The Marsh Madness Read Online Free PDF

an almost translucent level of white over the long winter.
    Hey J!
    Getting on board now. Tiny room, but at least I don’t have to share! ;) I guess once we get out to sea, texting gets pricey, so I will check in when we get to Aruba in two days. Be thinking of you as I work on my tan. LOL
    xo T
    I replied in faux jealous rage.
    T,
    You are a horrible person. I hope a dolphin steals your wallet.
    ;) Have fun!
    *   *   *
    I WAS BACK barely in time to accompany Vera and Uncle Kev to the bank to pick up the money for the exchange of the Marsh collection. We’d arranged to have the cash on hand. Vera must have had a stash of cash somewhere in Van Alst House, because she was able to keep the withdrawal amount under ten thousand, which is the point where transactionsattract all sorts of unwelcome attention from the IRS and other government bodies. I did wonder about the need for cash. I was beginning to think that Vera was right and maybe the Kauffman estate was shrinking. However, we were the buyers, not the sellers, and it was up to Chadwick to report any income. Once again, no need to worry. I might have been going straight, but it wasn’t like I worked for the government.
    From the moment we got out of the bank, scanned articles and links kept appearing from Lance on my iPhone.
Bing! Bing! Bing!
    Lance had found lots of new stuff. I loved that boy. Soon I’d be immersed in more than I could ever absorb about the Kauffmans and Summerlea.
    A last text from Lance:
    Found a lot of info about art, but nothing about books. Chat later.
    *   *   *
    AS SOON AS we got home, Vera zoomed to the study to take care of some hospital board work. Kev muttered something about cleanup around the property. That reminded me about those puffs of smoke. I’d been too distracted to follow up. “Whatever you’re doing, Kev, make sure it’s inside. Stay away from the woods and forget whatever project you have going there.”
    “Sure thing, Jordie. You know you can trust me.”
    Trust him? Not so much. I had to keep an eye on him.
    My attic space is one of the best things about living in Van Alst House. I had an hour to spare before dinner, so I curled up on my bed to do a thorough reading of the material from Lance. The ornate iron bedstead might not have looked comfortable, but the feather bed sure was. I snuggled under the well-worn comforter with its pretty green sprigged pattern that matched my curtains. Good thing the pattern was small anddelicate, because the faded cabbage roses on the ancient wallpaper could still flatten any competition. I loved them too.
    A cat pounced on the bed. Luckily it was Good Cat. Bad Cat seemed to have declared a truce of sorts, but that could end with no notice. Maybe he was under the bed waiting until I put my ankles within reach.
    I turned my attention to the background information Lance had sent and did my homework on the Kauffman family, skimming the articles and clicking the many links. I stroked the cat as I read.
    Even though Summerlea was not that far away, the Kauffmans had never really participated in the life of Harrison Falls. Magnus Kauffman had done his best to avoid attention. But despite this, the family had made it to the national news from time to time: weddings and funerals, mostly. It was fun reading up on the Kauffman family, even though I found no juicy scandals or investigations. The Kauffmans hadn’t lent their name to a world-class university or concert halls. But there had been society weddings a few generations back, linking the Kauffmans with some of the really great American families. There had been grand European tours and expeditions to exotic locations. And there continued to be charitable activities and stylish fund-raisers. Magnus Kauffman had held the annual Summerlea Night’s Dream as well as a fall jazz festival and a winter cotillion. He had apparently enjoyed having his name and image appear in the society pages. In recent years, Magnus grew more reclusive,