The Pandora Box by Lilly Maytree Read Free Book Online Page B

Money was not good or bad; it was how one used it that determined that and being a philanthropist was held in very high regard, these days. In fact, hadn’t Nellie Bly herself taken over fifteen years off from reporting to do just this sort of thing after she married her wealthy husband?
    That was the logical thing to do with such large sums of money. Besides, Dee felt sure that if she wasn’t that kind of person at the moment, she could easily become one.
    Meanwhile, she stashed the envelope into her bulky canvas bag that said American Originals, Inc . it. That left only an old passport dated 1959, made out in the name of David Nelson. But the picture was Peterson. A much younger, almost rakish version of the old man, but definitely him. She got goose pimples. Beneath that, there was a black velvet box—the kind that held rings. Opening it, she found herself staring at the most beautiful setting of rubies and diamonds she had ever seen in her life.
    They were exactly the way they looked in the research photos she had studied. The gold-work was done with amazing perfection in filigrees and fancy scrolls, on an unusual coat of arms. She recognized that, too. This was part of the collection! An exquisite piece of the Strassgaard family jewels. Just holding it in her hands was...absolutely breathtaking.
    If there had been any doubt in her mind that the rest of the infamous collection was truly hidden somewhere along the Russian coast, it left her at that precise moment. She closed the empty deposit box with a decisive click and pushed the buzzer.
    This time, it was not the cocky assistant manager who came but a very distinguished-looking older man with long gray sideburns “All finished, Ms. Parker?” he asked.
    “Yes, thank you.” She had signed in, just as Mr. Peterson had instructed. How he put her name on that signature card she didn’t know. But the old man was ingenious. Dee got to her feet and tried not to walk ahead of him too quickly. She nearly forgot to sign out again, but remembered at the last moment. The man seemed to be scrutinizing her signature as she scribbled it out. Her own nerves playing tricks on her, no doubt.
    “Everything all right with Mr. Peterson?”
    “As…well as can be expected…considering his condition.” Dee took the sunglasses she had thoughtlessly hooked in the V-neck of her dress and put them back on.
    “Good to have family around during trying times.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “Give my regards to your sister when you see her again.”
    Dee never remembered exactly what she answered to that startling request because it hit her like another deluge of icy water. She didn’t have a sister. And, as far as she knew, Nelson Peterson had no children. It suddenly felt hard to breathe. So she mumbled something non-committal and tried not to rush as she left. Once outside, she practically collided with the assistant manager who seemed to be enjoying a casual smoke next to her car.
    “Nice hat.” He dropped the nearly whole cigarette onto the pavement and ground it out with a perfectly polished shoe.
    Dee put the car in gear and zipped out of the parking lot.
    Once back on the interstate, she let out a long, slow breath. Activities like this were definitely hard on the nerves. But there was a long, five-hour drive ahead to calm down. Which she would need every minute of. Because obviously, she was also going to need every rational thought she could come up with from here on out. For heaven’s sake, her heart was still pounding.
    It was nearly midnight by the time she pulled into the alley that fronted Marion’s basement apartment, back in downtown Portland. The lights were out, but she descended the few steps below street-level and rang the bell anyway.
    After two more rings, Marion appeared in a hastily-donned bathrobe. Her short, gray-flecked brown hair was already askew from several hours of sleep.
    “Well, thank heavens!” The older woman dragged her in. “You know I’ve been