The Key in the Attic

by DeAnna Julie Dodson

  “You guys ever do any work in Virginia? Fairfax County?”

  “Yeah, some. Anything from Portland down to Charleston, we have people there, or I know somebody. What do you need?”

  Frank smiled. “Just a little information, that’s all. I just need to know if they’re about to start clearing for construction on a mall or something like that near this house in Fairfax County.” He gave Dave the location of the old Whyte place. “I’d say anything within ten or fifteen miles.”

  “That’s all? Sure, I can find that out for you. I know a guy at the clerk’s office over there. He’ll know what’s been approved.” He chuckled. “I won’t ask you why you want to know.”

  “Good idea.”

  “And that means you are gonna let me take you for some big bucks on Saturday, right?”

  “Oh definitely. If you can find out what I want to know today.”

  “Today!” Dave laughed and swore softly. “What do you think I am, man? Houdini?”

  “Gotta know today, Dave. Tomorrow may be too late.”

  “What exactly is going on here? This isn’t going to get me in trouble, is it? I’m still not sure about that clock I picked up for you. I should never have let you talk me into that one.”

  “No, no, no. Look, all you have to do is find out where they’re about to clear in that area. Maybe starting tomorrow. Maybe any time this week. Sometime really soon. That’s all. Can you do it for me? What do you say?”

  “I say it’s a long shot for today, but I’ll try.”

  “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Just as he hung up the phone, Sanders heard the front door open and the chatter of several customers. Putting on his professional smile, he went out to greet them.

  ****

  Sanders picked up the telephone about half an hour later. “Antiques and Oddities.”

  “Frank? It’s Dave. I think I found what you were looking for.”

  “That was quick. Hang on a second.” Frank sat down and grabbed a pad and pencil. “OK, where is it?”

  “Kind of in the middle of nowhere right now. They’re clearing for a new housing development, about three miles off the main highway, a little more than five miles from the house you told me about.”

  Frank jotted down the directions Dave gave him. “And when are they clearing?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  Frank laughed softly. So that was her hurry. She’d found where the trees were that the note talked about. Somehow he’d have to find them too. While they were still standing.

  “Well thanks. I owe you, Dave. Big time.”

  Dave snickered. “You know this is all public information, right? You could have called them direct.”

  “Yeah, but you know the right questions to ask and who to call to get past all the red tape. I owe you.”

  “Just bring plenty of cash on Saturday. Deal?”

  “If this ends up being the right information, that won’t be a problem.”

  Frank hung up the phone and went to his computer. As he expected, last-minute airfare anywhere was not inexpensive, but it would be worth it. He didn’t have a choice at this point. He either went and found out what the Dawson woman was up to, or he missed out on the chance of a lifetime.

  He clicked the final button to book his flight to Virginia and then locked the front door of the shop. It was a little early to flip the “Open” sign to “Closed,” but he had some things to do before his flight left in the morning. He pulled the blinds shut and then, as an afterthought, taped up a little note card that could be read from outside the front door: WE WILL BE CLOSED UNTIL SATURDAY. SORRY WE MISSED YOU.

  He recorded a similar message on the shop’s answering machine. That should take care of things while he was away. If things went as he hoped, this little trip would be well worth missing a couple of days’ sales.

  He gave the front door a little tug, making sure it was firmly locked, and then he shut off the lights in the front part of the shop.

  “Just one last thing.”

  He looked around the now-dim room as he walked toward the office area. It wouldn’t be long before he had one of those posh shops like Park Cambridge, where they handled only the best of the best. And he would keep the very best of all of it for himself.

  He’d miss his room full of treasures, the interesting bits of historical trivia that weren’t worth much except as conversation pieces, but it wouldn’t do to have a showroom like this in the better part of town. The posh set wouldn’t like it. On the other hand, maybe in a day or two, he wouldn’t have to care what anyone thought, posh or not.

  He flipped off the light in the office and went into the warehouse, his steps echoing as he walked across the concrete floor to the loading dock. He locked those doors too. It wouldn’t do to be seen. Not just now.

  Once everything was secured, he took a sturdy cardboard box from the supply he kept and filled it halfway with packing peanuts. Then from one of the lower warehouse shelves, he slid a large wooden crate onto the floor. It was one of many marked with stickers and labels, some in Chinese, most in English. The labels on this particular crate showed an address in Hong Kong, one in New York, and the address of his shop. And several of them, in neon orange, announced that the contents were fragile.

  He pried up the lid with the hammer he kept for just such purposes and propped the lid against the wall. Then he rummaged in the straw packing and took out a number of delicate porcelain dishes, small and dainty, in blue and white. He set those on the floor beside him and removed another layer of straw and lifted out a squarish object about fifteen inches high and ten inches wide wrapped in heavy paper. He set it on the floor beside him, careful not to jar it. Then he replaced the straw and the dishes and nailed the lid of the crate back into place. That done, he slid the crate onto the shelf once more.

  He picked up the paper-wrapped object, laid it in the box he had prepared, and then covered it with more packing peanuts.

  “That ought to ride just fine.”

  He tucked the box under one arm, and with a final glance around the tidy warehouse, flipped off the light and left through the back door.

  16

  “This is crazy.”

  “Just drive, Mary Beth.” Annie leaned forward in her seat, silently urging Mary Beth’s SUV to go faster. “You’re going to lose him.”

  “He can’t get far in this traffic. And if you’re right, we know where he’s going anyway. We should just let the police take care of it.”

  “They won’t do anything.” Alice leaned up from the backseat. “They don’t have any evidence against him, and they more or less said they have more important things to do.”

  Annie scowled. “Well, if he is headed for the airport, that would be quite a coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

  Mary Beth pulled her SUV into the left lane, three cars behind the lime green compact Sanders was driving. “It’s crazy, I tell you. Sitting outside his house all morning and then following him. We’re not the police or FBI, you know.”

  “So we’re private detectives,” Alice said with a laugh.

  Annie let her expression soften. “Maybe not detectives,” she said, “but a trio of Jessica Fletchers.”

  Mary Beth pressed her lips together. “We really don’t have any business doing this, you know. I can’t believe I let the two of you talk me into it. We could get into all kinds of trouble taking the law into our own hands like this. After all, it’s just a clock.”

  “No, I’m sure it’s more than that, Mary Beth. There’s something more in it, something Sanders knows about.” Annie checked her watch. They still had plenty of time. “Besides, all we’re going to do is watch him at a public place. He’s headed south, so we still don’t know if he’s driving to the airport or to Virginia.”

  “I can’t imagine he’d drive all the way to Virginia,” Alice said, her brow knitted in thought, “not if he’s trying to get there in a hurry.”

  “That’s what I’m betting
on,” Annie said, nodding. “If he drives to Virginia, we’re sunk, so if he doesn’t turn off at the airport, then we’ll just head back home, fair enough?”

  “And if he does?” Mary Beth asked, clearly unconvinced.

  Annie glanced first at Alice and then at Mary Beth. “Then we’ll just see what happens. We’re not going to do anything dangerous.”

  Mary Beth exhaled heavily, and no one said anything for the next few minutes. Sanders was still headed for the airport. At least that lime green car of his stood out in traffic. It was unlikely he would recognize any of them through the tinted windows of Mary Beth’s SUV or think anyone was following him. Lots of people drove to the airport every day, didn’t they? That is, if indeed, Sanders was headed for the airport.

  Soon they were approaching the turnoff for Congress Street. If he were going to catch a flight, he’d have to turn now. The car’s signal light flashed Sanders’s intent to exit.

  “He’s got his blinker on. He’s going.” Alice leaned up from the backseat again, as much as her seatbelt would let her. “Don’t lose him!”

  Setting her mouth in a determined line, Mary Beth pulled out of the left lane and worked her way through to the exit. They were five cars behind Sanders now.

  “No, no, no,” Annie muttered when a moving van blocked their view. “Do you see him, Alice?”

  “No. Oh wait! There he is. He’s pulled into the left lane again.”

  Mary Beth dutifully pulled into the left lane.

  “No, don’t do that,” Alice told her. “It’s too obvious.”

  With a sigh, Mary Beth put on her right blinker.

  “No!” Annie and Alice said at the same time, and Mary Beth glanced at them, bewildered.

  “You’ll only make him notice you if you keep changing lanes. Just drive like you usually would. Don’t do anything to attract attention.” Annie gave her a steadying smile. “You’re doing fine. Just keep on.”

  Sanders was only two cars ahead of them now, and Annie could see him fiddling with the radio, bobbing his head and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, no doubt keeping time to the music. He seemed relaxed enough—smug even.

  “You don’t think he can see us, do you?” Mary Beth’s eyes were wide, and her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Annie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “And he certainly can’t hear us,” Alice added with a laugh.

  Soon they were on International Parkway, heading for the parking areas of the Portland International Jetport. The lime green compact was still several cars ahead of them.

  “What now?” Mary Beth asked.

  Annie scanned the page of notepaper in her hand and then peered out at Sanders’s car.

  “I’m pretty sure he’ll have to go on United. They have a flight at 2:20 that will get him to Dulles, and he’ll have to rent a car to drive into Virginia. If that is his flight, we need Gate Eleven. If he’s on a later flight, I don’t think he would drive out here so early and just sit around the airport—not if he has your clock with him.”

  “He’s pulling into the stack-up garage.” Alice shaded her eyes. “We’ll lose him if we take time to park.”

  Annie glanced at her list. “OK, we know where he has to go. Mary Beth, pull up to the terminal and let us out. Once you’ve parked, come over to the security checkpoint for Gate Eleven, but stay out of sight. Got it?”

  “We’ll lose him,” Mary Beth protested.

  “No. It’ll take him a while to get parked and get his suitcase out. By the time he checks in, Alice and I will be watching for him. It’s a good thing this isn’t DFW though. We’d never find him.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve been through the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. It’s like a major city all by itself.” Alice stopped suddenly. “What if he checks his luggage in at the curb? Some airlines let you, you know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If he thinks that clock is valuable enough to steal, he’s not going to let it out of his sight. It’ll be in his carry-on. Don’t you think so, Mary Beth?”

  “I’m still not sure about this whole idea,” Mary Beth said, a pained look on her face.

  She pulled up to the terminal, and Annie and Alice hurried out. Annie was glad to find the terminal was just one long building for all the airlines. That meant there was only one for Frank Sanders to come through.

  They took the escalator up to the security area and found seats near Gate Eleven. Sanders would have to come here to check in for Flight 3789, but they were—Annie hoped—too far away for Sanders to notice them.

  “We have a good view from here.” Annie sat down, scanning the crowd, trying not to get nervous. “When he shows up, we have to talk to him before he can check in. Once he’s past that scanner, we can’t get to him unless we buy tickets.”

  Alice fidgeted in her chair, looking around too. “I wish he’d hurry up. This is killing me.”

  In a few minutes, Mary Beth hurried up to them and sat down. For a long while, she merely clutched her purse, saying nothing. Then, finally, she bit her lip. “I can’t do this.”

  “You don’t have to do anything, Mary Beth.” Annie gave her arm a reassuring pat. “Just stay over here out of the way. If there’s trouble, get security.”

  Mary Beth nodded.

  “OK, then,” Annie said. “He’s not violent.”

  “Just sneaky,” Alice added with a giggle.

  Annie giggled, too, and then her eyes widened. “Here he comes. Shh!”

  Sanders was headed toward the check-in line, a small, hard-sided suitcase rolling along behind him.

  “The clock has to be in there,” Annie whispered. “It’s the perfect size.”

  Sanders stopped at the end of the line. There were maybe a dozen people ahead of him, and he looked past them as he waited, not really seeing anyone, just passing the time until his turn came.

  He certainly is a cool customer, Annie thought. Then she swallowed hard. Or maybe he really didn’t have anything to do with the missing clock.

  No, it couldn’t be that! It would be too much of a coincidence for him to be taking a trip to Virginia of all places and today of all days. Besides, the worst he could do is prove he didn’t have the clock in his bag and go on his flight assured that she was truly out of her mind. He wouldn’t press harassment charges against her, would he?

  It was a risk she’d have to take.

  She nodded reassuringly to Mary Beth and then motioned to Alice to follow her. They crept to the back of the line behind Sanders. Annie counted ten slow breaths and then moistened her lips and smiled.

  “Mr. Sanders! It seems we’re always running into each other.”

  He turned. She caught just an instant of panic in his eyes, and then the nearly suave smile replaced it.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Dawson. Again. You’re not on this flight, are you?”

  She shrugged, trying to look innocently nonchalant. “Virginia is a lovely state. And I always enjoy looking at the wild places, places where there are still open fields and flowers. …” She smiled a little more. “… and trees.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. They’re clearing out more and more places like that every day. I guess if we don’t see them now, we’ll never get the chance, eh? Well, enjoy your visit. I’m going to be at auctions all day. Still, it should be interesting. I love collecting rare old pieces.”

  “Even if they belong to someone else?

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but still he smiled.

  “Still making unfounded accusations, are we, Mrs. Dawson? I don’t know what else I can do besides tell you I didn’t have anything to do with the theft of your friend’s clock. You’ve already been to the police with this, and they told you there isn’t any evidence.” His expression turned serious, and he moved almost imperceptibly closer. “I really don’t want to have to tell the police you’ve been harassing me. That just wouldn’t be very nice.”

  She lifted her chin. He was not going to make her step back. “Then
why don’t you call them right now? You can press charges against me, and then they can have a look inside that suitcase. How about that?”

  He was pressing his lips together so hard they were white, but he gave her a tight smile. “I don’t want any unpleasantness now. I have business to take care of, and at this point, I really find this all extremely boring. If you’ll excuse me, the line is moving.”

  He turned and moved up about three feet closer to the check-in desk. She stayed right with him.

  After a moment, he faced her again. “Don’t make me have to make things unpleasant for you, Mrs. Dawson. I really don’t want to cause you any trouble. You’re a nice lady. Your friend’s a nice lady. I’m sorry she lost her clock, but it has nothing to do with me. Can’t you just leave me in peace?”

  “I’m not doing anything but standing in line. It’ll be interesting to see what those x-ray machines reveal. It’s amazing what people try to carry onto planes with them.”

  His eyes darted toward where the screeners were staring at the monitors, sometimes stopping the conveyor belts that moved the carry-on luggage past the scans, sometimes asking passengers to open their bags for inspection. A little trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face.

  “You realize they only let the screeners look at the monitors, don’t you? The other passengers have to mind their own business.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Still, sometimes one of the people screening the luggage is notified by the police to look for something in particular.”

  She gave a subtle nod to one of the screeners and then looked pointedly at Sanders. The screener acted like he hadn’t noticed. Probably he hadn’t. It didn’t matter as long as Sanders didn’t know that.

  Another trickle of sweat ran down his neck and into his collar. He glanced at the check-in desk. Only one person ahead of him now and then the scanner.

  Annie gave him her sweetest smile.

  Finally he stepped up to the desk. The woman there smiled professionally and held out her hand.

  “May I see your ticket, please, sir?”

  Sanders looked at her, glanced at Annie, and then looked at her again.