Read Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Flinn

Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (12 page)

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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Molly stubbed out her cigarette and fanned the air. She was out of the spray she used to hide the smell of smoke. Emma would smell it and be on her case the minute she got home from school. Molly sank deeper into the chair and held her head in her hands. She had no one but herself to blame for this mess, but she had to do something about these insane rumors. It was even more crazy now that Randall was involved. Well, she thought, at least they had the name wrong, but she’d better call Carla Jessop and warn her. Molly picked up the storage room phone and hit the speed dial.
Carla picked up on the first ring. “Yes, Molly,” she said. “I’ve heard all about it. It’s hysterical ! I can’t believe how out of hand this is!”
“I’m glad you think it’s funny. I sure as hell don’t. I’m twice mortified now. At least they have the name wrong.”
“Poor Randall.” Carla laughed. “He must be having a fit. Now listen, before you tell me you’re not coming on Sunday, forget it. The worst thing you could do is not show up. Besides, my father said he hasn’t had this much fun in years. He really liked you. And he has a lot of respect for Randall.”
Molly sighed. “Okay, under those conditions we’ll be there.”
“By the way, I’m sorry about your pickup. We’ve got plenty of cars around here if you need a loaner.” Carla laughed again. “I’ll bet that skunk smell kept some of those blue-nosed Carmelites up all night.”
“It sure as hell kept me awake. Thanks for the offer of a car. Max thinks it’s time to get a new one, so I’ll be fine.”
“Before I forget, Molly, can Michelle take a rain check on staying over Friday night? My son is coming in from Davis on Friday and we’d like to have a family thing.”
“No problem, we’ll have her over another time.”
Molly was relieved that Michelle wouldn’t be staying over. She had forgotten all about it and hadn’t picked up a futon for Emma’s room. She was dying for another cigarette but knew Emma would be home very soon. Molly eased out of the chair and surveyed the storage room. She needed to replace the two lamps Bitsy had sold. She could use some distraction right now, and filling two holes in the shop could work.
She stared at the three six-foot shelves that lined one wall of the narrow room. They were filled with merchandise ready to roll. She looked over the lamps on the top shelf that she had made from interesting vases and large statues, then pulled one off the shelf and set it on the floor. She thought about filling the other empty space with a statue. Her eyes roamed the shelves filled with silver trays, coffee sets, and odds and ends of flatware. She passed over the smaller statues and figurines, then paused at a group of odd sets of china, crystal, leather books, decorative desk accessories. She needed something different, something dramatic.
And then she remembered the boxes of Orientalia Max had sent. Going out to the garage, she looked over the mix of Chinese and Japanese bowls and chargers Emma had tagged and placed on the folding tables. The three different figures of Guanyin, the Chinese goddess of mercy, would make an interesting display. She thought about grouping them with potted orchids when her eyes locked on a lovely pair of Foo Dogs.
“Eureka!” she shouted. At least a foot tall, they were glazed a beautiful green and blue. They were heavier than she’d expected. It took some effort to carry one under each arm into the shop. Molly carefully set them in front of the display window. Within a few moments, she was able to position one statue at each corner of the window. That ought to do it, she thought. Skeptics laughed at Feng Shui, but not Molly Doyle. She knew the ancient legends surrounding these figures of half dog and half lion. They were the sacred guardians of Buddhist temples and could be found all over Asia guarding homes, businesses, and temple gates from evil spirits, and that was good enough for her. From now on, she thought, if anyone wants to mess with me, they’ll have to get past these babies.
Chapter 11
 
BY MIDAFTERNOON on Friday, Molly had all the new merch from Max on the floor and she was ready to scream. Treasures looked like a gypsy caravan had unloaded all its worldly possessions with no thought to form, color, or era. She couldn’t believe she’d made such a mess. A natural when it came to layering, composition, and style, Molly suddenly seemed to be lost in a dark tunnel. She’d placed a late nineteenth-century multi-veined black-and-white marble-topped center table with a gesso base next to a dark oak coffer, then settled an oversized and much too busy-looking Chinese
famille verte
bowl on top. It looked horrible. The coffer had to go: it was too informal and plain. Once she pulled the coffer out of the way, the Chinese bowl looked fine. To the average eye, the combination wouldn’t have seemed out of place, but Molly didn’t create displays for “average.” Much as women didn’t dress for men, but for other women, antiques dealers—the genuine articles- set out their shops with a competitive eye geared for the
cognoscenti,
and naturally, to invoke envy from their competitors.
Molly stood in the center of the floor and folded her arms. What had happened to her sense of proportion? Her eye for color? Her talent for mixing periods and layering? Her gaze rested on a pair of Staffordshire figures of shepherds she’d positioned next to a Davenport potpourri vase and a Victorian Minton Parian model of
Una and the Lion.
She rubbed her tired eyes and shook her head. Layering had to have form and aesthetic appeal. This tableau was ridiculous. The colors were off and the size of the items didn’t complement one another. She picked up the Parian piece and carried it back to her desk. Setting it down carefully, she sat in her chair and stared at the fifteen-hundred-dollar statue. Molly began to wonder if she was losing her touch. Most likely, she thought, she’d been in too much of a hurry to get everything on the floor. She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the statue. Her fingers gently followed the curve of the lion’s mane while she finally admitted to herself that the reason for her manic schedule was that she was spooked.
The vandalism to the pickup had unnerved her. Between Carla’s and Randall’s warnings, she felt wary every time the bell over the door rang, even though her brief moments of logic told her that Todd Jessop would be crazy to do anything in public. And yesterday’s arrival of the new Chevy Uplander Max had delivered did little to cheer her. In fact, she already hated the new van and missed the old El Camino. It took her over an hour to read the manual, and she still didn’t understand how the GPS system worked. The El Camino had been so easy: Put in the key, hit the gas, and off you went.
Molly thought of calling off dinner at Daria’s tonight. Tuesday and Friday were, as Daria proclaimed, family night in her back room. She had to get this hodgepodge in the shop rearranged before tomorrow. The weekends were her biggest sales days, and she’d be damned if she’d let a customer or Bitsy see this mess. She scanned the room and still couldn’t believe some of the combinations she’d created. What had she been thinking when she’d placed those two Windsor-style chairs on either side of the early-nineteenth-century Scandinavian walnut commode? And then set the rare Paillard gramophone next to a mother-of-pearl-inlaid papier-mâché stationery box? She
wasn’t
thinking, and that was the problem. She knew she was allowing the rumors about her threatening Jessop to rattle her. That realization set her blood racing. Her anger jolted her upright. “Screw Todd Jessop,” she said aloud.
When Emma got home from school, Molly said, “Roll up your sleeves, Number One, we’ve got two hours to get this place in shape. We need to do some rearranging. A bonus will be forthcoming as well.”
Emma surveyed the shop. She walked over to the marble center table. “Who went nuts?”
Molly’s grin was playfully tight. “A bonus can be rescinded real easy.” She steered her away from the table and moved her to the back of the floor. “Let’s see what kind of an eye you’ve developed. I’ll take the front and meet you in the middle.” Molly checked her watch. “We have to be at Daria’s for dinner in exactly one and a half hours.”
Emma raised her arm. “Ready, get set, and go!”
 
Daria’s call caught Molly just as she and Emma were about to leave. “I’ve got two kitchen helpers off sick and I’ve got to fill in. Rain check for tomorrow, okay?”
“Of course. Can I help out? I can wash dishes, or something,” Molly said.
“No, we’re okay, but thanks. Oh, Randall had to opt out, too. He said he was on his way to the City.”
“Well, call me if you need an extra hand, okay? Maybe an early night is a good idea. Emma and I are hitting the sales tomorrow and there’s a six A.M. sale with silver listed.”
“Six? Egad. You’re a glutton for punishment.”
“It’s the biz, kiddo,” Molly laughed.
 
The early sale the next morning was a co-op block sale. Molly bought every piece of decent silver she could find. By the time she and Emma loaded the van with trays, coffeepots, sugar-and-creamers, salt-and-pepper shakers, and three water pitchers, they’d run out of empty boxes.
Heading to the next sale on Molly’s list, Emma said, “I can’t believe people don’t want to keep silver anymore. Some of those trays are just beautiful.”
“Uh, hang on a minute,” Molly said while she readjusted her seat. “I’m still trying to get the feel of this van.... I think people don’t want to bother with cleaning them. Here on the coast, silver and copper tarnish fast.”
“You’ve changed that seat and the rearview mirror three times since we got in this morning,” Emma said. “Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m not nervous. I just need to get everything set, that’s all.”
“Is it about the party tomorrow at the Jessops’? And those crazy rumors?”
Molly laughed. “Don’t be goofy. I’m fine.”
They’d sped through four more sales in the next hour, when finally they found one that caught their interest. Emma made a beeline for a set of crammed bookshelves, white Molly headed for a long table filled with smalls. But she hardly glanced at the offerings. Emma was right. She was antsy about the party, and she was sorry Emma had noticed. If for no other reason, she would go to show her that facing her accusers was the right thing to do. She knew she would be the object of stares and sidelong glances, and she’d had enough of that the past two years.
Molly spotted Emma waiting for her at the van. Her arms were loaded with books. Molly opened the door for her. “Quite a haul there.”
“Most of them are children’s books. Fairy tales. And only fifty cents each. I’m going to give them to the library for their book sale. I bought a couple of books for you, too. I thought that maybe if you read a little before you went to sleep, it might relax you.”
Molly climbed in and was about to adjust the rearview mirror but caught herself again. “Well, thank you. I haven’t read much lately. I’ll give it a try. What did you get?”
“Mysteries. Reading in bed is soothing, so I thought you might like them.”
Molly laughed. “Oh great! Just what I need to scare me more. Mysteries!”
 
Bitsy stood in the doorway between the storage room and the garage watching Molly and Emma unload the van. “How much silver can Daria use? Good Lord! The woman has enough to supply two restaurants.”
“I don’t know, but she wants all I can find,” Molly replied.
“How much did all this set you back?”
Molly set down the last of the trays. “Eighty-five bucks. Can you believe it? Two of them are marked Tiffany and Company”
“Maybe you should keep those for the shop,” Bitsy laughed.
Molly gave Bitsy a look. “That woman feeds Emma and me like royalty twice a week.”
Bitsy waved her hands. “Oh, darling, I know that. Just kidding. Anyway, all set for the big party tomorrow?”
Molly forced a smile. The last person she wanted to know that she wasn’t thrilled about going was Bitsy. “Sure am. And thanks for filling in for me again. By the way, I’m dying to know how you and Del Tinsley know each other.”
Before Bitsy could reply, the bell over the door rang. Bitsy patted her hair. “Oh, I love that sound! Del? We’ll talk later. And wait until you find out why she cancelled the engagement out in the Valley.”
Leave it to Bitsy, Molly thought. How she managed to know everything that went on was mindboggling. While Emma took the children’s books to the library, Molly began the messy job of cleaning the silver for Daria. After an hour, she realized Bitsy hadn’t popped her head in. She washed her hands and went into the shop.
“Am I glad to see you! It’s been a zoo. Six good sales. Oh, that man who was in the other day when Del was here? He stopped back. He bought the ship and took it with him. I offered to send it, but he insisted. What a nosy old coot. He kept mentioning Emma and how much she reminded him of someone he knew. And then he asked about you, and why she was living here and not with her mother. I was frankly getting a little nervous.”
“What did you tell him?”
“As little as possible. I just said Emma’s mother was overseas with a new job and would be back this summer. I told him she was a delightful child and we all adored her. And then he wanted to know who I meant by
we.
So I said, our close friends, the chief of police and our district attorney. I figured those were good names to drop in case he was one of those perverts.”
BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
6.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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