Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

  “Do you have the old schematic drawings for other buildings on Main Street?” I asked. “Or possibly a map? I’m interested in Royalle’s Fine Jewelry and Moore’s Hardware, specifically.”

  “I wish we did,” he said. “There used to be a whole set. We had all of them stored in the back, but when it came time to put them on display, most of them had crumbled. Sometimes, despite all our best efforts, paper items are too fragile. And unfortunately, a lot of things were destroyed during the robbery.”

  “What can you tell us about that?”

  “About a year ago, a couple of people broke in. We’re not sure what they were after, but they didn’t get away with anything. The police caught one of them. However, they made a huge mess. As you can imagine, we have hundreds of items in the back waiting to be catalogued.” He gestured to the stack of photos. “Here’s an example. People donate items, and we have to sift through them to see if there’s anything of historic value. Well, we came in the next morning to find practically everything in the department on the floor.”

  Jared’s unfortunate brush with the law. “Did the thieves get anything valuable?”

  “No, thank goodness. We have Charles Park’s gold cuff links, lots of jewelry, old money that’s very rare, antique guns and swords. They didn’t come anywhere near those items. We were lucky these robbers were so clueless. The paper you’re looking for probably got crushed underfoot when they tried to get away. However, you might try the city offices or the courthouse. A lot of times they have duplicate records.”

  We thanked the curator and found Mom all the way up to the Eighties. “This is fascinating, Davey. Did you know your old movie theater was once a vaudeville house and then a disco? Seems to me you and Barbara enjoyed dancing.”

  “We did for a while.” We enjoyed a lot of things for a while: dancing, hiking, being a family. That was over and gone.

  We reached the last exhibits. Mom admired the display of Parkland Now with the three tall buildings people like to call skyscrapers. “Well, here we are: Modern Parkland. It’s a lovely city.”

  “With plenty of room, if you want to stay.”

  “That’s sweet, dear, but I’ll be heading back to Florida.”

  And to Grady, I thought, but I didn’t say it. “Camden needs to get Ellin a Christmas present. Do you mind if we stop by the jewelry store?”

  “Do I ever say no to a jewelry store?”

  ***

  Royalle’s was crowded with Christmas shoppers. Gert, J.C., and Sim all greeted me. I introduced Mom and Camden and told Gert we needed a gift for Camden’s girlfriend. While she showed him an array of glittery things, Mom checked out the rings. I showed Camden the pocket watch.

  “This is like Dad’s.” Sim got it out of the case for me. I opened it, and “Grandpa’s Spells” rang out. “Dad’s played ‘Twelfth Street Rag.’”

  Mom took the watch for closer inspection. “Somebody in the family must have it. This is going to worry me until I find out who. How much is that one, Davey?”

  “Fifteen hundred.”

  “Oo, my. Put it back.”

  Camden looked at the tray of rings. I knew he wanted to buy one. “Go ahead and do it.”

  “An engagement ring at Christmas is so romantic,” Gert said, “and we have these beautiful little gold boxes.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you kidding? You know she’d take it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Now, don’t rush him,” Mom said. “It’s huge decision. You ought to know that, David.”

  Camden reached for one of the sapphires, and then stopped. “I’d really like to choose one she’s picked out.”

  “So drag her in here,” I said.

  Camden smiled at Gert Fagan, who was poised to wrap up his choice. “Thanks, but I need to think about it some more.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  No sale at Royalle’s today.

  There was a burst of laughter at the other counter. Sim had gone to the back and returned dressed as an elf. Not to be outdone, J.C. appeared in a Santa hat that spelled out “Merry Christmas” in flashing lights. The customers laughed and made admiring comments. Petey looked cheerful and relaxed.

  Gert chuckled as Sim attempted an elf dance. “They knew Petey needed a laugh today.”

  “The hat’s a nice touch,” I said.

  Petey came over, and I introduced him to Mom. While she was enjoying more of Sim’s antics, I told Petey what I’d found out so far.

  “I think the robbery at Carlene’s rules out your employees,” I said. “Do you have any blueprints or drawings of this store?”

  “My dad has all that stuff. He keeps saying he wants to write the history of Royalle’s.”

  “What’s under the store?”

  “A basement, but it’s very old. I keep some things down there, but nothing valuable. Cleaning supplies, light bulbs, extra cardboard boxes.”

  “Is it possible there’s a tunnel connecting Royalle’s to another store?”

  “A tunnel?”

  “Mom and I were touring the museum, and I saw a map of this area of town with several tunnels.”

  “I’ve never heard of any, but if they exist, my dad would know about it.”

  “I’d like to talk with him.”

  “Let me write down his number. Oh, and I talked with several other jewelry shop owners in town. They don’t remember a Jared Hunter, sorry. Maybe he had another source for his jewelry.”

  Maybe he stole it, I thought, but I hoped that wasn’t the case.

  Mom came back, still beaming at the kids. “They look adorable. David, you used to dress up as an elf, remember?”

  “No, Mom. I’ve blanked out that time of my life.”

  “I’d like to hear about that,” Camden said.

  “Forget it.” Petey handed me a piece of paper with his father’s phone number. “Thanks, Petey. Mom, are you ready for lunch?”

  “I’m always ready for lunch.”

  I told Petey I’d check with him later, sent Camden a look and a message that said, “Mention the elf and die,” and held the door for Mom. “Let’s go to the Elms.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Lift up Thy Voice With Strength”

  The Elms is one of my favorite restaurants. It’s not too fancy. The tables are separated by palms and other plants, so you always have privacy. We managed to beat the lunch crowd and waited only a few minutes for a table.

  Mom opened her menu. “Now we have to think of something for Ellin. Leave it to me.”

  I can see it now: a leopard print thong.

  “I want to hear about Randall the Christmas Elf,” Camden said.

  Unfortunately, the Elms has a policy against strangling your friends at the table. “Did you not hear the special thought I sent your way?”

  Mom patted my arm. “Oh, he was the dearest thing. You see, his father always dressed up as Santa and went through the neighborhood. When David was old enough, we dressed him up as a little elf and let him go along.”

  Camden gave me his most innocent look. “I don’t know why you never shared this special Christmas memory. You wouldn’t happen to have any pictures, would you, Sophia?”

  “I’m sure I do. I’ll send you one. That reminds me, I want to take pictures of everyone to show Grady.”

  I swear I could hear my back teeth grind. If I didn’t change the subject, we’d be having a Grady lunch. “Isn’t there anything at Tamara’s Ellin would like?”

  Camden wasn’t sure. “Ellie tends to dress a little more conservatively. Besides, have you seen the prices on Tamara’s stuff?”

  “Don’t you get a discount?”

  “I can wear only so many pairs of stiletto heels.”

 
“I thought you looked taller.”

  Mom had a few suggestions. “Perhaps something for her office. She’s quite the career girl. A nice attaché case?”

  “I was hoping to find something a little more romantic,” Camden said.

  The waitress came for our order. Mom decided on the grilled chicken salad. I ordered a club sandwich and fries. Camden chose a cheeseburger, and everyone had iced tea.

  The waitress took our menus. “Be right back with your drinks.”

  Mom unwrapped her silverware from her napkin. “Well, there’s always lingerie. Do you want to get that personal?”

  I grinned. “They can’t get any more personal.”

  Camden had to admit there was a nightgown at Tamara’s he liked. “But it’s all pink lace, very fancy.”

  “That sounds perfect, dear. She’ll love it.”

  “You think so? That’s how I see her.”

  “Trust me. After lunch, we’ll go right out and buy it. And speaking of Christmas presents, David, what do you want? I have a few small things, but is there something special you have your eye on?”

  Well, how about my old mother back? No, that wasn’t fair. Hadn’t I told her I wanted her to be happy? “Got everything I need, Mom.”

  “I think you could use a few more good shirts. What about you, Cam? Your wardrobe seems a bit thin.”

  I thought he might say, “A new brain, please,” but he said, “I’m fine, Sophia, really. You don’t have to get me anything.”

  “Well, I’m going to, anyway. And what would Kary like?”

  A baby. A child. The one thing I can’t give her. I passed Camden the sugar packets. “Anything that has to do with music.”

  “Good. I love to shop.”

  The waitress arrived with our tea. As soon as she’d gone, Mom settled back in her seat and folded her arms.

  “All right, boys. What’s going on with the murder case? Have you had another bad spell, Cam?”

  He looked surprised. “Why do you say that?”

  “You put five packets of sugar in that tea, and it’s already sweetened.”

  I unwrapped my straw. “That’s normal.”

  I got a sharp glance from her. “Well, something’s happened. I can tell.”

  “We stopped by Boyd Taylor’s,” I said.

  “Isn’t Taylor the alleged murderer?”

  How does she know these things? “We don’t think he did it.”

  She took a drink. “You don’t ‘think’ he did it? But he could have, right? And the two of you just wandered in to say hello?”

  “Mom, you really don’t have to get involved with this.”

  Whoops. Wrong thing to say.

  Her dark eyes flashed. “Now you listen to me, David Henry Randall. If you insist on pursuing a potentially hazardous career, then you’d better believe I’m going to be involved. Finding things for people is one thing, but I told you at that hot dog place you don’t need to fool around with murder.”

  When she gets like this, it’s better just to nod and agree. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned to Camden. “What’s your full name?”

  He usually doesn’t tell anyone, but she startled him. “John Michael Camden.”

  “John Michael Camden, this goes for you, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where else did you go yesterday?” she asked me.

  The waitress brought our food, so Mom had to wait until she’d gone before I could answer.

  “We went by the comic book store. Jared left some comics there, and we looked through them.”

  “I know that’s not all.”

  “Well, yesterday morning, I spoke with Jared’s co-workers at the auto shop, checked out Winthrop, Incorporated, the company that manufactured Petey Royalle’s burglar alarm, and talked with Carlene Jessup about a break in at her record store.”

  She stirred salad dressing into her salad and took a bite. “Do you think any of these things might be related?”

  “The two break ins have similarities.”

  “How so?”

  “At Petey’s and at Carlene’s, the burglar knew inside stuff, like how to disable the alarm and where a secret panel is to get in. I don’t know how he or she is getting that kind of information.”

  “One of the staff, of course.”

  “I’ve talked to everyone at Royalle’s. No one has a motive. They like working there.”

  “What about Carlene’s employees?”

  “Family members. No motive there, either. Don’t you want to talk Christmas instead of crime?”

  “Not really. If you boys are getting into dangerous territory, I think it’s best to solve the mystery and get out. What did you find out at the museum?”

  I turned to Camden. “You see why I could never get away with anything?”

  “I think Sophia is psychic, too.”

  I gave Mom my attention. “We found out there are some tunnels underneath Parkland. It’s possible the thief is using these tunnels to get into the stores. After lunch, I’m going to call Petey’s father and see if he can tell me more.”

  “And when you find out about these tunnels, what then? Don’t even think about going down underground. There could be whole tribes of murderers and thieves.”

  Well, of course, I’d want to explore, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to say that. “I’ll call Jordan Finley at the police department and let him take it from there.”

  “I didn’t realize you worked with the police department.”

  “Jordan and I share information.” When we have to. “He’ll be the first one I call.” After I’d had a look.

  Thank goodness Mom isn’t really psychic and couldn’t hear my real thoughts. “All right. That sounds like a reasonable plan. Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. You, either, Cam.”

  “We won’t,” I said. “Can we talk about Christmas now?”

  “Cam, did I tell you about the time when Davey was four years old and mistook the Baby Jesus for Mickey Mouse?”

  I groaned. “It was that halo thing. That plastic circle around the baby’s head.”

  “No, you didn’t, Sophia,” Camden said. “I would love to hear that story.”

  “Can I help it if it looked like mouse ears?”

  ***

  After lunch and many more embarrassing stories, I took Mom and Camden to Tamara’s and then called Petey’s father, Carlton Royalle, told him who I was, and asked about tunnels.

  “Tunnels?” he said. “I think I’d know if there were tunnels under my shop.”

  “Petey said you might have some blueprints.”

  “I’ve got some sketches my father made back when Royalle’s was first built. Where did you get the idea about tunnels? There’d be no use for anything like that.”

  “How about the stores on either side? Do you have sketches of those?”

  “We weren’t interested in anyone else’s store. We had enough to worry about with our own. What’s this all about? Aren’t you supposed to be finding the people who robbed the store? You think they dug up from underground? What sort of fiction have you been reading?”

  Growing up with crusty old Pa Royalle must have been a treat for Petey. “Just trying to eliminate all possibilities.”

  “Well, a person would have to be a dang fool to dig up under the store. For one thing, the basement’s got a stone floor. That’ll knock your head right good.”

  “I’d like to come by and have a look at your father’s sketches.”

  “Come on, then.”

  I live with Fred, so I know grumpy. Carlton Royalle greeted me at the door of his gray stone house. He was a small, stoop-shouldered man with a pinched face. He motioned for me to follow him back to the kitche
n where he had piles of paper stacked on the table.

  “Here’s the drawings. My father wasn’t much of an artist, as you can see, but I don’t reckon they’ll help you, anyways.”

  He tried his best, but he couldn’t out-grump Fred. “Thank you.” I examined the worn paper with its shaky ink outlines. I could make out the store and the basement. Two lines in front represented the street. “What’s this circle here on the side?”

  Mister Royalle peered around me. “That’s supposed to be a tree.”

  “And these two lines over here?”

  “Used to be a street there, too.”

  He was right. The sketches weren’t much help. “Petey tells me you’re writing a history of the store.”

  “Trying to. Not a lot of people remember how it was back then.”

  “Have you been to the museum?”

  “They tell me a lot of the papers crumbled up. It’s too bad.” He fixed me with a narrow gaze. “What are you doing about the robbery?”

  “Talking to people, asking questions, trying to put clues together.”

  His sniffed. “You’re about as useful as the police. What’s my son paying you?”

  “We’re using the barter system. He’s helping me with another case.”

  He gave me another hard look. “If you’re through, you can see yourself out.”

  “Thanks.” I was ready to leave. I took one more glance at the sketches. Was it possible that circle and two lines meant something else, something Carlton Royalle’s father was trying to draw, or something he forgot to mention?

  ***

  I went back to Tamara’s. The pink lace nightgown had been purchased and gift-wrapped. Camden was going to work until five, so I took Mom home. By then, it was almost three and time for my appointment with E. Walter Winthrop.

  E. Walter’s office was huge, but E. Walter himself was a tiny pale little puff of a man, dwarfed by the expanse of his desk. He did not shake my hand or offer me a drink. He spoke gruffly.

  “What is this all about? I’m a busy man.”

  I was surprised he didn’t have a squeaky little elf voice.

  “I’m interested in one of your early alarm systems, like the one in Royalle’s Fine Jewelry store.”