The Key in the Attic (9 page)

“You’ll be the very first.”

He gave Annie a little wave as he passed her, and then he was gone.

“Him again?” Annie giggled. “I think he has a crush on you.”

“Very funny.” Mary Beth tried to lift up the corner of the aluminum foil that covered the casserole dish Annie carried. “And this is … ?”

“No peeking,” Alice scolded, getting between her and Annie, “or you don’t get any of this.”

She held up a covered pie dish, and Mary Beth hurried back up to open the front door for them.

“So what did your stalker want?” Alice set down her pie dish and a plastic bag full of other goodies. “He’s persistent, isn’t he?”

“Last thing I needed today.” Mary Beth rolled her eyes when the telephone rang. “Excuse me—I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll just get everything on the table,” Alice said. “Take your time.”

Dinner was ready to serve by the time Mary Beth came back, but by then she wasn’t very interested in eating.

“That was Chief Edwards. He said they found my DVD and CD players all smashed up and thrown in one of those dumpsters out behind the Grand Avenue Fish House. At least he’s pretty sure they’re mine. They’re the same models, and it would be an awfully big coincidence for two just like mine to show up just now. Based on the other trash in the dumpster, he’s sure they were put in there today. Why would anyone steal something like that just so they could smash it all up and throw it away?”

Alice shrugged. “Cold feet? If it was kids who broke in here, maybe they decided they didn’t want to get caught with stolen goods. Did Chief Edwards say they found any fingerprints?”

Mary Beth’s mouth turned down. “Wiped clean. Evidently, not even mine are on there anymore.”

“That’s just a shame.” Annie shook her head. “You know, it just doesn’t make sense. Why
did
they break in?”

10

Annie stepped inside the clock shop, charmed as always by all the little ticks and whirrs and bells that greeted her. It was almost like stepping into a meadow full of birds, cheery and busy. When Mr. Malcolm called her the week before to give her the estimate for the repair, she had immediately told him to go ahead. The cost wasn’t quite as high as she had expected, and she was more determined than ever to have something positive happen to Mary Beth. This would cheer her up some, and that would make it worth every penny it cost. Mary Beth would be so surprised when she brought the clock back, working again and running like new.

Mr. Malcolm looked up from his desk where he was examining a little brass-and-ivory clock no more than four inches high, and his rheumy eyes brightened.

“Ah, Mrs. Dawson.” He put down the jeweler’s glass he was using. “Good to see you. How can I help you?”

“I came to pick up Mary Beth’s clock. The one with the forest scene carved into it.”

“Oh, that one. That’s a real beauty. But, I’m sorry you came all the way here. Mrs. Brock’s husband picked it up this morning.”

“Her
husband
!?”

“Yes. I wasn’t here, but my assistant said he was a very nice fellow. He said he wanted to surprise her. I’m sorry he didn’t let you in on it though. It would have saved you a trip.”

Annie could only stare at him, open mouthed. “Her husband?”

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Mary Beth doesn’t have a husband, Mr. Malcolm.”

Mr. Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment. “And I suppose you still have the claim slip?”

Annie dug it out of her purse.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dawson. I wasn’t here this morning. My staff has strict instructions not to release any repair items without a slip.” He got up and retrieved a ledger book from the counter behind him and opened it to the last used page. Then he picked up the telephone on his desk and pressed the third button at the bottom. “Jennifer, may I see you a moment?”

The girl who came from the back of the shop was young, probably not long out of school, and she couldn’t stop apologizing. She was almost in tears.

“I didn’t know. He described the clock to me and said it belonged to Mrs. Brock. Then when I told him that wasn’t the name it was under, he said he remembered that you had brought it, Mrs. Dawson, and he gave me your name. I thought it was OK. He paid for the repair. I didn’t think he’d do that unless it was his.” She bit her high-gloss lip. “I didn’t know.”

“What did he look like, Jennifer?” Mr. Malcolm was being extremely patient. Annie was glad he was being kind to the girl, but she hoped he realized this was an extremely serious matter too. Mary Beth would be heartbroken.

Jennifer only shrugged her slim shoulders. “I don’t know. Just a guy.”

“Was he young or old?” Annie asked.

“Sorta old.” The girl thought for a moment more. “Yeah, he was sorta old. Probably as old as my dad—forty or fifty or something.”

Annie managed to not roll her eyes. “What color was his hair?”

“Umm … kinda brownish blond, I guess.”

Annie had a terrible thought. Frank Sanders might be as old as forty, and he had sandy blond hair.

“What there was of it,” Jennifer continued.

Annie shook her head. “What do you mean? He was bald?”

“Yeah, pretty much He had one of those little fringe thingies around his head and then like three strands across the top. Do guys really think that helps?”

Hmmm. The hair didn’t sound much like Sanders’s, but the rest of the girl’s description wasn’t very precise either. He wanted the clock. It had been obvious from everything he had said, from the way he looked at it. Could he have been so brazen as to just take it?

“What else do you remember about him?” Annie asked.

“Kinda tall, I think.”

Annie frowned. She would never categorize Sanders as tall. Maybe the girl’s estimation of “kinda tall” was about as accurate as her idea of “sorta old.”

“Do you remember the color of his eyes?” Mr. Malcolm asked. “Or anything else specific about him?”

“I’m really sorry. I just don’t. He came in and paid for the clock and left.”

“I don’t suppose he paid with a check or credit card,” Annie asked, hoping Sanders would turn out to be the stupidest criminal in the world, but she wasn’t surprised to see the girl shake her head.

“Just cash. Tens and twenties.”

Mr. Malcolm smiled at Annie apologetically. “All right, Jennifer. We’ll talk about this in a few minutes.”

“I’m so sorry,” the girl said again, looking as if she might cry, and then she scurried into the back of the shop.

“The daughter of one of my niece’s friends,” he said. “Two years of junior college and no experience. I thought I could help.”

Annie felt bad for both of them. “She’ll learn. In the meantime, I suppose we’d better call the police.” She stopped for a minute, thinking. “No, maybe we can get this cleared up without involving them. If the man who picked up the clock is who I think he is, then I know right where to find him. Do you think I could talk to Jennifer again?”

Mr. Malcolm looked puzzled, but he smiled. “Of course.”

****

Jennifer was more than willing to help. Her cooperation was mostly to atone for allowing the clock to be stolen, Annie was sure. But she was glad to have Jennifer along.

Annie glanced over at her as she started the car. “All you have to do when we get there is look around the shop as if you’re looking for something to buy. Then, if you see the man who picked up the clock, let me know.”

The girl nodded, and then her big blue eyes pooled with tears. “Mrs. Dawson, I feel so bad about what happened. I would never have let him have it if he hadn’t known your name and all about the clock.”

“We’ll get it worked out, Jennifer. Don’t you worry. And you know what? Now you have some valuable business experience.” Annie smiled at her and gave her a comforting pat. “And we’re going to get that clock back. You just watch.”

****

As soon as she and Jennifer went into Frank Sanders’s shop, Annie started searching the jumbled shelves for any sign of Mary Beth’s clock. Surely he wouldn’t have it there in plain sight. It was most likely at his home by now, part of his private collection of pieces that “spoke to him.” Still, she kept looking.

Jennifer wandered toward the middle of the shop to look at an ornate English wardrobe carved with birds and animals and trees, a rising sun and intertwined rings and crowns.

“Lovely piece, isn’t it?”

Annie glanced over at the sound of Frank Sanders’s voice.

Jennifer was smiling at him, nothing in her expression to show that she recognized him or that he recognized her.

“Oh yes, it is. I … I’m really just looking though. My mom’s birthday is in a couple of weeks, and I’d like to find something nice for her.”

Sanders smiled too. “I’m sure we can find something she would like. Does she— Well, hello, Mrs. Dawson. What a surprise to see you here again!” He turned back to Jennifer. “She’s not your mother, is she?”

“Oh no. Actually, I work at—”

“We’re just friends, Mr. Sanders,” Annie said. “Although I do have some kind of sad news.”

“What’s that?”

“You remember my friend, Mary Beth Brock? You were very interested in her mantel clock, the one with all the beautiful carving.”

“Oh, certainly. I won’t soon forget that piece. Really exquisite.”

Annie nodded, watching his eyes. “I’m afraid it was stolen.”

He looked dismayed. “Stolen? I know her home was broken into, but she said the clock—”

“Was being repaired, yes. It seems that someone stole it from the repair shop.”

“Oh dear. That’s a shame. I hope it was insured. Or at least that the repair shop will pay her the value of it. Too bad she didn’t take my offer while she could. It was twice what insurance will give her. Maybe three times.”

“It was the strangest thing,” Annie said. “Whoever came and got the clock was pretending he was Mary Beth’s husband. And when he found the repair wasn’t in her name, he gave mine instead. Isn’t it odd that someone like that would know both our names—and know that the clock was being repaired?”

Sanders stared at her for a moment and then laughed gruffly. “Are you saying you think I’m mixed up in this?”

“I couldn’t help but notice how badly you wanted that clock. I don’t know who else would have known it was in the shop and known my name and Mary Beth’s.”

“That’s hardly proof, you know. When did I supposedly perpetrate this crime?”

“This morning. About ten thirty.”

He went behind the counter, brought out a metal wastepaper basket and dug through it briefly. Then he handed her a boarding pass. “As you can see, I was in New York City from this past Monday until takeoff at 10:48 this morning. It took me some time to deplane and get my luggage and get the shuttle back to where I had parked my car. I only got back to the shop a little while ago.”

Annie studied the boarding pass. It certainly seemed legitimate. If the clock had been taken at 10:30, there was no way he could have been on that flight in New York at 10:48.

She glanced at Jennifer who gave her a subtle shake of the head. Obviously, Sanders wasn’t the man she had seen at the repair shop.

Annie thrust the boarding pass back into his hand. “That doesn’t mean you didn’t have someone take it for you.”

Again he laughed ruefully. “I suppose that’s a possibility, but is it really all that practical? I’ll admit I was smitten with that clock. It was absolutely unique, and I’ve been in this business a long time now. But even at the inflated price I offered your friend, it’s not worth me going to jail for, now is it?”

Annie looked at him, trying hard not to glare. He had a point. But there were just too many coincidences at work here for her to believe he wasn’t involved.

He finally smiled at her. “I can understand your suspicions. Really, I can. But, as you see, I just couldn’t have done it. And I would have been very stupid if I had.”

“I guess that’s one point we can agree on.” Annie tugged Jennifer’s arm. “We’d better go.”

“I’d still be happy to help you find something for your mother, young lady,” Sanders offered.

Jennifer only shrugged. “I haven’t really decided what I want to get yet. Maybe I’ll come back sometime.”

“You’re always welcome. And Mrs. Dawson, no hard feelings, eh?”

Annie merely glanced at the hand he offered. “I’m not sure about that yet.”

She hurried Jennifer out to the car and sped out of the parking lot.

“You’re sure he wasn’t at the repair shop this morning?”

“No. He’s definitely not the man I saw.”

“Have you ever seen him?”

“No. I mean, I guess I could have passed him on the street or something, but I don’t remember ever seeing him.”

Annie drove for a few minutes in silence, heading back to Mr. Malcolm’s repair shop to drop Jennifer off. Then she made an abrupt U-turn.

“Where are we going?” the girl asked.

“There’s been a theft. We are sure of that much. If you don’t mind, we’re going to go report it to the police.”

11

It was getting late when Annie finally returned to Stony Point. She had told Mary Beth she was picking up the clock, and Mary Beth had told her to just come drop it off on her way back. Now, Annie hated showing up empty-handed.

No, it wasn’t just that. It was that Mary Beth had already had enough happening to her right now. She didn’t need something else piled on top of it.

Once she had brought Jennifer back to Mr. Malcolm’s shop from the police station, Annie had considered calling Mary Beth from the clock shop to break the bad news to her, but somehow that felt cowardly. Besides, taking the clock to Mr. Malcolm had been Annie’s idea. Instead, she called up to ask if she could drop by Mary Beth’s house. It was only right that she should have to tell Mary Beth about the loss of the clock herself in person.

“It’s open,” Mary Beth called when Annie knocked. “Come on in.”

Annie did.

“You know, you’re pretty trusting for someone who just got burgled.”

Mary Beth laughed. “I just unlocked it a minute ago. I figured you’d be here about now. What’s the big news you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”

“Can we sit down for a minute?”

“Sure.” Mary Beth gestured to the sofa. “I know you like mysteries, but I’ll take my news straight up, if you don’t mind.”

“OK.” Annie steeled herself and then plowed ahead. “You know I took your clock to get an estimate for the repairs, and they called me to let me know how much it would be.”

Mary Beth lifted one eyebrow. “Yes? Was it that bad?”

“No, actually. It wasn’t as much as I had expected, and I told them to go ahead and fix it. I wanted to surprise you.”

Mary Beth’s face lit. “Really? Oh Annie, you shouldn’t have done it. It’s much too generous of you.”

“I went to pick it up earlier today.”

Mary Beth looked at Annie expectantly. “So? Where is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Mary Beth. I don’t have it. Somebody stole it from the repair shop.”

Mary Beth rolled her eyes. “Cute. Do you need me to help you get it out of the—” Her forehead wrinkled. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I am
so
sorry. Mr. Malcolm wanted to call you to apologize, but I told him I should talk to you first.”

“Was his place broken into also?”

“No.” Annie took Mary Beth by the arm and sat down with her on the couch. “It’s just really stupid. Some friend of his niece’s just started working for him, and she let someone pick it up without the claim ticket. Someone who knew your name and mine.”

Mary Beth frowned hard. “Frank Sanders.”

“It almost has to be. I couldn’t get much of a description from the girl, but I thought it could be Frank. She said he was about forty and tall.”

“Tall?”

“OK, maybe she meant tallish. But she also said he was nearly bald. He’s definitely not bald.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time a thieving little weasel wore a rug, you know.”

Annie couldn’t help laughing. “I’m glad you’re not too mad about it.”

“Oh, I’m plenty mad.” Her voice shook a little in spite of her smile. “He struck me wrong from the minute we went into his shop, and now I know why. I think I’ll just go pay Mr. Sanders a visit.”

“That won’t do any good. I already tried. The girl from the repair place and I went to his shop. She didn’t recognize him.”

“You’re joking. Really?”

“Really. She’s sure he wasn’t the man who picked up the clock. And he showed me a boarding pass for a flight from New York City. It was for this morning. Sanders couldn’t have been the one who got the clock.”

Mary Beth scowled. “Then he had help.”

“That’s what I think too. But, really, as beautiful as it is, it’s not
that
valuable. The police told me he doesn’t have a criminal record apart from a couple of old safety-code violations for his shop, and he took care of those a long time ago. It’s not like he routinely steals things and then sells them.”

“No, but he wanted my clock. I could tell.”

“That’s obvious. But now we have to let the police take care of it.”

Mary Beth nodded, calming. “I know you’re right. I just can’t believe the
nerve
of the man.” She finally grinned. “I might just snatch that rug right off his head.”

“Jennifer—that’s the girl from the repair shop—and I already made a report.” Annie dug in her purse and pulled out a business card. “This is the name of the officer we talked to. You’ll have to give him a call. I’m sure you’ll have to go file a complaint since it’s your clock.”

“All right.”

“The officer is supposed to go talk to Mr. Sanders too. I don’t know when that will be. I guess when he has time.”

“OK.”

“And I hope you don’t mind, but I told him your house was broken into too.”

Mary Beth started to nod, and then she looked at Annie. “You don’t think that could have been Sanders, too, do you?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible.”

“But he came back to look at the clock after the break in. He looked pretty surprised to find out it wasn’t here.”

“I know. Maybe that was all just to make him look innocent.”

“I guess some thieving little weasels are good actors too.” Mary Beth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “At least it’s a fairly simple fix. He ought to be in jail before the week’s out.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple. There’s just no evidence.”

Mary Beth shook her head. “The police have ways of finding things out. He has to be involved somehow. Just wait and see.”

****

“Nothing at all?” Annie wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. “I was afraid of that.”

“As he told you, he was in New York City that day. Most of the week, really.” Mary Beth sighed and straightened one of the cozy armchairs in the middle of A Stitch in Time in preparation for that morning’s meeting of the Hook and Needle Club. “Plus, he voluntarily let the police search his shop and his house, and they found nothing.”

“That’s no surprise.”

“And the police even did what I suggested and made sure his hair was real.”

Annie giggled.

“And Jennifer from Mr. Malcolm’s shop told them, too, that she didn’t recognize Sanders at all when the two of you were at his shop. They just don’t have enough evidence to make an arrest.” Mary Beth’s eyes filled, and she blinked hard. “Neither do we.”

“But we
know
.” Annie doubled her fists, aching to pound something. “He
has
to be the one! It’s just too much of a coincidence to imagine someone else is behind all this.”

“But why would he take it?” Mary Beth asked. “I mean, it
is
obvious that he was interested in it. He told us how much he loves pieces from around the time of the Civil War. Why would he risk stealing the clock when he’d have to know we’d suspect him first?”

“That’s not actual proof though. Not enough to go to court over.”

“How could he have made sure I took the clock for repairs anyway? Maybe this isn’t as obvious as we thought.”

Annie scowled. “Easiest thing in the world. He comes and looks at the clock and does something, I don’t know what, to make it quit working. He’s an antiques specialist. He’s got to know a lot of things people do to make pieces seem more or less valuable than they actually are.”

“I didn’t see anything wrong with the clock,” Mary Beth said. “Of course, what I know about clock mechanisms could be hidden in a thimble, but I looked it over pretty well when it stopped.”

“And you didn’t notice anything unusual?”

Mary Beth shook her head. “It looked all right to me. I guess he could have done something to affect it. But, if he did plan for it to have to go to the repair shop, how could he have known when it would be there? He knows I’ve been selling heirlooms to keep in business, so he knows I’m short of cash right now. How would he know I’d take it for an expensive repair right away like that? And to which shop?”

Annie sighed and settled into her favorite chair. “And if he fixed the clock so it wouldn’t run, why would he break into the house after it was already gone?”

“Hmmm.” Mary Beth shrugged. “Maybe the break-in really
was
kids, and maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the clock.”

“That’s a pretty big coincidence, isn’t it?”

“They do happen. Sometimes.”

“I guess we’ll have to pretend he didn’t have anything to do with the break-in—for now. But if Frank Sanders was in New York all that day, and the girl from Mr. Malcolm’s is sure he’s not the one who picked up the clock, who was it? And why?”

“He had to know me and you, whoever he was. He mentioned us by name.”

The bell over the front door jingled, and Alice swept into the shop carrying the bag that held her cross-stitch project and a larger bag with “Princessa” written in fuchsia across the side. “Oh good. I’m glad nobody’s here yet.”

Annie lifted one eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Well, I like that.”

“I mean nobody but us.” There was a sparkle of mischief in Alice’s blue eyes. “I had the greatest idea for you, Mary Beth.”

“It doesn’t involve selling jewelry or home decor, does it?”

“Only part of the time.”

“Alice MacFarlane, I told you that kind of thing isn’t for me. Now, please, just take all that back to your car.”

“Just take a look. I promise you, this line will sell itself here. Look.”

She opened one slender white box. Nestled on a strip of cotton padding was a silver charm bracelet.

“Oh, cute.” Annie lifted the bracelet out of its box. “Look at that tiny little pair of scissors.”

“And they open and close.” Alice demonstrated. “But I think I like the spool the best.”

Mary Beth took the bracelet, examining it, touching one finger to the little silver skein of embroidery floss and then to the tiny button next to it. “It is awfully cute. Some of the ones I’ve seen are just too big and junky looking. This one is beautifully made and really quite delicate.”

“Does that mean you’ll carry them in the shop?” Alice lifted her eyebrows hopefully. “They’re really popular right now.”

“This is a needlework shop, not a jewelry store.”

Mary Beth’s tone was firm, but Alice was the consummate saleswoman.

“But you know women who do needlework will just eat this up. Come on. You want one yourself, don’t you? I can tell you do. I know it’s not much, but I thought it might in some tiny way help you keep the shop going until everything is settled one way or the other.”

A touch of a smile tugged at the corner of Mary Beth’s mouth. “They’re awfully cute.”

“And you’d get half the retail price in commissions. What do you say?”

“I don’t know.” Mary Beth glanced at Annie.

“What would it hurt to try?” Annie toyed with the bracelet Mary Beth still held, running her finger lightly under the dangling charms, making them dance. “I’ll be your first customer.”

Mary Beth closed her hand, and the dancing stopped. “No, really, I can’t. I don’t have time for this kind of thing. I don’t want to be a Princessa rep or a rep for anybody. I don’t want to sign up for anything or take training or go to meetings or—”

“No, no.” Alice waived one hand to stop her. “You don’t have to do any of that. I’ll be the rep. I’ll take care of the paperwork and ordering the merchandise and everything else. All you have to do is let these sit on your counter here—right where all the good little impulse items go—and sell themselves. You take half the money, and I send the rest to the company. Now what could be easier than that?”

Again Mary Beth glanced at Annie.

“Sounds like a great deal to me,” Annie said.

Alice held up another Princessa box, this one smaller than the one that had held the bracelet, and gave it a little rattling shake. “They have matching earrings.”

“Oh, all right!” Mary Beth held up her hands in surrender as the bell on the front door jingled again, and Peggy and Gwen came into the shop. “I’ll give them a week.”

“Give what a week?” Gwen asked as she put her knitting bag in her usual chair.

“Oooh, I love these. Look at the little tape measure.” Peggy took the bracelet and draped it across her wrist. “Are you selling them, Alice?”

Alice shook her head. “Mary Beth is. Aren’t they too cute? You know, Wally should get you one for your birthday next month.”

“Good idea.” Peggy admired the bracelet for a moment more and then passed it to Gwen. “I’ll tell him to surprise me.”

“Pretty,” Gwen said, handing it back to Mary Beth. “But I’m dying to know more about your clock. I heard it was stolen from the repair shop. What did the police say? When do you have to go to court?”

“Looks like never, I’m afraid. The police released him after questioning because they have no evidence.”

Mary Beth sat down in one of the cozy chairs, and the others joined her, Alice and Gwen and Peggy talking over each other, expressing varying degrees of surprise and outrage, and asking what had happened. By the time Mary Beth had explained the situation to them, they all had their projects out and had started working.

“Oh, but your beautiful clock!” Peggy pulled a length of red thread from her spool and snipped it off. “What are you going to do, Mary Beth?”

“I don’t guess there’s much I
can
do. Annie and I were talking about this before Alice came in. Whoever picked up the clock must have known my name and Annie’s, and that the clock was at that particular shop.”

“I don’t know who that could be if it wasn’t this Frank Sanders person.” Alice squinted at the piece of pale blue linen she was cross-stitching, counting threads until she found the right place to start her next color. “But how did he know about the shop?”

“He definitely wasn’t the one who picked up the clock,” Mary Beth told her. “The police even checked that he really does have his own hair. The guy who took the clock was nearly bald.”

“Frank Sanders would be too,” Annie said, “if Mary Beth had her way.”

Again the bell on the door jingled, and Stella came in.

“Sorry I’m a bit late. Jason had taken something apart in the engine, and it took him a little longer than he thought to get it running again so he could drive me here. What have I missed?”