by Shelly West
Abigail thought about it. “Yeah, but how many Lebeaus are left in this world? Isn’t Lee pretty amiable?”
“Sure, but I had discovered this information back when Ernest was still alive, and knowing what a self-serving jerk he was, I wasn’t about to work with him. Then after he died, leaving Lee as the last Lebeau… I didn’t want to dredge up the past after Lee had lost both his parents, you know?”
“And Reginald?”
“Reginald, being the little vulture he was, probably did read the letters, looking for anything he could profit from. And that’s how he must’ve learned about Mrs. Lane’s ship in a bottle.”
Abigail and Grandma shared an impressed look. It all seemed to be coming together—not that they knew what any of it meant. At least, not yet. “So,” Abigail prodded further. “Anything else we ought to know, Piper?”
She thought about it. “I only know what the Lebeau side of the letter exchange revealed. I don’t know a thing about the map, but as far as the treasure goes… The letters did mention something about a special key. A key in Fischer possession, but where it is, I couldn’t begin to guess. It’s safe to assume the treasure chest requires a key.”
Abigail asked, “Well, anybody who has the map can forgo the key, can’t they? I mean, just hire a professional lock picker and presto, right?”
Piper smirked. “That’d be too easy, don’t you think? Actually, the letters mentioned something about a fail-safe mechanism if someone tried to force the lock. I’m thinking acid or something that would destroy whatever’s inside. So you can’t forgo the key to get to the treasure.”
Abigail huffed. “Sounds really elaborate. And reminds me of another very extreme fail-safe…”
Piper adjusted her glasses. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the Lafayette has some crazy mechanism on its wheel that can sink the whole boat.”
“I… never heard about that.”
Abigail nodded. “Might not be common knowledge. Me and Sally got Dag rambling his mouth off, and that’s when he mentioned something about the wheel. If you look at it, it’s got a really elaborate wooden carving on it, which is actually a puzzle that activates a trap.”
“A trap that sinks the whole ship?”
“Yup.”
Piper looked like her gears were working overtime. “How odd. I’m going to have to look into that. I suppose these fail-safes ensure both sides of the families cooperated to find the treasure…” She stood from the table. “Would you two mind if I cut this short? This is the most exciting discovery I’ve had in a while, so I want to head back and comb the family archives for any more information.”
Grandma stood and showed Piper out of the kitchen. “You do that—and let us know if you find anything juicy.”
Piper laughed. “You’re my favorite person to share juicy information with, Mrs. Lane. Of course you’ll be the first to know.”
Once they were alone, Grandma turned back to Abigail. “I oughta strangle her, keeping such interesting history from me!”
Chapter 23
Abigail and Grandma continued the rest of the day without much pep. A few customers came and went, but the rumor mill seemed to be taking a break in regards to the murder.
Friday evening was coming to a close, leaving Abigail with only the weekend before she had to return home. She felt no closer to the truth, and worried that the perpetrator had already found the buried treasure and hightailed it out of town.
Abigail had half a mind to call work up and ask for an extension, even if it was unpaid, but she knew that wouldn’t turn out well. She was replaceable to the company, and if she pushed it, she’d be among the unemployed.
Grandma came up behind her as Abigail was arranging some antique books. “Dear, is something wrong?”
Abigail turned to face Grandma. “Just wish I could stay longer is all.”
Grandma nodded with understanding. “Me too, sweetie. Me too…”
The bell above the front door rang, announcing a customer. They both turned, having to shield their eyes from their visitor’s ridiculously radiant smile. The man asked, “Still open, I hope?”
Grandma laughed. “For you, Bobby, there is no closing time.”
Abigail took a moment to remember the man’s face. Bobby… Bobby Kent, Sally’s father. His suit was about the most garish thing she had ever seen, save for the first time she saw him.
“Sorry I haven’t stopped by for a while,” Bobby said, helping himself to one of the cookies Grandma had out on the front counter. “It’s been so hectic down at the news station. All hands on deck, so to speak, even though I’m just the Sunday bingo host.”
Abigail asked, “Your newscaster friends having any luck finding leads?”
“Not yet, but they’re in a frenzy trying to be the first to break the story. Everybody’s calling in, reporting their neighbor as the potential killer. Would lead one to think this town isn’t as quaint as it seems!”
Grandma shrugged in defeat. “It would have been nice to have resolved this murder business before the weekend, but I suppose that’s too much to ask for. Anyhow, you ate a cookie, so you know what that means.”
Bobby lowered his head. “Aw, jeez, Mrs. Lane, I already have so many trinkets at home…”
“There’s always room for one more,” Grandma suggested with a little wink. Bobby relented and looked about the shop, stopping by a shelf of old tapes and records.
He pulled out a VHS tape, the cardboard sleeve advertising a highlight reel of old 50s game shows. “It’s always good to brush up on the classics,” he said, bringing it over to the counter for Grandma to ring up. “I do worry I’m getting a bit stale, hosting bingo every week with the same contestants. I wish the station would let me shake things up a bit, but they’re so concerned about losing their longtime viewers.”
Grandma put the VHS tape in a paper bag and handed it to Bobby. “It would be wiser in the long run to attract some non-geriatric viewers, wouldn’t it?”
Bobby snorted. “See, that’s what I’ve been saying. But my producer says kids these days don’t watch traditional television, so I don’t have many options.”
Abigail watched Bobby take his purchase out of the bag to read the back of the VHS box. She wondered again if he was the boy her mother once went out with years ago. With the silence that fell, she decided she might as well ask. “Hey, Bobby. You ever date my mom?”
Bobby nearly dropped the VHS tape as the question made him fumble. “Sarah? Oh, well, uh…”
Grandma’s expression grew rather serious. Perhaps she had never read her daughter’s diaries.
Bobby fessed up. “Okay, we did, sort of, but I swear we didn’t so much as kiss one another’s cheeks, Mrs. Lane! We were very young. I think I was fourteen at the time.”
Such an unprompted denial coming from anyone else might’ve been suspicious, but Abigail knew it was true from the diary entries. Not to mention Bobby’s blush suggested he was quite the prude.
Abigail explained, “I ask because I looked through my mom’s diaries and came across your name. I wasn’t sure if it was you or some other Bobby.”
“I’m probably the Bobby she wrote of, I admit. It was such a short thing, but I’m sorry I never told you, Mrs. Lane.”
Grandma’s face was unreadable for a moment, until she finally gave Bobby a dismissive hand wave. “It’s no matter. I actually think you would have been a nice boy for her. I just hope she didn’t break your heart too hard.”
“At first. But it was a learning experience, I guess you could say. Not that I’m a fast learner, since the next girl broke my heart too.”
Abigail wondered if she shouldn’t pursue the topic. But considering he had volunteered that much information already, she asked, “What happened after that?”
“Oh, a few years after your mother, I ended up with my high school sweetheart. Got married, moved to California, had Sally, hosted my own cable game show… But things changed, my show got canceled, so I came back he
re and did local TV instead. Wife didn’t like the change in lifestyle. Luckily Sally was old enough to make her own choices, and she stuck with me after the divorce.”
Abigail winced. “Jeez, that’s a tough break, Bobby.”
Bobby shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be.” Before the topic could continue any further, his phone starting buzzing wildly, making various prize sound effects from classic game shows. He paused to check it, his smile disappearing as his eyes scanned his phone screen. “Oh, boy.”
Abigail and Grandma both hovered over him. “What is it?” Abigail asked.
Bobby read it off to them. “My reporter friend just texted me. She says an employee of Kirby’s found a gun behind the counter. It matches the same caliber of bullet that killed Reginald. Sheriff Wilson interviewed the rest of the employees and discovered Kirby wasn’t working the night of the murder. It was enough information to take Kirby into custody for questioning.”
Abigail shot a look Grandma’s way. “We were right.”
Bobby asked, “You knew?”
“Well, we suspected,” Abigail explained. “We just didn’t want to believe it. Kirby seemed like a nice guy.”
Bobby shrugged, unconvinced. “Strong, quiet types, you know? Something about a man who doesn’t engage in small talk really makes me uncomfortable. You shouldn’t underestimate what they’re capable of.”
“I guess.”
Bobby tucked his phone away. “I oughta get back to the station. Thanks for the cookie, Mrs. Lane.”
Grandma nodded. “And thank you for your patronage.”
Bobby shot two playful finger guns at them before he hurried off, leaving them alone again. Grandma turned the ‘closed’ sign over and locked the front door. “I can’t do work after hearing such awful news.”
“Yeah, but I mean, at least they solved the case, right?”
“I suppose. That gives us the weekend to relax… But I wonder if it goes deeper?”
Abigail didn’t want to go down another rabbit hole, but she indulged Grandma. “What do you mean?”
“What if Dag’s involved too? He has access to the ship, after all, and it’s somehow connected to this treasure business. Ever since Reginald bought the letters off Ernest Lebeau, he could have let the little family secret out. I mean, who knows how many people he told about the treasure? And since he and Kirby had that fight, the two could have been in on it together. That is, perhaps, until a little backstabbing occurred?”
Abigail sighed. “I’d rather not entertain that idea. It’s already a bummer that Kirby’s involved.”
Grandma hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. It’s easy to get caught up in the scandal of it all, but I’d rather not implicate anyone else in this nasty business. Let’s just try to enjoy the last couple of days of your visit.”
Abigail looked down at her hands. “Yeah. Let’s.”
As exciting as the whole investigation was, looking back, Abigail almost wished she had spent the time just sitting around, talking to Grandma all day. She had a lifetime of catching up to do, and she doubted she’d get more than a week off every year to do it.
Then again, without the murder, she wouldn’t have gotten the call about Grandma being in the hospital. It was just too bad somebody had to die for her and Grandma to finally meet.
Chapter 24
The news of Kirby’s arrest put quite a damper on things. The buzz that had permeated the town since the body’s discovery had since tapered off. Now that everything was more quiet and business had slowed, Abigail was starting to think she could get used to this pace. Two or three customers an hour gave her and Grandma time to relax.
Abigail rested her head on her interlaced fingers, her elbows on the sales counter as she watched Grandma take a feather duster to a shelf of collectibles. “So, Grandma,” she began. “Tell me about why you got into antiques.”
Grandma paused in her dusting and looked over at Abigail, waving the feather duster as she spoke. “I love the tales antiques tell of various times in history. There’s something romantic about it.”
“In what way?”
“Well, it seems to me that the days of old speak of slower moments, cherished seconds that people seem to take for granted now.” She looked off wistfully. “Not to mention the mysteries that revolve around many antiques. They get me wondering where they came from, what purpose they served, the history they witnessed. There’s nothing quite like holding something that came from Napoleon’s time, or that belonged to a Civil War soldier.”
Abigail smiled. “Is that why you named the store ‘Whodunit Antiques’?”
Grandma looked at her, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Yes, that’s one reason. Most people like to hear the story behind an antique, and I like to tell them whodunit, so to speak.”
“You’re pretty cool for a grandma, you know that?” Abigail stood back up and started organizing the day’s receipts.
Grandma chuckled, said, “You aren’t so bad yourself,” then resumed her dusting. Eventually she made her way over to a shelf full of old handmade stuffed animals. She froze, then shot Abigail a look. “I must be getting old. I almost forgot about this.”
“About what?”
“A belated birthday gift I had made just for you!”
Abigail frowned curiously. “Really?”
Grandma picked up a floppy old elephant doll made of a paisley fabric. “I had him made for you when I found out you were born. Sadly I never had the chance to give him to you. You see how his trunk is up?”
Abigail nodded.
“Well, that’s for good luck. And it’s just for you.”
“No kidding? I had noticed him my first morning here, and that he didn’t have a price tag. I didn’t know you could sew such cute little stuffed animals.”
Grandma smiled. “Technically, I had him made for you, rather than made him myself. My childhood friend, Mrs. Applebaum, made it.” She handed the floppy elephant over to Abigail. “And now it’s yours.”
Abigail held it tight to her chest. It was ridiculously soft, but also delicate, so she handled it carefully. “Thank you, Grandma. Your friend is very talented.”
Grandma nodded. “I miss her so.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Grandma blinked at her. “Didn’t know what?”
“That she had passed…?”
Grandma snickered. “Heavens, no. She’s just off on some trip. She’s almost always away.”
Abigail carefully placed the elephant back on the shelf. “Okay, well, if he’s a good luck charm, I think he should stay right here for now.”
Grandma smiled, only for them to be interrupted by a customer. They turned, seeing Reginald’s business partner enter.
“Are you open?” he asked, despite having already barged in.
Abigail took the lead. “Yes. Can we help you?”
“I just came to ask, hopefully for the last time, what Reginald bought here. Now that his killer has been caught, I thought maybe you two would be more willing to talk.”
Abigail crossed her arms and noted, “You don’t seem that choked up about it.”
He laughed incredulously. “We all grieve differently. Now can one of you help me? I know he spent a lot of money here, almost a thousand dollars, but on what?”
Grandma walked behind the counter and put on a much friendlier demeanor than Abigail. “All sorts of things. Was he your brother?”
The man stuttered for a moment. “Look, I’m about to contact the credit card company to charge back whatever he paid you—that is, if I don’t get a copy of the receipt.”
“You can’t do that,” Abigail began to say, before Grandma gently squeezed her shoulder.
“It’s all right. I’ll give the man a receipt, if his card matches Reginald’s.”
The man nodded, handing his credit card over to Grandma. She bent down behind the counter and pulled out her hand-written sales report. “Gregory Grimes,” she mumbled, getting his name
off the card as she looked at last week’s receipts. “Well, you’re certainly related with that name.”
“I’m his cousin. Though our relationship was more professional than familial.”
“Regardless, I’m sorry for you loss.” Grandma’s eyes then lit up. “Ah, here it is.” She turned the receipt over to Gregory, though she kept a finger on the tip of it, only letting him look.
Gregory looked over the receipt, mumbling, “An old cannon ball?”
“Fired from a Lebeau pirate ship.”
“Like the one at the pier?”
“That’s a Fischer whaling ship. But similar.”
Gregory grumbled, reading further. “A ship wheel? For $500?”
“It’s a genuine wheel, again, from a Lebeau pirate ship.”
“He wasn’t one to spend so much money on a whim. Was there anything special about it?”
Grandma shook her head. “Beside its age and history, though I would think that’s enough to make a thing special.”
Gregory seemed unconvinced. “Oh well. He must’ve thought he was on to something, but I don’t see how a cannon ball and ship wheel can be worth coming all the way down here for.”
“He wanted something else of mine, but I told him it wasn’t for sale.”
Abigail leaned forward, watching Gregory’s expression. She knew Grandma was referring to the ship in a bottle.
“What was it?” Gregory almost demanded.
Grandma left him in anticipation for a few moments before saying, “Oh, it doesn’t matter now. It’s in the sheriff’s evidence vault. Perhaps you should speak to him?”
Gregory glared at her, then Abigail, then turned around in a huff. “Whatever. As long as the killer has been caught, I suppose I’ll try to put this whole mess behind me.” With that, he stormed out.
Abigail watched as he peeled away in his car. Once he disappeared, she turned back to Grandma. “Think we should tell the sheriff about him?”
“I don’t think he’d have volunteered his name had he been involved in any of this.”
“Still, he seems a little odd.”
“Well, people can be odd when they’re grieving, like he said. We have his license plate, phone number, and name. If we catch a whiff of anything else that might be suspicious, we’ll hand the information over to the sheriff, but otherwise, we should leave him be. He lost a cousin and a business partner.”
