Angelica’s eyes narrowed and her smile widened. “This will go a long way toward repaying the money Betsy stole from the Chamber.”

“You can’t take that,” Tricia protested.

“You heard Karen. These boxes are considered trash. They’re going to throw them in a Dumpster. You finding this envelope is no different than the Dumpster diving you did with Ginny and her friends a couple of years ago.”

“These boxes haven’t yet been thrown out as trash. As of this moment, they still belong to Nigela Ricita Associates.”

Angelica opened her mouth to protest, but must have thought better of it. She sighed. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Call Antonio. He’s the NRA representative here in Stoneham.”

“Of course, you’re right.” Angelica opened her purse and took out her cell phone, hit the speed dial, and waited. “Antonio? It’s Angelica.” She paused. “Angelica Miles. Head of the Chamber of Commerce. Owner of the Cookery—” She paused again. “Yes, that Angelica. You’re hysterical, you know that?” she deadpanned.

While she explained the situation, Tricia dug through the box, looking for more cash. What could Betsy have been thinking when she stashed the money in the box? Had she forgotten she’d done so when she’d decided not to pay the rent on the house? Was it possible there was even more cash to be found?

Finally Angelica hung up. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

It was almost seven o’clock. “I’ll bet Ginny won’t be thrilled by that.”

“It’s in his company’s best interests,” Angelica pointed out. “What should we do in the meantime?”

“Start looking through the rest of the boxes. Who knows what we might find.”

Angelica’s expression soured. “I wish I’d brought a big bottle of hand sanitizer. If this stuff is as dirty as the crap in Betsy’s house, we’ll probably catch some dreadful—and lethal—disease.” She shrugged out of her coat. “Hand me your coat and hat and I’ll put them in the kitchen. At least it’s cleaner there than in here.”

Tricia handed over her coat and went back to work emptying the box.

A knock at the door came some ten or so minutes later, and Angelica opened it to admit not only Antonio, but Ginny, too. “Welcome to the treasure hunt,” Angelica said, sounding anything but enthusiastic.

“May I see the envelope of cash?” Antonio asked.

With reluctance, Angelica surrendered the envelope. The three women watched as Antonio counted the cash. “Five thousand dollars exactly,” he said, sounding astonished.

“There could be a lot more,” Tricia said.

“Or there could be nothing,” Ginny said, sounding discouraged as she took in the room and those beyond, all filled with boxes. “What are we going to do?”

“Betsy Dittmeyer stole from the Chamber of Commerce. They deserve to be the recipient of this windfall,” Angelica said.

“And what would Nigela Ricita have to say about that?” Tricia asked.

Antonio looked uncomfortable. He looked down at the cash in his hand, and then back to Angelica. “I will have to ask her. And that is the first thing I intend to do tomorrow morning.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Tricia asked.

Antonio sighed. “I think it would be prudent for us to go through all the boxes.”

“Us who?” Ginny asked, sounding appalled.

“I don’t think we should tell anyone about this until we know what we’re dealing with,” Angelica advised.

“The first thing you should probably do is talk to a lawyer. If nothing else, there might be some tax liability,” Tricia advised.

“I am not worried about paying taxes on a paltry five thousand dollars,” Antonio said, “though I agree in principle. But first, I will talk with Ms. Ricita.”

“I hope you were kidding about us going through all these boxes,” Ginny said, sounding resolute.

“No, I was not,” Antonio said. “There may be other valuables that can be sold. The cost of renovation will not be cheap. And Ms. Ricita has not decided what to do with the property yet.”

“She’s renting it to me,” Angelica said firmly. “I just signed a one-year lease.”

“Yes,” Antonio said, nodding, “the plan was to leave it as is—with a few enhancements—for a short time, but ultimately the house will be razed and we will rebuild in much the same way we did for the Dog-Eared Page. In the long run, it will be a much more substantial investment.”

“Do I have to be part of this project?” Ginny asked resentfully.

“You are a member of the NRA team,” Angelica pointed out. After all, Nigela Ricita Associates owned the store Ginny managed.

Antonio’s smile was beguiling. “I am sure our employer will reward you handsomely.”

“She’d better,” Ginny groused, then let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, what’s the plan of attack?”

They all looked at Tricia for guidance.

“There’s no way we can make a dent in this tonight—”

“I still think we should try,” Angelica said.

Ginny sighed. “We can’t just dump it all on the floor. That would make sorting too difficult.”

“I could retrieve my car and go to the convenience store up by the highway and buy out all their heavy-duty trash bags,” Angelica said.

Antonio shook his head. “I would not feel comfortable letting you go on your own at this time of night.”

It wasn’t all that late, Tricia reflected.

“If you ladies don’t mind starting the work, I will get the trash bags and be back in fifteen minutes. With four of us going through the boxes, we may be able to clear out at least this living room tonight.” He looked hopefully at Tricia. “Are we in agreement?”

Never one to turn down a chance to dig for clues, and this time literally, she nodded.

Antonio kissed Ginny good-bye and took off.

“Where do we start?” Angelica asked.

“Let’s section off the room,” Tricia said, taking charge.

“And how do we do that?” Ginny asked.

“We’ll each work in a corner and dump an entire box. That would seem the easiest approach. Then we’ll refill the boxes with whatever looks like salvageable material. Perhaps we can even donate some of it to various charities—like the Clothes Closet.”

Angelica and Ginny nodded, chose a corner, and set off to work.

Unfortunately, soon the piles of trash far outweighed the salvageable materials. As an irrational hoarder, Betsy collected the oddest array of what seemed to Tricia to be nothing more than junk—most of which was absolutely worthless. They soon came up with a system: stuff to be tossed, stuff that could be used again, and paper to be recycled.

Angelica was the first to come up with another envelope full of cash. This time it was only a hundred one-dollar bills—no more, no less. Did Betsy only save money in one-hundred-bill increments? Was the number one hundred somehow sacred to her?

By the time Antonio returned from the convenience store, the women had found envelopes full of fives and tens—again, each with one hundred bills.

“We have to keep looking,” Tricia said as Antonio scooped trash into the bags. Ginny used Angelica’s author signing pen to mark the boxes with what to keep, sell, and recycle.

They worked silently—each of them concentrating on the task at hand. By midnight, they’d found $44,600 in cash and had nearly filled a large peanut butter jar (which Angelica had found under the kitchen sink) with loose change. And to think they’d only gone through what amounted to about a quarter of the boxes in the house.

Antonio leaned against one of the piles of boxes, his face drawn. “I can ask the employees at the Brookview Inn to volunteer to help us go through the rest of these boxes tomorrow,” he offered, but the women voted him down.

“It’s not that I don’t trust them,” Ginny said, “but why lead them to temptation?”

“I agree,” Angelica said. “It might take the four of us the rest of the week, but I think we can do this more efficiently. That is, if the Dumpster Antonio ordered is delivered by tomorrow.”