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Beverly’s heart sank as she drove up to the courthouse and saw the canyon-sized frown on Adam’s face. When he climbed in, she asked, “I thought Harlan being released on bail was good news?”
“That part’s good, you’re right. But poor Harlan has to wear an ankle monitor. And be almost a prisoner, stuck at home and work only. It’ll make him feel horrible. And how’s that going to work with his customers? Seeing him wear that thing?”
Beverly didn’t like the image, either, but replied, “His customers know him, Adam. Know he wouldn’t do what he’s accused of. And Prospero can hold down the fort if necessary.”
“Hope so.” Adam rubbed his temples. “And thanks for dropping me at the office. I’ll arrange for a mechanic to stop by the house and fix my car since the station can’t give me a loaner. Jinx can take me home later.”
They drove in silence the rest of the way to the station. Adam was probably as lost in his thoughts as Beverly was in hers. She felt so sorry for Adam being put in this position in the first place. Not being able to check on Harlan must be eating away at him.
When they arrived at the PD, Beverly said, “I’ll give Harlan a chance to settle in at home and check in on him later. I can let you know how he’s doing, right? I mean, surely that doesn’t break any ethics laws.”
“None that I know of. Tell him. . .no, you’d better not relay any messages from me. And thanks, Beverly. For being chauffeur and for being Harlan’s friend.”
She hated to leave Adam in his downcast state and gave him the most encouraging smile she could as she waved goodbye and drove off. She figured she’d give Harlan a couple of hours before she stopped by. Which meant she had a couple hours to burn.
Merely spending it at the Apple Valley Resort sitting around doing nothing wasn’t her style. Better to be proactive. She headed for the Salt Rock Lodge and Conference Center to chat with Braddon Hopper again.
But right as she arrived, Braddon climbed into his car and started to head out of the parking lot. “Alright then, Beverly, what now?” she said aloud to herself. Follow him, that’s what. Her initial excitement at what she might find turned to disappointment when he stopped at a dry cleaner, carrying what looked like costumes.
She parked down the street and waited until she saw him exiting the shop. She took a quick photo of him on her cellphone and then hurried toward him. When she called his name, he turned toward her. “Miss Laborde, isn’t it? The one working with the police?”
“Yes, but I’m just heading in to pick up some dry cleaning. Thrilled I don’t have to launder all that clothing, myself.”
“Tell me about it. Try getting black currant mead stains out of tunics and tabards.”
She smiled. “You don’t use mutton fat or wood ash soap?”
He snorted. “Hey, I have a cellphone and a TV. What goes on at the SCA stays at the SCA.”
“And modern society thanks you for using deodorant, too.” She fished around in her purse as if looking for her claim ticket. “I’m surprised Wallace Ryall would be interested in the SCA since he was a germaphobe, according to his ex-girlfriend, Fern Gery.”
“He hid it pretty well. Washed his hands all the time.”
“You said the other day that you thought it was hard for Wallace to find another girlfriend after Fern. Why is that?”
“Well, the whole germ thing, but that’s not all. He could be a bit violent and had impulse control issues. Kinda wondered if he’d assaulted Fern, quite frankly.”
That was news to Beverly since Fern had said Wallace was a sweet guy. “You never saw him hit her?”
“No, they seemed okay together. But even my ex-girlfriend Jane worried about the assault thing. It’s not just me.”
“It’s a shame Wallace was so troubled.”
“Guess he came by it honest. Dysfunctional family and all.” Braddon unlocked his car. “Been nice chatting with you, but I’ve got to get some flowers for my current girlfriend. It’s her birthday.”
“Happy Birthday to her, then.”
Before he slid into the car, he asked, “You think red roses or pink? We’ve only been dating two weeks.”
“Go talk to Fern Gery at her shop, The Gift Guru. I’m sure she’ll help you choose something nice.”
He headed off, and Beverly had the brief idea to keep tailing him, but that might be too obvious. Although she could say she was getting flowers for Harlan. Definitely too obvious. Making up her mind, she headed to Tossed Treasures, and this time, the front door was unlocked.
Prospero looked up when Beverly headed in, a small smile on his face. Beverly marched up to him. “I must apologize to you, Prospero. I didn’t know about the police technician the other day when I blundered in here. Hope I didn’t get you in any trouble.”
He put down a clock he was fiddling with. “I think that policeman, Joe Brimm, was secretly amused. Though he didn’t admit it. And I don’t think you kept him from doing his job.”
“You’re a very perceptive young man. Must take after Shakespeare’s Prospero. Wise and magical.”
He grinned. “Then I think Harlan doesn’t pay me enough.”
The mention of Harlan’s name dimmed Prospero’s smile. Beverly asked, “Did anyone call you about the arraignment this morning?”
“Harlan did. He tried to sound like his usual self, but I think he was down in the dumps. But it’s good, right? No more jail cell?”
“And he can continue to come to work, too.”
“Just in time. We got in a delivery of old advertising signs. Professor Flint’s Horse and Cattle Powders, Big Ben’s Sodas, Oilzum Motor Oil. And I have no idea how to catalog them. Or where to put them.”
Beverly smiled. “Harlan will set you straight. I know he appreciates your invaluable help. Sure hope the police don’t suspect you had anything to do with this.” She’d entertained the idea herself until Adam told her Prospero had an alibi for the time of Wallace Ryall’s murder.
“I told Mr. Adam I’d willingly take a hundred lie detector tests and swear on a stack of Bibles—King James, American Standard, English Standard, you name it.”
“He’d take you up on it if it would help.”
She headed to the cabinet with the swords and peered inside. Mostly full. Except for a section where an indentation on the fabric in the bottom of the case showed one sword was missing. “Who would have known the missing sword was here?”
Prospero joined her beside the case. “The sons of Reuben Ryall? Or Reuben told some of his friends, maybe.”
“Did he even have any close friends? I’m getting the impression his murdered son wasn’t very well-liked. Like father, like son?”
“His father was less prickly. And I believe he was friends with the mayor.”
If Adam knew that, and he surely did by now, he’d probably hit the roof when he found out that tidbit. She noted the dark circles under Prospero’s eyes. The man had likely gotten less sleep than she did. “Have long have you known Harlan, Prospero?”
“Since I came to work here. About nine years ago. He hired me on with no experience. I needed the job, and I guess he saw that. I owe him a lot.”
“Harlan has the knack for rescuing lost souls.”
The young man smiled and absently fingered a Replogle art deco ocean globe on a nearby stand that looked newly dusted. In fact, everything in the shop looked dusted and tidy. Harlan had a good eye for people as well as antiques.
She asked, “Did Harlan ever mention being threatened by anyone? Or did you ever see anyone argue with him?”
“He never said any such thing. But now you mention it, Mayor Lehmann came by to see him once. They went back to Harlan’s office and closed the door. Couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but I did hear raised voices. After, the mayor stormed out. And Harlan had black clouds over him all day.”
That was both surprising and not surprising. Surprising because Adam had never mentioned it. Which meant that Harlan may have never told him. And not surprising because of how Lehmann had it in for Adam—and Harlan, by proxy.
“I don’t suppose you ever saw a man in here, thirtyish, athletic, shoulder-length dark blond hair? Name of Braddon Hopper?” She showed him the cellphone photo she’d taken earlier.
Prospero bent over the phone to peer at the photo. “No, can’t say as I have.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Wait, I think there was this one time. I was working in the back while Harlan was at the counter. This fellow there, I think he came in, but his hair was up in one of those man buns. He wore a yellow scarf, too, the color of his hair. But I’m sure of it now. It was the same guy.”
“I wonder what he wanted?”
Prospero closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. “I’m not sure. But I think. . .” He opened his eyes suddenly. “The swords. I think he was looking at the swords.”
“He belongs to the Society for Creative Anachronism. That wouldn’t be a big stretch for him to be interested in weapons like that.”
“Could be. But you don’t think—”
“I don’t know. Adam and I talked to Braddon the other day. He didn’t mention coming here.”
Prospero bounced on the balls of his feet. “Oh, maybe this is, what do they call it, a break? In the case?”
“I’ll tell Adam and let him take it from there.”
Beverly looked around the store and didn’t see any customers. “Since you’re here all by your lonesome, you can’t take time off as often. Why don’t you head on out for a bite of lunch? I learned all about antiques from my grandmother’s shop. Happy to help out.”
He hesitated. “I brought my lunch. Didn’t think I’d be able to leave.”
“Well, then, you can go to the back or Harlan’s office, have your lunch, get some coffee.”
With a broad smile on his face, he thanked her and headed to the break room. Beverly wandered through the store, admiring some of Harlan’s latest acquisitions. A cast-iron “hornet’s nest” bird house. Victorian D&K brass conical incense diffusers. An Asian-themed porcelain dish, Imari, if she wasn’t mistaken. She picked it up and looked at the tag. Eighteenth-century Edo Japanese, Arita Kakiemon style.
The bell over the door to the shop rang, and a woman walked in. But she didn’t browse, she came right up to Beverly and asked, “I need something for a man who’s hard to shop for.”
Without missing a beat, Beverly replied, “Does he have any hobbies?”
“Not many, no. But he does love gardening and nature.”
“Does he, by any chance, enjoy bird watching?”
“Why, yes he does. Not right now, naturally. But when spring arrives again.”
Beverly picked up the bird house. “This dates from around 1910. It’s an unusual bird house made from cast iron. You see a little bit of wear, where the three layers of paint show through, the bottom cream, the middle red, and the top green coat.”
The woman frowned. “Cast iron? Wouldn’t that be too heavy?”
“These used to be quite popular. They’re usually on stands, and when hung, often in the form of a Victorian-style house. This one here is very unusual. Only one of its kind I’ve ever seen.” She pointed to the screw on the top. “And you attach it to the eaves of your house or to a tree.”
The woman picked it up and turned it around in her hands. Then she beamed at Beverly. “He’ll never guess what this is. Oh, yes, it’s perfect.”
Beverly went behind the counter and saw that the register was one she was familiar with, fortunately. She rang up the purchase, saw a box and tissue under the counter that she used to wrap it up, and watched as the satisfied customer left the store.
Right as she left, Prospero hurried into the front. “I thought I heard the bell.” He looked around, disappointed.
“I sold the hornet’s next bird house. The cast-iron one.”
He stared at her. “You sold it?”
Beverly felt her cheeks grow warm. Perhaps that was an item set aside for someone else? Had she made another of her reckless blunders?
But then Prospero reached over and gave her a hug. “That bird house has sat there for two years. Couldn’t give it away.”
Beverly grinned. “I would ask for my sales commission, but I think Harlan needs all the good luck he can get.”
