A Bidder End

by Ellery Adams

  “I saw Iris at the auction,” Molly said. “She tried to talk to you, but you brushed her off. Why didn’t you want to talk to her?”

  Sabrina leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Iris recently stole some money from me,” she said, “when she was cleaning my house. I fired her, but she keeps trying to talk to me about it, to get her job back. I told her I have nothing more to say on the subject.”

  “She denies stealing the money?”

  “Yes, of course she does,” Sabrina said. “She should be grateful I didn’t report her to the police, or tell my father. If I had, she’d never work again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “I feel sorry for her,” Sabrina said. “And it wasn’t a lot of money, forty bucks, that’s all. I did warn her if my father ever told me money was missing from his house, or anything else for that matter, I’d back him up in reporting her. I’m hoping the threat scared her and it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Are you accusing her of stealing the cookie jars, because you believe she stole forty dollars from you?”

  “Yes, and because of the pawn being in the jar,” Sabrina said. “It’s simple math, Molly. Put two and two together, you get Iris.”

  “Any idea why the cookie jar was at Brett’s?”

  “I can’t help you with that,” Sabrina said. “Like I said, ask Iris. Maybe she can tell you.” Her cell phone lit up again. “My father won’t stop calling until I talk to him. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to talk to him in private.”

  Molly gathered up her things. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said.

  Chapter 8

  It was almost noon on Tuesday when Molly walked into the Treasure Trove. Sean was behind the counter taking glasses out of a box. He was a big man with a neatly trimmed goatee and long silver hair tied back in a ponytail. Molly had been surprised when her mother fell in love with him, since he was so different from the bookish men she usually dated. But after getting to know him, Molly realized he was perfect for her. Sean had led an interesting life before he’d retired and moved to Vermont. He’d worked on oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico, had lived in the Middle East, and had traveled the world. He was charming and intelligent, and without a doubt he was the love of her life. He greeted Molly with a smile and called over his shoulder, “Clara, Molly’s here.”

  “I’m coming,” Clara’s voice shouted back from the office.

  Molly picked up one of the glasses. “Absinthe?”

  “They are, indeed, absinthe glasses, and I have the decanter, too,” he said. “I was thinking about buying a bottle of absinthe and filling the decanter to show it off, but your mother thinks buyers might actually drink it, and we can’t be responsible for making anyone tipsy.”

  Molly laughed. “Yeah, probably better to drop some green food coloring into water,” she said. “I tried absinthe once. I didn’t care for the licorice flavor. Where did you find this set?”

  “An estate sale in Boston,” he said. “These beauties are from France. I’d date them between 1880 and 1900. Got them for a song at a hundred.”

  “That’s a good deal,” she said. “How much are you asking?”

  “Five hundred,” he said. “You interested?”

  “Thanks, but no. They’re a little pricey for me.”

  “Your mother told me you got a raise,” he said.

  “Yes, I did, but if I’m going to start filling my house with more antiques, I’ll need a much bigger raise.”

  “So, that’s a pass?”

  “Yes, thank you very much,” she said.

  Clara walked out of the office carrying a stuffed panda bear. “Starling called. She wanted to know if I had Tyler’s bear, and lo and behold, I do.” She handed the panda bear to Molly. “I thought I’d packed it in your bag the last time he was here, but it was in the office.”

  Molly stuffed the bear into her bag. “Have you heard about Brett Hamilton?”

  “Yes, Starling told us,” Clara said. “She said Lombardi called you this morning, and you went out to Brett’s house. Is it true he took his own life?”

  “Lombardi and the coroner seem to think so, but they haven’t done the autopsy yet.”

  “I hear doubt in your voice,” Clara said. “You don’t believe it, do you?”

  “No, I don’t, Ma. Brett was on cloud nine after the auction. He had no reason to kill himself. And he was concerned about his girlfriend, Helen, who’d run off after the auction without telling anyone where she was going. He called me last night to ask if I could talk to Lombardi about what to do. Lombardi put out an alert for her. Brett was waiting to hear back.” She went on to tell them about how Jasper held Helen overnight at the motel, her escape, and finding Brett at the farmhouse that morning. “She called it in, but was so upset she didn’t talk to the police until hours later when Lombardi and I went to the hospital to see her. He’s going to the motel with a SWAT team hoping to arrest Jasper but doubts he’ll still be there.” She took her phone out and pulled up the photos of the cookie jar. “While I was at Brett’s, I found this cookie jar on his kitchen table, with a purple pawn piece in it. You can see by the marking the jar is a McCoy. Julian told me it was stolen three weeks ago from the shop, with five others cookie jars. I thought it looked out of place in Brett’s house. You know he didn’t like things cluttering up his space.”

  “Yes, he was rather OCD,” Clara said. “The jar is a pretty little thing. I’m not surprised it’s a McCoy. They were known for their whimsical cookie jars.”

  Sean said, “Looks like it’s in excellent condition, too.”

  “Julian said a woman gave the six jars to Brett to sell, but not on consignment. She just gave them to him.”

  Sean reached under the counter for a notepad and pen. “What do the other five jars look like?”

  “Four were McCoys. The picnic basket, a pig, Bobbie the Baker, and a clown in a barrel. The other two were a little lamb by American Bisque Pottery Company and a Cinderella pumpkin coach by Brush Pottery Company.”

  Sean wrote down the descriptions. “I’ll ask around to our dealers, see if anyone knows anything about the jars. If someone stole them from Laurel Wreath, they could be shopping them around to sell on consignment.”

  Clara said, “It’s possible you’re reading too much into the cookie jar. After all, it is just a cookie jar, and it was in Brett’s kitchen, which is appropriate, even for someone as OCD as Brett.”

  “I know, Ma, but it was a stolen cookie jar. What was it doing in his house? And there’s also the purple pawn. I ran into Sabrina Dolan at Java Jitters before I got here, and she told me I should talk to her father’s housekeeper, Iris Jefferson. She said Iris collects cookie jars and plays board games.”

  Sean said, “Well, it sounds like you’ve already solved the case. Iris killed Brett, and she left a nice calling card behind to prove it.”

  Molly looked at him. “What?”

  “The cookie jar, and a pawn from a game. Sabrina figured it all out.”

  Clara said, “He’s joking, dear. Aren’t you, Sean?”

  “Actually, I think it’s Sabrina who’s joking,” he said. “You ask me, she sounds like she doesn’t like Iris, and she’s trying to get her in trouble.”

  “You could be right,” Molly said. “Sabrina said she fired Iris because she thinks she stole forty dollars from her. But I don’t think Iris could have killed Brett. I saw her at the auction yesterday. She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”

  “Does Lombardi know about Iris?”

  “Not yet,” Molly said. “I saw Sabrina ten minutes ago. Anyway, I’m not officially on the case. Anything I do I’m doing as a reporter.”

  “And what exactly are you doing?”

  “Talking to people,” Molly said. “I have to write an article about the auction anyway. Who better to talk to all the people Brett’s been around over the last few months? I thought I’d drop by the Dolans’ house and talk to everyone who works there. Atlas told me I could.�
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  “You met Atlas Dolan?”

  Molly told them about the auction and meeting the famous actor. Clara fanned her face when she told her how handsome he was in person. “He’s even better looking than he is on the big screen,” Molly said. “And his wife is a knockout. Which isn’t all that surprising, I suppose, since he’s rich and famous. Why would he marry anyone who wasn’t gorgeous?”

  Sean said, “Love comes to mind.”

  Clara sighed. “My darling husband,” she said and kissed him. Sean beamed. Clara turned to Molly. “This is all very exciting, but now I have to be your mother and remind you that you’ve had some very dangerous encounters with criminals in the past, and if Brett’s death does turn out to be murder, you’re going to be back in the thick of it. Don’t forget, your life has changed since you had Tyler. It isn’t only about you and Matt anymore.”

  “I promise, Ma, I’ll be super careful. If I do uncover something important, I’ll let Lombardi know right away.”

  “Even as a child, you had strong convictions,” Clara said. “You’ve never backed down from doing what’s right in your mind. Which is why I know my warning is futile. You won’t listen to me.”

  “I always listen to you,” Molly said.

  “But you don’t always take my advice.”

  The bell on the door jingled, saving Molly from having to reply. Herschel Sheridan had walked in, and he was someone she wanted to see.

  “Hello, everyone,” Herschel said. “Molly, nice to see you. Is Tyler here?”

  “No, not today,” Molly said. “You’re looking well.”

  Herschel was in his late seventies but looked ten years younger. He credited his good health to walking four miles a day and limiting his sweets to one cookie per day. Molly didn’t know how he did it. It wasn’t even noon yet, and she’d already consumed a plate of French toast and a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie.

  “Better than poor Brett Hamilton,” he said. “Have you all heard the news?”

  “Yes, we have,” Sean said. “We were just discussing it.”

  “I was at Laurel Wreath last night,” Herschel said. “Brett showed me a Dahlgren Bayonet knife. He didn’t seem ill. I can’t imagine what happened. The news report I heard didn’t say how he died.”

  Molly, Clara, and Sean were silent. They all knew how Brett died, but they weren’t going to give out any information to Herschel without Lombardi’s blessing.

  “I saw Julian this morning,” Molly said. “He told me you passed on the knife.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad, since I would have loved to have added it to my inventory, but Brett was asking a steep price, and he wouldn’t come down.”

  “Do you know if he had another buyer coming in?”

  “I have no idea,” Herschel said. “He didn’t say much. He seemed preoccupied.”

  He was preoccupied with Helen’s disappearance, Molly thought.

  “Do you remember what he did with the knife when you were done looking at it?”

  “He put it back in its sheath,” Herschel said.

  “Did he put it in a box?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Did you notice anyone hanging around his office? Was there someone waiting to see him?”

  Herschel thought a moment. “There was no one hanging around his office, but I did see Julian and another clerk, a young woman with long blond braided hair. She was talking to a customer.”

  He had described Sabrina. “Do you know who the braided girl was talking to?”

  “No. I’ve never seen the girl before, but I can describe her. She had short brown hair and the most enormous brown eyes. It’s not easy to forget those eyes. They were like the eyes of a doe, rather sad and soulful, I thought.”

  Now he’s describing Iris, Molly thought. She must have gone back to Laurel Wreath to try to talk to Sabrina again. “Did you happen to overhear their conversation?”

  “No, I was on my way out the door,” Herschel said. “But why are you asking? What do you know that they’re not telling me?”

  Clara and Sean suddenly busied themselves with the absinthe glasses. They were going to leave this to Molly.

  “Brett’s death appears to be a suicide,” Molly said. “But it’s not for sharing with anyone until you hear it’s been made public.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Herschel said. “But suicide? I have to say, I’m shocked to hear it. Brett didn’t seem suicidal last night. He told me he was pleased with how the auction went. He thought it was going to do wonders for Laurel Wreath, not to mention his reputation.” He sighed heavily. “I suppose you never really know what’s going on inside someone’s head, do you?”

  Chapter 9

  Starling and Tyler were on the backyard patio sitting in the shade of the table umbrella when Molly got home. Starling was reading a book, and Tyler was in his outdoor playpen surrounded by stuffed animals. Molly lifted him up, gave him a cuddle and a kiss, and pulled out a chair to sit down.

  “What have you two been up to?”

  Starling put her book on the table. “We took a long walk this morning, and played with that new toy Clara gave him . . . the animal book where you press on the animals and they make all the appropriate sounds? No offense to your mom, but it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

  Molly laughed. “It’s supposed to be educational,” she said, bouncing Tyler on her knee.

  “I hope it’s all right, I told your mother about Brett,” Starling said.

  “I stopped by the Treasure Trove to see her and Sean, and we talked about it.”

  “Uncle Matt said you were going over to Brett’s house this morning. What was it like?”

  “Terrible,” Molly said. “I’m not buying it’s a suicide.” She told her about Helen and Jasper, the cookie jar and pawn, and her conversations with Helen, Sabrina and Herschel. “I’m learning things about Brett I didn’t know, and don’t like. I think he might have used Sabrina and Helen to get Atlas to sign up with him for the auction. Of course, if it is true, that means Sabrina and Helen both had a motive to kill him, if they felt he’d betrayed them. I also think the whole Jasper story Helen told us could be a ruse. Maybe she and Brett weren’t such a happy couple, and she killed him with Jasper’s help.”

  “Or maybe Sabrina, knowing about Jasper, enticed him to come to Vermont to try to win Helen back,” Starling said. “If Helen had agreed to go to California with him, that would have ended her relationship with Brett, and Sabrina could have another shot at him. But maybe I’m wrong, because why would Helen want to go back to her ex-con ex-husband?”

  “She didn’t want to press charges against him, which tells me she might still have feelings for him,” Molly said.

  “Maybe Jasper went to the farmhouse to confront Brett, not meaning to kill him, but something happened, and he did kill him, and then he tried to cover it up by making it look like a suicide.”

  Molly looked at her. “I had no idea you had a mind for solving murders,” she said. “Is this a new interest of yours, or have you been hanging around me too long and I’m a bad influence?”

  Starling held up the book she was reading. “It’s a mystery by Ann Cleeves,” she said. “She’s one of my favorite authors, along with Agatha Christie, of course. I love trying to figure out who did it. I didn’t say anything to you or Uncle Matt because I didn’t want you think I wanted to be Tyler’s nanny so I could be close to the action, so to speak. But I’ve read all your articles about the murders you’ve solved, and I think you’re pretty amazing.” She smiled, and her eyes were bright. She reminded Molly of herself. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “You’re doing it right now, by listening to me and tossing out ideas,” Molly said. “I appreciate having you as a sounding board. My mother’s always helped me this way, and Matt has, too. Even Sean’s getting in on it. Good grief. I think I’ve converted the whole family.”

  Starling laughed. “Wait until Tyler gets old enough to start solving mysteries,”
she said. “He’ll probably want to help, too.”

  “Don’t tell my mother,” Molly said. She heard her phone ringing in the house. “Excuse me, I better get that.” She handed Tyler to Starling and opened the screen door to the kitchen. Her phone was on the counter. Lombardi was calling. “Please tell me you’ve arrested Jasper,” she said.

  “I wish I could,” Lombardi said, “but he isn’t at the motel, and there’s no sign of him at Helen’s. The motel manager said he checked in three weeks ago and paid in cash through next Friday.”

  “He’s been here that long? That means he could have stolen the cookie jars.”

  “There’s no sign of any cookie jars in his room,” he said. “However, we did find his duffle bag, which is filled with his clothes. And there’s a backpack with pieces of rope, a roll of duct tape, a hatchet, shovel, and a disposable razor blade.”

  Molly’s eyebrows shot up. “Why does he need a hatchet and a shovel?”

  “I’m thinking whatever he was planning to do to Helen, it might have gone far beyond tying her up.”

  “Oh, my God,” Molly said. “That destroys a theory Starling and I were discussing. I told her how I ran into Sabrina at Java Jitters, and we thought maybe she’d planned on reuniting a lovelorn Jasper with his long-lost ladylove so Helen would go back to California with him, and then she could have Brett all to herself. But if Jasper was planning to kill Helen, that changes everything.”

  “We don’t know anything for certain, but the contents of his backpack are suspicious,” he said. “When did you talk to Sabrina?”

  “Right after I left the hospital,” Molly said. “I’ll tell you about it in a minute. First, I want to know what else you found.”

  “That’s it for the motel room,” he said. “Jasper did rent a car, but it’s not here.”

  “Have you told Helen?”