A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (17 page)

Seamus took my hand in his, and one hand over mine. I liked the feel of his touch. It was sincere. “Miss Delaney, we meet again and it is my pleasure, to be sure.”

The light lilt of his brogue also surprised me. “You are Irish, and forgive me for saying so, but I was expecting an elderly gentlemen.”

Seamus turned to Alex and laughed and then looked at me and said, “I can’t blame Alex for describing me as an old friend, he does so to mislead a young and lovely colleen, such as yourself, that way they won’t be curious about me. But you see, tonight Alex hadn’t a choice, if he wanted the use of my truck, it meant he could not avoid reintroducing me to you.”

“Enough, Seamus,” Alex cautioned and in a not so obscure manner, he took my hand in his. “Show us where we can view the Marla Devereux property.”

Alex’s warning did not faze Seamus. Seamus turned to the area behind the partitions and pointing a finger, said “It’s the single crate over there, third row, second from the end. The crate’s top is lifted so you can peek inside the crate, but nothing else is open. You’ll be taking your chances at that one. Oh, and I’ve scheduled it to be up first, so don’t stray too far off. Once the bell sounds, the auction begins.”

“Thanks Seamus,” Alex said.

Hand in hand we walked behind the partition rails to the crate. I stole a look back at Seamus. He was watching us. He nodded to me and smiled.

We stood in front of the wood crate. It was certainly the size of a huge trunk and wouldn’t you know it, when we lifted the crate’s top, there was a trunk inside.

“Trunks have linings,” I said to Alex.

“Yeah, this could be it. I bet it’s heavy, too. Even when empty these old steamer trunks are heavy. And it’s in tight, almost as if the crate was built around it. I was hoping to get a look at the sides of the trunk.” Alex took out a small pocket flashlight and tried to illuminate the sides of the trunk, one end then the other. “Look at this end, there’s a paper label down near the bottom. I’m pretty sure that is the shipping label.”

The auctioneer sounded the bell. People scurried to get good seats. We grabbed two seats at the end of the second row from the front.

“Perfect,” Alex whispered.

The auction began with an introduction of the rules. Then Seamus announced the first item up for bid, as he promised, it was Marla’s trunk.

Reading from a slip of paper, Seamus announced, “This trunk was recently found hidden away in an old railway warehouse. The trunk is presented in the crate it was packed in for rail shipping. According to our research, this trunk dates back to the 1920s. It belonged to the actress Marla Devereux,  also known as Marla Monette. For whatever mysterious reasons, Miss Devereux was the sender and the recipient of this crate. It was sent from Baton Rouge to an address in Palm Springs, addressed, simply in care of Miss Devereux. It is unknown as to why the crate never reached its destination, or why it was never claimed. Bidding begins at one thousand.”

Alex’s hand flew up and so did several other hands. Within five minutes the auction was over. Alex won, but at a hefty price, he paid eight thousand dollars.

I was stunned. “It all happened so quickly. What do we do now?”

“Follow me,” Alex said. And I did.

Yet another fast transaction took place in the course of a few minutes. We walked behind a privacy curtain to pay for the property. I saw Alex take out his wallet and hand over eight thousand dollars in cash. Wow, I thought to myself, he really did come prepared to win this auction. Two men appeared and Alex gave them instructions. He then turned to me and said, “Okay, they will load up the crate and then we’re set to go.”

We walked out to the truck and the men were there, they loaded the crate into the back of the truck and in the matter of a few minutes we were on the freeway back to Los Angels.

“Shannon, do you have your cell phone?” Alex asked.

“Yes.”

“Please call Darren and then Francisco, tell them we are two hours away. Tell them to meet us at your cottage at the Rose Victorian.”

“Alex, you want to take the trunk to my cottage, why?”

“It’s the safest place and Darren will be able to see it as well. You don’t mind including him?”

“No, I guess not. But I’m not keen on having this in my cottage. Maybe Darren has a better place for it at the inn.”

“No. Shannon, this crate, the trunk and whatever is, or is not, inside, needs to be in your cottage. Trust me, please?”

I made the calls. By ten that same night we had gathered at my cottage. The crate was placed front and center in the living room, with furniture moved around to accommodate it. Darren, thinking ahead, had brought tools to open it.

Alex and Darren dismantled the crate until only the trunk was left. Alex suggested Darren do the honors of using bolt cutters to cut off the padlock on the trunk. It took a couple of tries before Darren succeeded.

Sitting beside me on the sofa, Alex said, “Drum roll please,” and he tapped out a drum roll on the coffee table. Darren reached down and in a heave ho motion lifted the top of the trunk, a flurry of dust escaped, and then we looked in.

Chapter 30

“There it is,” Alex said. “I bet that’s the umbrella urn that was reported stolen by the Straubs. Darren, help me lift it out.”

They set the umbrella urn on the coffee table. Darren noticed that a bundle of cloth was stuffed down in it. He r
eached in and gingerly lifted the bundle of rolled up tea towels. He set the bundle on the floor and unrolled it. The reveal was startling and Alex was the first to identify t
he loot.

“Those items were on the Straub’s theft report, all of them, except for the jewelry, it’s not here.”

“What theft?” Francisco asked.

Alex took a few minutes to explain to Darren and Francisco about the burglary and the report.

I examined the items. The sterling silver vanity mirror was gorgeous. It was ornately crafted in an early Art Deco style with Egyptian scrolling and stepped etching and surprisingly, the silvered mirror was darkened somewhat but in near perfect condition. The pocket watch and cigarette case were in similar condition. I opened the cigarette case, it was empty, not that I was expecting to find cigarettes, but maybe a piece of the missing jewelry. I saw absolutely no way that the vanity mirror could be lined or opened into separate parts, it was one piece and solid. I handed the mirror to Francisco and said, “You’re the expert in high end valuables being stolen, have you ever seen a mirror like this and is it possible that it could have a part or component that can be opened?”

Francisco carefully examined the mirror. He held it in his hands and inspected every inch of it. “No, it is a solid piece, the mirror glass was excellently added as the final touch and superbly sealed into place.” One by one he scrutinized the other pieces and came to the same conclusion. Just as I had hoped to find something in the cigarette case, so had he.

“What about the trunk, is there anything else in it?” I asked.

Darren reached in and pulled out two umbrellas. “Well there are these, but I suppose no one cared to report umbrellas as stolen.” He set aside the umbrellas and knelt next to the trunk to examine it with his hands. “Alex, shine a flashlight over here, follow my hands as I feel for anything suspicious in the lining.”  Then Alex and Darren turned the trunk upside down to inspect it for a possible false bottom. After thirty minutes they stood up.

“My best guess is that the jewelry was sold,” Alex announced what all of us were thinking. “I’m sorry Darren, the jewelry would have been a valuable find for you.”

“For me?” Darren asked.

“Certainly,” Francisco added. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but as an heir to the Straub lineage, these items are rightfully yours, though technically, in California, they belong to Alex, since he bought the property in a legal auction of unclaimed property. You two will have to sort that out.”

“Uh,” Alex said, “Darren, if you want them, we can come to an agreement, I’m sure.”

Darren was clearly stumped. “For now, let me think about it,” he said to Alex and Alex nodded in agreement. He then tuned to me, “Shannon, it’s late and I know the crate and trunk are taking up room here, but if you would not mind, we, all of us, can decide what to do with them later, is that okay?”

“Sure. And you’re right, it is late and it’s been a long day,” I looked at them, hoping one of them would pick up on my hint.

“She’s right, let’s put the items back in the trunk, close it and be on our way,” suggested Alex. He carefully wrapped up the items in the tea towels and set the rolled bundled down in the umbrella urn and then handed the urn to Darren, who set it back in the trunk.

Francisco was looking at the umbrellas and said, “I believe these are true to the age of when the theft was reported.” He held up one of them and said, “This one was quite the fashion rage at that time, it was refereed to as a slim line and some fashion editors called it the pencil umbrella because of its unique sleek shape. Women were fond of this type. The other one, it was typical for the age, most likely carried by a man.” He handed them to Darren and commented, “They are of excellent quality, but not so valuable that they would be targets of a theft.”

The trunk was already closed, so Darren set the umbrellas on top of its lid. “I bet the umbrellas were cast aside to put the towel bundle down inside the brass umbrella stand. As hefty and sturdy as the stand is, it’s ideal for a secure hiding place for the valuables. He looked at Francisco and said, “I’m wondering, it seems to me the reported theft was an insurance scam, wouldn’t it be the right action to notify the insurance company?”

“If they are still in business, you could do that,” answered Francisco.

“But they are not,” answered Alex. “I checked on that, Darren, and the company went out of business in 1929.”

Darren nodded and said, “Well, I’ll say goodnight. Thank you,” he said in looking at me and then turned to Alex, “We have a lot to think about, but no hurry, at least not with me.”

Alex saw him out the door. They continued talking as Alex walked with Darren to his apartment. Meanwhile, I turned to Francisco and said, “We still do not know what happened to Marla, the Straubs, and Rory.”

“I have a few leads I will finish with tomorrow. And remember we will meet at Grace’s tomorrow evening.”  He gave me a hug and said, “Get some good sleep tonight.”

I walked with Francisco out to the street curb where his car was parked. As he drove away, Alex returned from Darren’s apartment. I looked at Alex and said, “Do you regret spending eight thousand dollars?”

He did not answer me. Instead he was looking up at the night sky. I did too.

Then, he turned to me and asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

“No, not really. I believe we make our on fate, or own destiny and that God, in his infinite wisdom, gives each of us the skills and the strength to deal with whatever comes our way.”

Alex put his arms around and in doing so, I faced him. He looked into my eyes and said. “Someday, when the moment is right, and you’ll know when that moment is, I want you to ask Eric Blackthorne, my ancestor ghost and your spirit guide, why he is energized by you.”

Huh? I thought, this is not at all what I expected. Rats. Just when I think I have Alex Blackthorne figured out, he says something or behaves in such a way that it turns my ideas of him upside down. “Alex, what on earth?”

“No, not on earth, but out there in the unknown infinite space between this life and whatever lies beyond. What is that quote you are so fond of saying, the one from Shakespeare?” he asked.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. That one?” I asked.

“Yes, that one. But to answer your question, the money I spent tonight was a good investment. The mystery is not over. I’m looking forward to the meeting at Gracie’s tomorrow night. How about you?”

“Yes. But Alex, what do you mean, about Eric?”

He leaned over and kissed me, sweet, warm and serious. “Not now, love.” And then said, “Sweet dreams.”

I watched as the taillights of his borrowed truck faded into the distance. And then I went back to the cottage. Sweet dreams? Ha! I’d settled for a night of sleep, uninterrupted by dreams, of any kind.

Chapter 31

Before turning off the lights I switched on the TV. In channel surfing I longed for some happy thoughts and settled for an old movie, circa 1950s, with Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor and Debbie Reynolds. Never much of a dancer, myself, I’ve always admired professional dancers, and this movie was one of my mom’s favorite classics. She was an excellent dancer. I remember us watching this old movie, snuggled up with bowls of popcorn in our laps and when it came to the dance routines, she would hop off the sofa and swirl around our living room dancing in time to the music. I drifted off to sleep with the melody of “Singing in the Rain.”.

And I woke to the sound of Rory singing in the rain.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I looked at my bedside clock, it was two in the morning. The familiar ghost figure of the Clydesdale horse was standing near the foot of my bed, I sat up in bed and asked, “Rory, why are you here?”

“Singin’ in the rain,” he answered.