Free Consigned to Death by Jane K. Cleland Page B

sell for at auction and she made me a lowball offer. I didn’t hold her up. We worked it out.”
    “Do you think that’s possible?”
    “I don’t have any way of knowing. But I shouldn’t think so. I mean, the best stuff I have in-house is from the Wilson estate. There’s no family that I’m aware of who might want a certain item. The auction was ordered by Mrs. Wilson’s executor. She left everything to some charity, I forget which, and obviously they just want the proceeds.”
    “Yeah. It doesn’t sound likely that’s the reason, does it? Okay, then, if it’s not a robbery or someone after a specific item, what could it be?”
    “I have no idea,” I said, sounding frustrated.
    “Take heart. Maybe Alverez will come up with something when he checks it out tomorrow.”
    Max signaled and turned left onto Tunney Road. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of dark thoughts that seemed to grow as time passed. It didn’t work. As we pulled up behind Alverez’s vehicle, I felt weary, angry, fearful, and alone.
     
     
    We were in a dirt alley at the rear of the property. Standing beside Max’s car, I listened to the ocean, the sound of the waves unhurried and close. High tide on a quiet night. Despite the fog, there’d be no storm.
    “Hey,” I greeted Alverez. He looked relaxed in jeans and a blue sweater.
    “Hey,” he answered. “You okay?”
    I shrugged. “A little spooked.”
    He nodded. “I’ll meet you at the warehouse first thing in the morning and we’ll take a look at things.”
    I nodded. “Thanks.”
    We pushed through a white picket gate framed into the hedge, and entered the grounds. I looked at the weathered clapboard house and counted four chimneys. Off to the right I saw parts of the wraparound porch. Alverez led the way down the winding, cracked concrete path lined on either side by thick, six-foot-tall lilac bushes not yet in bud. In May, the white and lilac blooms would hang low and heavy on the gnarled branches, giving off the aroma of old money.
    Max and I stood off to the side of the freshly painted red door as Alverez used the silver-white moonlight to sort through a fat ring of keys. He held his selection like a knife and sliced through both yellow police tape that crisscrossed the entryway and an official-looking paper pasted across the doorjamb.
    Opening the door, he reached in and flipped a switch. The overhead bulb was of low wattage and cast a shadowy dim light. Stepping into the house, we were in a kind of mud room. I felt a stab of sadness. There was an unpleasant, unlived-in feel to the place as if someone had recently died. Which was true.
    I shivered.
    With Alverez in front, we walked into an old-fashioned pantry, and through a swinging door into the kitchen. I followed him, and Max brought up the rear. As we tramped past the oversized sink, I noted the knife block. There was an empty slot where the knife I’d used to cut the Bundt cake had been.
    I looked away.
    “It’s in the study, right, Josie?” Alverez asked.
    “Yeah. Next to the living room.”
    We made our way through the vacant house to the woodpaneled room. The shelves were lined with leather-bound books. I hadn’t catalogued them individually, but I’d been unable to resist looking at some, including a book on witchcraft annotated by Dr. Samuel Johnson.
    I passed by a dark green club chair and stood in front of the desk. Just as I recalled, it had a wide kneehole opening, large enough for a big man to sit comfortably. Seeking out the hidden cabinet was tricky. Max and Alverez switched on all of the lamps. There were two on the desk and four on nearby tables. Still, the room was dim.
    “Here,” Alverez offered, handing me an oversized flashlight he’d taken from the back of his SUV.
    “I think I’m okay,” I said.
    Sitting on the floor, peering into corners, I used the mini-flashlight that always hung on my belt when I was working, and aimed the beam into the back crevices.
    Finding the latch was