Abandoned (The Beckett Series Book 6)

by Mary Martinez

  “Dammit, we forgot the pizza.”

  Just then a young man came out of the front door. A younger version of Patrick. There was no mistaking who his parent was. He went to the side of the SUV leaned in.

  “Hand me the pizza.”

  “Hmm, I forgot to stop and pick it up.”

  The boy ducked in and looked at her. She smiled at him. He straightened.

  “Yeah, I can see why.”

  That surprised her. He didn’t sound upset, just sounded like a normal guy. She couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I’ll stay here with Finn.”

  Finn bent down again to look at her.

  “Is that okay?” she asked. “You can help me settle in, and I can help you set the table.”

  “Hmm, okay.”

  He helped her take in her bags, eyeing Agnes a little dubiously. Her room or what would be her home for the next few days was small but clean. Twin beds, so she piled the bags on one, and set Agnes’ kennel on the chair.

  “Do you think Horace will eat my poor cat? Her name is Agnes.”

  He was almost as tall as his dad. He looked down at her, then the cat and at that moment the dog bounded in. He was a lot bigger than she’d imagined. Maybe she’d keep the cat in the kennel, Agnes wouldn’t be happy but she’d be alive.

  The dog nosed up to the cage door, the cat sprung against the back and hissed.

  “I think maybe Horace needs to be afraid of your cat.”

  Horace wasn’t intimidated by the hiss, he nosed around to the side and looked the cat straight in the eye. Glenna sucked in her breath and watched. Dog and cat had a stare down. The O.K. Corral for animals.

  Chapter Seven

  Patrick placed the pizza and breadstick boxes on the counter and stopped to listen. It was unusually quiet. The spare room was only across the hall, shouldn’t he hear voices? Worried, he decided he best investigate.

  The door stood open giving him a view of the situation. Dog and cat stared each other down, boy and woman stared at the scene. It was as if no one dared to make a sound or move for fear of what would happen.

  “Anyone want pizza?”

  The interruption caused chaos. Glenna threw her hand over her heart with a little squeal. Horace launched into a stream of ferocious barking, Agnes arched her back in a stance to rival any black Halloween cat, hissing for all she was worth. And then Finn burst out laughing, which miraculously caused both animals to pause and stare at him.

  “I suggest Horace come with us and Agnes can stay in here, with the door closed she won’t have to stay in her kennel,” Patrick suggested.

  He left them to decide whether to follow or not. He chuckled to himself, as he set the table that he’d thought would be ready when he returned. It was going to be an interesting next few days.

  Horace didn’t want to leave Glenna’s room. He could hear Finn try to coax the huge beast out. Maybe he thought the boy was keeping him from his dinner. Finally, Glenna and Finn joined him without the dog.

  “You didn’t leave Horace in there did you?”

  Glenna winked at Finn, then answered Patrick. “It seems the two have formed a truce. I thought Horace had left with Finn and I let Agnes out, and Horace was at her side in a moment. Best friends. Who knew? And after all that drama.”

  All he could do was hope that they hadn’t mistaken Horace’s friendship for something else. For all they knew, Horace was making friends with the enemy to size her up and determine went to launch his attack.

  He needed to go over some things with Glenna. He had come up with a few questions on his ride to and from the pizza retrieval. He always did his best thinking driving or exercising. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to include Finn, so he’d wait until after dinner.

  Glenna had other thoughts though. “No one has said anything about the surveillance equipment I had in my shop. Do you know if the local police have reviewed the tapes yet?”

  Patrick looked to his son, but Finn seemed interested. “They said they want you to look at coverage and see if the men seem familiar in any way.”

  Glenna’s checks went from fresh pink to milk, her throat worked a moment before she replied.

  “I am not sure I can watch the murderer harm poor Alex.”

  He laid a hand over hers. “We’ll watch the end, we do not need to review all of it, just enough for you to see if you recognize any body language on the guys.”

  “Guys? There’s more than one. I knew it wasn’t Lance.” Glenna put her fork back to her plate. “Can’t they run their faces on that facial recognition that your agency has?”

  “You watch crime shows?” Finn asked with a grin.

  Glenna gave him a weak smile, better than her washed out look she’d had since he mentioned she watch the tape. Then she turned her attention to Patrick waiting for his answer.

  “Actually, we could if they weren’t wearing masks. Gordon could be one of them, we’re hoping you may recognize a mannerism or his walk. Just something for us to go on.”

  “As long as I don’t have to watch anything to do with Alex, I will be okay.”

  “What were they going after?” Finn asked.

  “Good question, bud.” Patrick grabbed his paper plate and started to clear the table. “We haven’t figured out if anything was stolen.”

  “I need to do an inventory, and there’s all the stuff in the basement.”

  Patrick paused and turned to stare at Glenna. “What basement?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’ve even told the local PD. It’s a basement that I keep new items until I’m ready to add them to inventory. Only then do I move the item to my storage in the back of the shop. I should have taken my vintage dresser there months ago. ” Glenna sighed. “It comes down to the fact I love that thing and I don’t want to sell it. I can’t afford to keep it at this time.” She chuckled as she slid her chair away and helped finish cleaning the table.

  Finn followed their actions and before a few minutes had passed, the kitchen had been put to rights, and Patrick led them to the living room to finish their discussion.

  “Why would you need to tell anyone about it? When the police went through your shop, didn’t they check it out?” Patrick glanced to his son. “Don’t you have algebra to do?”

  “Dad…” He looked to Glenna when there was no help in that corner, he pleaded with Patrick. “I can do my homework later. I can help you two brainstorm.”

  He thought about it for a minute. “I’ll make you a deal. You said you were having problems with your Algebra. We’re just getting started with this case. You do your homework tonight and tomorrow night after dinner we’ll get together and you can help us brainstorm and figure out what to do with all of the information we come up with.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  Patrick waited until he was out of the room. “I hope I don’t regret my decision.”

  “You’re a good dad. I’m sure he’ll forget about helping us by tomorrow night.”

  “No I won’t.” Finn’s voice drifted from the hall.

  “First rule of kids, they can hear from great distances.” He grinned at Glenna. “When they want to.”

  She laughed as he had intended. He needed to keep her mind off reviewing the tapes.

  “Tell me why the police didn’t check over your basement.”

  “As I said, I didn’t think to tell them about it.”

  “Weren’t they thorough? It’s standard to open every door, even closet doors.”

  “It’s in a closet. I’m sure they thought it was just that.” When he was about to ask the obvious question she continued. “I don’t know much about Calistoga history concerning the prohibition era, but I like to think maybe my basement was a Napa Valley version of a Speak Easy.”

  Well that didn’t clear up anything.

  Glenna let out a delightful giggle that totally belied the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve bewildered you.”

  “Understatement to say the least.”

>   “It’s a hidden door in the closet. Unless you know it’s there you’d never find it. It’s behind the rack. I use it as a coat closet. When I go to estate sales….” Her voice trailed off and her expression changed.

  “What?”

  “I think I know what Lance wanted.”

  “What?” he repeated.

  “Well I don’t know exactly. Right before Lance came to Calistoga I went to a large estate sale in upstate New York. I brought home a box of collectables.”

  Patrick watched her forehead pucker. He wanted to reach over and smooth it out with his lips. He swallowed and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

  “I don’t remember anything of much value. My customers are mostly tourists and locals looking for good deals or something unique.”

  “Why do you think this particular box has something?”

  “Two things, and I won’t really know until I go through it. Anyway, first the estate belonged to an old Nazi war criminal. No one knew who he was until after he died though. They found some of the missing art that was stolen during World War II. And second reason is the timing.”

  “If it’s something that valuable, why don’t you know what it is?”

  “After a buying trip I don’t always display everything right away. Most the time I store the new things in the basement until I can go through them. I try to tie it in with a store promotion or weekly deal.” She shrugged. “Sometimes, as with this box, I am not sure if there is anything of value, so I’m not that anxious about it. It’s not like I saw something and couldn’t wait to get it home. At the estate sale, I looked around and there were so many interesting items that day. Most of them above my budget. I didn’t want to go home empty handed. On a whim I took a chance and bought the box of odd items. I looked over the manifest on the side of the box and figured it was worth it.”

  “You put it in the basement, but if you thought it had something interesting why have you waited so long. How long has it been?”

  “I always have a lot of paperwork to get through when I get back from a sale. It’s usually at least two weeks to a month before I get to the inventory in the basement. Not to mention it was around Christmas time, so I was looking for holiday items for the shop. I’d decided to wait until after the New Year to go through the box. I can’t remember why.”

  “When did Gordon show up?”

  “It was before Christmas. I saw him at the Calistoga Lighted Tracker Parade. He was not enjoying the moment. He said a few disgruntled things and I can’t remember what I said but after a moment he left. Then a day or two later he turned up at my shop. Flirted with me. Which surprised me since I’d originally figured he was gay.”

  “If he was gay he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him.”

  “He didn’t marry me.” She gave him and exasperated stare. “I think for some reason, he thought he’d find whatever it was he was looking for before the big day. Maybe he did find it.”

  “No. If he had, Mr. Grumpy Pants wouldn’t have seen him at your house today. If he or his gang, or whoever was in your shop and murdered your assistant had found it, they wouldn’t be still looking.”

  Glenna was silent for a while. Patrick knew she was still processing everything. In a matter of two weeks, her entire life as she’d known it had been shattered. Lifelong plans had changed in a blink of an eye and her safe environment had not only been violated, but a person she knew and considered to be a friend had been murdered.

  A lot for anyone to process.

  “Lance doesn’t have a gang.” A delicate shudder seemed to ripple over her. “He doesn’t seem to play well with others. For that reason, I can’t stop the little voice in the back of my mind that tells me there might be someone else after what he is. Either they found he knew something about it, or they tracked me down the same way.”

  “That’s a good point. I don’t know much about antiquities sales or estate sales, how would they track you from something like that? I know there would be receipts but would it list all the items?”

  “Most collectors go to the same sales, or they’re aware of them. Estate sales keep a list of everyone who purchased something and what that item was. In my case my name would be attached to a copy of the manifest. Stores do not give out the information of their clientele. Estate sales on the other hand are a little less formal.”

  “Meaning? Do they just give out the information to everyone?”

  “Sort of…” She held up her hand. “Let me explain. They have a book or a folder with a list of everything for sale. As people purchase something the person jots down a name by the item. The sale I went to was quite large and it was popular because of the notoriety of the owner being a war criminal known to have priceless stolen art.”

  Still, can anyone look at the list?”

  “The list is actually for people to read over so they’re not spending hours looking. So, yes. Everyone goes to look. But if you’re searching for something in particular then it’s easier to read over the list. Some estates just write ‘sold’ next to an item but I noticed this one was keeping track of names.”

  “Why would they do that?” Patrick asked.

  “Because of the stolen art. Many of the countries are asking for the art back and offering a reward. There are a few of the collectors who have had art stolen that are doing the same, offering an incentive for the return of their treasures.”

  “Why didn’t the authorities go through the sale items and confiscate the stolen art?”

  “Because there may not have been any stolen art from World War II for sale that day. Just because some of the art was found to be stolen after the owner died, and given back to the original country or owners, doesn’t necessarily mean there was any left. I certainly wouldn’t recognize any stolen pieces without a lot of research, or unless I was actually looking for something I’d seen.”

  “That makes sense. Most law enforcement officials don’t have time to investigate on a maybe.”

  “Maybe I have something Lance wanted that doesn’t have anything to do with the missing art. I’m an antique shop owner, which is very different than art dealers who search the world wide for unique and priceless finds. They research and they actually track certain items.”

  “Why didn’t he just ask you?”

  “Because even though it may not have been part of the stolen art, doesn’t mean it wasn’t something priceless that could be sold on the black market for an ungodly amount. He never behaved in a way that led me to believe he dealt in the black market. But I am aware of an even more lucrative place. The cyber black market. The Dark web. People kill for priceless items. We’re just going to have to go through the box. If we don’t find anything, we’ll be back to square one.”

  Patrick looked through the doorway to the kitchen clock and noticed it was well past ten. “Let’s get a good night’s rest and we’ll tackle the videos first and then we’ll explore your Speak Easy.”

  “I’ll make breakfast.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I never get to fix breakfast for more than myself. And I love to cook.”

  Patrick had been in the process of locking the front door, he turned. “You just keep surprising me.”

  She just grinned and winked at him.

  Chapter Eight

  Glenna opened the fridge for ideas of what to cook. For two big boys, she figured bacon, scrambled eggs, and some potatoes. Did they like spicy? Unless they were like her dad, who loved spicy but spicy didn’t like him. She’d settle for just a little kick.

  She was surprised to find Patrick’s kitchen well stocked. He was a good dad. He must make sure that they ate well instead of fast food all the time. She liked that about him. She took a mental inventory as she pulled breakfast items out. She’d do a Sheppard’s pie for dinner. Unless they were extremely lucky on catching the murderer, she figured she’d be here at least another day or maybe two.

  She eyed the whole coffee beans and the grinder. Did
she dare? She didn’t want to wake the boys. And when did she start thinking of them as her boys? Dangerous territory. First, he had ex-baggage. Second, he was law enforcement. She swore she’d never be attracted to the hero type or anyone with baggage from a former relationship. Yet here she was, half in love with his son already. Not to mention she loved Horace, if for nothing else, for not eating her Agnes.

  “Are you going to make coffee or will it to brew on its own?”

  Patrick startled her out of thoughts. She whirled to face him, his damp hair curled around his ears as he entered still buttoning his shirt. The glimpse of bare chest dried her mouth.

  “Must you sneak up on people? If you must know I was trying to decide if the grinder would wake you two up.”

  “Looks like you already have a good start on the breakfast and that is what woke me up. Why don’t I tackle the coffee?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” She gave a stir to the potatoes making sure they cooked evenly. “What time does Finn have to be to school?”

  “In about an hour.” Finn answered for himself as he entered the kitchen. “Damn, that smells good.”

  “Son, language.”

  “Sorry, but it smells better than cereal and toast.”

  “Hey, I cook eggs.” Patrick protested above the grinding beans.

  “On weekends.”

  Glenna smiled, enjoying the banter as she cooked. If she were honest she’d admit it made her homesick for the Elders and Brooklyn. Mornings before school. Reagan arguing about eating, she was never hungry. Glenna on the other hand always was. Matt complaining about Tyler eating all the bacon. Jessica and Christine counting calories. Home.

  “What are you thinking about?” Finn surprised her with his question.

  “The Elders.”

  “The what?”

  Patrick chuckled and answered for her. “Her parents.”

  “Do you have a big family?”

  She could tell by his tone he longed for a brother or sister. “If you call five siblings, big, then yes. I’m a twin, and Reagan and I are the youngest.”