Deadly Diamond

“If you yell at a cat, you’re the one who making a fool of yourself.”

––Unknown

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: An Apology of Sorts

Jim Husen, an antiques dealer whom Alyx had met a couple of years earlier at a Miles-Long-Garage-Sale event on A1A, stopped in to see her. He said he had a customer who collected globes, and he wondered if she happened to have any or knew anyone who did.

“As a matter of fact, I do have a globe,” she said, and directed him to the side of the store, near the staircase.

“It’s been here since we opened. I don’t know much about it, other than it’s from the 1930s, produced by the George F. Cram Company in Indianapolis.”

The globe she’d referred to was very decorative with Atlas holding up the globe between two columns.

“You know,” said Jim, “some of these can go for real good money. I heard about a tiny 1790s pocket globe that sold for fifteen-thousand dollars.”

I was impressed. Alyx’s globe probably wasn’t that valuable, but it still might draw nice sum. Of course, not all deals went that smoothly. Some dealers were greedier than others; they weren’t satisfied with just making a profit. They wanted to squeeze every last penny they could out of the deal. I knew that as far as Alyx was concerned, that took the fun out of it. Somehow, Antiques & Designs managed to prosper without gouging anyone in the process.

Alyx had another item sitting nearby that had not attracted any attention. It was a duck decoy. She asked Jim if he was interested, and told him all she knew about it.

“This and that globe were the first two items I purchased with the intent of selling them in my store someday,” she told him. “Anyway, the Mason Decoy Company in Detroit, Michigan––my home state––produced three grades of decoys––premium, challenge, and standard. The standard typically featured glass eyes, and a hand-painted solid body. This is a standard decoy, made around 1910. The last time I’d checked, it was valued at fifteen hundred dollars. I’ll negotiate if you find a buyer, and you’ll get the ten percent dealer discount.”

Jim picked up the decoy, turning it over in his hands to inspect it closer.

Suddenly, I felt her presence before I saw her. An elegantly dressed woman in a classic-style blue suit stood scrutinizing Alyx from top to bottom. She quickly looked away when Alyx turned in her direction.

“It looks like it’s in excellent condition,” said Jim about the decoy, “You should get full value for it. I’ll mention it to some people.”

“Great. Are you and Louise planning to go to the Williamsburg Antiques Forum in February?” Alyx asked him.

“We talked about it and think we might go. The theme this year is “The Arts of the American South” and that’s right up my alley. My wife is looking forward to helping prepare an authentic eighteen-century dinner, and I’m looking forward to eating it. What about you?”

“Maggie and I talked about it, but at the time she wasn’t interested. I love the place and its history and I don’t need a reason to go.”

“Well, if you decide to go, you’re welcome to come with Brenda and me. You know our RV is big enough to handle more than the two of us.”

She knew that to be true, as she and Maggie had gone on a trip with the Husens once before.

“Thanks, Jim. I’ll keep it in mind. Tell Brenda I found that recipe she asked me for, and I’ll give her a call soon.”

Alyx completed the transaction, Jim left, and she turned her attention to the woman who introduced herself as David Hunter’s ex-wife, Joann.

“David said I should apologize.”

“You’re here because David told you to? What are you making him do for this apology?”

“Nothing he doesn’t want to do,” she replied slyly.

“We’ll see about that,” Alyx said defiantly.

Joann’s pale blue eyes flashed to her face, her full lips stretched thin. “You’re not very gracious, are you? You’re nothing but a garbage picker.”

“Yes, that’s what I do, and I hope to do more of it,” replied Alyx. She made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t willing to give David up that easily.

After the door closed behind Joann Hunter, Alyx literally dropped into the nearest chair. Wanting to comfort her, I jumped on her lap and accidentally knocked over a small picture with a decorative inlaid top sitting on the side table. Both the table and the picture had come from Althea’s bedroom. Alyx had told Maggie that she kept the picture––a soft garden scene surrounded by a delicate gold frame––not so much for its value, but more because it reminded her of Althea.

The photo landed on its face, exposing a brown paper backing that had come unglued. Alyx picked it up and took it to the workroom, searched for glue to fix it. When she lifted the paper to re-glue it, something caught her eye––another photograph was behind the first––a smaller, black and white photograph of a young woman holding a baby.

Althea hadn’t forgotten her son.

About an hour later, Hunter walked through the door. His presence commanded our attention. Misty came to stand next to me and wanted to know what was going on. Hunter surveyed the room slowly, and quickened his step when Alyx came into view on the other side of the store.

“Alyx, I need to speak to you in private for a moment.”

“Did she come crying to you that I didn’t graciously accept her apology?” Alyx asked him.

He looked at her blankly. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, but you’ll want to hear what I have to tell you.”

“Joann,” said Alyx, “She came to apologize for harassing me. She said you told her she should.”

She turned and walked away. David followed, dodging furniture and cats in trying to keep up with her.

“I told her no such thing.”

Her dead stop caused a collision of cats, furniture, and humans.

He reached for her hand and she didn’t pull away. “I realized what she was doing after I spoke to you. I told her that she and I were finished, that I was ready to move on and I hoped she’d do the same.”

“Okay, then.”

A non-committal answer for sure, but apparently the only one he was going to get.

“Now can I speak to you in private?” he reiterated.

She nodded, “Let’s go to the workroom.”

“I know you’re seeing Jonathan Steele and there’s something you need to know about him.”

“How do you know that I’ve been seeing him?” she asked, rightfully suspicious. They sat at the table.

“How I know isn’t important. What’s important is what my source told me about him.”

She wasn’t listening anymore. “You’ve been following me?”

He didn’t answer. “Listen, Alyx. Jonathan Steele is Althea’s son.”

She leaned back in her chair, daring him to tell her something she didn’t know.

“I know that.”

“Did he tell you that he doesn’t have a penny to his name, and that he doesn’t actually own the store, that it’s owned by several people?”

Alyx was stunned. “The inventory is his, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Most of it’s on consignment from overseas distributors; very little is his.”

“So what do you think this has to do with me?”

He stood and leaned over her desk. “I heard your store was broken into, and that only Althea’s furniture was disturbed. Could he have been looking for another will––one that left everything to him? He could use the money, and I bet his cousin Carole Berth isn’t willing to share.”

“You think he killed Althea?”

“Alyx, I care about you. I wanted to warn you, to tell you to be careful; that’s all.”

“Thank you, David.”

He left, and she sat at her desk, cradling her head.