by Ellery Adams
A Bidder End
When a retired Hollywood A-lister decides to auction off part of his enviable collection of antiques, reporter Molly Appleby is thrilled to be covering the event for Collector’s Weekly, and she’s certain it will secure the reputation of the dealer handling it, a friend of hers. But soon after the final gavel comes down, the actor’s secretary vanishes and the antiques dealer is found dead, apparently having taken his own life. Molly’s not sold on the coroner’s verdict of suicide, though, and she can’t help but start digging for clues to what she suspects is foul play.
As she begins to delve into the private life of her friend and his connections with the actor’s staff, Molly slowly discovers that the dealer was far more unscrupulous than she ever imagined and that nearly everyone who knew him had a motive for murder. And when another body turns up and the devious killer begins leaving mysterious clues to taunt Molly and the police, Molly finds herself facing a cunning culprit who wants to see her going, going, gone . . .
Title Page

Copyright
Beyond the Page Books
are published by
Beyond the Page Publishing
www.beyondthepagepub.com
Copyright © 2019 by Ellery Adams and Parker Riggs.
Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs
ISBN: 978-1-946069-98-6
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Contents
A Bidder End
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Books by Ellery Adams
Books by Parker Riggs
About the Authors
Chapter 1
Molly Appleby felt like the luckiest person in the world. Or, at the very least, in the state of Vermont. Ten months ago, she and her husband, Matt Harrison, had welcomed their son, Tyler Jerome Harrison, into the world. And two days ago, she’d received a long-awaited raise from Carl Swanson, her stingy boss at Collector’s Weekly. Swanson had never quite forgiven Molly for relocating from North Carolina to Vermont for Matt’s surgical residency at the University of Vermont Medical Center. For the last two years, he’d been holding the promise of a raise over her head, but Molly had finally had enough. She’d told him she wasn’t going to cover the Atlas Dolan auction, or write any more articles, until he gave her a raise. When he balked, she threatened to quit, which finally got his attention. He offered her an amount that was far more than she’d expected. Which, of course, only made her wish she’d heeded Matt’s advice—which he’d been giving her for over a year—to give Swanson an ultimatum. Seeing how easily he’d caved, she realized she should have listened to Matt.
Thinking about Matt made her smile. He was a wonderful husband, completely devoted to her and Tyler. In fact, she was a little jealous of the bond the two of them shared. Whenever Tyler was given the choice of going to her or Matt, he always reached for his father, and when he was in Matt’s arms, he always fell fast asleep, totally relaxed in his arms. This rarely happened when Molly held him. Tyler always seemed to be wide awake and on high alert when he was with her. Her mother said this was because he was busy watching her for his next meal. She’d also pointed out, more than once, that in this respect he was a lot like Molly. The baby liked to eat!
Powering open the sunroof of her Audi, Molly breathed in the fresh mountain air. She was driving on a country road on a summer day in late July surrounded by rolling hills and farmland. The weather was warm, but not humid, as it would be in North Carolina, and she was on her way to cover the auction of the famous actor Atlas Dolan. Atlas was a man who for thirty years had amassed a private collection of antiques, artwork, and jewelry, and he’d chosen her friend Brett Hamilton to hold an auction of some of those treasures.
Molly loved Brett’s shop. Laurel Wreath Antiques and Auction House was located on six acres of land that had once been a working farm but was now a meadow of grass and wildflowers. He’d renovated the barn for the shop and lived in the farmhouse at the other end of the meadow. Molly thought the barn was so beautiful it could be featured in Architectural Digest. Brett had kept many of its original features, including structural posts, wood beams, and flooring. The farmhouse, on the other hand, was still a work in progress.
As Molly turned into the parking lot, she wasn’t at all surprised to see it was crowded. For months, Collector’s Weekly, along with other news outlets, had been advertising the event, and the publicity had paid off. Finding a parking space was going to be a challenge, and she wished she had gotten there earlier. Then she remembered there was a smaller lot around the back, near the loading dock. This lot was also quickly filling up, but counting herself lucky again, she managed to find a space.
Switching off the car engine, Molly reached for her stylish diaper bag. It was beige and ebony with brown leather trim and had a fold-out padded changing mat. Although you’d never know it to look at it. Matt had given the bag to her as a gift after Tyler was born. It could handle the job of being a purse and a carry-all for extra diapers, bottles, toys, snacks, and anything else she found herself lugging around. She missed using her vintage Chanel, which was her favorite purse, but the diaper bag was far more practical.
Digging around in the bag, she found a comb tucked into one of the pockets. She combed her shoulder-length brown hair and added pink lip gloss to her full lips. Molly was a large, full-figured woman, with curvy hips and slate gray eyes. She wore off-the-rack, comfortable clothes and sensible shoes. Unlike her mother, Clara Appleby, who couldn’t understand how the shopping gene had skipped past Molly, since both she and her mother loved to shop and were always impeccably dressed.
Getting out of the car, Molly looped the strap of the bag over her shoulder. With the sun in her eyes, she couldn’t see who called out, “Molly! Wait up!” Shielding her eyes with her hand, she saw Julian McGregor walking through
the meadow. Brett had cut a path through the tall grasses to make a way to go by foot from his home to his business. Julian was the assistant manager of Laurel Wreath and Brett’s right-hand man.
“I didn’t meant to startle you,” he said. Julian had flaming red hair that stood up like it was in a state of static electricity, and his freckled skin was pinking from the sun. “What are you doing out here in the hinterlands of the parking lot?”
“I got one of the last available spaces,” she said. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re going to be on the verge of an overflow soon.”
He looked around. “Wow. The crowd has grown since I went up to the house to get this for Brett.” He lifted a shoebox he was carrying. “Have you ever seen a Dahlgren Bayonet?”
“No. What is it?”
Julian opened the box. Inside was a leather sheath with an aged patina. He picked up the sheath, grasped the wooden handgrip, and pulled out a twelve-inch-long knife blade.
“The Dahlgren Bayonet was used by the Union Navy in the Civil War,” he said.
“It looks like a regular knife. Why is it called a bayonet?”
He slid the blade back into its sheath. “It was first called the Dahlgren bowie knife when it was designed by Admiral John A. Dahlgren, a Navy man.” He put the knife back in the box and closed the lid. “It was intended to be a bayonet on the 1861 model of the Plymouth/Whitneyville rifle, but Dahlgren said it was, and I quote, ‘the most useless thing in the world except at the end of a musket.’ They don’t fit the 1861 model. Anyway, he wanted something his sailors could use as a working tool, and for close combat on a ship, and that’s how it came about being a knife.” He tucked the box under his arm as they walked. “Brett has a potential buyer coming in tonight to see it,” he said. “It’s been crazy around here these last few months getting ready for the auction. He forgot he left it at home this morning.”
“I spoke to Brett on the phone the other day, and he promised he’d sit down with me for an interview.”
“I’ve got your name on a list,” he said. “I’ll be getting in touch with everyone to set something up. But first things first. Fingers crossed the auction goes off without a hitch.”
“I’m curious, how did Brett convince Atlas Dolan to sign on with him? There are prominent auction houses on the east and west coast that have been vying for his business for years, and he’s never agreed to one.”
“I know, it’s amazing, and it basically happened in two stages,” he said. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Atlas’s daughter, Sabrina Dolan, is one of our sales associates.”
“Was she his secret weapon?”
“Sabrina did try to talk her father into it, but Atlas resisted. He told her since they’d just moved here from California, he didn’t want to deal with it. Fast-forward eight months, Brett is dating Atlas’s personal assistant, Helen Hughes, and she was able to persuade him.”
They reached the front door. Julian held it open for her, and Molly stepped inside a shop buzzing with excitement. The store itself was open for business, but most people weren’t shopping, they were heading to the auction room at the rear of the barn. When the auction room wasn’t in use, Brett closed it off with sliding barn doors, but that afternoon the doors were wide open, and Molly could see display cabinets had been set up along the walls to showcase some of the smaller items being auctioned.
“This is so exciting,” she said. “You can really feel the energy.”
Julian made no reply, and Molly wondered if he’d heard her. She didn’t think he had. He was too busy staring at a young woman behind the registration desk. She was fine-boned, with a flawless complexion, and long blond hair she wore in a braid down her back. She was signing up bidders at the desk and assigning them numbers.
“Is the girl a friend of yours?”
“Huh?” Julian looked at her. “What?”
“I was asking if the blond girl at the table is a friend of yours. You can’t seem to take your eyes off her.”
“Oh.” Julian’s face turned a crimson red that matched his hair. “That’s Sabrina Dolan.”
“She’s very pretty,” Molly said. “Have you asked her out?”
Julian shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare. She’s way out of my league.” He wrenched his eyes away from Sabrina and smiled at Molly, but it was a chilly smile, and she hoped she hadn’t embarrassed him. “It’s been great to see you,” he said. “I’ll be in touch to set up an interview with Brett. Right now, I’ve got to get this knife over to his office. Bidding starts soon.”
“It was nice to see you, too,” she said, but Julian had already hurried away.
The auction room was filling up, and Molly was being jostled by people pushing past her. She stepped out of the way and looked around at the chattering groups that were forming, recognizing a few local dealers among them. Almost everyone was drinking champagne and enjoying hors d’oeuvres served by black-tied waiters carrying silver trays. One stopped in front of Molly.
“Would you like an appetizer?”
“What have you got?”
“Goat cheese with arugula, avocado, and thinly sliced prosciutto on a cracked wheat cracker.”
“Sounds delicious.” Molly took two of the tiny morsels on a small cocktail napkin. As the waiter moved away, another with champagne took his place. Molly took a glass and noticed it wasn’t plastic, but real crystal. Brett, and Atlas, had spared no expense.
Molly ate her crackers and sipped her champagne. When she saw Brett in the crowd, she waved at him, hoping to catch his eye. He saw her and headed over. In his spare time he ran marathons, and looked like it, with his lanky frame and narrow shoulders.
Brett gave her a hug. “Molly, I’m so glad you could come,” he said.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world, and not just because I’m covering it for the magazine,” she said. “You must be pleased by the turnout.”
“It’s incredible,” he said. “More than I hoped for.”
“Is Atlas Dolan here?”
“Look to your right,” he said.
Molly turned her head, and sucked in her breath. There he was, in all his movie-star glory, a statuesque man with dark hair graying at the temples, chiseled cheekbones, and a charming one-sided smile.
“He’s even more good-looking in person,” she said a little breathlessly. “Who’s that man he’s talking to?”
“Milo Stanton.”
Molly looked at Brett. “Your former boss at Oldman and Stanton? The vulture?”
“The one and only,” he said. “The woman in the black dress is Milo’s wife, who’s a perfectly nice woman. God only knows what she’s doing with Milo. The woman in the red dress is Whitney Dolan, Atlas’s wife.”
Molly thought Whitney had to be around the same age as Atlas’s daughter, Sabrina. She was also very blond, and very pretty. “She looks like she could be a model,” Molly said. “Is she famous?”
“The only thing she’s famous for is being married to Atlas,” he said. “They had a baby last year, too. Katie just turned a year old.”
“I wish I looked as good as Whitney. I’m still trying to lose the ten pounds I gained when I was pregnant.”
“I think you look terrific,” he said. “Motherhood has given you a special glow.”
Molly laughed. “I think you’re confusing special glow for exhaustion,” she said. “Most days, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch since Tyler was born,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to stop by to see you.”
“Hey, it’s a two-way street, and I’m just as much to blame for not coming by the shop, or the farmhouse. How are the renovations going?”
“Slowly,” he said. “Since I showed you the kitchen reno last year, I’ve gotten little else done. It’s going to take a lot more money than I thought it would, and a lot more time.”
“Well, you did a fabulous job with the barn, and that was the priority, right?”
“Yes, it had to be,” he said. “No business, no money.”
“I met Julian on the way in,” she said. “He told me you’ve been planning the auction for months.”
“I had a lot of help, not just from my staff, but also from Atlas’s personal assistant, Helen Hughes. She’s been a godsend.” He nodded at a woman who was walking over to them. “And there she is,” he said.
Helen had brown hair cut stylishly shorter in the back than the front. She was in her mid-thirties, and wore a well-cut gray suit and black pumps. Molly thought she looked very professional.
Brett said, “Helen, this is Molly Appleby. She writes for Collector’s Weekly.”
Helen put out her hand. She had a strong handshake. “I’ve heard about you, Molly, and not just from Brett. Atlas is a subscriber to Collector’s Weekly. I know he’d love to meet you.”
“Really?” Molly felt a little giddy. Atlas Dolan wanted to meet her?
Helen touched Brett’s arm. “We’ll be starting in about fifteen minutes, and Julian needs to go over a few things with you.”
“That’s my cue to get a move on,” Brett said. “Molly, make sure you grab a seat in the front row before they’re snapped up.”
Helen said, “He’s right about the seats. They’ll fill up fast.”
“I plan on standing in the back,” Molly said. She wasn’t sure how long the auction was going to last, and she wanted to be home by six to start dinner. Standing in the back ensured she could slip out the door unnoticed.
“Did Brett tell you we’re dating?”
Molly looked at her. It seemed like a strange question to ask. “Actually, it was Julian who told me,” she said.
“Oh. I guess he didn’t have a chance to tell you. Anyway, we met last April, in the park. He was out for a jog, and I was sitting on a bench. He stopped and said hello.”
“I heard you were instrumental in getting Atlas to agree to the auction.”
“His wife, Whitney, helped,” Helen said. “She’s been trying to get him to do it for years. He didn’t really have a choice.”
