I jumped at him, intending to beat the snot out of him, but he was saved by Marsh, who restrained me.

"Forget about him, Honeycutt. He's not worth it."

The police took away their catch. Marsh stayed behind and talked to us by our car. The crowd of neighbors who had come out in force when they saw the police cars were still there. A couple of them pointed and I heard someone say "Sabrina." Sabrina was getting fidgety. Definitely time to go.

"Well, we had our moments," Marsh was saying, "but it all worked out in the end."

"Hey, in the Flynn's basement are some paintings stolen from the Brooklyn Museum back in 1933. They'd probably be happy to get them back."

"One would think. Still going to look for the eggs?"

Sabrina turned to me. "Are we?"

"Don't need to."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I know where they are."

Chapter 37

We were back in Fairfield at the home of Harry and Edna Simpson. We knocked and waited for Harry to shuffle his way to the door. He opened it, took one look at me, then at Sabrina, and his face broke into a wide smile.

"Miss Spencer! How nice to see you again."

Invisible again.

"Edna, come quick. Miss Spencer is back."

Come quick? Yeah, right. However, Edna must have been working out. At the mention of Sabrina's name, she set all kinds of records making it to the door.

"Sabrina!" She put her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, you don't mind me calling you Sabrina, do you?"

"As long as I can call you Edna."

Edna giggled, turned red, then excused herself as she headed for the bathroom.

Nothing was said until she returned, at which time Sabrina said, "You remember Del?"

Edna gave me a quick glance, nodded, then turned her attention back to the real star. "I was so sorry to hear all about your story. That must have been terrible. Imagine my surprise when that famous reporter came to my house. I guess she heard in the local newspaper that I had met you. That was okay that I talked about you, wasn't it?"

It wasn't, but Sabrina was gracious. "Just fine, Edna."

"I was sorry to hear about your nephew," I said. Leave it to me to bring up the dark topic.

"No loss," said Harry.

"Harry!"

"Sorry, Edna, but it's true."

"You were right," I said. "He wasn't a good person, but he didn't deserve to die. I'm afraid it was because of us that he died. For that I feel bad."

"Did you find the painting you were looking for?" Evidently it was time to move on from Russ.

"We did, and it helped us solve the mystery, except for one last thing."

"Do you need to go down to the basement again?"

"We do, if you don't mind. Won't take long. I know exactly where to go."

"Be our guest."

After a few more niceties, we descended into the fifty years of clutter they called a basement.