A Body in the Bargain: A Kate & Kylie Mystery Page 12

  She had actually planned to bequeath books to the library that Aunt Verily had discarded and the Friends of the Library had sold for under a dollar.

  And she apparently took each acquisition seriously. Each book I pulled out had a printed nameplate carefully centered on the first page.

  Ex Libris

  Meredith Anne Merkle

  When I finished the upstairs bookcases, I had a copy of the complete works of Lewis Carroll, which seemed out of place in the collection, and a slim volume of Sonnets from the Portuguese. We had agreed that I’d pick a few so that it would be clear I’d gone through them.

  When I went back downstairs, the appraiser—a Mr. Abner Dodsworth from Atlanta—had arrived and was in deep discussion with Laurinda Dove. He was in a three-piece pinstriped suit and had a camera and a laptop computer.

  “I have a partial inventory she wrote,” Laurinda Dove said, producing, a yellow lined page with spidery handwriting. “She told me that she had no idea what the value of the furniture might be at the time of her death, but there is some silverware, and there are some glass pieces that might sell for a nice price to collectors. She said the most valuable ones are in the dining room china cabinet. She wrote down some descriptions here.”

  “That’s helpful,” Dodsworth said barely glancing at the list. “Now let’s take a quick look at the furniture first. Right off hand, I think that an estate sale is in order, and somebody local could certainly handle it. This kind of furniture is not selling well these days. Just a little too formal. Somebody will buy it, though. I’ll be taking photographs as we go.”

  I went over to Miss Rose, who appeared to have finished with the desk out quickly and had two overstuffed brown paper portfolios in the box.

  She showed me that they had labels with “Personal Papers” written in a spidery handwriting.

  “I believe this is the whole thing,” she said. “I’m not taking her old bills and tax information.”

  I said, “You were right about the books, but I’ve got three more bookcases to go.”

  The downstairs collection was no more interesting than the upstairs collection. I encountered Miss Merkle’s four complete sets of The Encyclopedia Britannica, all of which were outdated. I found a copy of Stephen Vincent Benet’s Readers Encyclopedia which I added it to the box, along with an illustrated copy of Treasure Island. I was just finishing the third bookcase when the appraiser and the attorney arrived back downstairs and headed for the china cabinet.

  That was when the drama began.

  “Oh, this is excellent!” the appraiser said, apparently just studying the handwritten list for the first time. “There do appear to be a few items we could auction. Let’s see the Sandwich glass.”

  I glanced over at Aunt Verily, who was pretending to go through a desk drawer she had already gone through. She might disapprove of snooping, but she was certainly curious.

  “Oh, dear,” Mr. Dodsworth said a minute later. “I certainly don’t see the blue tulip vase here. Let’s try the breakfront. Maybe she had it wrapped up for safekeeping. And would you look around, Miss Dove? She might have mixed it in with all that bric-a-brac on the mantel. It will be cobalt blue.”

  Aunt Verily and I were basically through, but we continued to poke around, and eavesdrop as the appraiser and the attorney got more and more worked up.

  “I should have mentioned this before,” Laurinda Dove said, “But I honestly thought there was nothing to it. There was a report that her brother entered the house a few days after her death, and I’m wondering…”

  “Well, it’s worth at least $5,000 if it’s the real thing,” Mr. Dodsworth said. “You must report that it’s missing, so I can have that for my report. There’s an issue of accountability for me, you know. You call the police, while I’ll take a look at the silver.”

  A few minutes later Laurinda Dove was on her phone saying, “Chief O’Reilly, could you please come over to Miss Merkle’s home? A valuable vase seems to be missing.”

  She told Mr. Dodsworth that the police were on their way and barely listened as I told her that Aunt Verily and I had gone through the papers and books and were ready to leave.

  I had picked up the first box when Mr. Dodsworth suddenly sprang into action.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t leave with anything until the police arrive,” he said.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Laurinda Dove protested. “They were just…”

  “They were both downstairs while we were upstairs,” Dodsworth said folding his hands over his chest “We have no idea what’s in those boxes.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to look,” Aunt Verily said.

  “No. We’ll leave that to law enforcement,” Dodsworth said, folding his arms across his chest. “I am in a position of accountability to my client, and now that I’ve seen the so-called silver, I can say that the vase in question is the single most valuable thing in this house, and I want everything done by the book.”

  “Oh, very well,” Aunt Verily said. “We can certainly wait for you to make much ado about nothing in front of the police.”

  Sgt. Brenda Breaker arrived first. Dodsworth demanded that she search our boxes, and I pushed mine toward her with the toe of my shoe.

  “Enjoy yourself,” I told her. “I was here helping Aunt Verily, and we have some books and papers Miss Merkle left to the library.

  “The vase in question is blue and made of glass, and so tall,” Mr. Dodsworth said, holding up his hands as a measure.

  To give her credit, Brenda Breaker found the whole thing funny. She smirked, pulled on a pair of gloves, and was making a big show of searching the boxes when Daniel O’Reilly arrived.

  “You again!” he said, winking at me. “Can’t you stay out of trouble?”

  Mr. Dodsworth scowled.

  “These ladies were about to leave with these three boxes,” Brenda Breaker told him very formally. “I have gone through the boxes per the request of this gentleman over here, and they contain only old papers and books.”

  “We have not stolen a vase,” Aunt Verily said. “We were invited here by Ms. Dove to go through items the late Miss Merkle left to the River Valley Library.”

  “Sgt. Breaker,” Daniel said with a straight face. “Please escort these ladies to Miss Marley’s car, and help them with their boxes while I speak with this gentleman. “

  After we had driven off, laughing, I suggested leaving the books and papers in my car trunk until she opened the library again on Monday.

  “Oh, would you?” she said. “I’m going off to visit Billie and Rebecca again, and I wouldn’t be looking at them until then. Or I may just call Maxie and tell her she can have the personal papers and do whatever she likes with them.”

  Then she became pensive.

  “I do hope that missing vase doesn’t mean any kind of serious trouble for Flip Tarver,” she said. “Do you think they’ll suspect him? Would they search his home?”

  “Possibly they’ll search,” I said, “But somehow I doubt they’ll find it.”

  “You mean you don’t think Flip took it?” she asked hopefully.

  “I think he could have,” I said, “but if he did, he would have known that sooner or later it would be missed. I doubt they’ll find it in his home or his shop.”

  “My goodness,” she said. “Now you sound like Hercule Poirot.”

  I twirled an invisible mustache and left her laughing.

  Then I went home to shower away the gloom of Meredith Merkle’s home and make myself presentable for an evening with Josh Miller and his dog.

  Chapter 14

  Josh’s Great Dane greeted me with such wild enthusiasm that he almost knocked me down. I managed to steady myself against a stockade fence that surrounded the tiny backyard of his garden apartment. The dog licked the side of my face.

  “Tank! Bad Dog!” Josh shouted, yank
ing his dog back by the collar. “Kate, are you all right?”

  “Oh, sure!” I said. “No problem.”

  “I’ll put him inside,” Josh said, dragging the dog to his back door, where they had a struggle.

  Josh won.

  Tank, however, began expressing his indignation at being excluded.

  He barked. And barked. And barked.

  “Ignore,” Josh said. “He’s just used to being wherever I am when I’m home.

  Tank barked some more and slammed his body against the door. He was hard to ignore.

  Josh realized he had left the wine and wine glasses inside, which led, despite his great efforts, to Tank’s escaping and bounding down the steps to greet me again. Since I was seated by that time, I spoke to him and scratched him behind his ears. He settled down beside my chair.

  “Just let him stay out here,” I said.

  “Well, if you don’t mind,” Josh said, looking relieved. “I’ll get the wine.”

  It wasn’t really a bad evening, and it certainly wasn’t romantic.

  Josh apparently doesn’t believe people when they say they like their steak medium rare, so mine was medium shoe-leather, but I fed bits of it to Tank when Josh wasn’t looking.

  We had salad out of a bag, and an excellent Beaujolais that I think must have cost quite a bit. And we talked.

  I told him about the box-searching at Miss Merkle’s, which he considered very funny. I didn’t share my speculation about who might have taken the vase, and he didn’t seem to connect it with Flip Tarver’s earlier break-in at his sister’s house.

  I was learning that Josh Miller’s mind was not the proverbial steel trap.

  He told me about his high school football career, his first marriage (his wife, Sherrilynne, shopped for a hobby and disliked dogs). Then he told me about his father’s weekly newspaper empire.

  In return, I told him a little bit about my growing up in River Valley.

  We discovered that we had wildly different political views and quickly dropped that subject.

  He wondered out loud why David Dabney hadn’t been charged with Miss Merkle’s murder, and I suggested that it was because there wasn’t evidence to support such a charge.

  He asked if I wanted to work for the paper full-time, and I said I absolutely didn’t.

  He dropped that subject, and asked me if I thought Doris Dabney might have killed Miss Merkle, and I told him what I thought.

  “You know,” I said. “Based on the look Doris Dabney gave me, and how much she risked to protect her son, I’d say she was perfectly capable of killing Miss Merkle,” I said. “But if she did, she didn’t put the body in the sofa bed. She was right there when Kylie opened the sofa bed and was just as surprised as we were when Miss Merkle turned out to be inside it.”

  He thought about it and said, “Maybe she killed Miss Merkle, and David found the body and put it in the sofa. That sure would have surprised her.”

  I said, “I wonder if they’re questioning Councilman Dabney.”

  “Well, I sure hope he didn’t do it,” Josh said. “He’s a good advertiser.”

  Josh and Tank walked me home just as it was getting dark, and Josh kissed me on the cheek right before Tank, who was used to running, pulled him away.

  I watched them run down the street and thought that maybe if I had had a little brother, he would have been like Josh.

  There was a slight shift in the light, and I realized that Sally Turbo had just pulled her curtains closed.

  Chapter 15

  Saturday was yard sale day. I told Kylie about our adventure at Miss Merkle’s as we headed to the ATM to get cash.

  “Oh, dear!” she said. “I hope Flip Tarver isn’t in jail again.”

  “Drive by Flip’s shop!” I said after we went to the ATM.

  She did, and the sign said “Open.”

  “Ha!” she said gleefully. “Looks like the cat burglar dodged the bullet again.”

  “Okay,” I said as we got out of the truck at the first yard sale. “Today is chairs and bookcases day.”

  It turned out also to be wicker rocking chair day.

  There was just one, and it was dirty and missing its cushion, but I already knew to look at the bones. I got it for $5.

  “That’s going to take some work,” Kylie said. “Oooh! Look at the mirror!”

  The mirror was a bit much, with an ornate gilded frame, but we both agreed that a little bit of glitter wasn’t a problem, and I could certainly use a mirror over my chest of drawers.

  At the second yard sale, I found a third kitchen chair that was almost like the two I already had but was painted apple green.

  “It would probably be easier to find matching ones than to strip all that paint off,” Kylie said.

  “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” I asked, laughing.

  People didn’t seem to sell bookcases. Maybe that’s because they can always be used for something, even if they wind up in the garage or basement. As we drove to the third yard sale, I was thinking about just buying cheap white ones that had to be assembled.

  That’s when we struck gold and found a set of four matching wooden kitchen chairs for $30. I said, “I’m getting them. They look better than the two I’ve got, and I don’t have to fix them up.

  “Okay,” Kylie said. “I’ll sell the others when I have my flea market at the Flood Festival. Chairs always sell.”

  We were home before noon with a disreputable-looking wicker rocker, six kitchen chairs, and a gilt-framed mirror. After we unloaded my finds and put the four matching chairs around the kitchen table, we took the two I already had out to the truck.

  Then we had iced tea, and I told Kylie about my dinner with Josh.

  “Didn’t he invite you inside?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “We were on the patio the whole time.”

  She laughed and said, “You two aren’t going to be an item, are you?”

  “Definitely not,” I said, “But I hope he finds somebody because he’s basically a good guy and he needs somebody to look after him.”

  “Somebody who really likes dogs,” she said.

  Chapter 16

  I hung the mirror over my chest of drawers and decided it was too beautiful a day to stay indoors. For a good part of that afternoon, I sat on the back steps making sketches of blossoms and whole branches.

  At around four, I felt my cell phone buzzing in my pocket.

  It was Daniel O’Reilly wanting to know if it would be convenient for him to come over for a few minutes.

  I admit that my heart skipped a beat. I told him “Sure” and ran to open my new bag of Ethiopian coffee and start a pot. I had time to do that and check myself in my new mirror before he arrived.

  “I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday,” he said. “I tried to reach Verily Pickens, but she’s not answering…”

  “She’s in Macon visiting family,” I said.

  “Well, I’m glad she’s okay,” he said. “I have a report to write about the theft, and I just wanted to make sure I had things right about why you two were there yesterday. That appraiser was all worked up. He wound up accusing Laurinda Dove, too. It was a mess.”

  He stifled a yawn.

  I smiled and said, “Have a seat. You look like you could use some coffee.”

  He stopped and looked around.

  “Hey, you got furniture!” he said. “It looks nice. Coffee would be good.”

  I suggested that he try out the furniture while I got coffee, and he sank into my new blue chair with his eyes closed. When I came back, he opened them, got a notebook out of his pocket, and sat up straighter.

  I kept my explanation of the visit to Miss Merkle’s house as simple as possible, explaining that Aunt Verily didn’t really want the collection of old books or the personal pap
ers for the library, but was going at the request of the attorney.

  He wasn’t taking notes, so I assumed that so far I was just confirming what he already knew.

  “What are these personal papers?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “We were wondering the same thing. All I know is that Aunt Verily found two big folders in Miss Merkle’s desk drawer, and so she plunked them into a box. Everything else seemed to be bills and old tax returns and things like that. By that time I had just about finished looking through the books and had pulled out a few that I thought were worth taking, and we were ready to go. That was when the appraiser started carrying on about the blue vase and insisted we wait.”

  “Did you know about the blue vase before you went over there?” he asked, sinking deeper into the chair.

  “Yes,” I said. “I think a number of people did. You know you can prop your feet on the coffee table if you like.”

  He looked startled and seemed to take it as some kind of admonishment. He sat up straighter instead.

  I was about to explain what Buddy had said, but he had another question

  “Who do you know of that knew about the vase?” he asked, “And how did you know?”

  I wasn’t about to give him a vague account of something I overheard Flip Tarver say on the phone. Instead, I told him about Maxie Lewis and Hester Foley trying to get in on Aunt Verily’s visit to Miss Merkle’s home, and what I remembered of Hester’s suspicion of Flip Tarver.

  “This is all second hand,” I said, “so you may want to ask her. Aunt Verily wouldn’t hear of taking them with her. She told them she wasn’t organizing a snooping party. In fact, she told them she wasn’t going over there at all, but then Laurinda Dove talked her into it, and she took me along to help.”

  He stretched and said, “You know, we had an anonymous call at the police station from an elderly lady who wanted us to look for the blue vase. She rattled off a lot of details and said it was tulip-shaped and if it wasn’t there, Flip Tarver had taken it, but if it was there—well, never mind.”