Evidence in the Echinacea

by Dale Mayer

  She winced. “I guess you have to take better care of these things than that?”

  Scott nodded. “Absolutely we do,” he said. “I’d get shot if we were to do a half-assed job. Besides, with a set like this, you know it’s very special.”

  “I hear you,” she said. “I’m still looking for the paperwork though. I am hoping, maybe once you get the biggest pieces out, I will have a little more room to keep searching.”

  “We will get to work on that,” he said. “So you go off and do whatever you need to, and we apologize ahead of time if we’ll be in your way.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, smiling. “Let me rephrase that—I’m just happy you’re here, so let me know if you need anything.” And she turned and left them to the living room.

  Only she couldn’t. She kept looking into the living room to see them gently removing drawers, packing up drawers, wrapping up legs of the coffee table, but not until after they’d taken a great deal of photographs of every angle and every side of the designated pieces. They worked in pairs of two—one photographed and then they wrapped, taped, and had the first pieces moved to the truck outside. Finally Scott walked over to her. “Are you curious or worried?”

  “Both,” she said, chuckling. “Curious because I didn’t understand how much you would baby the furniture. But, when you wrapped up this furniture, then covered it in Bubble Wrap before placing it in padded blankets, … I’m amazed,” she said.

  “While it was in your possession,” he said, “it’s gently worn. But, once it comes into our possession,” he said, “we don’t want any more damage to occur. We’ll get our restoration people to take a look at the pieces at the auction house too.”

  “Restoration?”

  “Some of the scratches can be easily fixed,” he said. “Some of the pieces might need oiling. Others might need a little bit of refinishing. You can try to sell them all as they are, or we can get them fixed up and then sell them after that. I can give you quotes on both.”

  She nodded, her mind in turmoil. “You know I’ll go with the one that doesn’t require money up front, don’t you?” She wrapped her arms around her chest, seeing her dreams of a big payday going out the window. But it figured—nothing came free.

  “Neither come with cash up front,” Scott said with a shake of his head. “We wouldn’t do anything unnecessarily anyway. But you want to get top dollar for these pieces. And, in this case, we’d give you a quote for the work, get the work done, and then sell the pieces. So the money required to pay for the work done would come out of the profit.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Well then, I’ll wait and see the quotes.”

  “Good enough,” he said. “You’ll get a decent amount for these pieces,” he said, “but, if they’re in better condition, and if they look new and shiny, you’ll get more. It’s amazing how the public responds to the bright shiny look.”

  “I understand,” she said slowly. “Just like anybody else, I’m more susceptible to something that looks shiny and new than something that looks old and beaten.”

  “Old and beaten is fine, and, if it can be made shiny and at least look well maintained, that’s a huge difference,” he said. “It can’t ever be made new again. That’s not what we’re selling either. We’re selling antiques, things that have lived and survived for a long time with wonderful care. Filling in a few scratches and giving it a coat of oil or buffing out some bigger scratches and putting on a stain that matches is not the same thing. But, because of the age of the antiques, everything has to be matched, so that could be expensive. We wouldn’t do that unless it was something you specifically wanted done.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want anything that would decrease the value of the antiques, and it sounds like some of those would.”

  “Some methods used would, yes,” he said. “I would definitely not go in that direction myself.”

  One of the men called him. He walked over, and they huddled over a chair, looking at some marks on it. She chewed on her bottom lip, watching them, worrying about it. When they stepped back and continued taking photographs, she wondered if she could ask what was wrong and then realized she would just slow the process. With this many men, they could get everything out of here today, and she needed that. She wanted these pieces to be in their hands, where they were responsible for keeping them safe. And, for that to happen, she needed to back off and to let them do their thing. She walked into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee, and said to the animals, “Let’s go outside, guys. We’re in the way.”

  Mugs hadn’t settled down at all. He’d been wandering around the living room. He’d recognized Scott but wasn’t so sure about the other men. One of the men didn’t like dogs, and that had added its own difficulty. Some of her husband’s cohorts hadn’t liked pets, and she’d been required to keep Mugs away from her husband’s office. Now she pulled out a leash because Mugs kept going back into the living room. She gave the leash a rattle, and he came running. She hooked him up and called for Goliath, who just stared at her from the bottom step of the stairs, his tail twitching as if to say, Yes, I’m here, and?

  Chapter 8

  Monday Midmorning …

  Doreen sighed. “Come on, Goliath. Let’s go outside. We’re in the way.” She propped open the door and headed down the steps, hoping that Goliath would choose to follow. It was pretty hard to order that cat to do anything. So far, Goliath did what he wanted. When it lined up with Doreen’s wants, they were both happy, but that didn’t mean that he would choose to be agreeable today.

  As she walked down the path toward the creek, Mugs at her side, Thaddeus on her shoulder, Goliath streaked out past her.

  She chuckled. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

  He just shot her a look that said, Whatever.

  At the creek she stopped and wondered what she was supposed to do now. She was restless. The moving men were doing what they needed to do. And she wanted that to happen, but, at the same time, they would be hours. She couldn’t just sit and relax. She didn’t really feel like gardening, although she should be doing that. Instead she found her feet, almost as if by rote now, heading toward Penny’s house. Doreen groaned as she arrived at the spot where she’d normally cross the creek. “We don’t always have to go in this direction. You know that, right, guys?”

  Mugs was already trying to cross, but the leash wasn’t giving him much leeway. She sighed and said, “Come on. Let’s keep walking beside the creek.” And she walked past the crossing spot. Once Mugs realized they were changing direction, he raced eagerly. She just smiled. It was always nice to have company, and these trips were fun for the animals too.

  She was trying to avoid Penny and that persistent nudge in the back of Doreen’s mind that maybe something wasn’t quite right there. But Doreen had no basis for that, and the last thing she wanted to do was look too closely at somebody who could be a friend. Doreen didn’t have any friends, and it was a novel idea to find somebody at this time of her life. Her other “friends” had been deemed appropriate for her lifestyle back then. Her husband had vetted them all, and they were usually trophy wives of businessmen he worked with. She’d thought that was what friendships were. But, as soon as she’d gotten involved in that messy divorce, everybody had distanced themselves from her, helping her realize there was really no such thing as friends with that group.

  Now, even though Penny was that much older, it was still nice to know Doreen had somebody she could maybe go have a cup of tea with outside of her own grandmother, and, to be honest, Doreen hadn’t had the time or the interest in getting out and socializing with anybody else. She’d been so busy working on these cold cases that she hadn’t put any effort into fitting in here. Penny had definitely helped in that regard. In fact, that made Doreen feel very good.

  Then, of course, her mind zipped to Steve. At least Penny didn’t seem to be too perturbed that Doreen had been in Penny’s backyard. Which was good, but Doreen felt like she’d pushed th
e limit there, and now she needed to back away. She walked along the creek, her thoughts scattered as she tried to avoid thinking about what was going on at her house. She needed that furniture gone and for Scott to give her the names of other antiques specialists to contact about the little stuff Doreen wanted to get rid of as well.

  Speaking of the little stuff, she still had to figure out exactly what that thief, Darth, had taken from her house that wasn’t found in the back of his truck. Plus, he had to be working with someone. Doreen would like to know who that was. She wanted to attend Darth’s trial too. She trusted Mack to return the items they knew had been taken, but there could be so much more missing than she knew. So she sent Mack a text. Re Darth, what else did he steal from me? Who’s he working with? When’s his trial? Doreen had pocketed her phone to hear a beep almost instantly, pulling out her phone once more, surprised to get a response so fast from Mack.

  I’ll let you know what I can let you know as we figure it out.

  Typical Mack. Finally having worn herself down with all those thoughts, she stopped at a particularly shallow spot in the creek, where she kicked off her sandals and walked into the water. It was a beautiful sunny day, and, if nothing else, it was lovely to be by the water and just listen to the delightful soothing sounds for a few moments. She found a particularly large flat rock and sat down, kicking the water, deliberately splashing Mugs, who danced around barking at her. Goliath sat on a high flat rock beside her. Thaddeus entertained himself and her by hopping from rock to rock. “You guys are allowed to play,” she said, “but you’re not allowed to find anything.”

  “Why shouldn’t they?” a man said from behind her.

  She turned to see Steve and frowned at him. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Wow, and here everyone says you are friendly. I gather we got off on the wrong foot?”

  She shrugged. “You weren’t terribly friendly yourself the last time I met you.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” he said, “but you were skulking around Penny’s house. I do like to keep an eye out for her. She’s a dear friend.”

  Wondering if she had, indeed, behaved suspiciously at the time, Doreen admitted, “That makes sense, but you scared me.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” he said, walking a few feet south of her and sitting down on a nearby rock “I didn’t mean to.” Then he frowned, adding, “Well, maybe I did. I did think you were perhaps up to no good.”

  His tone was light, and his mannerisms were so different than last time that she almost believed him. She had no reason not to believe him. She nodded and said, “Well, in that case, hi.”

  He chuckled as he watched Thaddeus peck away at a piece of driftwood. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody who went for walks with three pets like yours.”

  “They like to go with me everywhere,” she said warmly. “They certainly make my life interesting and fun.”

  “I’m sure,” he said in amazement. “And the cat?”

  “Goliath chooses to come with me,” she explained. “He’s a character, and he loves to watch the creek.”

  “You can get him in the water?” he asked in surprise.

  “Oh, gosh, no, but he does love to sit here and enjoy the view with me, whereas Mugs here,” she said, motioning toward her basset hound, “I don’t think he’s happy unless he is wet.” And just then Mugs jumped farther into the creek, his ears floating on the surface as he barked, happily swimming.

  “You don’t worry about him floating away?”

  She shook her head. “He’s a good swimmer. And we’ve spent lots of days playing in the creek.”

  “I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said.

  “I’m from farther down the creek,” she said. “We don’t normally walk up this far. But this morning I just wanted to get out of the house.”

  “The walls crowding in on you?”

  “You could say that,” she said with a wry smile. “Sometimes you just need a change.”

  “You are Doreen, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure I told you that before.”

  He just smiled. “You’re wary now. Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to find out you’re a reporter or something,” she said. She looked at him, suddenly suspicious. “What do you do for a living?”

  He gave a bark of a laugh at that. “I’m a lawyer,” he said.

  Instantly she could feel herself withdrawing. “Oh.”

  “And a wealth of emotion is in that exclamation,” he said gently. “I suppose you don’t like lawyers either?”

  She wrinkled her face. “I’m sure some are okay.” She hopped to her feet, gave him a bright smile, and said, “I really do need to head back though. It was nice meeting you again.” She tried to make it sound like she wasn’t running away, but, when he laughed, she realized she’d failed. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

  “But you just can’t help running away. I admit that I don’t usually get that kind of a response when I tell people I’m a lawyer.”

  “I’m going through a nasty divorce,” she said. “My lawyer shafted me.”

  He grinned amiably. “I’m a corporate lawyer,” he said. “I don’t handle divorces.”

  “Understood,” she said. “Besides, not all lawyers are the same, I’m sure.”

  He chuckled and stood. “Anytime you want to go out and have coffee,” he said, “I promise I’ll prove to you that I’m not the same as every other lawyer.”

  She smiled and said, “Maybe, some time. Thanks for the invite.”

  And she turned and walked down the pathway. She deliberately didn’t turn around, but she could feel his eyes boring into her back. She should have gotten his last name. “Just Steve” wouldn’t cut it. And already she wondered if she could contact Mack about him. See if this guy was on the up-and-up or if he was a shyster, like her ex-lawyer was. But then why would Mack do that? It wasn’t like he had the right to investigate people without cause, right? But, if she had Steve’s last name, she could do a lot herself.

  As she walked past Penny’s, she wondered about asking Penny about Steve, then thought that was stupid. Still, Doreen pulled out her phone and sent Penny a text. Hey, I just ran into your friend Steve on the creek. Interesting guy.

  Her response came back pretty quickly. And he’s single and wealthy, Penny texted. You could do worse.

  At that response, Doreen replied, I can’t remember his last name. I know he’s a lawyer, but I can’t place him …

  Albright, Penny texted. He’s a high-profile lawyer, does corporate stuff, she wrote. He’s a really nice guy.

  Interesting, Doreen answered. Thanks for the name. Now at least it’ll stop bugging me.

  No problem, Penny said. Maybe you want to come over, and we can discuss my garden sometime.

  Sure, she said. I’m on the creek right now.

  Come over then. I’ll put on the teakettle.

  With that firmly shifting her direction, Doreen backtracked on the easier rocks to get across the creek and headed toward Penny’s house. She didn’t know where Steve was now, and she dared not look. As she made it to the other side, she saw Steve heading toward Penny’s too.

  He stopped, looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.

  Doreen shrugged. “I was talking to Penny. She invited me for tea.”

  “Right,” he said. “That’s where I was going too.” And he fell into step beside her.

  Although she felt a little awkward because she wanted to ask questions about him, there wasn’t much she could do about it. As they approached Penny’s house, Penny opened her front door and laughed. “And look at that? The two of you. Together. Come on in.”

  But Steve just shook his head and said, “No, I’ve got to head into town. I was just walking her to your place. We’ll talk later, Penny,” and he gave a wave and took off.

  Doreen watched him leave, and, as she turned back around, Penny’s face twisted with bright curiosity. “Well, you’r
e definitely interested,” she said in delight. “He’s a good man.”

  “Maybe,” Doreen said with a smile. “But the fact that he’s a lawyer isn’t in his favor.”

  At that, Penny laughed. “Maybe,” she said, “but he doesn’t do the kind of work that most of us would think.”

  “Maybe,” Doreen said, “but still. So what’s this about your garden? Have you made some decisions about what you want to do?”

  “Your idea for a memorial is lovely,” she said warmly. “And I have signed the contract with the Realtor to sell the house.”

  “Oh, interesting,” Doreen said in surprise. “That was fast.”

  “Yes, I’ll probably head back East, closer to my daughters, find a condo near them,” she said, “but I’ll see.”

  “When’s the sign going out?” Doreen asked, turning to look around.

  “I think in two days. They need a contractor to install the sign. And we’ve got a photo session coming up.”

  “Did you ask about having the house staged?”

  “She only said, if I wanted to, I could.”

  “What about the clutter?”

  Penny shook her head. “She didn’t seem to think that was a problem.”

  Inside, Doreen frowned. “Interesting,” she said cautiously. “From everything I’ve read and heard, a house sells better when it’s sparsely furnished, so it shows lots of space and lots of room for the new buyers’ own possessions.”

  “Maybe,” Penny said, “but, at the moment, I’m good with this. Hopefully somebody will offer close to full price, and I’ll get to leave real fast.”

  Thinking her friend was probably dreaming on all accounts but not knowing for sure, Doreen just smiled. They took their tea outside to the back garden and continued their discussion of all kinds of options, from buying new plants to just rearranging some. “And you’re okay to have the memorial here, even though you’re selling, correct?”

  “I’m leaving this stage of my life behind, and I’m leaving them both behind so …” She shrugged. “That seems like a fair thing to do.”