Adduné - the Vampire's Game (24 page)

“
Miranda, there’s something else about the deaths. It’s difficult to say …”

“
Well, then just spit it out!”

Miranda could always be counted on for impatience. He could hear her dainty size 7 foot tapping into the ground.

“
It’s not that simple. It’s complicated. It’s difficult to … what I mean to say is that there’s this odd …” Reginald paused, searching for the word he wanted to use. “… coincidence,” he said satisfied with his selection.

“
Reginald, are you trying to tell me these two deaths are connected?”

He wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet.

“
No, not connected in the sense they were planned. There’s no proof to indicate that. It’s more a feeling … their choice of words … and that blasted coffin!” he said letting the words drip from his lips in a torrent of emotion. In a way, he hoped they weren’t heard. Miranda’s response confirmed they were.

“
Coffin? What are you talking about? What coffin?” Miranda insisted. She was incessant when she locked her teeth into a subject. Reginald would have to explain.

“
I didn’t want to go into this, Miranda …”

“
Obviously you did or you wouldn’t have said what you did, now would you?”

Reginald could fully picture her. She’d stopped tapping her foot and was now standing with one hand on her slender hip – looking haughty, arrogant, and all too smart for her own good.

Reginald tugged at his moustache and tried his best to explain. The last thing he wanted was to have this situation blow-up into something it wasn’t all because of a hunch. Reginald was too grounded in reality to let that happen and yet weren’t there things happening all the time that proved there was another reality? A reality of spirits, and ghosts, and vampires? It was a reality that most blotted out because of fear. Reginald was no exception to shielding himself with the wreath of logic – and neither was Miranda. Reginald already knew that about her and it was what made this conversation so impossible. For all her strength, in the end she’d bury her head in the sand. She’d blot out what he had to say, but he was bound by a sense of loyalty to speak the truth however uncomfortable or inconvenient it was for her to hear. She deserved to have all the facts – even if it required looking into the shadows.

He shook his head quickening his resolve, “Fine, Miranda! As head of Perry Antiques you have a right to know. A coffin was packed in a crate and shipped to Fairfield in lieu of that blasted pair of Victorian candlesticks.”

“
Okay, you have me there! I didn’t expect that one and am now sitting down in case there’s more unpleasant news up your sleeve. First, please, riddle me this – why on earth would anyone send a coffin to Fairfield? Further, if the candlesticks were absent, what in God’s name was in it?”

“
Nothing. The shipping crate was empty. At least that’s what Jake Monroe said in his initial call to me apprising me of the situation.”

“
Empty? I thought you said there was a coffin?”

“
I’m assuming that’s what Mr. Monroe meant. That the outer crate contained a coffin that was empty. You know, like a present given to play a prank. There’s an empty box in an empty box. You’d say the gift was empty if nothing was in any of the boxes.”

“
Okay, then why send the coffin – empty or otherwise?”

“
As you recall, I said this story was complicated. It’s something that is only known by Herbert Pinckus.”

“
The packer you called about? The one that committed suicide?”

“
Yes, he confessed to shipping the coffin in a suicide note he left behind. It was addressed to Sy Feldman.”

“
What did the note say? Do you know?”

“
Yes, Sy explained the brunt of it in that phone call he made to me, but I wanted to see it for myself since ….”

“
Since you never trust anyone,” Miranda interjected sarcastically.

“
No, young lady! Since people have a common tendency to condense things – or reconstruct another’s words to suit their own. It sometimes changes the meaning or omits pertinent ideas, and in this case, since it was a man’s last words, I wanted to read them for myself. I asked him to fax the note over to me so that I could read it – which he did.”

“
Fine. What did it say? Or should I ask what is your interpretation of what was written?”

Reginald left Miranda’s poke to his ribs alone for the moment.

“
Basically, Mr. Pinckus confessed to pilfering the candlesticks and sending the coffin. He admitted to making up a cover story about the coffin used to fool Sy Feldman. Sy confirms that part. He said he found Herb standing by the coffin. Sy said that Herb Pinckus told him the coffin contained paintings headed to Fairfield for restoration. He also included me in this plot. He told Sy that I personally gave him the instructions so that the highly suspect request wouldn’t be questioned. And Sy didn’t, partially because a tag was on it …”

“…
that Herbert Pinckus must have put there himself.”

“
Yes, he acknowledged as much.”

“
Until you said there were witnesses to the coffin being real, I would have said the entire incident was made-up and rested entirely in the imagination of this Herbert Pinckus. Since it isn’t, that leaves why he lied. Are you sure it was empty? Maybe someone took out whatever was in there? Are we missing any inventory?”

“
No, I’ve been out to Weatherly since the shipment and everything was how we left it. And, yes, we can be quite sure of it being
empty
rather than
emptied
. Jake Monroe said the person accepting the shipment noticed a discrepancy straight off. She discovered the mistake while cataloguing the items and confirmed they received everything else in good order. She immediately realized the disparity in the size of the crate and what it was alleged to contain from the master list I sent to them. It raised her suspicion and prompted her to investigate. She opened the crate to see the contents and found it to be empty.”

“
So no one else was present when it was opened?”

“
That is my understanding.”

“
Well, then, maybe this person is lying. What if the coffin contained … say, drugs. It would explain things.”

“
That’s impossible. Mr. Monroe went over their monitoring system with me. They use a magnetic card that shows entry and exit plus the times of access. It’s partially for monitoring activity, but more a safety measure. On the night of delivery, there is no record of anyone entering or leaving the museum. It was locked up tightly until he, Jake Monroe, and an exhibitor arrived in the morning. Believe his name was Inwood. That means no one could have taken any contraband out of the museum or it would have shown up on in the records. There are tapes of the cameras that could be reviewed, but is that really necessary? They’re only positioned in certain areas of the museum – concentrated where the public is allowed. I doubt she’d have been on camera. As I said, when I spoke with him, neither of us had any information as to what could have gone on. Now we know that the candlesticks couldn’t have been included as they were found with Mr. Pinckus. Obviously the crate was empty and Rachel Abbott was telling the truth about things.”

Miranda sighed upon recognizing the name. She remembered the serious, very prim girl that wore shapeless suits to disguise the fact she had a lush figure. She was an attractive woman, but didn’t have to worry. Her ruse worked perfectly, and no one except someone with a discerning eye would ever suspect she was a beauty.

“
Yes, I previously met Ms. Abbott. She doesn’t seem the type to be involved in the drug trade. However, it doesn’t rule out that this is about smuggling. If Pinckus were part of a ring or cartel, they would need someone in America … maybe a customs officer? ”

“
Miranda! Now who’s the one going off on tangents!” Reginald spouted easing back into his leather chair. It still had the smell of Arthur’s pipe tobacco locked into it. Reginald found it comforting at times, like now. He felt he was regaining confidence and ground in the conversation. The tides had shifted and he felt a certain dominance in telling Miranda she was wrong. He picked up a pen off his desk and tapped it on the protective blotter in the center of his desktop.

“
I don’t think there was an elaborate plan at work here. It makes much more sense that it was a spur of the moment crime that he needed to cover up with a ridiculous story. An opportunistic theft. He probably found himself alone with the candlesticks. The opportunity to steal them presented itself and he determined to take them and sell them for what he could get. If it had been planned, the story he concocted would have been more cohesive and made more sense.” Reginald let the momentum carry him forward. He continued, treading into the deep water, “Of course, now that you’re theorizing about what the coffin contained, we do have what Pinckus said. He mentions it in the note to Mr. Feldman, along with an explanation as to why he made the story up in the first place.”

“
Alright you old codger, I’ll bite. What was his explanation? I’m assuming you’re just dying to tell me. Or am I wrong about hearing that in your voice?”

“
No, you’re not wrong about it, but yes, you are wrong to assume … usually,” he severely lectured, noting the light smattering of laughter coming through the phone. He thought he’d been successful in covering up his feelings, but apparently not. Miranda had called him on it. He’d be damned if he backed down now and relinquish control of the situation.

“
As I was saying,” he projected loudly using his courtroom voice. He was hoping that Miranda would respect the authority in his tone. Her giggling told him she didn’t.

“…
he said the coffin contained a body.”

The laughter stopped and then began back in earnest.

“
A body? Makes sense to me! What else would a coffin contain, but a body?”

“
Well, if you think that’s funny, then you’ll love the next part. He said the body told him to do it.”

“
Told him to do what?”

“
Pack him up. Ship him to Fairfield. Make-up the lie to Sy Feldman to cover his tracks. Pick one and you’ll be right.”

“
A dead body told him to do all that? It was dead, wasn’t it? I mean, the body.”

Reginald halted his pen in mid-air from tapping out percussion. She’d inadvertently hit on an issue that he wasn’t ready to deal with just yet. He thought for a moment before answering her.

“
That’s a matter of opinion,” he whispered as he resumed his drumming.

“
Reginald, don’t go all mad and insane on me … not now … not when there are dead bodies out there telling people to ship them to America …. America? Say … I just caught that. You are not pulling my leg are you, you daft old blaggard? Like you did at Weatherly?”

Reginald let the fine-tipped pen fall to the surface of his desk. He watched it roll to the edge making a soft scraping sound as it traveled.

“
No, Miranda. I’m telling you the truth,” he said, reaching forward and catching the pen before it fell.

Miranda noted the absence of humor in her friend’s voice. There were very few times in her life that she heard the absence of mirth in Reginald’s voice. The last time was when he told her that her father was dead.

“
Alright, well, then I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, but I believe the mystery is more than solved.”

“
And that solution would be?” Reginald said pushing the pen over and over with the tip of his right hand.

“
You can’t have been listening because I’ve already said it – drugs!”

“
Miranda, there is no evidence that he was working for a drug cartel that infiltrated Blanding Movers so they could …”

“
Do shut up! I at least was listening to you and heard what you said about the museum being airtight. What I’m saying is based on what you told me, I agree that Herb Pinckus acted spontaneously and worked alone on this master plan. I suspect you’re right about that, but he obviously was on drugs. He had to be. He probably first got addicted. He quickly found out that it was a habit he couldn’t afford. Consequently, he needed money to keep himself supplied, and there were the candlesticks. It makes me even more upset thinking of him getting into drugs, with a wife and children to care for. How irresponsible! And look what it came to? Why do people engage in such foolishness?”

“
I don’t know, Miranda. I really don’t know,” Reginald stated keeping his attention on the pen more than this conversation. Miranda was drawing conclusions from what he’d told her, but there was so much more he wasn’t telling her.