Body in the Antique Trunk-A Lady Locksmith Mystery

by Curry, Edna

  Chance frowned at the gray haired Larry at the counter. “Didn’t any of you wonder why he didn’t come for supper?”

  Larry shrugged and met Frank’s eyes.

  Frank rubbed a beefy hand over his bald head and said, “Well, see, Alfred was a very private guy. He didn’t like us to ask too many personal questions. If he didn’t feel like eating once in a while, he’d just go on home. So we thought maybe that’s what he’d done last night.”

  “Yeah,” Larry said. “I called him one time when he didn’t come to eat, to ask if he was okay and he cussed me out. ‘Can’t a guy be a little under the weather without the whole town making a fuss about it?’ he asked me. So we usually let him do his own thing.”

  “But this morning you two went down to his store?”

  “Well, see, we thought it strange for him to miss supper and morning coffee, too. So we thought we’d just mosey on down the street and see if he had opened the store as usual. But he hadn’t.”

  “It was still closed?”

  Larry squirmed. “Well, the door was closed and the sign was turned to the closed side, but the door wasn’t locked. I tried it, and it opened right up.”

  “So, you found the door unlocked and opened it. Then what did you do?” Chance asked, taking notes in his notebook.

  “I yelled, ‘Alfred? You here? Why don’t you have the lights on?’ and went inside, expecting him to answer. But he didn’t. I could see a light back in the office and of course, the big front windows let in plenty of daylight, too. We both yelled his name again, but he didn’t answer. So we walked on back to the office and saw him laying there.”

  “Then what did you do? Did you touch him? Go close to him?”

  Larry shook his head. “Nope. I could see right off he was dead. I’ll never forget it. Never. I backed out and bumped into Frank who was right behind me. We looked at each other and then we got the heck out of there and called the sheriff.”

  Chance nodded and turned to Frank. “That about right?”

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “I’m taller than Larry and I could see over his shoulder. Made me sick to look at Alfred, laying there all bloody like that. Poor guy. We knew from seeing TV shows that we shouldn’t touch nothing. So we just got out of there. I suppose you’ll find our prints on the door, though. We’d already opened it before we knew it was a crime scene.”’

  Larry nodded. “Sorry ’bout that.”

  ***

  Chance went back to Alfred’s office and went through his files, looking for next of kin. In a top drawer, he found an address book and letters from a ‘Lisa’ who started with ‘Dear Dad,’ so he decided she would be the first he’d call. The return address on the envelope read Minneapolis, so she was only an hour away. He recognized the address as being in an upscale area and found her phone number in Alfred’s address book.

  He asked a couple of deputies to go inform Lisa of her father’s death. An hour later, they reported she was shocked to hear of her father’s death. She said she had a brother, Bill Anderson, out of Des Moines who worked for a company as a long-haul trucker. He was probably out on a run, but always carried a cell phone. She’d call him and she’d come to Canton ASAP. They’d told her where Chance’s office was and asked her to come there when she arrived.

  ***

  I didn’t have any locksmith jobs scheduled the next morning, so I called my homeowner’s insurance and talked to the agent.

  She said, “Cassie, I don’t need to see the damage in person. A copy of the police report and pictures will be fine.”

  I thanked her and emailed her pictures of the mess the burglar had made. Then I spent hours cleaning up my kitchen and office. Why the perp had bothered dumping out my dishtowel and junk drawers was a mystery to me. Surely pawing through them would have told him if what he was looking for was there? I got the feeling he was pissed at me for some reason and wanted to make me as much trouble as possible. Why else smash glassware and bowls on the floor? Why scatter silverware around? Did he think I hid keys or something among the forks and spoons? Or inside the box of cereal he’d dumped out?

  I picked the utensils all up and loaded them into the dishwasher. No way would I eat off them until they’d been washed after he’d pawed through them. After rescuing all the salvageable things, I swept up the broken glass and spilled cereal and took it out to the garbage can.

  Next I made a list of what I’d have to replace for the insurance company. It was a pretty long list, and I knew I’d need dishes and food right away. Glancing at the clock, I saw it said almost noon, agreeing with my growling stomach. So I decided to have lunch with my friend Ardis, and then hit the stores to replace those items.

  Ardis works as a shift manager at the Cozy Corner where I often have lunch when I’m out and about. I called and asked if she could take a break and eat lunch with me.

  “Sure thing, Cassie. How’s twelve-thirty?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Okay. I’ll save our favorite table,” she said.

  ***

  At the Cozy Corner, I found Ardis had indeed put a reserved sign on our favorite corner table. I glanced around to see if anyone else I knew was there today, but didn’t recognize anyone among the crowd of customers. Most looked like locals, that is, they were casually dressed in everyday work clothes, not dressed as travelers through our area tend to be. Tourists flock to the St. Croix valley when the weather is conducive to swimming, boating or rock climbing and so they dress for those activities. We do have a few people who are willing to camp year round and the state parks are open year round to accommodate them.

  A waitress brought water and raspberry iced tea for both of us and said, “Ardis will be out in a minute.”

  And, as promised, Ardis joined me a few minutes later with our usual lunch of seafood salads in hand.

  “What’s new?” Ardis asked. “You look a bit down.”

  I told her about finding the dead body yesterday and the mess the burglar had left in my house last night. “So, I spent the morning cleaning that up,” I told her.

  She frowned as she speared a fat shrimp and ate it. “Shouldn’t you have waited for your insurance agent to see that before you cleaned it all up?”

  “I phoned her and she just wanted pictures and the police report,” I said. “I sent her pictures with my cell phone and she said that was enough, so I could clean it up. I wanted to get it all done and try to make things seem normal again. If that’s possible.”

  Ardis nodded and sipped her tea. “I know what you mean. My mom had a break in once, and it made her nervous for quite a while afterward. She said she always dreaded opening her house when she came home, for fear it had happened again.”

  I shuddered, hoping that wouldn’t be the case with me. “Living alone does have disadvantages,” I admitted. “This hasn’t been the best week for me.”

  “Not here, either, Cassie. Did you hear about the murder here in town?”

  “What? Another murder? Who was it? Anyone we know?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Alfred Anderson. He owns Alfred’s Antiques.”

  I choked on my iced tea and gasped, “Oh, my God! He’s one of my clients.”

  My heart jumped into my throat, making it feel clogged. I swallowed hard and sipped some more tea, trying to clear my throat. Just what I needed…another connection to one of Chance’s cases. He was going to dump me and Sheriff Ben was going to put me on his ‘persons of interest’ list again. My heart pounded in my chest and my mouth went dry.

  “So what, Cassie?” Ardis said with a shrug of her shoulders. She flipped her long black hair back with manicured hand, flashing bright red fingertips. Ardis loved bright colors in her nail polish. Once, she even painted each nail a different color, just to be different. I’d teased her that she looked like a teenager. “Lots of people are your clients.” She eyed me curiously.

  I tried to explain, “So, it’s another link between me and one of Chance’s cases. I don’t want to be connected to his wor
k at all. The sheriff is a stickler for going by the book and is up for re-election in the fall, so he’ll be extra picky.”

  “So what?” she repeated. “You can’t help it if someone who hired you once ends up dead. I don’t see that as a ‘connection’ as you call it. I think you’re exaggerating, Cassie. Calm down and let things work out on their own time.”

  I sighed, gave her a weak smile and resumed eating. “Maybe you’re right. I’m over-reacting. Thanks, Ardis.”

  ***

  Buddy went to the Flame for lunch. He chose a booth with a good view of the whole coffee shop area and sat with his back to the wall. He kept his John Deere cap on, as did a lot of other local men. With it shading his forehead and eyes, he could watch others, but be fairly anonymous himself. He’d purposely not shaved for a week, now, so his dark beard was filling in, nicely. Soon it would hide a good portion of his face. A beard was useful. It was the one thing people always noticed if they attempted to describe him. And very easy to remove to change his appearance again, should he need to do that.

  He had a feeling more of his old Chicago gang rivals, The Lions, were here somewhere in the St. Croix Valley. His dreams clearly placed them here. Goldie had denied it, claimed to not know any members of a Chicago gang, to not even know what he was talking about. But Buddy knew the Lions had always stuck together. He’d found two, now, so the others were here somewhere, he was sure. Unless someone else in his own gang, The Bears, had already offed them. Good if that were true; it would save him the trouble. But he couldn’t count on that. He just had to watch and wait until he found the rest of the Lions and then take them out.

  It was strange, in a way, that he was finding members of their rival gang, but no one in his own gang. Maybe none of the Bears had figured out where the Lions had moved to. Maybe he was the first to find them. He’d have to do this on his own until he could sneak back to the old neighborhood and try to locate the rest of the Bears. If any of them were still alive.

  Hours later, he spied a dark haired woman he thought he recognized. She was dressed as a camper and was with two similarly dressed men. She looked familiar but he couldn’t figure out who she looked like. Then it dawned on him.

  Jonesy. Could this person really be tough gang member Jonesy disguised as a city woman? He watched them take a booth and order food. They were chatting away as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Not even keeping an eye out for trouble like they used to do. Weird. Were they so sure of their disguise they were getting careless?

  He rose and sauntered slowly past them on his way to the bathroom, getting a closer look at her face as he passed them and then especially checking out the woman’s left hand. Sure enough, she wasn’t using it and held it protectively in her lap. Jonesy had broken his left hand in a fight and it had never healed right. He’d always favored it after that.

  So, it was him, probably in hiding, dressed as a woman. But even with make-up, his rugged facial features gave him away. It was Jonesy, all right. Now to keep tabs on them and wait for a chance to get him alone, without the two men who must be his body-guards.

  Buddy moved on to the bathroom, then returned to his seat and ordered some pancakes as an excuse to remain there while he listened to their conversation. He needed some indication as to where they were staying in town, so, in case he lost track of them, he could find them.

  Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d even lead him to some of the others. They were talking about putting out a dock at some cabin, opening up the place for the summer. He’d have to follow them, see where this place was. Probably on one of the many lakes in the area, so he’d never find it on his own. All those lakes seemed to be ringed by nice homes and cabins. Just like in Chicago, the big shots with money had to have a second place on the water to go to for the weekend in the summer. A status symbol, he thought with contempt. Thought they were so much better than the likes of him, did they? Well, they’d die just as fast as the next guy, pots of money or not.

  Finally, they finished eating and, after visiting the bathrooms and paying their bill, sauntered outside to a nice Mercedes car.

  Buddy slipped on past them, pretending not to pay them any attention. He got into his old blue Chevrolet sedan and waited for them to pull out from their parking space down the block. When they finally did, he merged into traffic behind them, keeping a couple of cars between so they wouldn’t be likely to notice him.

  When they reached Deer Lake, they turned into a road that Buddy knew led along the lake, with access to many nice homes there. He drove on, then waited a half hour, and returned to drive along that road. He found the Mercedes parked at a large house ringed with nicely kept flower beds. It had a dock and pontoon on the lakeshore in front of it. Carefully noting the location of the house in relation to the others around it, he returned to his camper to wait for darkness.

  Chapter 5

  An hour later, Lisa sat in Chance’s office, a tearful, dark haired young woman who shredded the wad of tissues she was holding without seeming to notice she did so. Slim and athletic looking, she wore blue slacks and a matching top and pumps. She had come directly from her classroom, she’d said. She taught fourth graders in a Minneapolis suburb and had left them with her assistant teacher until a substitute teacher could arrive.

  “He was such a stubborn man,” Lisa said now, and sniffed back more tears. “Both Don and I told him he should hire more help, so he wouldn’t be working here alone so much. But he insisted he’d been doing just fine for years and wasn’t so old he couldn’t keep doing what he wanted to do, whether we liked it or not.”

  “Had he ever mentioned being in danger in the shop?”

  “No, it wasn’t that. Most of his customers were local people or tourists passing through town. It was just that so much of his stuff was worth a lot of money, you know. Some pieces of furniture go for several thousand dollars.”

  Chance lifted his brow in surprise. “Really? Guess I’m not up on my antiques.”

  “Oh, yes. And Dad was good at finding the good stuff. He’d go to estate auctions and come home with some piece or other nobody thought was worth anything. And he’d tell me how much he’d sold it for online. He knew his stuff, all right.”

  “Are you familiar with what he had in his store? I mean, well enough that you could go through it and tell us if anything was missing?”

  “Well, somewhat. I used to help Dad years ago, summers when I was in college, you know, before I married. But I haven’t really kept up with what he has been buying and selling lately. Dad kept really good records, though. Everything he bought or sold would be listed in his computer. He was fussy that way. Maybe Kendra knows more about his business than I do now.”

  “Kendra?”

  “His second wife. At least, I think they’re still married. She left him a couple of years ago and we didn’t hear from her for a long time. Then a few months ago, Dad told me she’d come to see him wanting a divorce. She’s found a new guy, it seems.”

  “So did he give her the divorce?”

  “I don’t know. Dad said she wanted a lot of money from him, even though they were only married a few years.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “Mom died about ten years ago, and I think it was three years after that that Dad started seeing Kendra who is a good ten years younger than him. And they married the next summer, so maybe they were together about four or five years. But she sure didn’t deserve to get lots of money from him!”

  “Hm. Do you know who your dad’s lawyer was? Maybe we could ask him what was happening with that.”

  “Oh, sure. Good idea. I suppose Dad would have his name in his address book. He kept everything in that. Kendra’s would be in there, too. I don’t know where she’s living, now.” She dug in her purse for more tissues.

  “I suppose if she’s still married to him, we should notify her, too. I’ll take care of that. Would you like more coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Chance refilled her cup and sat back at his desk. “I have
his address book and will check it out. Is Kendra still using his last name?”

  “I have no idea. But there’s probably only one Kendra in his address book. I don’t know anyone else with that name.”

  “True. On second thought, maybe you can help me with that.” Chance opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small book and held it out to her. “Here’s the address book. Could you point out which names in it are relatives and which are business associates?”

  She took the book, paged through it and pointed them out to Chance.

  “This one is his lawyer. James Waters. And Aunt Iris lives here in town. These two are cousins we seldom see, they live in Colorado. The rest must be friends or business associates, because I don’t recognize their names.” She handed the little address book back and dug out more tissues.

  “Thanks,” Chance said. “Iris Anderson is your aunt? The one who lives right here in Canton?”

  “Yes. She was married to Dad’s brother, who died a couple of years ago. He was quite a bit older than Dad, though, so they didn’t have much in common.”

  And an expensive antique cabinet that Iris had was at the first murder scene. What a coincidence. And I don’t believe in coincidences. What is the connection between those two murders?

  Chance considered her, chewing his lip. She didn’t live too far away to be a suspect. She didn’t look like a likely one, still, he couldn’t rule her out. But he needed her help. He could give her a copy of Alfred’s computer files and he’d know if she changed anything.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked.

  “In Dad’s apartment over the store, if that’s okay?”

  “I have no objection. We checked it out after we found him and didn’t see anything disturbed there. Were you able to reach your brother, Bill?”