The Stradivarius by R.Thorman

The Stradivarius by R.Thorman

Minx Mills is a unique place. People say that a few decades ago there were many similar places in the United States. Today, they can only be found by chance. Jesse McCord got into such a place. Boone Elliot repaired cars. People knew that he could fix any mechanism and came to him for this. One day he saw a stranger who asked if he was a musician. Boone loved when he was called just a musician, not a mechanic. The stranger introduced himself as Jesse McCord and he had something interesting. He pulled a violin case out of the trunk of the car. The mechanic’s wife brought two glasses of tea and the men drank it. Then Jesse asked if Boone had heard about Stradivari. Boone said that he wanted to see a violin from Stradivari, if Jesse had it.

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The Stradivarius by R.Thorman

Thirty years ago there were many places like Minx Mills in the southern United States. People said there was no way to find them except by accident. But it was no accident that brought Jesse McCord to Minx Mills.

When Boone Elliot saw the car stop in front of his house he did not move. People always came to see him when their cars needed to be fixed. They knew that Boone Elliot could repair anything with wheels on it.

The Stradivarius by R.Thorman

A stranger got out of his car slowly. “Are you Boone Elliot, the musician?”

Boone was very pleased to be called a musician instead of a car mechanic. He nodded his head, “Yes.”

The stranger smiled and closed his car door. He had blond hair, small blue eyes and a narrow face with a long chin. He wore a thin moustache across his upper lip. Boone thought he must be about fifty years old. Boone walked over to him. The stranger shook Boone’s hand.

“I’m Jesse McCord,” he said. “I have something I want to show you.”

He opened his car door and pulled out a violin case.

“Can we get out of the sun?” he asked.

Boone led the way to the porch. Boone’s wife Molly brought them ice tea in tall glasses. McCord drank his tea slowly. Then he wiped his mouth with his fingers.

“Does the name Antonio Stradivarius mean anything to you?” he asked.

“Are you saying that you have a fiddle made by Stradivarius in that case?”

“I’m not saying what I have,” McCord said.

Boone Elliot leaned forward in his chair. “Mister, if you have a Stradivarius violin I want to see it.”

McCord opened the case and lifted up a violin made of golden red wood. The sunlight slid over the violin like a warm wave.

“Here, take it,” McCord said…

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