Heirlooms and Homicide Read online

  “Oh, sorry.” Olivia finally looked away from the captivating screen and pushed her glasses up. “The puzzle box.”

  “The what?”

  “Your auction box.” She indicated the box on the other side of the computer. “It’s a Japanese-style puzzle box circa 1960 made by a famous wood carver, Salvatore Green. He was rumored to have toured this area and I think this is one of perhaps five boxes of his left in the world.”

  “Oh my,” Henrietta said, pulling a chair over to the small table. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, I started with the style and got nowhere, so I began searching the initials inside the box.”

  “Initials?”

  “Yes. S. G. I mean, it wasn’t much to go on and I wasn’t hoping for much, but when I added in wood carving and box, something like what you have popped up. The rest is history,” she said with a girlish giggle.

  “But you said puzzle box. This doesn’t resemble any puzzle box I’ve seen.”

  “That threw me off a little as well. Apparently, he created Japanese-style puzzle boxes that looked like regular jewelry boxes but contained secret compartments. It’s ingenious really. Create something that looks like something else but isn’t.”

  “Is there a way to open it?” Henrietta asked.

  “Not that I’ve seen. I found a few of his other boxes on line. One had a YouTube tutorial, but I tried—very gently—to open it like they showed and no such luck. I found one blogger who said he liked to make each puzzle box differently so that no one box could open like the other. Figures.” She shook her head and looked at the box. “What secrets are you hiding?” she asked it.

  “I wish we knew,” Henrietta added.

  “I’ll keep looking, though. There are a ton more forums on this guy’s artwork and on puzzle boxes in general. I’m sure I can find some tips and tricks or something. A ‘How to open an antique puzzle box for dummies’ would be great right about now.”

  Henrietta smiled and nodded. “Good to know. In the meantime, when you’re not very carefully attempting to open the box, let’s keep it in the safe. Just in case.”

  “Absolutely.” Olivia turned to her employer. “Are you still going to offer it up as the silent auction item this year? There’s no way anyone would be able to bid what it’s worth.”

  “Considering I made a killing on it, I think it may still do just that. But we shall see.”

  Olivia seemed to take her answer in stride and turned back to the screen for more research.

  “Make sure you don’t stay too late,” Henrietta cautioned, knowing her employee’s penchant for working past her clock-out time.

  “Nelson’s working late tonight. I might as well do something productive.” She shrugged and grinned up at Henrietta.

  “Just as long as you’re sure.”

  “Absolutely. I’m hooked on this mystery.”

  Henrietta nodded and made her way back to the case she was cleaning. She was hooked as well, but for a different reason. Was it possible that her opposing bidder knew the true worth of the puzzle box? Was that the cause for the challenge?

  Scrunching up her nose, she reached for her phone and brought up the number of the estate auction supervisor.

  “Hello, Coast Estates Auction House. This is Millicent Bedford speaking.”

  “Hello, Millicent, this is Henrietta Hewitt of H.H. Antiques.”

  “Ah, Miss Hewitt, good to hear from you. I do hope this is not about any dissatisfaction of your purchases from our recent auction.”

  “No, nothing like that. I actually had a question regarding the auction.”

  “Yes?”

  Henrietta could picture Millicent. She was four years older and was a senior when Henrietta had gone into high school. Her light blonde hair had always been perfectly styled, and Henrietta was sure the same was true to this day.

  “I was curious if you had any extra information on the man whose estate was auctioned off.”

  “Did you get the info packet we sent in the mail?”

  “Yes.” She thought back to the generic biography that had been included. “It was…lacking.”

  “Well…” Henrietta could tell that it had been Millicent herself who had composed the packet. “I suppose there was more to the man than what was included, but we don’t have limitless funds with which to create materials and—"

  “I just want to know a little bit more about the house and the artifacts included in the auction. I’m sure it was too much information to send out in one small, well-written packet.” She shamelessly added the compliment hoping that the woman didn’t see it for what it was: pure bribery.

  “Oh, I’m pleased to know you thought that. I actually did compile quite a bit of research on Mister Patton. Would you like me to email it over?”

  “If you could, that would be wonderful.”

  “From one history lover to another, his backstory leaves quite the impression.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Ta-ta,” Millicent said before the line went dead.

  Knowing Millicent—or, more likely, her reputation—as Henrietta did, she had assumed this would be the case. The woman was thorough with a capital T.

  Only a few moments later, her phone buzzed, and she swiped it open to see the email from Millicent. As she navigated to her email, her finger paused over an unrecognized sender. The subject line was left blank, something that almost always made her click delete, but something about the email address made her tap it open.

  Printed in a strange font, the only text in the whole email was one line:

  Do not sell the puzzle box—or else!

  4

  “If you think that one threatening email, if you can even call it that, is going to keep me from putting the puzzle box up for the silent auction, you have completely lost your skills as a detective.”

  Ralph sat across from Henrietta at her kitchen table, Sepia prowling around their feet in search of dropped bits of the turkey sandwich Ralph had brought from the deli on the corner.

  “I don’t think that, but it is my suggestion.”

  “And when have you ever known me to turn tail and run when things get tough?”

  “Never, but—”

  “And who really thought that email would intimidate me? ‘Or else.’ What is that even supposed to mean? Or else they’ll throw eggs at my shop? Or else they’ll stick their tongue out at me? There are a lot of options here.”

  Ralph couldn’t help but grin at her tirade, something that made her even more incensed. “I’m serious, Ralph. What did they hope to accomplish?”

  “Fear?”

  She stopped pacing the small kitchen and stared him down, hands on hips. “Fear? From that terribly written, poorly communicated note? I mean, who threatens anyone with email?”

  “It is the twenty-first century, you know.”

  “That’s neither here nor there.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?” Now she threw her hands into the air in an act of exasperation. “Am I supposed to email them back and say ‘okie-dokie’? As if I’d cave that easily.”

  “I repeat, what are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Want me to have Scott look into it?”

  “Not yet. But maybe soon.”

  “Henri, what are you thinking?” Ralph’s eyes narrowed.

  “Honestly?” She slid into the chair opposite him. “I’m thinking that I need to figure out all I can about this puzzle box. And fast.”

  “How can I help?”

  His response surprised her. While they had collaborated on a few of his cases in the past, she’d never come to him with help. Then again, she’d never needed to. The question was, did the sender of the email have evil intentions, or were they perhaps the embittered bidder who hadn’t gotten what they wanted and resorted to sending threatening emails instead?

  “I’m honestly not sure.”

  He leaned back, his chair squeaking loudly and sending Sepia running off toward the living room. Henrietta stared into nothingness, contemplating her next move. She was spitting mad that someone had dared to threaten her, but she was also intrigued.

  “Perhaps you can ask around about Mister Gerald Patton for me.”

  “And he is?”

  “Was the man whose house we visited.”

  “Ah, rich, older man. Got it.”

  “A deceased, rich, older man, so please use tact.”

  “When am I not tactful?”

  She opened her mouth to reply but saw that Ralph’s eyes were twinkling.

  “Why am I here?” he said after she failed to respond.

  “Oh, yes, I need your assistance with weapons.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Pardon me?”

  “There’s a gun dating back to the Civil War and I need you to make sure it’s functional but also disarmed.”

  His grin widened. She knew he worked with Civil War reenactments and spent countless hours with old firearms, in addition to new ones. Locally, and even statewide, he was known as something of an expert. She could tell he was enjoying the fact that she’d called on his expertise for once.

  “Lead the way, madam,” he said, making an overexaggerated bow.

  She chose not to respond and headed back downstairs, Sepia trailing close behind. There was a cat door that allowed her full access to the whole house, but she often stayed where the action was. A girl after Henrietta’s own heart.

  “Say, Henri,” Ralph said, his voice distant behind her on the narrow back hallway that led to the office space on the main floor.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?’

  “At least a few more.” His smile was white teeth against darkness until she turned on the light, nearly bl
inding them both. “You’d think that a scared young woman trying to hide would leave a place where she was spotted, wouldn’t you?’

  “Yes. Of course. Why do you ask?” She knew he was talking about Cybil, but she wanted to hear his full explanation.

  “Cybil’s photo has been splashed all over news outlets—her parents’ doing. They are using social media to its fullest advantage posing as concerned parents who just want to find their daughter.”

  Henrietta stopped, spinning on her heel. “Posing?”

  Ralph grimaced. “I’m sure they care about her…”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It seems a bit much. I read her note and it sounded as if she was of sound mind and making a decision to try it on her own. What they’re doing is…over the top.”

  “You don’t agree with their tactics?”

  “I don’t agree with their motives.”

  “Which are?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Henrietta studied Ralph. He wasn’t one given to strictly following his gut instinct unless there was evidence to back it up, but in this case, he seemed to be solely working on instinct.

  “Perhaps it takes being in that situation to understand their perspective.”

  “If Scott went off on his own but left a note like she had… I don’t know.” He rubbed his neck again then followed her into the sitting room, where she had locked glass cases with firearms on display. “I would be concerned but I don’t think I’d go to their lengths. I’d have to trust that what he’d decided to do was best for him.”

  Henrietta pulled out the pistol and a length of velvet fabric, laying it over the top of a glass case nearby before she turned to him. “But you took their case.”

  “That was when I thought there was one.”

  “You don’t think Cybil is lost.”

  “I don’t know what to think of Cybil Markham, but I have a feeling she’s the furthest thing from lost. Her actions say…calculated.”

  That took Henrietta by surprise. “What are you going to do?”

  He grinned. “Seems like I was asking you that just a few minutes ago.”

  “Two peas in a pod,” she said, shrugging.

  “Yep.” He held her gaze for a little too long and she looked away and back to the gun between them. “I suppose we can both wait it out and see what happens. Together.”

  “I suppose.”

  The silence stretched between them, filled only with the sounds of metal parts clinking. Henrietta wasn’t sure what was more dangerous: a threatening email or being in accord with Ralph.

  * * *

  Henrietta needed coffee more than ever. She’d tossed and turned, her mind alternating between replaying her conversation with Ralph and scrolling the threatening email in front of her mind’s eye. It wasn’t so much a threat in the daylight, but last night, it had loomed more after Ralph’s caution. He, of course, was merely concerned with her well-being, but that made her jumpy.

  “Hen-ri-et-ta.” Gina sashayed out from behind the counter in Espresso Yourself with her arms outstretched. Her dyed, spiky black hair had pink tips and she wore so much jewelry she sounded like Ebenezer Scrooge’s chained ghost. “You look like you need about ten extra shots of espresso. Don’t worry, doll. We’ll get you fixed right up. But come here first.”

  Henrietta found herself being pulled into the perfume-scented embrace of her next-door neighbor, fellow business owner, and good friend, Gina Russo. Her Italian heritage to blame, or so she claimed, Gina had never met a stranger in her life and would offer you coffee or food no matter the time of day, believing that it fixed most things.

  “Are you ready for the festival? Only a few days before the proverbial flood gates are opened. I’ve been roasting coffee like my life depended on it.” She shook her head, the large, chunky earrings she wore swinging back and forth.

  “I think we’re just about there. I got a little distracted.” Henrietta thought of the puzzle box sitting in her safe. Should she seriously consider pulling it from the silent auction? Then again, how had someone even known she was going to auction it off? She hadn’t told anyone what her submission would be, not even Mayor Ricky. Interesting.

  “What do you have scampering around up there?” Gina asked, twirling her index finger in the air. “I see…something.”

  While Henrietta loved her friend, she also knew that the surest way to spread any news through the whole town was to tell Gina Russo.

  “Nothing. Just thinking about what’s still on my list.”

  “Oh, honey, it’ll get done. And what doesn’t wasn’t really that important to begin with.”

  Henrietta could argue that, thinking that she didn’t put anything on a list that wasn’t crucial, but there was no convincing Gina of something she held as a truism.

  “What do you have on special today for baked goods. I need coffee and some sort of pastry if I’m going to make it through the morning.”

  “Oh, do we have a treat for you,” Gina said, dodging a few customers as she walked around the counter. “These new lemon lavender scones are the absolute best thing you’ll ever taste. Scout’s honor.”

  “I somehow don’t think you were ever a scout,” Henrietta observed, “but I’ll take one nonetheless.”

  Gina let out a cackle of a laugh and reached into the glass case to retrieve a scone. “You’ve got it. And the usual for your drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Henrietta took a seat at one of the empty tables, eyeing the scone that Gina had slid into a small paper bag. It looked good and she was sure it would taste even better. Gina’s baker came in early every morning to bake. Sometimes Henrietta thought it would be the best job. Up early, baking in the quiet, and then going home. But then considering the fact she’d have to be up by four every morning, the reality was less enticing than it sounded.

  “Here you are,” Gina said, coming around the counter with a to-go cup containing Henrietta’s non-fat vanilla latte. “I put in an extra shot. I’m sure you’ll thank me later.”

  “I’ll thank you now,” she said with a laugh.

  Henrietta left the shop, the scent of coffee dissipating slightly in the open air. That was one great thing about being next to a coffee shop. You always had the slight scent of coffee to surround you.

  She stopped in front of her shop and envisioned the setup she would have for the festival. The front yard of H.H. Antiques was well maintained, the grass green and trimmed neatly thanks to her lawn maintenance man Donny. The flowers that edged the white picket fence shot up in a colorful array and added to the homey sense. She had debated what they would do to bring a little bit of the indoors outdoors and had decided on renting a large, white tent for the front yard. It would span across both sides of the lawn, leaving the pathway covered.

  Then, with the help of Ralph, Scott, and any other hands she could rope into service, they would bring out many of her larger antique items for display. She also wanted to use a few antique church pews and chairs to create an old-fashioned sitting area. Lastly, per Olivia’s suggestion, they were going to pull out some of the items to create a type of photo booth at the back.

  The idea was to utilize social media and hashtags—however that worked. Henrietta still wasn’t completely sure, but she was letting Olivia run with that part. If it gained her business, she was happy to do it.

  “You look like someone who is surveying their kingdom.”

  Henrietta turned to see Scott, Ralph’s son and co-investigator, standing with his hands on his hips.

  “I’m mentally preparing for all of the work we’re going to do once the tent is up.”

  He grinned. “Dad told me I was being roped into service. Anything to help you, Henrietta.”

  “You are rather wonderful,” she said, patting his cheek in a motherly way. She’d known Scott since he was born and felt a sense of maternal pride over the boy.

  “Morning,” a singsong voice said. They both turned to see Olivia ride up on her bike. She hopped off, her t-strap sandals clacking on the pavement.

  “H-hi, Olivia,” Scott said.

  Henrietta didn’t miss the way that Scott’s neck reddened at the sight of the young woman. It was a shame she was already dating someone.

  “What are you both doing out here?” she said, looking between them then up at the large, three-story Victorian that housed H.H. Antiques as well as Henrietta’s living quarters.