The Cameo's Secret

By Brook Peterson

When twelve-year-old Jessi Johnstone's insatiable curiosity leads to her parents' separation, she's determined to make things right. But her mission to reunite them is derailed when she stumbles upon an antique cameo necklace revealing a scandalous town legend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Level Elevate
• Release date: Jul 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685124090

Brook Peterson

Brook Peterson is the author of the Jericho Falls Cozy Mysteries, The Cameo's Secret, a middle grade mystery and the co-host of Clued In Mystery Podcast. She has been a mystery fan since the age of nine when she discovered Alfred Hitchcock's Three Investigators Series and devoured them one-by-one through repeated trips to the public library. Brook enjoys writing stories that contain intriguing family secrets, valuable antiques, and a bit of romance. When she's not reading or writing a mystery Brook likes exploring the Idaho outdoors with her husband, their daughter, and the family's two spoiled pooches.

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Brook Peterson

THE CAMEO’S SECRET

First published by Level Elevate 2023

Copyright © 2023 by Brook Peterson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Brook Peterson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

First edition

ISBN: 978-1-68512-409-0

Cover art by Level Best Designs

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

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To the members of the Writing With Moxie Critique Group, who workshopped the first version of this story with me over a decade ago. Thank you for the encouragement and support; Judy, Margaret, David, Kory, Liz, Melaney and Annette.

Chapter One

My name is Jessica Johnstone.

But please, call me Jessi.

This is the story of how my uncontrollable snooping got me into the kind of big trouble my mom always warned me it would. But what Mom couldn’t predict was that my poking around would be the thing to get me—all of us, for that matter—out of trouble, too.

It started on a Saturday. Mom was giving my five-year-old sister, Georgia, a bath. I was supposed to be doing the dishes. Instead, I was using the computer in my dad’s office. I knew if I listened closely for footsteps, I could hurry out to the kitchen and look super busy washing dishes before anyone caught me. The YouTube video I wanted to watch was taking forever to load. It made my fingers itchy just sitting there, so I opened the top drawer of Dad’s desk to have a peek. I found some old dried-out sticks of gum, a to-do list, which was completely boring, and that was it. At least, I thought so. But at the last minute, before I pushed the drawer all the way shut, I spied a folded piece of paper sticking out from under a notepad. It was a receipt.

The video still hadn’t loaded, so I pulled the paper free to see if Dad had been doing some early birthday shopping for me. The receipt was from High Five, a local sporting goods store. My heartbeat picked up speed. Had they bought it for me? A metal detector like I’d always wanted? Mom and Dad both told me they couldn’t afford such an expensive gift this year, since Mom recently quit her job to go back to school. But here was proof. A High Five receipt for $400.00.

I couldn’t contain my excitement. I ran into the bathroom, where Mom was toweling off my curly-headed little sister, and threw my arms around her waist.

Thank you, thank you, Mom, I cried. I promise to act surprised when I open it.

Mom looked confused—genuinely confused. Open what?

Sheepishly, I held out the receipt to show her, I found it in Dad’s desk. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have been snooping. But I’m so excited to try out a metal detector.

Mom frowned and shook her head. Still confused.

I looked again at the pale yellow slip. I tried to decipher the coded words and numbers making up the item code on the purchase. GLF-425-MENSCLBS. My insides seemed to sink lower in my body. My smile faded.

Mom patted Georgia’s bottom and told her to run to her bedroom to pick out some clothes. She took the receipt from me. She sat down on the edge of the tub to read it, running her damp fingers through her sun-kissed brown hair.

Please go help Georgia get dressed, she whispered to me.

* * *

The next few days were miserable. Mom and Dad yelled like never before. Their regular fights about money were nothing compared to this one. Through locked doors, I heard Dad say, What’s the big deal? I needed new golf clubs, and, Don’t blame this on me. You’re the one who wanted to quit your job.

Mom cried and said, I can’t do this anymore.

When I tried to get either of them to talk to me about what was going on, I got nowhere.

How many times have I told you to stay out of my things? Dad shouted.

Stop complicating matters, Mom replied when I asked her what I should do.

This was all my fault. If I hadn’t snooped around and found the receipt, Mom wouldn’t have known Dad spent all that money. They wouldn’t be fighting. I made a vow right then to stop my compulsive snooping. I would stay out of other people’s business. Forever.

But my resolution was too little, too late. Mom and Dad had already decided to separate. Dad would stay in our house; we would move in with my grandma—over three hundred miles away in a small town called Liberty.

I’ll come to visit for your birthday, Dad told me on the day we were leaving. Georgia and I clung to him and cried. This is for the best girls, he said.

Breaking up our family was for the best? I couldn’t believe he would say something so terrible.

Chapter Two

Liberty was the town where my mom grew up. Her mom, my Gram, grew up there too—in the same house even. The tiny town was once a busy city, according to Gram. But the farming dried up, and so did everything else.

I liked being at our family house, where Gram still lived. Our family spent every Thanksgiving there. The white, cottage-style home had huge climbing trees in the front and back yards. Last fall, when we visited, Georgia climbed way up in one but was too scared to climb back down. Dad went up after her. Mom took a picture of the two of them sitting up there together, smiling. Now the picture was on our refrigerator at home.

The drive took about five hours. Georgia fell asleep on the way. I looked over at Mom every once in a while. I tried to get her to talk, but she didn’t want to. Sometimes she wiped her eyes, and I knew she was crying.

My stomach ached when I thought about how much trouble I had caused.

This is all my fault.

I watched the scenery whiz by. I counted power poles. I tried to come up with a way to fix this. Somewhere around mile marker 195, I got an idea. I wasn’t sure how I would do it, but by the time Dad came to visit us in Liberty, I’d make sure they were back in love. Then we could all go home and get things back to normal.

It was two o’clock when we pulled into Gram’s driveway. She came out onto the front porch with a big grin and waved at us. She wore jeans and a yellow button-up, short-sleeved shirt. Her long, wavy hair was twisted into a bun, as usual.

We didn’t waste any time unloading the car. Gram came out to help us. We took suitcases, boxes, and bags into the living room. Much to my dismay, Mom announced that after twelve years of solitary bedroom bliss, I would now have to share a room with my twerpy sister, Georgia.

"What about that room?" I whispered to Mom as we made our way down the hall.

It’s the sewing room, Mom whispered back. Gram deserves at least some space for herself. You two will be fine.

I doubted it. What with Georgia’s virtual zoo of stuffed animals, how would we all fit?

Mom suggested Georgia and I spend some time unpacking our clothes and deciding who would take which dresser drawers.

Cooperate, she instructed before leaving. She raised one eyebrow, so I knew she meant what she said.

Lucky for Georgia and me, the old dresser was huge. We were both able to get most of our stuff into it. We decided to hang our nicer clothes in the small built-in closet in the corner of the bedroom.

Give me your dresses, and I’ll hang them up, I told Georgia. One by one, we fluffed up her frilly dresses and put them in the closet. We found a shelf on one side to fold and stack our sweaters.

All at once, a sparkle caught my eye.

What’s back there? I asked Georgia, pointing into the closet’s dark corner.

Georgia looked, then shrugged at me. I made a face meant to say, ‘Come on, squeeze back in there and find out.’

No way, Jessi, she told me, it’s dark. There’s probably spiders back there.

I got down on all fours to get a better look. But don’t you see it? It looks like a cool old box.

Georgia looked again, squinting. It does look fancy, she said.

I bet Gram didn’t notice it when she emptied the closet for us, I told her. After some more coaxing, I convinced Georgia to go in after it. This wasn’t really snooping, was it? I mean, this was our bedroom now, after all.

When Georgia crawled out with the box, it was covered in thick dust and cobwebs. Georgia took a deep breath to clean it off, like she was about to blow out her birthday candles.

No. I stopped her before she blew about a hundred years’ worth of dust all over both of us. Go get the dust cloth Mom was using.

We gently cleaned the rectangular box, which I could see was a jewelry box. It was made of metal, with gold leaves decorating each corner. In the middle, there was a painting of a woman in a fancy gown that Mom would say was way too low-cut. The woman in the painting had flowing red hair and was staring off into space.

Open it, whispered Georgia. She bounced on her newly made bed, making a disaster of the covers.

I carefully lifted the lid, pressing against its stiff hinges. The box was filled with jewelry; strings of pearls, gold bracelets, a ring with what looked like diamonds, and several necklaces.

Ooo, let’s play dress up, said Georgia. I couldn’t resist. We pulled jewelry out and put it all on, one piece at a time. Soon, we were both decked out in luxurious style.

Dahling, Georgia drawled, you look gorgeous.

And you look fabulous, I said with