The Killer Queen ( Noella Briony ) novel Chapter 217

Terrell's face was a study in discomfort, his composure slipping like ice on a hot summer day.

Travis, his kin through thick and thin, had been sent up the river by Noella after that fiasco at the art gallery. Word on the street was that he was now getting three squares a day behind bars.

"Ms. Schnabel, I'm not sure what you're driving at," Terrell stammered, his words chasing each other in confusion.

"Didn’t you visit him a few days ago? Seemed like he's living the life."

Terrell and Travis shared more than just blood; they shared loyalty. Even with Travis locked away, Terrell made time for brotherly visits.

"Ms. Schnabel, I visited him because we were colleagues once. As for your insinuations, they're lost on me. Are there any issues with these zithers?"

Noella raised an eyebrow, her expression cool and unreadable. "Where did you get these zithers, Terrell?"

"Well, Ms. Schnabel, these zithers have always been at our store! It’s possible that when you visited last time, you were too rushed to pay attention to them.”

"The headstock is rounded, the neck a bit short, the waist cinched—rich in sound. These aren’t Master Rainer’s creations."

Cradling the zither's waist, Noella flipped the zither over to inspect the inscription on the bottom. There, stamped into the wood, was indeed Master Rainer's personal seal!

"Ms. Schnabel, the seal's right there. We've checked it multiple times—it's genuine."

Terrell was set in his mind that even if Noella knew something about zither construction, she couldn't unravel the true origin of this instrument.

Near the tailpiece, there was a flamboyant signature—Sylvie.

Noella's eyebrow arched just a fraction higher.

When did she ever craft this zither and leave her name on it? And that signature—it looked like it was scrawled by a foot.

"If you insist on playing tough, then let's bring in the appraisers."

Vintage zithers and those crafted by masters fetched top price, and there were professional appraisers in the industry for such items.

Terrell didn't flinch. "Sure thing, I'll call the appraisers right now."

After all, he knew the appraisers—it was all part of the plan.

To ensure the upcoming auction went smoothly, Terrell had already made arrangements with the appraisal firm.

Stepping outside with his phone, Terrell dialed up his contact.

"Ryder, grab your kit and come to the music store. My boss insists on an appraisal for those zithers. She's clueless about how the world works—thinks she's some kind of expert. It's laughable. I've been in the zither business for years; she can't hold a candle to me."

If only Travis had been a little smarter, Noella would never have gotten the upper hand.

Those zithers were pricey finds from the antique market, and though a bit worse for wear when acquired, a little restoration made them as good as new. A fresh coat of polish and they could sell for a handsome price.

Ryder, grabbing his toolkit, replied, "I'll be right there. We'll stick to our agreed price. Just some greenhorn; a little smoke and mirrors will do. Just a Schnabel, barely out of her teens, and she's meddling in the zither world? If we don't teach her a lesson, she won't know who's boss!"

Before Ryder could finish, the door suddenly burst open with a kick, revealing a group of unexpected visitors.

"What are you doing here!" Ryder exclaimed in shock.

Mizar chuckled, stepping aside to let Master Rainer and the head of the appraisal firm through.