Wilmington, NC 10 - Much Ado About Murder

Linda Price’s crew had made great progress in separating documents from newspapers and magazines. The newspapers and magazines were bundled and stacked on the porch for recycling.
    “I’m separating the sheet music from the hand-written music scores,” she told us. “Oh, by the way, a young woman came by with suitcases and boxes and packed her clothing.”
    Seeing my concern, she said, “I watched her. She took only her own personal items: clothing and makeup and toiletries. Nothing else.”
    “One less job for you,” Melanie said. “Be grateful.”
    “Did she say she was Angela?” Jon asked.
    “Yes, she did,” Linda replied.
    Jon and I exchanged looks. Wait till she finds out Thomas has been arrested for attempted murder, that look said.
    “I’ve got to leave,” Melanie said. “I’ve got to get the contract signed on a new listing. But I’ll be back in about an hour.”
    After she left, Jon and I checked on the tree cutters. Without the limbs, they were making steady progress making their way down the tree trunk, cutting it into manageable sections.
    We returned to the house, trying to stay out of Linda and her team’s way. She too was making good progress.
    We walked around the house, discussing what we were going to do with each room. “I’m glad we’ve got a large dining room,” I said. “We’ll need one for family dinners. Thanksgiving. Christmas.”
    Just then there was a knock on the kitchen door. We hurried to open it. The foreman stood outside. One of his crew members stood behind him holding a large, and what appeared to be a heavy, jug. “I think this is your friend’s family memento. Only thing we found so far. Wouldn’t say it was valuable but maybe it means something to him.”
    “I’d have to agree with you,” Jon said. “I’ll give it to him. And thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it,” the foreman said.
    Jon took the jug. “It’s heavy,” he told me as we went back inside.
    “Do you think you can carry it back to our house?” I asked. “I don’t want to open it here. Not until we’re alone.”
    “You wait here. I’ll go get the car. We’ll drive it to our house. Aunt Ruby and Binkie are there. I want Binkie to see this.”

    “ It’s stoneware,” Binkie told us as he examined the jar we had set on the kitchen counter.
    “We gave the boys lunch and put them down for a nap,” Aunt Ruby said. “What have you got there? And where did it come from?”
    Jon and I told the story of Thomas and Cheri’s arrest, of Dalton’s recovery, and of the “family treasure” in the tree.
    “No way you’re going to get that jar open,” Aunt Ruby said. “Whatever it’s sealed with has hardened like cement.”
    “The only way we can open it is to break it,” Jon said. “And I’m not willing to do that. Not without Dalton’s permission.”
    “I’ll call him,” Binkie said.
    It took him a while to get through to Dalton at the medical center. Meanwhile, Jon and I scarfed down a sandwich.
    “He wants us to break it open. He says he has an idea of what is inside. So let’s go ahead. Take it out in the backyard. It’s going to take a heavy tool to crack this thing.”
    “Be sure to wear your safety goggles,” I told Jon.

    The stoneware jar lay in pieces at our feet. Crouching down, Jon lifted out three leather cylindrical pouches. We carried them inside and laid them on the dining room table. Then, unbinding the leather straps, we opened each.
    Inside we found pages of a manuscript. A hand-written manuscript on ancient parchment.
    “I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Binkie said. “It’s a play. Love’s Labour’s Won is the title. And the signature reads William Shakespeare.”

22

    “I know you all thought the Montjoys put on airs. That’s why I never told anyone the story of the family treasure. My great-grandfather warned me not to. Besides, even the family doubted it was true.”
    That evening our family had gathered at Melanie and Cam’s lodge where Cam had a large safe to secure the playscript . One of Melanie’s upstairs bedrooms had been turned into a nursery. The twins were tucked in up there and were going to spend the night. Jon and I very much needed a night alone.
    We had decided the subject of the play was a family matter not to be discussed with anyone until we knew what to do with the script. With one necessary exception: Binkie had brought a colleague from the English Department whom he assured us was discreet. And, of course,