The Case of the Angry Auctioneer (Auction House Mystery Series Book 1) (21 page)

Monday morning Jasper worked hard alongside the rest of the auction crew, trying to winnow out saleable items from the glut of consignments clogging the back storage room. A certain order of progression was supposed to take place with items that had been consigned first sold first. But after Jimmy’s death, things had grown disorganized. People were beginning to complain that that they had waited much too long for their stuff to be sold. While Grace and Kelly handled phone calls, paperwork, and customers stopping in to pay for their auction buys from the week before, Esteban and Tony brought out cart after endless cart filled with stuff from the far back of the giant storage room. There was particleboard furniture from consigner No. 7, dolls and dolls and more dolls from No. 99, and assorted art glass from 111.

It was going to be a junky sale, Jasper thought. People didn’t realize that if they could be patient, the auctioneers would place their everyday stuff in sales seeded with other consignors’ gems, and everything would bring more money. Ted told her they would just bow to the demands of the complainers and get some of the backlog out of the way. Jasper thought he was wrong. He was just being lazy.

To tell the truth, Jasper knew she was being lazy too. She wanted to avoid any more confrontations with Ted – at least until all the legal matters concerning Biggs Auction got sorted out. She was tired, so tired her neck and back ached and her head swam as if she’d been traveling for much too long. She would like for the last leg of her current journey to come to an end but she could not foresee when and how that would ever be.

So she kept sorting through boxfuls of items from storage, working robotically alongside Ted at the back table, and breaking away for a quick cup of bad coffee from the snack bar whenever she could. It was nearly dark by the time she and Ted had broken down the last consignment, tossed away the mildewed linens and broken china, and numbered the groups of stuff to be arranged on the auction tables the next day.

“Want to get a bite to eat?” Ted asked. He rubbed the back of his neck.

For once Jasper didn’t feel any untoward vibrations emanating off her fellow auctioneer. He seemed just plain tired like herself.

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” Jasper said. Then her heart sank and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as Ted reached toward her and pulled her into a bear hug.

“Mmmm,” he growled.

“Ted!” She pushed away from him. “Forget it!” She stomped toward the front office to retrieve her purse and keys.

“Oh, come on, Jazz, just kidding,” Ted whined.

She kept going but flung back over her shoulder, “You wouldn’t want to go where I’m going anyway. The Forester is a great place. Nice people working there too. Oh, especially that waitress named… Margo? Maggie? No, I know – Molly!”

“Bitch,” Ted said.

At the Forester, Jasper took a seat near the window. Molly greeted her. “Hey, hon, you’re looking pretty shitty.”

“Thanks, Molly.” She downed half a glass of the ice water the waitress had automatically set in front of her. Jasper ordered a bread bowl of lobster bisque and a glass of pinot grigio. She was mentally going through the cupboards and refrigerator in her Hickory Lane apartment, trying to decide whether she absolutely had to stop at the grocery store on the way home. Although she was out of milk so Proxy would be deprived the couple tablespoons full he got as a treat, the box of kitten food held plenty of dry kibble. The grocery store could wait. Jasper’s shoulders sagged in relief.

She was nearly done with the creamy bisque and starting to work her way through the artisan bread when Molly plopped down on the chair across from her. She propped her feet up on the bench next to Jasper. “Don’t mind me,” she said.

“Your ankles are so swollen! Poor thing.”

“Comes with the territory. Everything is kind of puffed out right now," Molly said.

“How much longer do you have?”

“I saw my doctor today. He tells me it could be anytime in the next week. “

“Wow.” Jasper really did feel impressed. Having expected a child only once and with that pregnancy ending in a miscarriage early on, she always felt in awe of women about to bring full-term babies into the world. A little sad. But mostly amazed. “You ready for this?” she asked the younger woman.

Molly shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Don’t have any choice.” She launched into a description of the room her mother was helping her set up for the baby at her apartment. Yellows, greens, pinks and blues with a circus theme.

“Colorful. Don’t know yet if it’s a girl or a boy?”

“Don’t you trust your sister’s psychic predictions?”

Jasper just smiled.

“Nope. I’m doing it the old-fashioned way,” Molly said.

Jasper took a slug of wine. “What about the father?”

“What
about
the father? Wish I could have some of that wine right now. Oh well, soon enough.”

Jasper hesitated. It really was none of her business. But still. “I mean, will the baby’s father be there for the birth?”

“That jerk? Conception was all he cared about. Yeah. They all really like the conception part.”

Jasper plunged in. “So you know for sure who the father is?”

“Oh, sure. And believe me, he’s gonna cough up child care. I have an uncle – well, more like a good friend of my mom’s – who’s a lawyer and he’s gonna make sure that sucker starts sending the checks.”

Jasper downed her wine. It had been a long day. “Well just who is the dad? You never told me!”

Molly lowered her voice. “Well, actually, I’ve got it narrowed down to two guys I was dating at the time. Both of them heavy believers in sex without strings – or rubbers for that matter. Coupla jerks.”

“You mean you’re going to have to go through paternity testing and all that?”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down. The baby’s gonna tell me when it comes out.”

“I think I need another glass of wine,” Jasper said.

Molly waved to the bartender and pointed at Jasper’s empty goblet. “It’s on me,” she said. The two women waited until Jasper had taken one more sip from the refilled glass. Then Molly whispered earnestly, “See, the baby is gonna be either chocolate or vanilla. That way I’ll know where to send the bill.”

“Oh-h-h,” Jasper said. “I get it. But what if it turns out to be butterscotch?”

Molly giggled. She heaved herself up to her feet and swiped away Jasper’s glass before she could take another swallow. “You’re gonna drive home real slow now, right, Jasper?”

Jasper sighed. “I’ll be a good girl,” she said. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Molly.

“You call me if you need anything,” Jasper told her. “And let me know when that baby gets here.”

“Watch my Facebook page. The kid’s gonna be a superstar.”

They exchanged cheek kisses and Jasper left for home.

Jasper paid her bill at the bar, included three dollars for Molly, and then headed out the back of the restaurant through the doors that led to the patio. She made her way past two tables of early diners and exited through the iron gate that was merely latched, never locked. The Honey River reflected the ginger sunset as it ran from right to left just the other side of the path. Jasper headed upriver at a brisk clip. The meal had fortified her, the wine had relaxed her, and away from the repetitive sorting at the auction house, she felt livelier than she had in hours. She breathed in the cool early evening air. She could smell the water. It was a wet, neutral smell, more green than fishy. It interested her nose but didn’t overwhelm her. Jasper strode with confidence.

The path led her past sea green benches positioned so that people could sit and stare across to the old millworks whose brick walls had been painted over into a mural of the working people. Old photographs and modern design blended to convey a sense of industry and history. There were even, Jasper noted a little cynically, a few faces of color shown. A big influx of African Americans from Southern states helped build up the Northern factory workforce in the early 20
th
Century, but it was only recently that their presence and their importance was acknowledged. She wondered whether Glenn cared much about local history.

As she went, Jasper felt the stresses of the past few weeks settling in her lungs and then moving out on her exhale. Except for her moments with her sister, her kitten, and a bit with Molly, life hadn’t proved very relaxing of late.

Jasper passed behind the Angel Museum, the old church that had been reconverted into an unusual little tourist spot. Jimmy used to do benefit auctions for the Angel Museum. Maybe she could give them a hand one of these days – if things ever calmed down in her life. Just thinking about Her Life and about Jimmy brought tension back into Jasper’s body, and she determined to make her mind go blank and just enjoy the fresh air and exercise.

When she walked behind the old power plant, however, she suddenly felt as if she were not alone. She glanced at the blocky brick structure on her right, then at the waterfall created by the dam on her left. Even now in early spring, and close to dusk, there were fishermen down in their boats on the Honey. What did they catch? Jasper wondered. There was movement in the shadows of the power plant. Then gone again. Was she so tired she was seeing things?

She hadn’t met any other walkers yet. But, no worries, people had told her the river walk was perfectly safe even for a single woman striding along with a canvas purse strap slung across her chest. Glenn Relerford said there had never been any serious incidents at the river. Jasper paused for a second and gave a good hard stare in the direction of the power plant. There was nothing there. Just the lengthening shadows created by the tired sun.

Soon the sidewalk snaked out toward Riverside Drive and she hurried along. The traffic she faced just to her right was noisier than her mood craved, but there weren’t many cars. Rush hour in Forest Grove didn’t amount to much. Part of her felt grateful for the dozen or so cars that hurried by. She didn’t feel so alone. It was so everyday, she couldn’t get spooked by shadows out here.

Still, as she moved along at a rapid pace, Jasper felt as if she were being watched.

She reached the point where the sidewalk trailed down under the bridge supports. She could go that way and maintain her privacy or she could turn right and follow the sidewalk that lined the road.

Under the bridge, she would be lost to sight for a few yards. Cars passing over the bridge above would make too much noise for anyone to hear her if she shouted for help.
Help for what?
she asked herself. Jasper marched in place to use up some of the extra blood her heart was pumping into her system.
It’s daylight, for Pete's sake.

Rev. Tim used to tease her in a mean-spirited way about what a scaredy-cat she was. “You shriek when you see a mouse running across the floor,” he had said when they talked about her leaving him. “You think you can make it out there in the big bad world by yourself?”

Jasper squared her shoulders. She grabbed hold of the strap on her shoulder bag, and headed for the shortcut beneath the bridge.

The roar of the river and the echoing traffic sounds combined into white noise that blocked out other sounds. Jasper could no longer hear her own breathing let alone her footfalls against the concrete. She leaned forward as if into a strong headwind and entered the tunnel.

The shove that struck her from behind sent her stumbling close to the river’s edge. A teenage couple strolling hand in hand a few yards away dashed toward her. The red-haired boy raced in front of Jasper and braked her fall. His girlfriend grabbed hold of Jasper’s purse strap and tugged backwards. Jasper landed on top of the girl with the boy piling atop the two of them. Heavy footsteps raced by them.

In the half minute it took to disentangle the human heap, the other person had run out of sight. “Everybody okay?” the young man asked. “Maddie? Madison? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the dark-skinned girl with long mahogany curls said. “Sorry about your purse, lady.” She handed back Jasper’s bag, its strap broken. “Are you all right?”

“Sorry I kind of crushed you,” the boy said.

“Yeah, he’s sort of big.” The girl giggled.

Jasper assured them that she was unhurt and then made sure the girl hadn’t been injured. After all, she had been the one on the bottom of the pig pile. “You guys came along at just the right time,” she said. “Did you see who pushed me?”

“Not exactly. They were wearing a hoody,” the boy said. “Kind of gray or maybe brown. I don’t know. How 'bout you, Maddie? Did you get a good look?”

The girl shook her head. “I was kind of focused on keeping everybody out of the river.”

Jasper asked, “Did you see if it was a man or a woman?”

“Somebody tall, probably a guy,” the boy said. He introduced himself as Jeremy Reagan and his friend as Madison Relerford.

“Relerford? Are you related to Glenn Relerford?’

“You know my uncle Glenn?” The girl shook her curls. “Ohhh, are you the lady auctioneer? My uncle’s talked about you.”

Jasper wanted to know what Glenn had said about her, but suddenly a wave of dizziness hit her hard and she wobbled on her feet. Jeremy and Madison got on either side and braced her up straight. Jeremy said they would walk her back to her car. Madison offered to call her uncle, but Jasper said she was okay and she would talk to him herself. Later.

Much later. After a hot bath, a cuddle with Proxy, and maybe a good long nap.