Free Murder on Consignment by Susan Furlong Bolliger Page A

worth at least a thousand bucks.”
    “A thousand bucks!”
    “Yeah, that’s what the other lady paid.”
    “A lady? What lady? What was her name?” I took a deep breath. I half expected him to blurt out the name Farrell. 
    “She didn’t give me her name. Just said she had an interest in antiques and wanted a chance to approach the consigners who bought from this particular estate. There were only a few buyers, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Chuck had folded his arms and was leaning back on his desk, the file crunched up in his muscular biceps.
    I narrowed my eyes at him. “So you just let her copy down the information without even knowing her name?” 
    “Hey, she paid me a thousand bucks,” he stared at me expectantly. Did this guy actually think I looked like someone who could pull a thousand dollars out of my purse?
    “Would you consider letting me look at it without paying any money?”
    “No.”
    I dug around in my bag. “Fourteen dollars?” I asked.
    He tilted b ack his head and let out a hearty laugh before moving around his desk and throwing the file into a drawer. This guy was definitely no Chuck Norris. Chuck’s morals would never be for sale— just his exercise machines.
    I paused, considering my options.
    “Well, lady. What’s it going to be?” 
    “Fine. I’ll leave,” I said. “But, could you at least tell me what she looked like?”
    “Sure. That type of information would be worth oh…fourteen dollars.” He held out his hand. I reluctantly handed over the money and waited expectantly.
    “She wore a long coat, a hat and dark glasses.” He smiled mischievously. I wanted to scream.
    “Young, old?” I pressed.
    “Middle-aged, maybe. Maybe older, maybe younger.”
    “How about hair: blonde, brunette...?”
    He shrugged and pointed mockingly toward his head. “Like I said, she was wearing a hat.” 
    I slammed the front door on my way out. I couldn’t believe I paid fourteen dollars for nothing.
     

     
    Chapter 9
     
    I left A to Z Estate Sales with my tail between my legs and fourteen dollars poorer. The latter really ticked me off. I was a woman used to getting what I paid for, and that guy ripped me off. Although, it might have been money well spent, if what I just learned could help to clear Shep’s involvement in all this.
    After a little deliberation, I decided to give Sean a call. Funny how my fingers automatically remembered his number even though I hadn’t dialed it for over a year.
    I could barely hear his voice mail message over the nervous thudding of my heart, but at the beep, I cleared my throat and started in, “Hi Sean. This is Pippi. I’m just leaving a place called A to Z Estate Sales in Ridgewood and I think you might want to check it out. The sleazebag that runs the place calls himself Charlie. You can’t miss him…he looks just like Chuck Norris. Don’t let his looks fool you … he’s nothing like the real Chuck—he’s a slime ball. Anyway, he’s got this file that lists the consigners that shopped at the Sokolov estate auction. That’s S…o…k…o…l…o…v.  Remember?  I got that name off the box I saw in the dumpster at The Classy Closet. I definitely think there’s a connection between Sokolov and Jane’s murder. There has to be. I mean, you’re on the wrong track with Shep. I think a guy named James Ferrell might be involved somehow. You see, I stopped by Calina Sokolov’s home and spoke to her neighbor who told me Calina was involved with James Ferrell. That’s Ferrell as in JimDogs. Anyway, the big thing is that Charlie here at A to Z said a lady paid him a thousand bucks for the info in the Sokolov file. So, there’s got to be some sort of connection. You should get a warrant for A to Z Estate Sales right away so you can get that file and a description of the woman who paid to see it. Oh, and while you’re searching the place, see if your guys find fourteen dollars in crumpled bills: two fives and four ones.