“Yes, I am, Miss Greyborne. As the items out there sell, we’re moving more leftovers out. Mr. Edwards wants as much as possible sold by the end of the sale tomorrow.”
“Could I buy that lamp now?” Not waiting for an answer, Addie fished around in her large handbag for her wallet.
“There is no way I’ll take your money.” Blake’s voice echoed across the foyer. “You earned that lamp with the work you did on the appraisals.”
“Honestly, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you can and will.” He grinned and glanced at Jeff. “Jeff, could you please put a sold sign on that and leave it by the front door so Miss Greyborne can pick it up on her way out?”
Jeff scrambled into the front living room and moments later returned with the lamp, a red SOLD tag dangling from the fringed lamp shade.
Blake reached for Addie’s hand, squeezed it. “It’s just a small token of my deep gratitude, my dear.”
“Thank you so much, Blake.” Addie batted at a fringe with her finger. “It will look perfect in the dark corner of my shop.”
“What brings you by this evening?” Blake signed a sheet of paper on a clipboard a young staffer handed him.
“I’ve been”—Addie cast her eyes to the Oriental hallway runner—“preoccupied the past few days with—”
“The arrest?”
“Yes.” Heat crept up her face. “Yes, my arrest, and I haven’t had much time to talk to you since that horrible morning.”
Blake’s attention was distracted by a young man carrying a box down from upstairs. “Is that from the master bedroom?”
“Yes, Mr. Edwards.”
“Did Robert check the contents of the room first? I don’t want what we’ve set aside for the Boston auction to go for pennies at the yard sale.”
“I don’t really know.”
Blake gestured with a tic of his head toward the kitchen. “Then I guess it’s a good thing he’s back there checking the inventory before any of you remove it from the house.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll find him straightaway.”
“Nothing goes out without him or me approving it for the yard sale first, got it?”
The young man nodded and hustled down the hallway.
“Sorry about that.” Blake rubbed his hands together as if to warm them. “Yes, we do need to catch up. However, as you can see, we’re trying to get ready for the last of the sale tomorrow. Did you want to walk while we chat?”
Addie looked at Simon, who gave a slight shoulder shrug.
“Actually, I can see from here that the police tape is removed from the library door. Does that mean they’re finished their investigation?”
“Yes, just about an hour ago. There was some concern about a missing feather pen, but with all the other stuff that’s gone missing lately, they really couldn’t find much reason to keep the room locked up for that one little item.”
“Is that why there was such a strong police presence here today? I saw you speaking with Jerry, one of the officers, and the grounds were crawling with police.”
“Yes, we discovered more thefts this morning when we came in.”
“What kinds of things were missing this time?”
“Well, there was an old tumbler music box, some old photos, an antique vanity hairbrush and hand mirror set, an old record player, and some vinyl albums. All things we had set aside for the yard sale. Oh, and a few other books—”
“From the library?”
“Yes. When we discovered the other missing inventory, I called the police. When they came in, they wanted me to check the library with them to see if anything had been disturbed in there. That’s when I noticed that a number of other books had been removed from the table.”
“Which ones?”
“I’d have to check the inventory list, but by my recollection of what Charlotte had told me earlier, there should have been copies of the Wizard of Oz, Ulysses, and an 1882 edition of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables. I remember those because she was beside herself with their discovery.”
Addie whistled. “All books worth some serious money at auction.”
Blake set his lips in a firm line.
“Is that why you told Duane McAdams you weren’t going to pay the appraisal bill now?”
“You heard that?”
“Not intentionally”—she glanced at Simon—“but you were arguing on the porch when we arrived.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness that scene.” Blake cast his eyes downward. “But can you believe that little twit expects me to write him a personal check for Charlotte’s appraisal work?”
“That’s an unusual request, isn’t it? I mean, to pay him now and not wait until the sales contract is complete. As I imagine, all funds would have to be distributed through the courts since the estate auction was ordered by them for repayment of back taxes?”
“Darn right it is, and when it’s all cleared, the payment will be going directly to the McAdams firm, not to Mr. Duane McAdams. How he ever got that idea in the first place is beyond me.”
“He must be desperate for money.” She recalled the argument she’d witnessed between Blake and Charlotte about Duane. It made her wonder if he would be desperate enough to take his own sister out of the picture and steal books worth a fortune.
“He and everyone associated with this hapless contract. We’re all going to lose money on it. With all the thefts, I can’t be expected to pay for the inventory we don’t have anymore to sell. I tried to tell him that an insurance claim will have to be filed once we find Charlotte’s laptop to get her appraisal inventory list to compare the lost products to. Until that’s done, the McAdams firm will just have to wait until after the final sale in Boston next month to receive even a partial payment.”
“Did Duane contribute in any way to the hours involved in sorting and appraising the stock?”
“Never worked a day in his life, that one.” Blake’s face twisted in a mock laugh. “Since you’re here, would you mind going into the library to look through the books? I couldn’t give the police a complete report because, without Charlotte’s list, I had to go on memory of what I’d been told she and Robert discovered. Maybe there’s more missing that you might remember appraising or seeing on Wednesday.”
“Sure.” Addie bit the inside of her cheek to keep her excitement in check.
One corner of Simon’s mouth twitched. “Did you notice any other books missing when you were in here earlier?”
“When were you in the library?” Blake asked Addie, his brows bumped together.
“This morning, Jerry, one of the police officers, and I thought we saw smoke in the hallway. We went in to make sure there wasn’t a fire.”
“That’s happened to me and a few of the staff a couple of times, too.” The creases in Blake’s face deepened. “But we never found anything. I guess it’s just a quirk of this old house.”
“Yes, that must be it.” Addie held her voice even as she fought to contain the excitement bubbling up in her chest. She wasn’t seeing things. Others had seen it, too
“So, you’ll take a look at the books?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Wonderful. Let me look after a few other things with the staff and check on Robert’s progress in the kitchen. I’ll come and find you as soon as I can.”
Butterflies swarmed her stomach at Blake’s request. This was exactly what she’d hoped for when she dragged Simon along. As the threesome stood in front of the closed library doors, a cold air current enveloped them. She shivered and noticed goose bumps rising up on Simon’s arms. He obviously felt it, too. A least I’m not going crazy. “I assumed this house had never been updated with air-conditioning, but judging by how quickly it got cold, I guess I was wrong.”
“No, you’re not wrong,” Blake said. “There’s no AC, and we’ve found it weird how it will suddenly get unbearably cold in spots. I never take my sport jacket off despite it being seventy degrees outside. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few min
utes.”
Addie rubbed her arms to keep warm, and Simon flung the doors open. Bitter cold air encased them. “What on earth?” She peered inside. “This is weird. How can it be this frosty in here when the sun’s still out and we’re in the middle of a heat wave?”
“The chill we felt in the hallway must have been the cold air seeping from under the door of this room.”
“But where’s it coming from?”
“Some of these old houses do stay rather cool in the heat.”
“I know. The construction back then was far more solid than new construction is, but this is ridiculous. I can almost see my breath,” Addie said, tiptoeing into the room.
Simon followed her in. The goose bumps on his arms were amplified tenfold as he came to her side. “You got lucky with Blake asking you to check this room, but I suspect that even if he hadn’t, you would have found an excuse to get back in here. Mind telling me what we’re looking for?”
“You heard him. He wants me to check through the books.”
“Yeah, but you only found out about that a few minutes ago. Before he provided you with an excuse, there must have been something you wanted to check out.” Simon held her gaze. “Mind telling me, so I keep my eyes open, too? Because to me, everything looks exactly as it did on Thursday morning.”
“No, there’s something different. I sensed it this morning. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ll know when I see it.” Addie thumbed through a pile of books. She dug around in her tote bag and pulled out a small memo pad and pen and began writing.
“What did you find?”
“It’s what I didn’t find. There are four other books, aside from the ones Blake already mentioned, that aren’t here now. I’m just making note of the titles for when he finds the inventory list, so he can cross-reference them.”
“And you’re sure they were here.”
“Positive. Kalea and I talked about them, and I showed her the publishing dates, how to search them in the various rare book online catalogues, and how to calculate their worth based on their current condition.”
“You told her all that?”
“Yes, it was part of her training for the work we had in store for us the rest of the day.”
“I know she’s family to you”—he placed his hands gently on her shoulders—“but I feel I have to point this out: She’s gone, and so are some very valuable books.”
Addie hung her head. “I know how this looks, but I just can’t believe my cousin would have had anything to do with this.”
“Before Wednesday, when was the last time you’d seen her?”
“Ten years ago.”
“A lot can happen in ten years.”
“I know, but—”
“You know what? Just forget I said anything about her.” His lips brushed over her forehead before resting his against hers. “Blake said when they came in this morning other things in the house were missing, and the police brought him in here to check this room. Did he say if the doors were locked when they entered the room?”
“He didn’t.”
“Let me go find him to ask. If they were unlocked, like they were when you came in with Jerry, there wouldn’t be as much of a mystery as to how someone got in here. But if this morning when Blake came in, they were locked . . .” He double-tapped his knuckles on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Even though the body was long gone, the feeling of haunted eyes still permeated the room and Addie’s soul. She shivered and sorted through the books, creating stacks based on publishing dates from rarest and oldest to newest. It took her mind off the fact she was freezing and alone in a room where invisible eyes cooled one’s heart.
There was a scuffling noise behind her, and she relaxed. “Did you find Blake? What did he say?”
There was no answer.
“Simon?”
Nothing.
“Simon?”
Chills raced along her spine. A coil of wispy white smoke billowed in the fireplace, and then poof, it was sucked into the chimney, leaving the room empty and Addie’s heart sinking to her shoes.
Chapter 22
Heart back in place, Addie tiptoed to the fireplace. Too embroiled in her thoughts, she almost stepped on the previously missing feather pen. Simon and Blake came through the doors, and she jumped.
“What’s wrong?” Simon rushed to her. “You’re as pale as—”
“A ghost?” But Addie didn’t look at him because her gaze was focused on the feather pen lying by the fireplace. “Blake, did you find the pen today and put it back here in the library?”
“No, but . . . What’s his name?”
“Jerry?”
“Yeah, did ask me about it later. But I hadn’t seen it. I don’t even remember it being here on Thursday, but Jerry confirmed it was because he had photos of it. But when he and I came in here this morning to check this room after the other thefts were discovered, I don’t remember seeing it then.”
Simon’s darkening eyes fixed on hers. “Blake said the police had to unlock the library this morning, but it was unlocked when you came in later because they’d been in and out of here all day.”
“You can’t remember if the pen was here earlier or went missing later?” Addie asked.
Blake shook his head. “Sorry.”
“The pen reappeared”—she pointed to the floor—“but it’s funny how the laptop has never turned up.”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Blake, “and Robert has no idea where it is. He has his own. There’s a partial inventory list on it. He always sent his work to Charlotte, and then she’d add her own to make a complete list.”
“The night she died, did he say why he was upstairs?”
“Yes, he told the police that about two a.m., she got into a foul mood and was snappy about everything. He even made her a cup of tea in the hope it would calm her down, but even that didn’t placate the witch. He finally let her have it. They quarrelled and she sent him away, but with strict orders to be back by seven. He decided it was too late to go back up to the hotel for just a few hours’ sleep, so he went upstairs and crashed on the master bed.”
“Had he done that before?”
“Not as far as I know. The mattresses are fairly old and stale. I wouldn’t have wanted to sleep on one, personally. Anyway . . .” Blake squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I’d better get back to work. I think we’ve come to the last of the boxes to be moved outside, and I need to get the staff started on boxing up what I’ve tagged to be shipped back to Boston.”
“Will there be much furniture left? The real-estate agent mentioned he was hoping the house would be cleared out by the end of next week.”
“That man has been nothing but a thorn in my side. At first, he wanted nothing touched, and then he wanted nothing left over. He’ll take what he gets. The bank has given my company until the end of the month to dispose of all the estate holdings. He can wait.” Blake approached the doors and then stopped. “You haven’t seen my nephew, have you?” At Addie and Simon’s head shakes, the line of his mouth set firm. “That boy. Smart as a whip in business but runs like a rabbit away from any hard work.” He grumbled all the way to the doors, which banged behind him.
Simon cupped his hands together and blew into them. “Is it my imagination, or is it colder in here now than it was earlier?”
“The sun is starting to set.” Addie glanced out the window. “Maybe that’s why.”
“You’re probably right.” Simon took her hand from the fireplace mantel and stroked his thumb in small circles over the back of it. “Why were you as white as a sheet when we came in?”
She recounted her encounter with the apparition. As she finished there was a low scraping noise from over his shoulder, and they both turned to look, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“You do know that’s not a ghost? It’s probably just mice,” he said. “These old houses are infamous for them, especially ones that have been close
d up for nearly seventy years.”
“You’re right.” She remembered the coil of smoke. “But it is getting harder not to believe in the ghost theory.”
Simon dropped her hand. “Did you find what you were looking for? Because I think we should leave.”
“I still have to find something that proves my innocence.”
“I just don’t think it’s good for you to spend any more time here. You’re not thinking clearly with all this ghost talk, and now”—he waved his hand in front of the fireplace—“thinking you saw an apparition?”
“I saw something. I know I did. Just like I did at the top of the stairs the first day I was here. Something weird’s going on here. How else do we explain the locked room, the missing books . . . and that!” She pointed to the feather pen lying on the floor.
“I don’t remember it being there Thursday. Pretty sure with all the foot traffic around the body it would have been trampled.”
“That’s because it was in that old inkwell on Thursday when you came. But when I was in here with Jerry earlier, it was gone.”
“Now here it is on the floor in front of the fireplace.” Simon squatted on his haunches to study the pen and the area in front of the hearth.
Addie snapped a couple of photos of it with her phone. “I’ll have to show this to Jerry.” She stuffed her phone in her pocket. “I don’t know what to make of it since Blake says the room was locked until they came in this morning. Do you have any ideas?” She trained her eye over the marble mantelpiece.
“Nope, sorry. This has me as baffled as you.”
She ran her fingers over the scrolled carvings. “Jerry and I looked at this detail earlier and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary but . . .” She bent closer, her fingers tingling with anticipation. “Hand me that feather pen.”
“What about prints? We shouldn’t touch it if you think the police will be interested in its reappearance.”
Proof of Murder Page 18