Read The Case of the Angry Auctioneer (Auction House Mystery Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Sherry Blakeley
Jasper arrived home to find a stunning scene unfolding outside her Hickory Lane home.
Instead of the O’Neils’ black Sunfire, a large gray station wagon waited in the driveway with its tail end aimed at the house which had its storm and interior doors open. Jasper glanced back at the station wagon. In the power-saving glimmer of the porch light, she saw that it was actually a silver hearse.
More death. Numbness salted her down and her thoughts calcified. The house stood stark and tall and white as a monument to all death everywhere. It was early dark now and Jasper stood as the only outdoor witness when two men wheeled out a sheeted body strapped to a metal gurney. Grunting, the man on the lower steps hoisted the gurney high so that it was as level as possible. The two men worked with efficiency. Business as usual for them, Jasper supposed.
They opened the back of the hearse and slid the white draped figure on the now collapsed gurney into the back of the death wagon. One of them acknowledged Jasper with a two-finger salute before he and the other man got into the hearse and eased out of the driveway.
Jasper trudged toward the still open front door. The smell that had been building for days met her halfway up the walk. She had attributed it to all those cigarettes plus bags of garbage that must have accumulated in the lower apartment while Mrs. O’Neil tended to her sick husband. Jasper was glad she had scored an air cleaner for herself and Proxy at the last auction. She wondered how much good it could do against a stench this deep, dark and disgusting.
Just inside, the door to the O’Neils’ was open for a change and Jasper peeked in with trepidation. A faded orange sofa covered with a tousled heap of random afghans faced her. Blue and white striped, orange and brown and red. Tedious and confusing. In her duties as minister’s wife, Jasper had seen many a sickbed with many such an afghan. So far, so typical. Across from it was a circa 1970 coffee table covered with large type crossword puzzles and Sudoku paperbacks, Bibles, newspapers and books with titles like Peace and Prosperity: What’s the Difference. Bed pillows and cushions littered the maroon shag rug along with discarded tissues.
“Mrs. O’Neil?” Jasper stepped tentatively past the mess into the dining room. There, with her back to the entrance, sat Mrs. O’Neil in a rocking chair. A cloud of cigarette smoke had attached itself to her head. The old lady turned and registered Jasper’s presence with a tiny nod.
“Cigarette?” she offered.
Jasper crouched in front of her. “What happened?”
“Didn’t you see the meat wagon out front?”
“I mean, when, uh, how did Mr. O’Neil pass? What exactly happened?”
“You know he’s been at death’s door for a while. Just recently, he seemed more dead than alive.”
“Worn out, huh?” Jasper asked in her kindest voice.
“I mean, not breathing. I said ‘more dead than alive,’ didn’t I?”
“Yes, yes you did,” Jasper said, wondering how she could get away from this addled woman and at the same time how she could possibly leave her alone. “When did you notice him not breathing?” This was a whacked-out conversation but Jasper could think of nothing to do but keep Mrs. O’Neil talking.
Mrs. O’Neil lit a new cigarette from the end of her current one, then dropped the live inch to the floor. Jasper ground it into the wood floor which she saw already carried multiple cigarette scars. Mrs. O’Neil said, “I tried praying. I didn’t want to give up hope. But I guess when the hubby gave up the ghost, he went all the way. That would be just like him. He was kind of a radical in his own way.”
“Uh-huh.” Jasper was looking around the dining room for random phone numbers or names of next of kin, someone she could phone in to take care of Mrs. O’Neil. She asked if there was someone she could call but Mrs. O’Neil rocked and puffed in silence. Just as Jasper was giving up hope that there was anyone who could step in, a familiar voice said, “Ladies? Mrs. O’Neil? Ms. Biggs?” Glenn Relerford walked into the room.
Jasper reached up automatically and tugged her hair behind her ears. Tim used to tell her that her ears were her prettiest feature and she should always pull her hair back so they showed to their full advantage. Jasper shook her head and freed her hair to fall back over her ears. If Glenn registered anything odd about Jasper’s sudden head movements, his cop mask of inscrutability kept it hidden. She was glad for that.
“I’m here to help get you to the ambulance, Mrs. O’Neil. They'll take you over to the hospital and get you all settled in.” His voice was low and soothing.
“The hospital’s not going to do any good,” Mrs. O’Neil said. “He’s way beyond that point.”
“Well now, my concern is with you, ma’am. People sometimes forget that the caretakers need help too.”
“Yes, maybe. I suppose that’s true,” Mrs. O’Neil said. “I’ll have to pack a few things though.” She looked around the messy room unfocusedly. Then, she shambled to her feet. Glenn moved closer to support her.
“Ms. Biggs can bring you whatever you need,” he said.
“Of course I can. You name it, I’ll bring it.”
Mrs. O’Neil looked alarmed. “Let me see. This may take me a little while.”
“No worries, no worries,” Glenn said encouragingly. He coaxed her toward the front door, steering her expertly around piles of pillows, blankets and magazines.
“Got it all under control,” Jasper called after her.
“Who is she?” she heard Mrs. O’Neil say as Glenn escorted her out the doors. Jasper watched from the front window as a paramedic stepped in to assist Mrs. O’Neil into the back of an ambulance. Ginny Gardner from next door, with her cat Alice standing alongside, waved and gave a gentle smile. The ambulance pulled away and Glenn climbed up the porch.
Jasper closed the apartment door behind her and joined him. She took in a lungful of cleansing fresh air. She sniffed at the sleeve of her sweater. “Whew. It’s going to take a good long soak to get rid of the smell,” she said.
Glenn said, “The whole house is gonna take some powerful forces to overpower the stink in there.”
Jasper felt a little insulted. After all, it was her home.
“You have a place you can stay while the house gets fumigated?”
Jasper scowled. After all, she had only barely gotten settled.
“Aired out as it were. Freshened up if you get my drift.” Glenn chuckled at his own bad joke.
“Ha ha ha. Not funny,” Jasper grumped. “My apartment is not bad at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have an air cleaner.”
Jasper could see Glenn fighting off a smile. “Jasper – “
“Ms. Biggs, if you don’t mind.”
“You don’t think the landlord’s gonna let you stay in there under these circumstances, do you? “
Jasper stomped her foot. “I’m staying.”
“The city’s not going to let you, that’s for sure.”
Jasper didn’t answer. There had been too many changes lately. Her new home was her new home, no matter what.
“What I don’t get,” Glenn said, shaking his head, “is how you managed to live above a ripe body for as long as you have.”
Jasper’s eyes opened wide. “I thought he just passed away – I mean, maybe last night?’
Glenn shook his head.
“Yesterday morning?”
“No, ma’am. How long you been living here now?”
Jasper sat down heavily on one of the steps. “I never did meet him. This whole time I thought he was just sick.”
“She was the sick one,” Glenn said. “He was dead.”
Jasper and Proxy resettled into Jimmy’s apartment. Fulltime living at the back of the auction house placed her and her pet too close to the work place as far as Jasper was concerned. But she felt grateful that she had a place to go after her Hickory Lane home was shut down until further notice. She put a Do Not Disturb sign on the apartment door and, for the most part, the auction-goers and the staff respected her privacy. Ted Phillips had persisted in tapping and rapping for the first couple days but Jasper stayed firm and refused to respond. He seemed to have gotten the message.
So when a gentle knock sounded one afternoon, Jasper at first felt irritated. Proxy waited for his owner’s cue before jumping off her chest where he had settled in for a noontime nap. Jasper tiptoed to the door and Proxy trotted after. Jasper gazed through the peephole. A friendly wave greeted her.
“Cookie!” Jasper opened the door immediately. “To what do I owe this honor? Are you doing some previewing up front at the auction?”
“I’ve got more than enough stuff,” her sister said, stepping inside. “Oh, here’s the new man of the house.” Proxy stood up on his hind legs and kneaded his front paws on the leg of Cookie’s jeans.
“He likes you.”
“Animals always do,” Cookie said.
“Uh-huh. You probably remind him of me.” Jasper lifted him up and the twins passed him back and forth between them. He purred like a small motorboat. “This is your Aunt Cookie,” Jasper told him. “I am Mama. Repeat after me. Auntie Cookie. Mama.”
“Who’s going to be the most spoiled pet in town?” Cookie asked even as she scratched Proxy between his ears. “How about spoiling your sister here a little bit, Sis, and fixing me some coffee? That is, if you have anything besides Brand X.”
Jasper plumped Proxy all the way into Cookie’s arms. “It just so happens that I am becoming a woman of the world,” she said from the kitchen. "I bought a bag of beans from the Forester and a grinder. I even have organic half and half.”
“Pretty impressive,” Cookie said. She and Proxy followed her. This time of day the galley kitchen took on a bright golden glow with light coming in the clerestory window Jimmy had installed high over the sink. The apartment did not get much natural light since their stepfather had emphasized privacy and security over attractiveness. He wasn’t much of a home decorator. As far as the twins knew, he had spent most of his time out in the auction house proper, or up front in the office where he kept his computer, or tooling around town dredging up new business.
Proxy leapt from Cookie’s shoulder onto the top of the refrigerator. “Your kitty is pretty impressive too. Is he allowed up there?”
“It gives him a different perspective. I think it’s good for him,” Jasper said.
“Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.”
“Did you come over to comment on how I’m raising my cat?”
“I’m here with an invitation,” Cookie said. “Just get me my cup of joe and I’ll explain.
“Gotcha.” Jasper whirred the beans in the grinder, added them to a filter in the coffee machine, poured in water from the filter pitcher she had purchased, and flipped the on-switch. Cookie fetched mugs from the cupboard and cream from the fridge. Proxy kept an eye on the operation from his perch. Cookie poured a little half and half into a saucer and set it on the floor. Proxy was on it immediately. The sisters took their mugs of whitened coffee out to the living room and got comfy on the well-worn leather sofa.
Cookie got right to the point. “I’m going to do another house-clearing at the Clippert place,” she said.
“How’d you get talked into that? Was Mary after you? Or was it Ted? He’s really eager to calm her down.”
“I don’t take orders from them,” Cookie said. “But I tend to listen when souls on the other side ask for my help.”
“Oh, boy. Jimmy? Mr. Clippert? Somebody I haven’t met yet?”
“Could be a combination thereof,” Cookie said.
Jasper grabbed the kitty for comfort. He protested with a loud yowl, then relaxed onto her lap. “I like that about you, Proxy,” Jasper said. “You’re adaptable. I should learn to be so versatile.”
“Good idea. Animals are such good teachers,” Cookie said. “Great coffee. Too bad we don’t have time for seconds.”
“You mean we’re gonna do this ghost business now?”
“Now is right. But about the ‘ghost business’ part -”
Jasper didn’t pay attention to whatever else Cookie had to say about the proper language. She handed her the cat and bustled around getting ready to go. She put extra kitten food in Proxy’s bowl and made sure his water fountain was full to overflowing so it wouldn’t run dry and burn out the motor. One thing about working at an auction house, she could spot some pretty good finds nearly every week. She glanced in the bathroom mirror, tugged her uncombed hair back into a ponytail, and sprinkled some baby powder onto the palms of her hands. She patted her forehead, nose and chin with the powder. Then she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips for a little color.
Jasper wished she could instantly change her clothes from the khakis and red Biggs Auction shirt that were pretty much her daily uniform. She settled for a dab of rose-scented deodorant under each arm so that people would know she was a girl. When it came to looking good on a moment’s notice, her sister seemed to have it all down pat. Of course, Cookie had sprung this house clearing on her at the very last minute. Cookie was wearing another casually elegant outfit with a high-necked silk blouse of faded violet and a rhinestone and onyx necklace that might have come from a Victorian era estate. That is, as Jasper thought, if one didn’t know of the psychic’s ability to find vintage-looking clothing online and at every resale shop in the vicinity. Cookie had teamed the blouse with a pair of powdered gray slacks and matching flats. Her large hoop earrings shimmered with each movement of her head.
Jasper grabbed the green canvas purse she had saved from its scheduled demise in the dumpster. “I’m ready,” she told Cookie. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s the spirit,” Cookie said.
“Is that a pun?” Jasper asked.
“You’re the one who’s good with words. I’m just the humble psychic.”
“Uh-huh.” Jasper picked up the kitten and kissed the top of his head. “Don’t let in any mice,” she said. Proxy meowed like he meant business.
Soon she and Cookie pulled up in front of the Clippert bungalow. Mary Clippert was already waiting for them.
Cookie took her hand. “Now this time it’s important that you let me do all the talking,” she said with gentle firmness.
Mary, dressed in another of her red and black outfits, harrumphed. She said, “This is my house now. And it’s my father we’re trying to reach. I don’t see why you have to be in charge. And I don’t see why she always has to tag along.”
Jasper studied the overcast sky. If Mary had been a friendlier soul, she might’ve said aloud,
Don’t make the psychic sister mad.
Instead, she let her lips settle into a neutral smile.
“It’s like this,” Cookie said with great timbre to her voice. “This is what I do. We’re not playing around here. Either you agree with my terms, or we don’t get this house cleared for you and you’ll probably lose the deal with the Austrings. Jasper is here to assure that the deal goes through. You may not realize it but you need us both.”
Mary dug the heel of one black boot into the vulnerable spring lawn. “I bet I could do this on my own. After all, he’s my father. And if I tell him to leave, he’ll leave,” she added stubbornly.
“Did he listen to you when he was on this side?” Cookie asked.
“We were getting to that point.” Mary’s voice had lost its edge. She sounded more like a little girl.
“Uh-huh.”
Go, Cookie, go.
Jasper cheered her sister on silently.
Cookie continued. “Getting there and being there are two different things. Your dad’s death hasn’t changed him into a different person. He’s the same as he was when he was in the body. He didn’t do what you said when he was alive. He’s not going to do what you say now.” Cookie paused to let her words sink in.
Mary glared at her. She stamped down a patch of tender moss. “Okay, okay. You win.”
“It’s not about winning.” Cookie was about to launch into one of her metaphysical lectures.
Jasper interrupted. “So, all right then, ladies. Let’s get started!” she sing-songed.
Cookie led the way up the walk and then the front steps. She and Mary do-si-doed in a minor power struggle before Mary plunged her key into the lock. Mary hesitated, then uncharacteristically moved over to let Cookie go first, following her in. Jasper brought up the rear.
Whew! More fetid air. It smelled as if the house had been shut up for years.
“Sis, secure the door,” Cookie ordered her. “We don’t want any interruptions. And both of you turn off your cell phones.”
Jasper closed the front door almost completely, but left it cracked open to let in a tiny bit of fresh air. Anything helps, she said to herself. She joined Cookie and Mary in the empty living room.
At Cookie’s direction, the three women joined hands. Jasper wished for a fourth person so she wouldn’t have to hold hands with the mean-spirited Mary whose fingers were just as icy and rough as Jasper would have expected. OK, so her own hands could use a good long soak in warm soapy water and a slathering of moisturizer. At least her personality wasn’t cold and callous.
“Everyone, concentrate now,” Cookie said, squeezing Jasper’s hand. Sometimes it just wasn’t fair having a psychic sister.
Suddenly the front door blew open.
Mary gripped her hand so hard that Jasper thought for a second she might break it.
“Ouch?” Jasper whispered.
“What the hell are you witches up to?” Ted Phillips strode into the room, waving his phone. “Jasper, I’ve called your cell five times. Oh, g’afternoon, Miz Clippert. Cookie.”
“Join the circle,” Cookie said. “Turn your phone off.”
“We’ve got business to attend to,” Ted protested.
“This
is
business,” Jasper and Cookie said at the same time.
“All right, already,” Ted said. He switched off his phone and jammed it back into his jeans pocket.
Mary mumbled under her breath. Jasper thought she heard her say, “You big dumb oaf. I’ll give you 20 bucks to fuck off.” In a louder voice, Mary said, “Come here, sweetie. You can hold my hand.”
“Kind of you, ma’am,” Ted said in that obnoxious imitation of gallantry that drove Jasper nuts. He inserted himself between Mary and Jasper. His hand at least felt warm to the touch.
Cookie led them through a chakra clearing, starting with the base chakra, and climbing steadily upward. Jasper could swear that her sister took on an extra shimmer of light when she was in the middle of her mediumistic work. Soft swirls of silver and lavender floated around Cookie’s head. Jasper tried to focus and the colors disappeared.
“Let’s go from room to room now. We’ll clear each one of any spirits who have lingered behind. Then we’ll bless the room and close any open portals,” Cookie said.
Jasper shivered. She had heard words very much like this last time she and Cookie had started to clear the Clippert house. That was the day they discovered the body of Ray Clippert lying at the foot of the basement stairs. Would his ghost show up today? Would he reveal how exactly he had fallen? What or possibly who had tripped him and sent him careening to his death? Was that the secret he wanted to impart?
Cookie squeezed her hand, and Jasper returned her attention to the words her sister was reciting. “Now focus on the heart chakra where a beautiful blue light resides…”
Or would it be Jimmy Biggs who stepped forward from the ethereal realm to make some kind of pronouncement? Or dispense some sort of wisdom.
Don’t take less than fifty for that pile of crap scrap iron on the back table.
Jasper giggled.
Cookie cleared her throat. “Even as we release our hands, we are connected in a blessed circle that will not allow any negative energy to enter its midst. You can let go now, everybody.”
They all dropped their hands. Cookie continued, “We are here to help. Is there anyone here who wishes to communicate with us?
“Ah. A father figure has joined us. He wants us to step into the kitchen.”
They regrouped in the kitchen which was now devoid of furniture. Cookie quieted everyone down and closed her eyes. “He says that he met his end after a fall down some stairs.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” Ted said.
Jasper shushed him.
“I’m just saying that two men have died here in the last short while. Who knows how many more fell down those old steep steps to the cellar? This is a house where every ghost must have taken a tumble,” he said.
“What a fascinating perspective,” Mary said. Her voice was super sweet.
“Yeah, really fascinating, Ted,” Jasper said.
“I’ve got my own falling down the steps story,” Ted said with some pride. “One time my dog Bear tripped me up – or down I guess you could say – when I was carrying a pile of dirty jeans to the washing machine. Damn dog. I thought he loved me like I loved him.”
Jasper and Cookie exchanged a look.