Chapter 27
Dear Sophie,
Can you settle an argument? I bought an antique chair that was made in 1911, over one hundred years ago. My mom says it’s not an authentic antique unless it was made before 1830. Who is right?
Proud of My Antique Chair in Old Town, Alexandria, Virginia
Dear Proud of My Antique Chair,
To be called an antique, an item must be over one hundred years old. However, some collectors claim only items made before 1830 are true antiques because machines came into use in manufacturing after that date. You and Mom will have to agree to disagree. Be proud of your chair and enjoy it!
Sophie
I was up early on Wednesday morning. After a walk with Daisy and a shower, I fed Daisy and Mochie. I skipped oatmeal in favor of shimmering blackberry jam that I had bought at the farmers’ market. It was all I needed on whole wheat toast with a mug of tea. Then I baked a peach coffee cake to bring to the employees of Chatsworth Antiques.
It had been a week since Orson’s death, and it was time to open the store. All the employees were scheduled to be there. If not to work, at least to meet me. The store would be back to earning its keep.
On my way there, I stopped to buy six lattes. Not everyone liked them, but I hoped it was a safe bet that most of the employees would appreciate them. Besides, I had seen a coffeemaker and a teapot, so they would have those options if they preferred. Juggling the lattes and the coffee cake, I unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. I set them down on the table where we had had dinner, added elegant paper napkins and a knife for cutting the cake, and then walked around turning on lights. The air was cool, and it was comfortingly silent. I wondered if Orson had enjoyed the quiet before everyone arrived as I was doing now. It didn’t last long. Ian was the first to come in, all bubbly, his nose peeling slightly from a sunburn.
The others filed in somberly. An older woman, with gray streaks running through her black hair, introduced herself as Margie.
A tall, slender gentleman stiffly shook my hand and said, “Robert.” He eyed me curiously. Not that I could blame him. Not only was I his new boss, but I had come by the store in a truly unexpected manner.
A redhead named Reba who was about Ian’s age smiled at me shyly. And finally, a portly middle-aged man, who seemed displeased about my presence, briskly blurted, “Gene.”
They gathered around me. “Thank you all for coming in today. I’m truly sorry to meet you under such sad circumstances. Please help yourself to lattes and the coffee cake.”
“Is it true that Orson was murdered?” asked Margie.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I heard you investigate murders. Is that why you’re here? To spy on us?” Robert seemed highly suspicious of me.
“No!” I blurted. “Not at all. You’re here because the store needs to be open and running again. I know they haven’t had a service for Orson yet, so we’ll close again on that day out of respect and so that all of you can attend. I have on occasion uncovered a murderer and I can use help from all of you in that regard. You spent a lot of time with Orson. You may have seen or heard something that now seems curious or out of place. Please don’t be shy. If you know of anyone who held a grudge against Orson or disliked him for some reason, I hope you will share that information with me.” I was relieved to see some of them nodding their heads.
“Anything we can do to help,” Gene growled in his deep voice. “Orson was very good to me. I’d like to catch the person who did him in.”
No one wrapped an arm around him or comforted him. I had a feeling he wasn’t that kind of guy.
“In addition, someone broke into the store after Orson’s death. As you can see, all the broken glass has been cleaned up. I have changed the locks and updated the security system. While you’re here today, I would like to set up the work schedule and give each of you a new key and the code to the alarm, so you can open and close the store when it’s your day to do so.”
I could have been wrong, but I thought I saw some of them eyeing one another. That was curious. I would have to try to talk to them one at a time so they could speak privately.
“Lastly, I have no idea what the intruder might have taken. To a newcomer like me, there’s a lot of inventory. But you are familiar with the items and where they were, so perhaps you can shed some light on what might have been taken. And that, in turn, might give us a lead on Orson’s killer. Any questions?”
“Are you going to sell the store?” asked Robert.
“I really haven’t given that much thought yet, but I promise that I’ll keep you posted.”
“Why did Orson leave you the store?” asked Margie. “I always thought he would leave it to Stella.”
“I’m not sure. I think he had a purpose, but I haven’t figured it out yet.” It was a half lie. But I couldn’t exactly tell them he thought someone was going to kill him!
They began to drift around the store, lattes in hand. I watched as they searched. I hadn’t moved very much. Only a couple of items the night we had dinner, but I had taken care to put them back where they belonged.
“Should I turn on the music?” asked Margie.
“Music? Yes, please.” I followed her to see where and how she would do it. It was actually very simple. Classical music filled the store, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere.
Ian tapped the glass cases. “Should we put out the jewelry?”
“Yes! Of course.” I went into the office with him.
“Not everyone has the combination to the safe. Only Margie and me.” He sucked in air. “Looks like the burglar wanted to get into the safe. These scratches weren’t here before.” He dialed the combination and swung the door open. “Whew! I don’t think he got in.”
Ian removed trays of jewelry and carried them out to the locked cases. I took more out and looked through them. To my untrained eyes they looked like antiques, in style anyway. Emeralds, diamonds, rubies, amethysts, and more. I set them aside and examined the door. Ian was right. The scratches certainly looked as if someone had struggled to break the lock. I had a feeling that was futile. I didn’t know anything about getting into a safe, but if movies had even a little realism, and I thought they did, you couldn’t get into a safe that way, which suggested to me that our burglar was not a professional. Whoever broke in didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he hadn’t taken anything when he couldn’t get access to the safe!
Robert entered the office. “I locked the front door.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a precaution. We always lock the door when we’re putting out the jewelry or putting it back in the safe at night. It’s when we’re most vulnerable.”
“I didn’t know that. Thank you. Should I set up the work schedule in a particular order? Does someone have seniority?”
“I think we’re in agreement that the previous schedule was working fine.”
“Great. It sounds like you’re a fairly amicable group.”
“You could say that.”
Ian returned for the rest of the jewelry. When he left, I asked, “Robert, would you like to be first?”
“For what?”
I closed the door and asked him to have a seat. “You’ve already indicated that the previous work schedule is fine with you. Is there anything you would like me to know?”
“In what regard?”
“About you or the store or Orson?”
“Nope.”
I studied his face and wondered if he was the kind of guy who held everything inside. Maybe he just didn’t warm up to strangers fast. And I was certainly a stranger. I took out one of the store business cards and wrote my personal number on the back. “Call me if you ever need anything.”
“Like what?”
“If you have an emergency or there’s something you think I should know.”
“Can I go now?”
I nodded. “Please send in someone else.”
Margie was much warmer than Robert. Ian was most helpful, and Gene was like talking to a brick wall. I wondered how a guy like that could sell anything.
Reba entered the office timidly.
I smiled at her. “Please have a seat.”
She murmured something that I could barely understand. I asked her to say it again.
In a soft, little voice, she said, “Thank you for bringing the lattes and cake. They were a wonderful treat.”
“You’re very welcome. Are you satisfied with the schedule as it was before?”
“Yes.” I could barely hear her. She went on, looking me straight in the eyes. “The piece that is missing is the face carved in stone and mounted on a post, except it’s not actually stone.”