Heirlooms and Homicide Page 2

  “How about this?” Ralph said, holding up the lid to a large, Japanese vase.

  “Put it down,” she said, racing toward him with hands outreached.

  Wide-eyed, Ralph gently returned the ornate lid to its resting place.

  “That is an eighteenth century agateware vase. They are enormously expensive.”

  Ralph’s eyes widened even more. “Guess I’ll stick to looking, not touching.”

  “Wise.” She spun on her heel and headed for the playroom as indicated in her directory. There were a few children’s toys of vintage quality that she’d considered acquiring for the shop. One of them could be suitable for the silent auction, but she’d have to see them in person to make that choice.

  “What’s this?” Ralph pointed to a colorful box sitting on the table.

  She grinned. “That’s a jack-in-the-box. Just try it.”

  “I think I’ll pass on this one.” He grinned, and she laughed. She would have said the same thing.

  Henrietta went back to circling the large room. She guessed that there would have been floor to ceiling wallpaper in this room. It was gone now, replaced with a light seafoam green color. The moldings had all been painted white, giving the room a beachy, airy feel. She liked it, despite the fact that history had been changed to create that feeling.

  All around the room were large folding tables that held various artifacts and auction items. Henrietta maneuvered around the tables with a keen eye for anything that would appeal to the various online buyers she often sold to as well as tourists who might grace her shop in the coming months. Christmas would soon be upon them—or so it felt as a business owner—and she always had to be thinking ahead.

  “How about this?” Ralph said, pointing to a small box. “It’s pretty.”

  She was about to roll her eyes and comment on Ralph’s inexperienced eye when something in the shape and make of the box caught her attention.

  “Hmm,” she said, the noise drawing a smile from Ralph.

  “Don’t tell me I actually pointed out something you might be interested in. Let the hallelujah chorus play.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” She walked past him and bent over the table, careful not to let the long beads of her necklace hit the table as she did.

  The box looked as if it was made from many different types of wood, including burl, which was highly prized. She so badly wanted to pick up the box but knew better than to touch the auction items. One wrong move and she could be paying thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of dollars for an item that was damaged.

  “What is it?” Ralph asked, leaning down and peering over her shoulder.

  “I’m not certain, but it seems to be very old. I think this is a rare treasure, though how rare, I wouldn’t know until we’d have a chance to research it. Too bad Olivia isn’t here.” She shot him a look.

  “Sorry I’m not as useful as your assistant.”

  They grinned at each other just as a gong sounded downstairs.

  “It’s time for the auction to start. Let’s go downstairs. And, Ralph,” she said, pausing in the doorway to meet his gaze, “Don’t take a paddle unless you’re willing to spend a thousand dollars for accidentally using it as a fan.”

  He nodded. “Noted.”

  * * *

  Fortunately, the toy room, as they were calling it, was close to the beginning of the auction. They had only sat through a few previous rooms by the time the small items were brought onto the stand.

  Henrietta bid on a metal wind-up toy, winning by fifty dollars ahead of a snooty-looking older man whom Ralph dubbed Mr. Highbrow. When the box came up, Henrietta felt a thrill of excitement.

  “There it is,” Ralph whispered loudly. The man couldn’t do anything quietly.

  “I know,” she said in a voice only barely above the sound of the wind. “Try to remain calm.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  She waited as they described the box as a hand-carved jewelry box from the early eighties. She wasn’t certain that was an accurate date or a correct depiction of what the box was, but by that account, it would run much less on the price spectrum. Or so she hoped.

  The bidding began, and she stepped into it with a small bid. A few others showed interested in it but as soon as it neared five hundred dollars, everyone else seemed to lose interest. All the better for her.

  She was about to make the winning bid when a hand rose in the back.

  “You almost had it,” Ralph said.

  She shot him a look. She didn’t need his distraction at the moment.

  Henrietta raised her bid, as did the other bidder. It was hard to see who it was that was bidding. She thought the hand looked small enough to be a woman but, encased in black gloves, it was hard to tell. Even then, it was odd. The temperature did not warrant gloves, that was certain.

  Then again, she reasoned, those who came to auctions like these often walked to the beat of their own drum, as her mother would have said.

  “How high will you go?” Ralph asked, his voice only slightly lower than the auctioneer.

  “Shhhh,” she said, leveling a glare at him. He seemed to diminish slightly and allowed her to turn back to the bidding.

  She and the other bidder took turns raising the price until Henrietta was almost to the breaking point. She could go further, but should she was the question. Then again, the very fact that there was someone else willing to spend well over a thousand dollars on a jewelry box, hand-carved or otherwise, made her curious.

  When the gavel finally struck the podium denoting her the winner, Ralph let out a whoop that disturbed most of the room and Henrietta allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. She’d won, though at a rather exorbitant cost. Not that she couldn’t afford it, but still.

  She stood abruptly, trying to see who had bid against her. All she saw was the back of a wide brimmed hat leaving the room. Odd.

  “Do we go get it now?” Ralph asked, his expression reminding her of a puppy waiting for a new toy.

  “We go pay and then we ‘get it’.”

  “Hey, as long as you’re paying, it doesn’t matter to me what we do. Who would have thought these auction thingies would be so exciting?”

  She laughed at that and directed him to follow her to the table where she would pay for and retrieve her items. After taking care of it with a swipe from her debit card, she took the wrapped items and left with Ralph trailing behind her.

  “Where to now?” he asked when they were back in her Mini Cooper.

  “The shop. I want Olivia to start investigating what I’ve purchased immediately. Forget the to-do list. This is top priority.”

  “Can I request a stop on the way then?”

  “Where?” she asked, gunning the engine and shooting back from their grassy parking space.

  Ralph hurried to buckle his seatbelt and gripped the door. “Uh,” he said, swallowing loudly, “Frank’s Shrimp Shack.”

  “You’re hungry already?”

  “It’s almost noon.”

  “Try eleven-thirty.”

  “I got up early.”

  She glanced sideways at him and his grin convinced her that a quick stop for popcorn shrimp wasn’t completely out of the picture. It was also on the way, she reminded herself, as if she needed to give herself permission to take the time to make the stop.

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  She accelerated quickly when they reached the main road and, before they knew it, she was turning off toward a bright, coral-colored shack near the ocean. She had heard a lot about Frank’s from customers to the shop, but she’d never been herself, though she was a bit of an anomaly for those living near the coast in that she didn’t often eat seafood.

  “You going to get anything?” he asked as they stepped from the car.

  “Perhaps,” she said, eyeing him. “What will you get?”

  “Not sure. Never been here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” He shrugged and took in the shack. “Marjory didn’t really like shrimp.”

  The cool feeling that coursed through Henrietta had nothing to do with the breeze coming in from the ocean. For all of their teasing and harping on one another, Henrietta and Ralph had an interesting past that, at times like this, came out in painful silence and a feeling of guilt. At least on Henrietta’s part.

  She had been best friends with Marjory, Ralph’s late wife. They had grown up spending time at each other’s homes, playing with dolls together, and sharing their secret crushes all the way through middle school When Marjory had moved away with her family, they had become pen pals and stayed in touch that way.

  A few summer visits during high school held their friendship together, but they had lost touch as college began. It was only when they both ended up moving back to their home town of Heart’s Grove years later that they renewed their friendship. By that time, Marjory was married to Ralph and he’d been a natural addition to the friendship.

  Three years had passed since Marjory passed, but Henrietta still felt the slices of guilt at spending time with her best friend’s husband. At times, she wondered if he had considered more than friendship with her, but it wasn’t something Henrietta wanted to entertain, so she made sure to keep their friendship solidified with lots of sarcasm and emotional distance.

  It usually worked.

  “I’d forgotten that.”

  He didn’t say anything, merely nodded and held the door open for her.

  The scent of shrimp permeated the air as they stepped into the cool interior of the building and were greeted by a friendly young man with braces and brick red hair.

  “Hiya, welcome to Frank’s. What can I get ya?”

  “I’d like to speak with the owner,” Frank said, shocking Henrietta. She looked
up at him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or he chose not to.

  “I’ll go get him. Hold on.”

  “What’s this all about?” she asked, but any reply was put on hold by the presence of a rotund man wearing a dirty apron and a hairnet.

  “I’m Frank. You lookin’ for me?” he said with an accent Henrietta couldn’t quite place.

  “Yes. Name’s Ralph Gershwin of Gershwin Private Investigators. This is my partner Henrietta.”

  She scowled at him before flashing a smile at the man.

  “What can I do for ya?”

  “We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions. Privately.”

  “Ah sure,” he said, glancing at the young man. “Take the shop for a bit.”

  Henrietta followed them as they went back outside to sit by a table to the side of the Shack, and she began to wonder just what she’d gotten herself into.

  3

  “Look, if this is about that birthday party, I will tell you same as I told that bum Staffordson. I did the number of shrimps they’d paid for—nothing more nothing less.” The man threw up his hands as he walked around to a chair and threw himself down on it.

  Henrietta was worried the thin, plastic legs might not hold his girth, but they stayed firm even as Frank shook his head violently.

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” Ralph sat down across from the man and Henrietta took the chair next to him.

  Henrietta wondered if it wasn’t about that, what was all of this about?

  “I’d like to know what you can tell me about this young woman.”

  Frank leaned forward, as Henrietta did, both angling for a look at the person in the photograph.

  “Oh,” Frank said, sitting back and suddenly looking uneasy.

  Henrietta frowned at Ralph. She wanted to get his attention and silently ask who in the world the girl was, but then it hit her. She was his missing person.

  Realization was quickly followed by frustration. Ralph had a lead that he’d disregarded to share with her and he’d managed to bring her in on the case without her even realizing it.

  “Well?” Ralph asked. Gone was the innocent, friend-to-everyone exterior and in its place, Ralph had taken up his hardened detective exterior. It was more intense than intimidating, but it sufficed to bring Frank up in his seat.

  “Okay, so I helped the girl. And I may have paid her under the table a little bit, but she’s gone now. I swear.”

  “I’m just a P.I.,” Ralph reminded him. “I’m not attached to the law at this point and neither is this case, so you’re in no trouble. What can you tell me about her?”

  “Well…” Frank rubbed his jaw. “Said her name was Christen and that she was trying to get away from a bad relationship. Abuse or some such thing. I’m not okay with that. Always taught my boys you treat a lady like you would your own mother—or better,” he added with raised eyebrows.

  Ralph nodded, encouraging him on.

  “I never had girls of my own, but I’m a big softie, just ask anyone.” Frank shrugged. “I told her she could bus some tables and make a little under the table. Just enough to get her where she was going, you know?”

  “Do you know where she was staying while she worked here?”

  “Not really. I think she took the bus somewhere.”

  “You remember what bus?”

  “Nah.” Frank shook his head. Then, a light came into his eyes. “Oh yeah! I did see her one day. She got on the Eastbound. Number…thirty-three, I think it was. Don’t know where she was heading, though.”

  “That’s great,” Ralph said encouragingly.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  “How much did she make?”

  Henrietta and Ralph’s questions fell on top of one another, and Frank looked between them. Quite the pair of detectives, Henrietta thought.

  “Did she say where she was heading after here?” Ralph asked, shooting Henrietta a look. She wanted to remind him that he had brought her along on this, but she would tell him that at a later time.

  “Nope. I’m not sure she really knew herself. She seemed…” Frank rubbed his chin. “Lost.”

  Ralph nodded, and Henrietta took the chance to speak up again. “How much, approximately, would you say that she earned while working here?”

  “Not much,” Frank said, shrugging. “Maybe five hundred and some change. Well, I did give her a couple extra hundred on her last day. Felt bad for her and all.”

  “You’re a good man,” Ralph said with a kind smile toward the man. “If I think of any more questions, I’ll stop by.”

  “Sure thing. You guys want some shrimp?” Ralph grinned and that was all the encouragement the man needed. “Stay here. A Shrimp Shack special for you both coming up.”

  When he was gone, Ralph turned to her. “What’s this about not wanting to be involved?”

  She knew he meant the question she’d asked, but she wasn’t going to let him get away that easily.

  “You were the one that brought me here under false pretense.”

  “False pre— You’ve got to be kidding me.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “What’s so bad about a working lunch?”

  “It’s your working lunch, not mine.”

  “And yet you asked a question. Why? Why do you care how much she made?”

  “I just… I don’t know. I’m curious, I suppose.”

  “Thinking of changing careers?” he asked with a grin.

  “Hardly.”

  They enjoyed a delicious shrimp meal compliments of Frank and then set off for town again. The whole while, Henrietta contemplated the photo of the young woman. She had large, vacant blue eyes and a round face framed by long, stringy black hair. Her expression reminded Henrietta of a magazine model who was told to ‘look disinterested’ in everything. She captured the look well.

  “What else have you not told me you know about this young woman?” she asked.

  “Why the sudden interest?”

  Despite the lack of emotion in the girl’s face, something about her screamed for help. Henrietta had never been able to turn down someone in need.

  “What else?”

  “She went dormant on all social media shortly after her disappearance. One post showed an image of downtown New York with a cryptic caption about how short life is. Scott felt like it could have been to throw people off her trail, make them think she’d committed suicide, but I don’t think so.”

  “What do you think?” she asked as they turned onto the main thoroughfare of their quaint town.

  “I honestly don’t know,” he said.

  She glanced at him, but he sat there, cramped with his knees bent, staring ahead. “Anything else?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “Not really. We’ve got the name and contact info of her best friend, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

  “Have you texted her?”

  “Huh?”

  Henrietta shrugged. “I’ve just noticed that when I call the youth of my church to ask about helping at the shop or what have you, they never respond, but if I text them, I almost always get an immediate reply.”

  “I hadn’t thought to text her. Seemed a bit impersonal.”

  “To be sure,” Henrietta said, pulling up to her parking spot in the back of H.H. Antiques. “But she can’t blame you for trying.”

  “Good idea. I’ll do that. And, Henri…” He brandished a teasing grin at her. “Good to have you on the case.”

  * * *

  “Henrietta!” Olivia’s excited shout caught Henrietta in the middle of dusting one of their display cases. She jolted up and nearly rammed her head on one of the glass shelves.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she calmly put down her feather duster and headed for the front room. She found her assistant sitting behind the computer, nose inches from the screen. That couldn’t be healthy.

  “What is it?”

  “You are not going to believe this.”

  “Well?” she asked, not wanting to wait any longer for the apparently big news.

  “It’s worth almost ten times what you paid for it.” Olivia still hadn’t taken her gaze from the screen and was furiously clicking back and forth.

  “Why don’t you start by telling me what antique we’re talking about?”