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Except for a bunch of for sale signs, my sister’s old neighborhood hadn’t changed much in the five years since I’d been there. It was an upscale neighborhood of professionals and business owners, but Truman’s current recession of closed business had taken its toll. Of the homes that weren’t for sale, most could use some new paint and a lawn trimming. Arnold Benson’s home wasn’t one of them. Civil War artifacts must be very profitable. Fred and the cat woke the minute I pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. Bonnie had been dozing, too.
Benson was standing on his front porch, waiting for us. “Guess I nodded off,” Bonnie said, rubbing her eyes so she could see better. “I thought he’d be a lot younger, didn’t you?”
“Actually, I’d expected him to be much older, judging by the sound of his voice on the phone when we called ahead.”
“Everyone around here sounds a lot older than they are, Jake. I think it’s the humidity.”
Fred interrupted me with a bark before I could answer Bonnie. “You’ll have to hold it, Freddie. Just be a good boy for now and take care of your cat while we talk to him.”
“You mean my cat,” Bonnie said as she opened her door to get out.
Fred didn’t seem to care whose cat it was and jumped over the seat and out Bonnie’s door before she could shut it.
Benson left his porch steps and came down to greet Fred, who hadn’t gone ten feet before sitting on his haunches and smiling. “Aren’t you a good boy,” Benson said, bending down to pet Fred’s head. The effort had been noticeable. It gave me a bad feeling he might not be able to stand back up.
“You must be, Jake. That’s one fine dog you have there,” Benson said, holding out his hand. He managed to straighten up without help or falling over.
“Yes, I am. Good to meet you,” I said, taking his hand and holding it tightly in case he needed support.
“And who’s this young lady you brought with you?” he asked.
“This is my neighbor and good friend, Bonnie Jones. It’s her family’s Civil War relics I called about.”
If Bonnie was still drowsy, it certainly didn’t show. Her cheeks were suddenly the color of an overcooked lobster.
“He was my sister’s husband’s great, great-grandfather,” she said softly.
“Well, I seem to be forgetting my manners. Why don’t we all go inside? I just put on a fresh pot of coffee, and I’ll show you my collection.”
Fred barked to let us know he was still there. Benson looked over at him and laughed. “You’re welcome, too, big boy. I might even find you a little treat.”
Knowing Fred as well as I do, I knew he was more interested in finding a tree, so I let him stay outside instead. It wasn’t like I had to worry about traffic. Benson’s driveway was a good day’s walk to the road we’d come in on, or so it seemed.
***
THE INSIDE OF THE HOUSE was as grand and well-kept as the outside. We entered into a great room through a huge, antique door that had to be ten feet tall. The door was dwarfed by the size of the room with its twenty-five-foot ceiling. Bonnie nodded her head behind our host’s back, toward the large Persian carpet covering a marble-tiled floor as we were lead to an oversized, leather sofa.
“What a beautiful view,” Bonnie said as she took a seat on the sofa facing some of the largest windows I’d ever seen outside an office building.
“Thank you. We had the home designed around that lake view. It’s the main reason I haven’t sold, now that Gloria’s gone, not that I’d get a fraction of what it’s worth in this market.” He’d begun his reply with a smile and finished with a frown. One second his eyes were bright and shiny and the next they looked like a cloud had cut off the light. I could feel his pain without having to ask if Gloria had been his wife. I felt the same every time someone mentioned Julie.
Bonnie must have felt the change, too. “Well, it certainly is a beautiful home, Mr. Benson.”
The clouds passed and he lit up again. “Thank you, but nowhere as beautiful as you, my dear. And please, call me Arnie.”
“How do you manage to keep the place so immaculate, Arnie,” I asked while Bonnie tried to overcome her shock.
“That, my boy, is one good thing about the current economy. With our astronomical unemployment rate, help is so easy to find—and cheap, I might add, but it’s still difficult to find dependable help. Young people nowadays don’t have any clue how to spell work. But enough of my ramblings let me go fetch that coffee.” Benson pushed a button on the side of his recliner, and we watched as it slowly raised him to a near standing position.
Bonnie waited until he was out of sight, and hopefully far enough away, so he wouldn’t hear. “What an old pervert.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now, Bon, maybe you should play along and someday this could all be yours.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Jake! Don’t be disgusting.”
Benson was back with an ornate serving cart before I could answer her. “I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, so I brought everything I could think of that you might like.” The cart carried a silver coffee urn with matching bowls of sugar and cream. There were also several decanters of various colored liquids. Bonnie quickly wiped the smirk from her face she’d given me moments before.
“Is that bourbon?” she asked.
Benson picked up a decanter and held it up to the light from the window. “Yes, it is, my dear. Jim Beam’s Distiller’s Masterpiece. It used to be Gloria’s favorite. We would sit on our bedroom deck on warm spring evenings and watch the boats go buy. I’ve been saving it for someone as lovely as you.”
I’m not much of a ladies’ man myself, but I knew this was no way to impress Bonnie. On the other hand, I also knew her penchant for bourbon. She didn’t even flinch.
“My favorite, too, Arnie,” she said, almost drooling.
Benson smiled, removed the cut-glass stopper from the decanter, poured a few ounces into a thin china cup, and then filled it to the top with coffee. “Bottoms up,” he said, handing her the cup.
Not wanting to disturb whatever was going on between the two old coots, I got up and helped myself to coffee. “I hate to interrupt,” I said after sitting back down, “but I’ve got a date with a sheriff’s deputy tonight. Could you show us the artifacts, Arnie?”
Suddenly Benson’s jovial mood changed as he wiped the palms of his hands down his trousers. There was a sudden chill in the air, as though a wall of ice had formed between us. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the sheriff. “I really didn’t think you’d show. Most people who call on my ads never do.”
Bonnie nearly dropped her bourbon. “Are you saying you no longer have my sword?”
He didn’t look up when he answered. “I sold it and the Bowie knife half an hour before you got here.” In a way, I felt sorry for the old man. He seemed to age ten years before our eyes, knowing that his flirting with Bonnie was over. I spoke up before Bonnie could exercise her famous vocabulary.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Arnie. Could you tell us who you sold them to? Maybe it’s not too late to buy them back.”
“I really shouldn’t, Jake.” He found the courage to look me in the eyes this time, and I could see the guilt he must have felt.
Bonnie’s next move surprised me. Instead of showing off her knowledge of words that started with the letter F, she reached over and grasped Benson’s knee. “Please, Arnie? It would mean so much to me.”
Suddenly, breaking the ice had a new meaning, or in this case, melting the ice. “He’s an antique dealer in Lincoln. He called me after he’d found I’d bought the sword. I’ll go get his card, but whatever you do, please don’t tell him you got his name from me. You two look smart—I’m sure you can come up with a clever cover story.”
***
BENSON DIDN’T BOTHER to show us out, nor did he make any more passes at Bonnie. I suppose any chance she had of marrying into money like her sister had evaporated. Fred was waiting at the Jeep, acting like we’d been gone a week. I would have stopped to assure him we hadn’t forgotten him but wanted to get away before Bonnie had a change of heart.
***
“SO, WHEN WERE YOU GOING to tell me about her, Jake?” Bonnie woke me from my trance. I’d been thinking about how lucky my sister had been to have sold her house before the market crashed. But then, she always had been the lucky one—or maybe not, knowing how our mother must be getting on her nerves. Bonnie had been busy with her new cat, and Fred had gone back to sleep on the rear seat, so I’d had a few minutes of silence to think.
“Huh?”
“Your date with a deputy. I know you well enough to know that look in your eyes when you mentioned her. Is she cute?” Bonnie chuckled. I could tell she was having fun with her questioning.
“Yeah. Cute and smart, but I really don’t have a date, at least nothing set in stone. I just said that so we could get on with why we went to Benson’s before you two sent me packing.”
Mention of Benson sidetracked Bonnie’s inquiry into my love life, and she went back to petting her kitten.
“Looks like we can scratch him from our suspect list,” she said after a few minutes.
“Benson? Since when was he a suspect? And have you forgotten, we’re not here to solve another murder. Once we get your relics back, we’re leaving Dodge faster than the Clanton Brothers.”
Bonnie laughed. I didn’t take my eyes off the road but could imagine the face she must be making. “You mean Tombstone, don’t you? Have you forgotten that among other subjects, I taught history, too? The OK Corral was in Tombstone, not Dodge, and only one of the Clantons made it out alive.”
“Not my fault, Bon. I missed class the day they discussed the OK Corral. Fred had eaten my homework and I played hooky.”
She started to roar and was nearly in tears with laughter. “I’ll bet your teachers had their hands full with you.” She didn’t stop laughing until Fred put his head on the front seat to see what was so funny.
She took one look at Fred and started in again. I’m sure Fred thought she’d lost it, but I knew it was her way of letting off steam. Comedy Central was safe for the moment because nothing I’d said was really that funny. I waited for her stop laughing before I got back to the reason we were there.
“The antique store in Lincoln will probably be closed before we get there. What say we grab a bite then head for the motel? The place is practically empty, so I’m sure we won’t have a problem getting you a room.”