“Sold! To buyer ninety-five.” Jeb banged the gavel, and the auction workers carried off a velvet settee that used to sit in the parlor that was now Russell’s man cave. “Next up we have lot number twenty-two. It’s an authentic Tiffany lamp. Quite a beauty, ain’t she! Who’ll start us off at a thousand dollars?”
Estelle grabbed Russell’s arm, nearly knocking the hot dog out of his hand. “It’s happening again!” This time, she spoke louder. “I’m positive I set that lamp aside to keep!”
Russell wadded up the hot dog wrapper and picked up his Dr Pepper. “Are you sure? You’ve got lots of lamps that look just like that.”
“Uhh,” she grumbled. “I’m sure of it.”
“Maybe you walk to the back and tell Patsy you want to keep those things.”
“And look like an Indian giver? Not to mention how word will spread through town about me taking money away from charities.”
“Have you looked at the auction catalog?” Gary asked. He handed her Deena’s copy. “You can see everything that’s included in the auction.”
Grabbing the papers, Estelle jumped as the gavel came crashing down and Jeb announced the selling price of fourteen-thousand dollars for the lamp. She flipped wildly through the pages, not seeming to focus.
Jeb pointed to a large framed canvas that one of the guys set on an easel. “Next up, we have this beautiful oil painting of Captain Charles S. Fitzhugh, dated 1867. Who’ll start us out—”
“No!” Estelle screamed and leaped out of her chair. She ran up to the front of the hall and grabbed the painting. The guy standing next to it tried to wrestle it away. Estelle kicked him in the shin and ran carrying the painting toward the side door.
“You get him, sister!” someone shouted. Penelope Burrows stood waving her fist.
The crowd erupted in a combination of laughter and gasps.
Another man chased Estelle out the door.
Then a shrill scream came from outside. It was not the kind you normally hear. It was bone-chilling.
Russell jumped up and ran for the door. Gary and Deena sat frozen, not really knowing what to do. It seemed as though all eyes turned to them at once.
The man who had chased Estelle reappeared. “Call 9-1-1! There’s been an accident!”
Deena’s heart skipped a beat. She pictured Estelle lying on the pavement, blood pooling under her head, the old painting crumpled by her side. Had she run into the street and been mowed down by a car?
Gary grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the exit. Others stood up but let them pass before following them outside.
Relief washed over Deena as she spotted Russell and Estelle standing next to the Bentley. She let out her breath and almost smiled. But where was the accident?
Then she saw a uniformed security guard running toward Estelle and the Bentley. Although the car was parallel parked, Deena could tell the driver’s door was open.
Then it hit her. Where was Leonard Dietz? Gary rushed up to Estelle as Deena headed around the front of the car. The guard held out his arms. “Stay back, ma’am.”
He nudged her backward but not before she got a glimpse of Leonard. He lay on the ground with a pool of blood under his head. It was just how she had pictured Estelle. The painting was even on the ground next to him.
To Deena, he looked dead.
Chapter 2
What had happened? He was slumped over next to the curb, so he couldn’t possibly have been hit by a car. Had he fallen and cracked open his head?
Sirens pierced the night air. A crowd of onlookers lined up on the side of the building. Patsy Johnson tried to coax everyone back inside. “Let’s go, folks. Let the police do their job.”
Deena rushed over to Estelle. “What happened?”
“I—I don’t know.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped on her blazer. “I came outside and ran around the side of the car. Leonard was just lying there.” She put her hands over her face. “Did you see him? Is he alive?”
Deena glanced at Russell. “I don’t know. Let’s wait and see.”
Two police cars and an ambulance rolled into the parking lot. One of the officers asked everyone to move closer to the building so they wouldn’t be in the way. The paramedics rushed to Leonard’s side. The officers moved deliberately. Several of them huddled together while another talked on his radio. It wasn’t long until the flurry of activity seemed to slow down.
An officer approached Estelle. He seemed to walk in slow motion. Deena recognized him as Officer Hitchcock. Maybe he was as hesitant to talk to them as they were to hear what he had to say.
“Ms. Fitzhugh?”
“Yes.”
“Is that your car?”
“Yes.”
“And was that man your driver?”
Deena caught the way the officer referred to Leonard in past tense.
Estelle nodded.
“I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”
Estelle sobbed and buried her face in Russell’s shoulder.
Deena flashed back to the day Carolyn, Estelle’s mother, died and Russell was there to comfort her. It seemed like ages ago.
The officer turned to Gary and Deena. “I’m going to need a statement from her since she was the first one on the scene.”
Deena nodded. It was going to be a long night.
Officer Linndorf came up to Hitchcock and held out his hand. “Check this out. I picked it up off the ground next to the car.”
In his large, gloved hand was a shiny, gold object. Deena leaned in closer and saw a coin.
Hitchcock pulled out a handkerchief and took the coin from Linndorf. “Are there any more?”
“I’ll check.” He turned on his flashlight and leaned down next to the Bentley. “Here’s a couple more.” He brought them back and handed them to Hitchcock.
Right then, Jeb Johnson appeared out of the side door of the building. “Um, Miss Estelle, the police have advised us to cancel the rest of the auction. We’ll have to reschedule it for another time.”
Hitchcock shined his flashlight on the handkerchief. “Say, Mr. Johnson, have you ever seen coins like these?”
Jeb slid his reading glasses down from the top of his head to his nose. “I’m no expert, but those look to be coins from the auction.”
Estelle gasped. “My father’s coin collection?”
“Let me get one of the fellows from inside who can tell us for sure.” Jeb disappeared back into the building.
People flooded into the parking lot, trying to get a glimpse of the accident scene. Another few police vehicles arrived, and several officers directed traffic away from the area.
Jeb came back out followed by the mayor. “Here, take a look at these, Marty. Are these from the collection?”
Fisk looked closely at the coins, being careful not to touch them. He bolted upright. “You bet they are. These are rare coins. I had been looking at them earlier.”
As though spectators at a tennis match, they all turned simultaneously to Jeb as though he would have an explanation.
Luckily for him, one of the auction workers
walked up. “Hey boss, I need to talk to you.”
Jeb held up his hand to indicate that he needed a minute.
“Are you okay?” Deena asked Estelle. Her color was better, but she was still shaking.
She nodded. “Poor Leonard. I think I knew he was dead the minute I saw him. I was just hoping...”
“I know. Me too.”
Deena wanted to go over and ask the paramedics what they thought happened. She could only imagine how the scene looked to the police. They would hear how Estelle ran out of the building with the giant painting and then found Leonard lying next to the curb with his head smashed. Would they think Estelle hit him and knocked him down? Surely not.
Unless it was an accident, and she just wasn’t telling anyone. Deena shook off the thought.
Jeb returned, his face a ghostly white. “I’m sorry to say this, but I just got word that your father’s c
oin collection is missing.”
“Missing?” Estelle looked wide-eyed and turned to the officer.
Hitchcock folded the handkerchief carefully around the coins. He handed them to Linndorf, who hurried to his squad car.
Hitchcock pressed the button on his shoulder radio. “Listen up, everyone. This is no longer an accident scene. We need the special investigations unit dispatched immediately. This is now a crime scene and should be treated as such.”
Chapter 3
Maycroft was a small town with a population of about eight thousand and change. People generally knew their neighbors and had at least a “nod-and-a-howdy” relationship with most people in town. Much of the town’s activity centered around the high school, especially during football season. The supermarket, church, and local eateries were common gathering places.
But Maycroft was not that much different from the big cities. They had crime, corruption, and their share of all the more unsavory parts of community living. There’s really no such thing as random violence. You look deep enough, and you’ll find a cause, whether it’s a turf war or road rage. So far, Maycroft had avoided any terrorist attacks, and the few gangs that had tried to form got quickly thwarted by observant teachers and parents.
One year, some teenagers started wearing bandanas to school as though their teachers wouldn’t know what they were for. All the kids got sentenced to cafeteria clean-up duty and that was the end of that.
When it came to homicides, though, they had their fair share. As long as there are people on this earth, you’ll see crimes of passion, greed, and revenge.
So what happened to Leonard Dietz? He was not likely the victim of a jilted lover. Deena couldn’t imagine him involved in a drug deal gone bad. So what happened?
Cue Detective Guttman.
The police had moved Deena and company inside the community center to wait for Estelle to be questioned. One of the auction workers who hadn’t been outside to see the commotion had volunteered to run Gary back to the house so he could get his car. Obviously, the Bentley wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Before long, Detective Linus Guttman entered the hall, hands in pockets, looking as if he’d prefer to be anywhere else on that fine November evening.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he said when he saw Deena. “Not you again.”
“I could say the same thing about you. Are you the only homicide cop in Maycroft?” She knew that he was, but she wanted to get in a jab. “I believe you have already met my brother, Russell Sinclair, and this is his wife, Estelle Fitzhugh Sinclair.” She emphasized the Sinclair part for Russell’s sake.
“Nice to meet you.” Detective Guttman didn’t offer his hand to shake until Deena gave him the stink-eye. He grimaced, then obliged. It had become a personal mission of hers to teach that Yankee cop some Southern manners.
“So, tell me exactly what happened,” he said. “Who wants to start?”
Deena gave him the background info leading up to Estelle finding Leonard Dietz. She left out the part about the tussle over the painting and Estelle kicking the poor auction worker.
Guttman asked Estelle the obvious questions, and she gave the same answers she had already given the other officer. Guttman didn’t take any notes. He may have already been briefed on what had gone down. When Estelle finished, he asked her specifically about the coins.
“My father had a large coin collection. I think he had inherited some of the coins from his father. He acquired others over his lifetime. He had some he liked to display and others he just kept loose in a case. Those loose coins were the ones I donated to the auction. The others are at home in a safe.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“I’m a cop. You can trust me.”
Deena remembered when Guttman first arrived in Maycroft and she wasn’t sure of his integrity. Since then, she’d grown to trust and respect him as an honest officer of the law.
“So these coins,” he continued, “were some of them the same ones found outside in the parking lot?”
“According to Mayor Fisk, they were,” Estelle said. “I don’t really know much about coins myself.”
“You said the coins were in a case. What did it look like?”
“It was one of those metal protective ones like photographers carry equipment in.” She used her hands to indicate the approximate size. “It was about the size of a briefcase.”
Deena picked up one of the catalogs off a chair. “Here’s a picture of it.”
Guttman studied the picture a minute then put the catalog in his pocket. “Just for the record, did any of you see who took the coin case or have any idea of who did?”
They all shook their heads.
“Do you think Mr. Dietz might have taken it?”
Estelle puffed out her chest. “Leonard? Absolutely not!”
Deena addressed the elephant in the room. “Obviously, you think whoever stole the coins also killed Leonard Dietz. Is that right?”
“It’s early in the investigation, and we can’t rule out any possibilities.”
“C’mon, Linus. It’s me.” She held up her hands.
“Okay, sure. That’s a logical scenario. And since you brought it up, I would advise you to leave the investigating to me this time.”
“I agree,” Gary said as he returned to their little confab.
Deena folded her arms and looked at Guttman smugly. “Unless you ask me for my help again.”
“I don’t anticipate needing it. In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you.” He turned to walk away, then stopped. “Unless, of course, you come across any new evidence or leads.”
Deena nodded.
“I feel so guilty,” Estelle said, leaning her head against Russell. “If I hadn’t made us come in that stupid car, Leonard would still be alive.”
“It’s not your fault,” Russell said. “You couldn’t have known something like this was going to happen.”
Deena stood up. “Don’t worry, we’ll catch whoever did this. They won’t get away with it, I promise.”
Once again, Deena found herself personally involved in a murder case. So much for leaving the investigation to Guttman.
Chapter 4
Of all the murder investigations in which Deena had been involved over the past few years, this one seemed the most cut and dry. Find whoever stole the case full of coins, and you’d bag the bad guy. Another advantage to this case was that the list of suspects was limited to people attending the auction. Of course, with over two hundred attendees, that really didn’t narrow down the list of suspects to a manageable number.
Would the thief be a coin collector or just someone who saw an opportunity to steal something of value and make a run for it? And why clobber Leonard in the process?
Deena had some questions for Estelle about Leonard Dietz, but they would have to wait until after church.
Luckily, the Dallas Cowboys were playing the early game, so Reverend Abbott kept the sermon short. If he wanted to see a healthy offering in the collection plate, the good pastor knew better than to keep the fanatics from their football.
“So who do you think might have done this?” Deena asked Gary as they drove to Fitzhugh Manor after services. She had talked him in to a quick stop on the way home, knowing he liked watching games on Russell’s new sixty-five-inch smart TV.
“My guess is that it was someone who knew the value of those coins. A collector or an expert, at least. Do they have any surveillance footage to look at?”
Deena chuckled. “Uh, you’ve been watching too much television. This is Maycroft, not Miami. We’re lucky to have stoplights and internet.”
“Ha. It’s not that bad here. I thought you liked living in a small town.”
“I do,” she said, “but sometimes I think it might be nice to live someplace with more life—more excitement. You know?”
“And more crime and more poverty.”
“And more arts and entertain
ment.”
“Sounds like someone’s ready for a vacation,” Gary said.
They pulled up to the house and parked in the big circle drive. As Deena walked around the car, her shoe caught on one of the stone pavers, causing her to lunge forward. Luckily, Gary caught her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You didn’t share some of Penelope Burrows’ coffee this morning, did you?”
She inched toward the front porch. “No, it’s these darned heels. I don’t know what made me think I should wear them this morning.”
“Well, you look like a newborn calf taking its first steps.”
“Very funny. You try walking on cobblestones in these things.”
Deena rang the bell and heard Maggie barking on the other side of the door.
Russell greeted them, but before Deena could barely say hello, he and Gary were hunkered down in matching leather recliners with their feet up and cold beers in hand.
“Estelle’s upstairs,” Russell called out. “Go on up.”
Deena climbed the grand staircase, the same one Estelle’s mother, Carolyn, had been pushed down last year at her own Christmas party. The stairway always gave Deena the creeps.
In the middle of the upstairs hallway, Deena saw an open door that led to a spare bedroom where Estelle stored her family treasures. “Estelle?”
“In here,” she called, and Deena followed the voice through the open door.
The room was much less packed than Deena had remembered, although one side was still stacked with boxes. Various items were strewn about, some wrapped in newspaper and others covered in layers of dust. She sneezed as though her lungs would fly out of her nostrils.
“Bless you,” Estelle said, standing in the middle of the room. She was holding Clover.
“Do you mind?” Deena pointed to the cat.
“Sure,” she said and carried Clover out into the hall. “I always forget that you’re allergic to cats.”
“Thanks,” Deena said, rubbing her nose. “So what have you figured out in here?”
“I’m so confused,” she said. “When the Johnsons and I were in here last, we made two distinct piles of stuff. One to go to the auction and the other to leave here. When I got back last night after the auction, I found everything in a jumble like you see it now.”
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 2
