime,” she said laughing.

  “Don’t plan on it,” Laura said. “I’m right more than I’m wrong, but sure, sometimes I’ll get a feeling or a vision and nothing happens. By the way, you mentioned what was involved in appraising an item, but once you do the initial identification of the item, then what?”

  “That’s where the real appraising comes in, and I have to make some judgment calls. Silver, china, glassware, and a lot of furniture and other things I can take by myself from start to finish. In other words, I know enough to write up the identification and assign a fair market value to the item. I dictate an inventory list of those items, put a value on them, and send them along with my photographs to a woman who has done my transcriptions for years. She’ll put it together for me in the proper report form and ship it to me for proofing. When it’s ready to go to the client, I’ll have a copy made for my file and send the original to the client. Sometimes an insurance company wants a copy as well.”

  “Sounds terribly complicated to me,” Laura said.

  “Trust me, it’s not, but what it does require is years of experience. What I didn’t mention is how I appraise things when I don’t consider myself qualified to appraise a particular item. In those situations I rely on the expertise of others who specialize in areas like pre-Columbian art, certain ethnic pieces, gun collections, knives, and other things that aren’t within the normal antique and art appraiser’s scope of knowledge.

  “For instance, I’m not an expert in jewelry. I’ve made some contacts in Palm Springs with several jewelers, and I can take a photograph of the piece of jewelry, actually I usually take several photographs of the item, and show the jeweler what I have. They can usually give me a valuation based on the photograph. If someone has a lot of items in an area like jewelry or pre-Columbian art, it’s worthwhile to hire an appraiser who has expertise in that area. Being a town with a lot of wealth, Palm Springs has a lot of appraisers who live and work here. I’ve made it a point to meet with the ones who aren’t generalists like me, as well as some who specialize in what I do in case I have a job that needs more than one person.

  “Well, looks like we’re almost there, so I’ll know what I’m dealing with in a few minutes.” She turned into the driveway of a large white U-shaped mid-50’s style home. “Wow! What a beautiful house,” she said. “It’s really in keeping with the desert. I wonder how she ever came to acquire and collect the things Dick mentioned. It seems so out of character with the feel of the desert. I could understand it more if she collected Native American rugs and baskets or some such thing.”

  “I don’t know, but it looks like you’ll be able to find out real soon. A large SUV just pulled in behind us. It’s probably her son, and Marty, FYI, I’m getting bad vibes from him.”

  Marty stopped the car and turned and looked at Laura. “You’re getting bad vibes, and you haven’t even met him? How does that work?”

  “I have no idea how any of this works, but I will tell you I not only have bad vibes about him, I also have bad vibes about this house.”

  “Swell. This should really be entertaining. Okay, let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER 8

  At the same time that Laura and Marty got out of Marty’s car, Jim Warren stepped out of his SUV. He walked over to them and said, “Hi, I’m Jim Warren. Which one of you is Marty Morgan?”

  “That’s me,” Marty said. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry about your mother. I’m here to help you in any way I can. I understand that the appraisal is to be done for the purposes of probate.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. I was concerned my stepsister was going to contest the Will, but so far she hasn’t. My mother left everything to my sister and me. I have her Will, and as soon as her attorney gets back from his trip, he’ll be filing it with the Court. How long do you thing the appraisal will take?” he asked, pointedly looking at his watch.

  “I have no idea since I don’t know what antiques, art, and collectibles are in the house.”

  He unlocked the gate that led to the courtyard and the front door of the house. “Even though the gate’s locked, my mother’s housekeeper, Rosa, should be here. Mom instructed her to always keep the gate locked.” He rang a bell. A few moments later the front door was opened by a small Hispanic woman with her greying hair pulled back off of her face and secured by a clip at the nape of her neck.

  “Hello, Rosa. This is the appraiser I told you about.” He looked at Marty and then at Laura.

  “This is my sister, Laura. She works for Alliance Property and Casualty Company and agreed to act as my gofer. Often I need an assistant to hold a painting or some such thing, so I can photograph it. Rosa, I’m Marty Morgan. I’m the one doing the appraisal.”

  “Please come in. How can I help you?”

  “At the moment I don’t know.” She turned to Jim. “I always begin my appraisals in probate situations with a walk through of the house to determine the scope of the appraisal. When I’m finished, I can give you an estimate of how much time I’ll need to spend on the premises. Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course. Let’s start with the kitchen.” They walked to the rear of the house where the kitchen and breakfast nook overlooked an infinity pool that looked as if it was going to flow off into the desert. Marty spent several minutes opening cabinets and looking in drawers.

  “There are quite a few things in here which definitely are of value. Your mother evidently collected Quimper pottery. It looks like the pieces are from the 18th century and are highly desirable as well as expensive. The fifteen plates on this wall will all need to be individually appraised. There are some other pieces in the cabinets which definitely have value as does the sterling silver and chinaware. Those I will be appraising. As far as the run-of-the-mill kitchen items and appliances, I think it would be fine to lump them together as miscellaneous kitchen items, and I’ll assign a value to the lot. Not appraising them piece by piece will save you quite a bit of money on the appraisal. If the Will is going to be contested, I’ll have to do it piece by piece, but if not, there shouldn’t be any problem in doing them in bulk.”

  “No, I don’t think there will be a Will contest, but you never know. Just appraise those items in bulk. Go ahead and walk through the rest of the house. I’m going to spend a little time in my mother’s study, and see if I can decipher some of the things in her desk.”

  For the next half hour Marty and Laura walked through each room of the house. Clearly, Pam Jensen had been very knowledgeable about antiques. There were collections of antique perfume bottles in the master bathroom, fine art on the walls throughout the house, antique furniture in all of the bedrooms and the dining room, a breakfront filled with cut glass, and a library with antique books spilling out of the floor to ceiling
bookcases. Everywhere they looked it was a feast for the eyes.

  “Laura, remember how I told you sometimes I needed to bring in an appraiser in a certain area when it wasn’t within my scope of expertise. Well, you’re looking at one of the areas now. There’s a man in Palm Springs who specializes in antique books. I’m going to ask him to appraise these for me. What I do in a case like this is pay him directly and then attach his appraisal to mine.”

  The one room left was the living room. When they walked into it Marty caught her breath and stopped. “What’s wrong?” Laura asked.

  “The Meissen collection in this display case is quite simply the finest I’ve ever seen. Look at this room. It should be in a museum. Everything in here is worth a fortune from the mirrors with the rococo frames to the Aubusson tapestry on the wall to say nothing of the antique Oriental rugs casually scattered around on the floor. Not only did Pam Jensen have an excellent eye for antiques, she also had an ability few collectors possess – being able to blend different types of antiques in a pleasing way, so nothing jumps out, it just all becomes one cohesive unit. Wow! I’ve done a lot of appraisals over the years, but I’ve never seen this many fabulous items in one place.”

  Jim joined them in the living room. “Have you had a chance to get the lay of the land?” he asked.

  “Yes. Your mother was obviously one of the most astute collectors I’ve ever encountered. Not only is her collection one of the finest I’ve ever seen, she had an ability to combine everything in a warm, welcoming way. As far as timing, I’m estimating three days to conduct the on-site appraisal, then additional time for research and preparation of the report. Antique books are not my forte, so I’ll need to bring in another appraiser for them. Is there anything else I should know before I get started?”

  “Yes. My mother had a lot of jewelry. Let me get it out of her safe and show you. Let’s go into her bedroom.” After the three of them walked to the bedroom, Jim knelt down, pulling the rug back which revealed a floor safe. He opened it and removed handfuls of jewelry.

  Marty looked at the jewelry for a moment and said, “I’m going to have to call a friend of mine who’s an expert in jewelry. I would be doing a disservice to you by appraising it. Just like the antique books, I’ll attach his appraisal to the main appraisal.”

  “There’s one other thing. My mother had a ten carat marquise cut diamond ring in a platinum setting that Brian gave her for their twentieth anniversary. It’s not in the safe, and I can’t find it. While you’re appraising everything, I’d like you to keep an eye out for the ring. Here’s my address. You can send me the appraisal when you’ve completed it.”

  “I should have it within a few weeks. I do require a retainer of three thousand dollars on an estate of this size with the rest due when I deliver my appraisal.”

  “No problem. I’ll write a check out now.” A moment later he handed her a check in the amount of three thousand dollars.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Let’s start in the kitchen,” Marty said after they’d said goodbye to Jim. “I like to do my appraisals by going room by room. When I’m finished with a room, I do one more walk around in it and then put that room and what I’ve appraised in it out of my mind and get ready for the next one. May seem silly, but it works for me. I know some appraisers do it by category. In other words, they’ll do all the rugs in the house at the same time, or all the glassware. There are no hard and fast rules on how to conduct an appraisal, but my method works best for me.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Laura asked.

  “I’d like you to take those Quimper plates off the wall, one at a time, and bring each one over to me. When I’ve recorded the necessary information and photographed it, you can put it back exactly where it was.”

  Rosa walked into the kitchen. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked.

  “Not a thing. We’ll probably be in the kitchen for the next couple of hours, and then I’ll start on the dining room.”

  “Let me make you some lunch. Mrs. Jensen loved my Mexican Eggs Benedict, and I can prepare them for you when you’re finished in the kitchen. It would make me feel like I’m doing something for her.”

  “Thank you. That would be lovely. If we don’t have to stop and leave for lunch, the appraisal will go faster. I’ll let you know when we finish up in here.”

  When Rosa was out of earshot, Laura leaned over to Marty at the table where she was setting up and said, “You asked me to let you know what I felt, so here’s the first thing. Rosa is definitely spooked by something. I don’t get the feeling that she murdered Mrs. Jensen, but she knows something, and I’m getting a real feeling of guilt from her.”

  “Okay, good to know. I’ll keep it in mind. Let’s get on with this. Start with the top plate, left hand side. Go across that row and then back to the left middle row, etcetera.”

  “What makes these so valuable, Marty?” Laura asked as she placed a plate which displayed a brightly colored French peasant woman on it in front of Marty. “I mean, they have a certain charm, but why do you suppose she collected these?”

  “From what I’m seeing, she only collected the best. From our quick walkthrough and looking at these plates, there’s not a nick or scratch on them, which is highly unusual when you’re dealing with tin glazed pottery. Obviously they’re French, and the marks are telling me they were made in the early 18th century, which makes them some of the earliest around. To have them be that old and not damaged means they’re worth a lot of money. Quimper pottery was made in all kinds of forms, from knife rests to inkstands to figurines, and about everything else. They usually had designs of Breton peasants, animals, flowers, or sea forms. These plates are the best I’ve run across.”

  “Would I be right in assuming she didn’t eat off of these plates?”

  “I would be highly doubtful. Lead was often used in the glaze of early pottery pieces. In the early 20th century a leadless glaze was developed, but there’s always been talk that early pottery pieces could be dangerous to anyone who ate off of them. They were primarily decorative items.”

  Two hours later, after Laura had counted all of the kitchenware items and sorted them, and Marty had photographed everything and taken the information she needed from the antique items, Marty said, “Time to tell Rosa we could use some lunch. Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry, and I need a break.” She walked out of the kitchen and said in a loud voice, “Rosa, I think we’re ready for lunch. Thank you so much. We’ll be in the dining room.”

  Rosa appeared from the bathroom with cleaning items in a basket and said, “Perfect timing. I just finished cleaning the bathroom. Lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes. Would iced tea be all right with you?”

  “Sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

  “Laura, trust me, I doubt if you’ll ever see antiques like this in any home. I venture to say this collection is probably the best your insurance company insures. I mean, a whole room full of Chippendale and Hepplewhite furniture? Impossible! You see some in museums, but this is incredible. I don’t know if she had a budget or what, but somebody was major bucks up, and I mean major, if they could buy these items. Here, you could hold this end of the tape measure for me.”

  Twenty minutes later Rosa walked into the dining room, “Lunch is ready. I think it’s too warm out to eat on the patio, so I set the table in the breakfast nook. It has a nice view of the infinity pool and the hills. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Definitely. We could both use a break. Thank you,” Marty said as they followed Rosa into the kitchen. “I’ve never had Mexican Eggs Benedict before, but from the way they look, I’m probably going to want the recipe.”

  “I’d be happy to give it you. My mother often made it on Sundays when we returned from Mass. Please enjoy.”

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do,” Marty said, taking a forkful of egg and cornbread. After a moment, she looked over at the sink where Rosa was washing the dishes she’d used in making the lunche
on. “Rosa, this is fabulous. I definitely want the recipe.”

  “Thank you. Were you expecting anyone? The gate buzzer just rang.”

  “No. Go ahead and answer it. We’re fine.”

  As soon as she was gone, Laura whispered, “Sorry, Marty, you may not want to hear this, but I can see Rosa’ aura and it’s black, which would fit in with the guilty feeling I was getting earlier. She definitely knows something and may have even had something to do with the murder, and if she didn’t, she’s afraid she did.”

  “Laura, come on. How can you know that? You’re going to tell me that sweet little woman had something to do with the woman who was murdered, the woman who had employed her for years? I don’t buy it.”

  “Quite frankly, I don’t care whether you buy it or not. I’m simply telling you what I’m seeing.”

  “Let’s just drop it for now. I want to enjoy this meal. Actually we should probably tell John about it. I’ll bet The Red Pony could sell this pretty easily. He could make the cornbread ahead of time like Rosa did and then just heat the beans, poach the eggs, and put on the finishing touches. Gotta give him the recipe tonight. I’ll get it from Rosa before we leave.”

  Rosa walked back into the kitchen accompanied by a large heavyset man with greying hair and a mustache to match. Marty had no idea who he was, but he certainly looked like someone she would definitely like to get to know better.

  CHAPTER 10