“That’s right. Even though I’m going there to sell, I’m looking to buy, too, and I don’t want to have to bid against them for every lot.”
“They’re not going to run you out of business, are they?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, but they’re costing me money. Of course, I can switch over to the books if I have to, but the glassware is more fun, and I hate to waste all I’ve learned about the markings and all.”
“You do know your stuff,” I said loyally.
Aunt Maggie looked pleased at that, but all she said was, “We better get a move on if we’re going to get to the auction on time.”
Chapter 20
Aunt Maggie had planned to go straight to the auction, but we talked her into letting us go back to the house long enough to clean up a little bit. Both Richard and I were dying to get into the shower, but Aunt Maggie only has one bathroom with a tub, and she said there wasn’t time for both of us to get in there. We didn’t dare suggest the two of us taking a shower together, and when I tried to sweet-talk Richard, he reminded me about the trip to Cape Cod he wasn’t getting. So while he showered, I made do with a wet washcloth and clean clothes.
It turned out to be a good thing, because the phone rang not long after we got to the house and Aunt Maggie said it was for me.
“Hello?”
“Laurie Anne? This is Junior.”
“Hey, Junior. How’s the conference going?”
She didn’t ask how I knew she was at a conference, any more than I asked how she knew I was in town. Byerly is like that. “It’s pretty interesting. I’ve met some nice folks, and I’m learning a fair amount. I don’t know how much of it I’ll be able to use, but you never know.”
“How do you like the beaches down there?”
“They’re great if you like sand, but you know I didn’t call long distance to talk about beaches. I want to talk to you about Carney Alexander’s murder. You are looking into it, aren’t you?”
“Did you talk to Mark?”
“I didn’t need to.”
“Aunt Maggie did ask me and Richard to see what we can do. She’s nervous about having a killer on the loose.”
“Maggie Burnette nervous? That’s a first.”
“Are you coming back to take over the case?” I asked hopefully.
“No,” she said with a loud sigh.
“Why not?” Staying away had to be driving her crazy.
“Because I want to make Lloyd Monroe eat his words, that’s why. When we heard about the murder, I was going to hightail it back to Byerly, but he said he was sure his deputy could handle it on her own.” She snorted. “Mark Pope may not be the brightest bulb on the chandelier, but at least he knows enough to follow proper procedures. Not like Belva Tucker, who stopped a speeder last month, but was too lazy to run his plates for priors. Turns out he was a known drug dealer driving a stolen car, and he got away with nothing but a speeding ticket. Which he didn’t pay, needless to say. Lloyd claims that Belva has learned her lesson, and that she has an ‘instinct for the criminal mind,’ but that’s a bunch of bull hockey. The only criminal minds Belva understands are her brothers’. I told Lloyd that there was no way that Belva was going to solve this case ahead of Mark.”
“I smell a bet,” I said.
“A big one,” she confirmed. “Whoever’s deputy arrests a reasonable suspect first, wins. We agreed that neither one of us will go home before the conference is over, no matter what, and we can’t interfere, or give advice, or anything else.”
“So you want me to stay out of it?”
“Is there something wrong with this connection? I said it’s a big bet, Laurie Anne. I want you to give every bit of information you get to Mark.”
“Don’t you think Mark can do it on his own?”
“Laurie Anne, Mark’s been my deputy ever since I became police chief, and he was my daddy’s deputy for years before that, but everybody knows that he wouldn’t be able to put a jigsaw puzzle together to save his life. He’d be able to get all the pieces, but he’d never figure out how they go together.”
“I’d noticed that he’s not got much imagination.”
“But you’ve got enough imagination for two or three people.”
“Hey!”
“That’s a compliment.”
It didn’t sound like one to me, but I let it slide because she was probably right.
She went on. “I have to admit that I’d had a beer or two when I made the bet, and the next morning I was wondering if it was the smartest thing I’d ever done, but then I heard that you and Richard were in town, and I figured y’all would be nosing around. I don’t see why I can’t take advantage of it.”
“Does that mean that you don’t want me to talk to Belva?”
“I’m sure she has her own resources, so you don’t need to bother her.”
That was fine with me. After the way she’d spoken to Aunt Maggie, Belva could go jump in a lake for all I cared. “If you win, do I get a cut?”
There was a pause, then she carefully said, “How big a cut did you have in mind?”
“I’m kidding, Junior. I’d be happy to help you win that bet, but I have a problem. When I tried to talk to Mark today, he wasn’t exactly receptive.” That was putting it mildly, but I felt funny about bad-mouthing Mark to his boss. Besides, I knew Junior could read between the lines.
There was a long, drawn-out sigh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Can you work around him?”
“Probably. I’ve worked around you before, haven’t I?”
There was another sigh. “Don’t remind me.”
“Anyway, if I find out anything, I’ll tell Mark. I can’t guarantee that he’ll listen, but I’ll do my best.”
“I’d appreciate that, Laurie Anne. Now, I can’t help you any, because Lloyd made me promise not to even let Mark send me his files.”
“Rats! He’ll never show them to me and Richard.” There were details about Carney’s death I wanted to know more about. Then I remembered that Byerly has two deputies. “What about your brother?”
“Trey? The one who adores your cousin Ilene, and who worships you because you got her out of jail last year?”
“In other words, he’ll help?”
“He’ll do anything short of confessing to the murder himself.”
“Great.” A source at the police station would definitely come in handy.
Aunt Maggie came up behind me and rattled her keys loudly. “Junior, I’ve got to go. You have a good time in Florida.”
Richard, who’d also heard the keys rattling, came running down the stairs, and we left for the auction.
Chapter 21
As soon as I walked into Red Clark’s Auction Barn, I smelled it. “There is a God,” I said. “That’s Aunt Nora’s fried chicken.” A sign that said “Chicken Dinners” was taped over a long table covered with big pans of chicken, biscuits, cole slaw, potato salad, and half a dozen other things I wanted to dive into.
But first things first. “Where do we unload your stuff?” I asked Aunt Maggie.
“It can wait until I check in,” she said. “Why don’t y’all go ahead and get something to eat?”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was halfway to the table before she finished her sentence.
I’m not nearly so obsessed by food in Boston as I am in Byerly. It’s just that there’s so many things I can’t get up North, either because they aren’t available or because I’m not a good enough cook to fix them myself. So I eat like a pig when I’m home, trying to get my yearly allowance of barbeque, pork skins, pecan pie, sausage biscuits, and anything Aunt Nora cooks.
Mrs. Lockard, one of Aunt Maggie’s neighbors, took Richard’s and my money and said, “It’s all you can eat, so help yourself.”
I grabbed a paper plate and picked up a pair of tongs to serve myself some fried chicken, but before I could get a piece, somebody said, “Don’t you dare take any of that!”
I looked up, startled, a
nd saw Aunt Nora. “Why not? We paid Mrs. Lockard.”
“I just don’t want you taking the old stuff,” she explained. “I’ve got some fresh out of the frying pan.” She took the tongs from me and got each of us two big pieces from the tray she was holding. Then she added a smaller piece to each of our plates. “That ought to hold you awhile.”
“It’s a start, anyway,” I said. Of course I was only kidding. There was no way I could eat more than three pieces. Then I took a good whiff of the chicken, and I wasn’t so sure.
“Get whatever else you want, and come on outside. We thought it would be better to set up tables out back rather than have people eating in their chairs.”
Richard and I filled up the empty space left on our plates, picked cans of Coke out of the ice chest next to the table, and went out the back door. Aunt Nora was standing by a redwood picnic table with her purse and sweater marking both benches as taken.
“Are you saving those seats?” I asked.
“I sure am.” She pushed her things out of the way. “Have a seat. I’ve got to check on things in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Aunt Nora.” It was a good thing she’d saved us a table. Most of the others were already filled with people digging into their food. Richard and I got ourselves settled and did the same.
After a few bites, I said, “This is wonderful.”
“Mmmm,” Richard agreed.
That was it for conversation for a while. One has to have priorities.
I was long past the point of being starved, but not yet to the uncomfortably full stage, when Aunt Nora came back. I squeezed over on my bench so she could sit next to me.
“I think they can get by without me for a while,” she said. “Besides, it’s getting hot in that kitchen.”
“Would you like a drink?” Richard asked.
“I’ll get myself something in a minute. You go ahead and eat.”
“I was getting up anyway,” he said. “We need more napkins.”
Though we could certainly use more napkins, I knew he hadn’t planned on moving until he absolutely had to, so that was something else I was going to enjoy making up to him.
“How was the flea market?” Aunt Nora asked.
“Interesting,” I said. “Did you hear about the break-in?”
She nodded, which didn’t surprise me. Byerly has an excellent grapevine, and Aunt Nora is usually right in the thick of it. “They say it was a bunch of kids, maybe devil worshippers or witches, and all of them high as kites on crack cocaine.”
As usual, the rumor mill had added a few details to the story. “I don’t know about devil worshippers, but Belva Tucker thinks it was kids looking for a place to get high.”
“Does it have anything to do with Carney Alexander’s murder?”
“Belva thinks it was the same crew, that Carney surprised them last week and they panicked and killed him.”
“Laurie Anne, if I wanted to know what Belva thinks, I could have found that out anywhere. We all heard Aunt Maggie say she wanted you to solve a murder, and since Carney Alexander’s is the only murder we’ve had around here lately, I know y’all are investigating it. So what do you think?”
So much for keeping it a secret. “I think the break-in and the murder are connected, but I don’t think it was any kids. I think it was somebody who works out there.” I explained Richard’s and my reasoning. Then I told her how Mark and Belva had acted when we told them.
“Maybe Belva doesn’t know y’all very well, but I’m surprised that Mark didn’t want your help.”
“Don’t get me started on those two! As far as I’m concerned, neither of them have the brains God gave a milk cow.”
“What did Aunt Maggie tell you about the case?”
I feel silly using professional terminology when talking about Richard’s and my so-called cases, but my family has no such problem, and TV cop shows have taught them all kinds of official-sounding words and phrases. “You probably know as much about the murder as she does, but she does have some ideas about why certain people might have wanted Carney dead.”
“I’m not talking about their motives, I’m talking about Aunt Maggie’s. Why does she want you to find Carney’s killer?”
“She said it’s because she’s afraid to work at the flea market.”
“Aunt Maggie? It would take more than one body to scare her off.”
“She also said she didn’t want thrill seekers coming out there.”
“Shoot, if she thought a murder would improve business, she’d stage a fake one every week.”
“I know, but that’s what she said.”
Aunt Nora looked frustrated, which was how I felt, too.
Richard came back then and handed her a Coke. “Sorry to take so long. There’s quite a crowd in there, and I ran into Aunt Maggie, who wants to know when we’re going to come give her a hand.”
“Right now,” I said, finishing my last bite of peach cobbler.
Aunt Nora said, “I better get back to the kitchen and make sure everything is going all right.”
“You guys have done a wonderful job,” Richard said around a mouthful of potato salad.
“You sure have,” I agreed. In fact, it seemed a lot more relaxed than events in Byerly usually are. “That reminds me, where’s Vasti?”
“She said she’d be late,” Aunt Nora said.
“Is anything wrong?” Vasti usually likes to be present from beginning to end to make sure she gets a chance to order everybody around.
“Don’t you remember what she said about the calendar yesterday? She’s not sure last night took, so she’s got business to take care of with Arthur.” Aunt Nora giggled all the way back to the kitchen.
As Richard and I were getting up, Aunt Daphine came out with a plate that was nearly as well-loaded as mine had been. “Hey there. Y’all aren’t leaving, are you?”
Before Richard could say anything, I said, “I’ve got to go help Aunt Maggie, but Richard will keep you company.” I figured that would pay him back for getting Aunt Nora’s drink. He gave me a quick smooch as a thank-you, and sat back down with a sigh of relief.
I found Aunt Maggie at a table talking to a woman with a notebook and a stack of numbered cards.
“Laurie Anne, did you get a number?” Aunt Maggie said.
I looked blank.
“You have to have a number to bid,” she explained. “If you want something, you hold up your number so they know who you are. You could use mine, but it’ll be easier if you and Richard have your own.”
I obediently gave the woman my name and address, and she handed me the card on the top of the stack. I wasn’t planning on buying anything, but I didn’t want to limit myself.
Once that was taken care of, I said, “Richard said you need some help.”
“We ought to go ahead and unload the car. We drew straws in the back, and I’ve got the third slot.”
“Meaning that you’re going to be the third dealer to sell?”
She nodded and led the way out.
“Is that good or bad?” I asked.
“Good. You don’t want the first slot because sometimes folks get here late or they’re not settled down to buy right at the beginning. And you don’t want the last slot in case they’ve spent all their money or have to leave early. Second, third, and fourth are all good slots to have.” She unlocked the back of her car. “It’s going to be a while before I sell, but there’s some tables in the back room where we spread out our stuff so folks can take a look before it goes on sale. With some of these box lots, that’s the only way you know what you’re bidding on.”
We spent the next few minutes ferrying boxes from the car to the barn, and then unwrapped pieces to display them. Aunt Maggie was mostly selling glassware, though she also had a couple of quilts. “Those old quilts go for good money,” she said. “I’d just as soon have an electric blanket, but these are pretty.”
Once everything was set out, she said, “Let’s go get a seat before all the g
ood ones are gone.”
“Is it all right to leave your stuff?”
“Should be.” She nodded at a big blond man in a straw cowboy hat. “Red’s son Scooter will keep an eye on things. He’s not like Bender Cawthorne—I’ve never had a piece go missing here.”
“Scooter?” He didn’t much look like a Scooter.
“His real name is Shirley, just like Red’s.”
No wonder he went by Scooter.
Out front, Aunt Daphine and Richard were already reserving a row of metal folding chairs, and we joined them.
“Did y’all have a nice talk?” I asked.
“Very nice,” Aunt Daphine said, “but I’m afraid I don’t know anything about those people Richard asked about.”
Trust Richard not to miss an opportunity, and trust Aunt Daphine to be discreet in a crowd. “That’s all right,” I said. I hadn’t spoken to Aunt Nora about them yet, and she was the one I relied on most.
The place was filling up quickly. Aunt Maggie had called it a barn, and I guess some time in the past it had been a home for horses, but there wasn’t much evidence of it left. At the end farthest away from the front door, there was a high platform with a microphone and a podium where the auctioneer stood. He was flanked by two people Aunt Maggie called spotters. Their job was to watch the crowd and let the auctioneer know when somebody made a bid.
“Don’t we have to be careful not to scratch our noses or blink?” Richard asked. “I’ve heard that auctioneers will interpret any movement as a bid.”
Aunt Maggie snorted. “Not this crew. Some nights you just about have to jump up and down to get their attention. If you get one of the spotters mad at you, you may as well hang it up because they won’t see your bid if they don’t want to.”
There was a table in front of the podium for the clerk, who wrote down the bids and lot numbers and passed the information on to the cashier, who was the woman who assigned bidder numbers. The cashier totalled up purchases and collected money before sending people out back to pick up what they’d bought.
“Looks like a decent setup,” I said, “but I bet they’d do better with a computer.”
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