“No idea.”
“Just past the fourth commercial.”
“Really.”
I gestured with an open hand. “My point is that blackmailing a murderer is a perilous exercise. Suppose, for example, that Gerald wasn’t Camilla Cassato’s murderer. . . .”
He sat up a little, which made him grimace in discomfort even more.
“But that you know who is. And you are contemplating blackmailing that murderer, just like that foolish associate of Robert Culp did. Unless, of course, you already have—but more likely it will be later, when you’re back on your feet, though possibly with a crutch.”
His expression was blank, yet somehow it spoke volumes.
I continued: “I don’t think you were involved in Gerald’s shady business. Otherwise, you would have known not to sell that frame to Camilla. But you may have suspected something was going on, after Gerald’s reaction to the frame being sold. So you decided to go to Camilla’s store to take a closer look at the frame in question, which you did. While she was in back, you had a close enough look to find the smuggled drugs . . . and take them.” I paused. “But when Rodney Evans beat Gerald within an inch or two of his life, you got scared. You knew Evans was no one to fool around with! So you gave the hot-potato frame to us.”
Dexter wasn’t looking at me at all, but rather straight ahead and up, his eyes just missing the TV.
“Where are those drugs, dear? In your apartment? Somewhere hidden in the remains of that ancient Volkswagen of yours? Unless you were able to market them with incredible speed, so to speak, the police will almost surely find them. They already have the packages you stole and put in your van, which you clearly suspected contained more contraband.”
Dexter turned my way quick as a blink. “Look, Mrs. Borne, I took those packages only because I was unfairly fired. Didn’t I have some kind of compensation coming?”
“Not a brilliant move, dear. That only makes it look like you were in on the operation.”
“But Loretta says that Gerald exonerated me!”
“Ah! Then she’s been to see you already. Did she make a preemptive offer?”
He swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What kind of offer—”
“For you to keep quiet, of course. You see, I think it’s likely that after you were fired, you were around long enough to happen to see that it was Loretta who left to retrieve that frame from Camilla Cassato—not Gerald. What has she promised you for your silence? A partnership in the business, perhaps? Not a good offer, now that the fencing operation has been shut down.”
The young man’s eyes turned frightened. “Suppose she did make me an . . . an offer. What should I do?”
“What’s right, dear. Come clean.”
His eyes flashed. “Then I’d come out of this with nothing! And still end up in jail, charged with what? Accessory after the fact, possession of drugs and stolen property?”
His uptalking could be forgiven in this stressful circumstance.
“Dear,” I said, “however it plays out, you’ll have your life—which, if you try to blackmail a murderer, will almost certainly not be the case. Perhaps you will be granted immunity for your testimony. If not, the right lawyer will work out a plea bargain for you, and you’ll more than likely be free and clear. Have you secured an attorney as yet?”
“No.”
Somewhat proudly, I said, “I can get you Wayne Ekhardt himself.”
“Isn’t he... dead?”
“Not that it shows,” I said. “And he’s still the best criminal defense lawyer this side of the Mississippi.”
“I don’t know how I could afford him.”
I gave the boy a big smile. “Do the right thing, and it will be my treat, dear.”
“You would do that?” he asked dubiously.
“To bring a killer to justice, absolutely.” I put a finger to my lips. “But the police will need more evidence than just you saying you saw Loretta leave around the time Camilla was killed.”
His eyes flashed again. “What if I could tie Loretta to the fencing business?”
“How?”
“It’s . . . it’s possible she keeps a separate set of accounting books in the safe.”
“Well, if she hasn’t destroyed them, that would be highly helpful.”
I got out of the recliner and looked down at Dexter. “I don’t sense that you’re a truly bad individual, dear. . . . You’re just a young person who’s made some rather unfortunate, impulsive choices. You know, I understand the frustration of millennials. You’re the first generation to discover that you’re worse off than the previous one . . . but that doesn’t give you any rights of entitlement. The world does not owe you a thing, Mr. Dexter Klein. However, you’re clever and smart, and I’m sure you’ll go far. . . . Just make sure it’s in the right direction.”
I left him there to mull that over.
At home, I found an angry Brandy in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher.
“You took the car!” she yelped. “Where on earth have you been?”
“I’ll give you chapter and verse in a while, dear. But right now I have something to tell you.”
“What? Did you hit another mailbox?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I just want to share with you an important decision I’ve made.”
“This should be good.” Brandy was holding a stack of our Fire-King dishes, and she shifted their weight in her hands.
“I’ve decided that we should decline to do another season of Antiques Sleuths.”
Her mouth dropped, but fortunately, the dishes didn’t. “Why? I mean, I personally don’t think we should sign on again, not after what Phil pulled on us.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. How can we trust Phil at this juncture? How can we work side by side with someone who betrayed and manipulated us?”
“You’re saying you don’t want to be on TV anymore,” she said, dazed.
“Some other day perhaps,” I continued, “in some other venue . . . but for now, I’m going to have my hands and schedule full in the upcoming months.”
“Doing what? Producing The Penis Papers?”
“No, dear. Campaigning for the new sheriff.”
Her eyes disappeared into slits. “You mean, supporting whoever’s running against Deputy Dawg?”
“Spot on, dear!”
“Well, who? Who’s your candidate for sheriff?”
“Well . . . me, dear.”
This time the dishes did shatter to the floor.
See you at the polls!
* * *
To be continued . . .
A Trash ’n’ Treasures Tip
Your investment in a collection will lose its value if you—and the heirs who may receive it—do not care properly for the items, such as keeping them safe from sunlight, moisture, overhandling, and harmful alloys. Mother once hung a valuable watercolor, which the sun reduced to a frame with a blank piece of paper in it.
About the Authors
Barbara Allan is a joint pseudonym of husband-and-wife mystery writers Barbara and Max Allan Collins.
Barbara Collins is a highly respected short story writer in the mystery field, with appearances in over a dozen top anthologies, including Murder Most Delicious, Women on the Edge, Deadly Housewives, and the best-selling Cat Crimes series. She was the coeditor of (and a contributor to) the best-selling anthology Lethal Ladies, and her stories were selected for inclusion in the first three volumes of The Year’s 25 Finest Crime and Mystery Stories.
Two acclaimed hardcover collections of her work have been published: Too Many Tomcats and (with her husband) Murder—His and Hers. The Collinses’ first novel together, the baby boomer thriller Regeneration, was a paperback best-seller; their second collaborative novel, Bombshell—in which Marilyn Monroe saves the world from World War III—was published in hardcover to excellent reviews. Both are back in print under the “Barbara Allan” byline.
Barbara also has been the producti
on manager and/or line producer on several independent film projects.
Max Allan Collins in 2017 was named a Mystery Writers of America Grand Master. He has earned an unprecedented twenty-two Private Eye Writers of America “Shamus” nominations for his Nathan Heller historical thrillers, winning for True Detective (1983) and Stolen Away (1991).
His other credits include film criticism, short fiction, songwriting, trading-card sets, and movie/TV tie-in novels, including the New York Times best-sellers Saving Private Ryan and the Scribe Award–winning American Gangster. His graphic novel Road to Perdition, considered a classic of the form, is the basis of the Academy Award–winning film. Max’s other comics credits include the “Dick Tracy” syndicated strip; his own “Ms. Tree”; “Batman”; and “CSI: Crime Scene Investigation,” based on the hit TV series, for which he also wrote six video games and ten best-selling novels.
An acclaimed, award-winning filmmaker in the Midwest, he wrote and directed the Lifetime movie Mommy (1996) and three other features; his produced screenplays include the 1995 HBO World Premiere The Expert and The Last Lullaby (2008). His 1998 documentary Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane appears on the Criterion Collection release of the acclaimed film noir, Kiss Me Deadly. The current Cinemax TV series Quarry is based on his innovative book series.
Max’s most recent novels include two works begun by his mentor, the late mystery-writing legend Mickey Spillane: The Will to Kill (with Mike Hammer) and The Legend of Caleb York, the first western credit for both Spillane and Collins.
“Barbara Allan” lives in Muscatine, Iowa, their Serenity-esque hometown. Son Nathan works as a translator of Japanese to English, with credits ranging from video games to novels.
Antiques Frame Page 20
