The Case of the Angry Auctioneer (Auction House Mystery Series Book 1) (19 page)

The next morning at Cookie’s office, Medium Rare, the twins relaxed as they went over the details of the aborted clearing the night before at the Clippert’s house. The discovery of Ray Clippert’s body had upset everything and everybody all over again.

Cookie sat with her feet tucked under her on one of her rose-colored wingback chairs. Jasper lay on the Oriental rug with her own bare feet propped up on the other wingback. It was a posture she’d learned in yoga classes in the church hall, and it definitely eased the tension out of her sore back.

“What I don’t get,” Cookie was saying, “is why I didn’t catch on right away that it was Ray Clippert.”

“You mean the other ghost.”

“Spirit,” Cookie corrected. “I mean, not enough to recognize him for who he was. Darn it. I hate it when I don’t get it exact.”

“Don’t be silly. I mean, don’t be so hard on yourself, Sis. You did say it wasn’t just Jimmy who had showed up, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You said something about another father figure stepping forth, didn’t you?” Jasper let go of her neck muscles so her head could loll back against the floor. Now that she was settled in near the person in the world with whom she could totally relax, her memories of the scene appeared vividly in her mind. “You knew that some other guy was waiting in line behind Jimmy.”

“You’re right.” Cookie resettled herself in the chair. “I did see another somebody, another man, stepping forward. Keep going, keep going, Sis. The more you say aloud, the more it comes back to me. When I go into medium mode, sometimes I don’t remember much of it afterward.”

Jasper laughed. “I’m sure you and I were just about the best witnesses the police have ever interviewed.”

Cookie groaned. “Yeah. They won’t be calling on us anytime soon. At least I hope not. Anyway, I do remember another man. But why couldn’t I tell who it was? You’d think that since he hadn’t been dead all that long that he’d want to announce who he was right away.”

“Wait a minute now,” Jasper protested. “You only had long enough for that wind to blow through the room. That was just a few seconds. Besides, aren’t you the one who told me that people who’ve just arrived on the other side can be pretty confused about what’s going on?”

“Well, yes, that’s true. Except we don’t know for sure how long he’d been dead.”

“I saw him a few hours before at the nursing home. And Mary saw him after that.”

“Are you sure you trust her to tell us the truth?” Cookie asked.

“I saw her. At least I saw her car pull in. She didn’t see me, I didn’t think. And then, I think I saw her just a little bit later down at the river. She must’ve seen me then, but she didn’t stop.”

“Hmm.”

“I don’t think that means much,” Jasper reflected. “She’s not the friendliest person but that doesn’t make her a liar.”

“I need a manicure,” Cookie said.

“So what did this guy look like? Or what was his personality like? Any clues?” Jasper asked.

Cookie picked the nail polish off one of her pink-edged toes. “And a pedicure.” She closed her eyes. “He was kind of tall. And…” her voice trailed off. “Kind of basic, I guess you could say.”

“Basic,” Jasper repeated. She scooted her bottom closer to the chair and rolled her neck from side to side. This was almost like a do-it-yourself massage. More tension eased out of her body.

“Yeah, basic. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead – “

“Not you!” Jasper teased.

Cookie laughed a little. “Not to say that he was stupid, but maybe someone not used to discussing the fine points of anything.” She pursed her lips in concentration. “Not used to discussing his own psychology, that’s for sure.”

“That sounds like you’re getting more information on him now. Are you tuned in to him right now?” When Cookie didn’t respond, Jasper rolled onto her side and sat up.

Cookie’s eyes were closed. Was it Jasper’s imagination or was Cookie’s blondish hair doing that halo shimmer thing again?

“He’s here now. Yes, it is Ray Clippert.”

“Where? Where exactly is he?” Jasper looked nervously around the room.

Cookie giggled. She opened her eyes. “He’s standing right next to you,” she said.

Jasper’s arms goose-pimpled from wrists to shoulders. She didn’t know if that was from the ghost, the spirit, of Ray Clippert or just her own nervousness. How did Cookie stay calm in the midst of talking to dead people?

“He says there’s nothing to be afraid of. Uh-huh. But he still likes to scare women a little. Behave yourself, Ray, or I’ll send you away!” Cookie said.

Jasper felt the everyday warmth of the room envelop her. The chills went away. “Ask him how he died,” Jasper whispered.

“Now, now, it’s okay,” Cookie said. “We don’t have to rush things, Mr. Clippert. Okay, Ray.”

“Did I scare
him
?” Jasper asked.

Cookie kept her eyes closed. “You came to us. What is it you want to say?” She spoke soothingly in a way Jasper had heard her speak to her daughter and son when they were little. Cookie had transplanted skills from her old job of raising children to her new one of soothing spirits so that they could communicate with the living. “He’s saying the word,
secret
. Or maybe
secrets
.”

“Secrets,” Jasper repeated. “What secrets?”

Cookie’s eyes flew open. “He’s gone.” She yawned. “He just kept saying the word. Then he left. Either he didn’t have the energy to stay here any longer, or he wasn’t ready to divulge.” Cookie stretched and stood up. “Want some coffee or maybe tea?” She headed for the kitchenette at the back of her office.

Jasper followed. “What do you suppose he meant? Coffee for me please unless you have some Lady Grey.”

“Fresh out of Mrs. Grey today. I’ll make us some French roast. I need strong.”

“Strong is good.”

Cookie got a bag of ground coffee out of the small refrigerator and reached out a coffee filter from the cupboard.

Jasper leaned against the counter. “I just wish he had finished saying what he wanted to say.”

“I guess he said all he could for today,” Cookie said, pausing in mid-scoop. “I have a feeling we’ll hear from him again.”

As Jasper sat next to her sister a few minutes later sipping from a hot mug of strong coffee, she wondered just how and when they would hear from the dead Ray Clippert. And when they did, what exactly would he say? What secret or secrets was he going to share?

That night at home in her apartment on Hickory Lane, Jasper felt restless. The cigarette smoke wafting upward from the O’Neils didn’t help. At least she hadn’t run into Mrs. O’Neil lately, and she still had not had the dubious pleasure of meeting the Mister. She got up from bed to pee, and narrowly avoided stepping on Proxy the kitten. The little guy was a small black shadow that Jasper wasn’t used to having around. He had been with her now for three days ever since she brought him home from the vet where he had been neutered. The chip showed that he had been adopted from the county animal shelter which released the adoptive family’s name and phone number to the vet. The family was moving and did not want the kitten back. ”You’re in your forever home now, little guy, so no worries.” Proxy was such a tough little guy that he didn’t seem to notice his missing equipment nor need any extra time off from his kittenish duties following the surgery.

Sitting on the toilet, Jasper scooped up the kitten and set him on her lap. She thought his purr sounded like a miniature power tool from the old Milwaukee Electric Tool Corp. “Good lord, I’m really getting into antiques, huh, kitty?” The little guy jumped onto the vanity. “Ouch. You’re due for a toenail clipping, pal.” She reached for the nail clippers she had put in a small basket by the sink. She pulled her nightgown down and set Proxy back on her lap. He rested on his rump so that all four paws were presented for clipping. She snipped off the sharp pointy end of each nail, avoiding getting too close to the sensitive quick, as the vet had instructed her. It was all over and done with in 30 seconds. Jasper kissed the top of Proxy’s head. “I think you are an unusual cat,” she said. He mrowed loudly in response.

She and Proxy were tucked back in bed, the kitten insisting on sleeping under the blanket between Jasper’s ankles, when her cell phone sounded with Leroy Vandyke’s “The Auctioneer Song.” She felt glad she had substituted the new ringtone for the default Halleluiah Chorus of her past life. But still. She grabbed up the phone. 4:15 a.m!
Unknown number
, the phone said. Should she answer? The trouble with cell phones was that you had to make up your mind in a hurry. She hesitated too long. The song ceased. Jasper set the phone down on the 1960s TV tray she had gotten herself at the auction for use as a bedside table. She switched off the lamp, a garish candy red one from the 1950s that had made her laugh when she won the proxy bid for it. She wasn’t laughing now. She lay in the dark for a couple minutes wondering who had called her in the middle of the night. Then she grabbed up her phone. The caller had left a message. She dialed voicemail and tapped in her password.

“Better keep yourself to yourself,” a harsh voice said. And that was that.

Man, woman, boy, girl, machine? Jasper couldn’t tell. Even under her soft blanket with the kitten nestled in, she shivered. “Here, Proxy,” she said in a small shaky voice. “Come visit your mama. She needs you.” She coaxed the cat up and snuggled it next to her chest. It was snoring lightly in just a few seconds. Jasper held it close as she lay awake wondering and worrying about the menacing call. Somebody else was awake and worried enough to go to the trouble of a phone call in the middle of the night. Someone who had her number.

The next morning Jasper still felt uneasy. She considered phoning that nice Ginny Gardener next door, who had offered to help her in any way she could, for cat-sitting services. But that would mean the older lady would have to climb the slopes of Mount Smoky to reach Jasper’s apartment. Or Proxy would have to go next door. Jasper didn’t trust the active kitten to stay out of trouble and avoid destroying her neighbor’s house or getting himself hurt.

Jasper got out the harness and leash she had purchased for Proxy. “Let’s give this a go, huh, buddy? Want to take a walk?” Twenty minutes later after several minor wrestling matches with the cat, interspersed with games of catch-me-if-you-can, the little black cat was safely secured in his red sequined harness and leash. He looked up at her with his huge green eyes as if to say, Now what? Jasper scooped him up and carried him down the stairs, tucking his head under her arm to protect him from the cigarette smoke. Stairs were too much for the first time anyway. He could learn to walk on his leash outside.

Proxy gave Jasper her first lesson in how to walk a cat. She learned how to go whatever direction the cat decided to go. She learned that she should wait patiently while the cat sat and sniffed the air. And she learned that walking a cat was no way for a human to get any exercise.

She was sitting on the sidewalk a couple feet behind Proxy who was studying a crack waiting for ants or other small prey to appear when a shadow momentarily blocked out the sunshine.

“Hey, neighbor. Taking Fido for a stroll I see.” Glenn Relerford squatted down next to them. Proxy pounced on the handsome policeman’s bare knee. He was wearing black running shorts and matching muscle shirt. He had the muscles for it. “Tough guy, eh?” He gently took the kitten by the scruff of his neck and flipped him over on his back. Proxy extended what little claws he had left and attacked the policeman’s big hand. Their wrestling match was a delight to Jasper.

“Getting some exercise?” Jasper asked. “You look like you’re dressed for it.”

“Naw, this? I can do this in my sleep.” Glenn’s grin was infectious.

Jasper laughed. “I mean, you going for a run? Or something?” His stare was so straight-on from his chocolate eyes into her hazel ones that Jasper turned her attention back to the kitty. She said, “Quit beating up the neighbor. He’s a cop. You can get in trouble.” The kitten yowled mightily. Jasper picked him up by his harness, set him on his four feet, and patted his tail end. She and Glenn got to their feet. Maybe Glenn could give her some advice on how seriously to take the call from last night. Annoying, dangerous or somewhere in between?

“Never seen anyone walk a cat before,” Glenn said. “You get dragged much?”

This guy really gave her a case of the giggles. “No-o-o. Not much.”

“I’m just out enjoying the sun. Might take a walk myself. Care to join me?” He glanced behind him and at the windows of the neighbors.

“Must be tough, I mean being the only policeman in the neighborhood and all.”

“And
all
is right, lady. You can say it, I know what color I am. Compared to all you
chalkcasians
, I’m more like the blackboard in this classroom of life.”

“Wow, a philosopher too.”

“I practice in my spare time. Come on, let’s go over by the cemetery.”

“But the cat…”

“Bring him along,” Glenn said.

Jasper leaned down to pick up Proxy and he jumped onto her shoulder. “Wow, did you see that? This is one smart little kitty, yes he is.” The kitten purred into her ear.

“Enough with the baby talk now. You two can do that when you’re alone again. C’mon,” Glenn said.

Soon they were walking through the lawn bordering the cemetery. “This is where we first met,” Glenn said.

“Uh-huh.” Jasper scratched the kitten’s head. Having him along made the conversation with Glenn much easier. The cat gave them both a small diversion when they needed one.

“Yes, ma’am, the scene of your first crime in our fair village,” Glenn said.             

That remark stopped Jasper in her tracks. “My first crime?”

“Hey, I’m just joking. Cop humor. You know.”

Jasper set Proxy on the ground and trotted after him as he chased after a loose leaf. Glenn walked over and took her by the arm. She shook him off. “There have been two deaths since I came to town. Are you saying I’m a…a person of interest or something?” She had seen a few police dramas on TV.

Glenn started to laugh, then stopped abruptly. “Of course not. Both deaths are considered accidental. Besides, if we wanted to we could have brought you in for questioning.”

“You did bring me in for questioning.”

“Right, along with the other two who were at the house the day Mr. Clippert died. C’mon, Jasper. It’s a sunny day. We both have the afternoon off. You have your new cat. Let’s relax for a little while here.”

The kitten had keeled over on its side, worn out by two minutes of determined chasing. Jasper gathered him up and held him to her chest like a baby. “We are going home now,” she announced. The cat mrowed.

“Can’t take a joke, huh?” Glenn called after her.

“Insensitive much?” Jasper said so quietly that only the kitten heard. She was pretty sure.

***

A short while later, Jasper and the cat were ensconced in Jimmy’s apartment at the back of the auction house. She was glad her new pet was so portable. It made sneaking out of her apartment past the neighbors, including a certain confusing detective, that much easier.

The kitten was still such a cozy ball of fur that Jasper delighted in having him nearby doing just about anything. “Hey, Proxy,” she said, touching her nose to his. He rubbed his little dark nose against hers, purring loudly. With just a little encouragement and a hand cupped gently under his backside, the kitten climbed up onto her shoulder and wrapped himself around her neck like a furry boa. “You’re such a good boy,” Jasper told him. Her gentle voice sent him into paroxysms of purring pleasure.

Jasper sat at the kitchen table. Her own apartment didn’t feel private enough. She wanted some solid alone time. She’d gotten in the habit of keeping an extra litter box, cat foot, contact solution and lens case there for times like this. She was going over the latest issue of Auctioneer magazine, trying to focus on business for a change and get her mind off the two deaths. A to-go cup of coffee with cream from the closest drive-through sat nearby and she absently sipped from it every few pages. She sighed, and Proxy applied his baby teeth to her ear lobe.

“Ok, little buddy,” Jasper said, lifting him off her shoulders and nestling him on her lap, “I know that’s a love bite but don’t get carried away.” She scratched him between his ears and he resettled himself for a nap.

The kitten’s gentle breathing and warmth blended with Jasper’s own tiredness, and soon she rolled her torso forward over the sleeping kitten and cushioned her head atop her arms on the table.

She came awake with a start. Pounding. Door. Someone was knocking on the door. The noise startled Proxy too, and he jumped down to the floor. Jasper slapped her cheeks to bring herself to full alertness and hurried to the door. Through the peephole she saw a distorted Ted Phillips.

“Okay, okay.” She opened the door. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing special,” Ted said. Without invitation, he stepped inside. “Just wanted to see how you’re doin.’”

Jasper told him that all things considered she was doing fine. When he didn’t move, she invited him in. “Want some coffee or water or something?”

“Got any Mountain Dew, Sierra Mist, Alpine Spray?”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay.” Ted sat down, again without invitation, and spread his jean clad legs wide in front of him.

Proxy jumped up on the sofa to check him out.

“Boo,” Ted said. The kitten arched his back and hissed. Then he shot to the floor and sprinted to the other side of the room. Ted laughed. “She’s a funny little character,” he said.

“Yes. He is.”

“Like you.”

“You’re really handing out the compliments today, Ted. What do you want?”

He cleared his throat in a way that said,
What’s coming up next is real important. Get ready.
“It seems to me you and me ought to talk about Biggs’ Auction. About what its future is with all these…changes going on around here.”

“Changes. Right, Ted. Keep going.”

“I mean,
our
future.”

“Whoa, Nelly. There’s no Our future.”

“I happen to know that Jimmy was planning to give me a big chunk of the action.”

“The action?” Jasper repeated.

“The auction. Biggs Auction House. The business. Jimmy told me I could expect a substantial cut. Maybe even full ownership. You know, auctioneering has been what I wanted to do all my life, Jazz.”

“Good. Glad you got that figured out early.” Jasper scratched the fabric of the sofa and the kitten trotted over to investigate.

“Pay attention, missy. I got something here to show you.” Ted leaned down to Proxy’s level. “Boo.”

The kitten leapt into the air, then recovered and helicoptered up onto Jasper’s lap. Ted handed over a piece of paper dense with typed words. Proxy batted at it.

Ted grabbed it and held it in front of Jasper’s face. “Look about halfway down and tell me what you see. Right here.”

“Here? Article the Fifth?”

“Yep.”

Jasper read aloud, “I do hereby divide and bequeath my business holdings between my longtime business partner, Theodore Phillips and my step daughters, Courtney Jasper Biggs Sherman and Candace Jasper Biggs Rowe, with Mr. Phillips to maintain controlling interest in Biggs Auction House.”

She soothed the kitten onto her lap, where he curled his tail around his body and began purring. She said, “Where did you get this? I don’t remember hearing anything about it.”

Ted spread his jeaned legs further apart than Jasper would have thought possible. He leaned back and spread his arms out across the back of the sofa. “I guess Jimmy didn’t think you needed to know.”