Antiques, Codes & Conundrums, page 5
“Who’s that?” Evelyn asked. “I’ve seen him in the store. He was asking Philip about a porcelain statue.”
“That’s Roger Reed. He’s a widower, and seems very smart. He comes in a few times a week to browse and talk to Philip about antiques.” She snickered. “He never buys anything, though, and I don’t get the impression he likes Philip.”
“Then why keep coming to the store?” Evelyn stopped as something occurred to her. “Is he suspicious of Philip, too?”
“Those are good questions.” Sandy put her hands on her hips. “He might be able to help us.”
With that, she quickened her pace and called out to Roger.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roger walked over, and Sandy introduced him to Evelyn.
“A pleasure to meet you.” He shook Evelyn’s hand. He was a lanky man in his early seventies, with gray hair that seemed to have a mind of its own.
“I was just saying to Evelyn that you come into the store a lot,” Sandy said.
He tipped his head at Evelyn. “I’ve seen you in there a time or two.”
“Just looking around,” she replied. “The place has a certain charm about it.” And a certain mystery, she left unsaid.
“It does,” he replied.
“Evelyn’s been wondering about Philip.” Sandy pointed at Roger. “And you are, too. Neither one of you seem to trust him.”
“Philip’s an interesting man,” Roger said noncommittally.
Sandy glanced at her phone. “I need to get back.” She smiled at Evelyn. “I’ll catch up with you later.” With that, she spun on her heel, rushed to the store, and disappeared inside.
“You talk to Philip a lot,” Evelyn observed.
“You noticed,” Roger said. “Do you like him?”
She shrugged. “I’m . . . indifferent.”
He studied her and smiled. “I think there might be more to your answer.”
She instantly liked Roger, with his subtle humor and keen observations. “What do you think of Philip?”
He swiped a pesky curl of hair off his brow and posed a question of his own. “How much do you know about him?”
“Not a lot,” Evelyn said truthfully, but held back the store owner’s connection to her husband.
“Philip has one of the finest collections of antiques in all of Virginia, or so I’m told.” Roger’s eyes crinkled. “Do you know the history of his store? It used to be a speakeasy during Prohibition.”
“Really?” Evelyn was genuinely curious. “What happened to it after that?”
“From what I heard,” Roger continued, “the place changed hands a few times and eventually became an antique store in the late sixties. Philip bought it ten years ago.”
There was an undercurrent in his tone, the dislike of Philip that Sandy had mentioned. Evelyn seized on that.
“You’re not happy that Philip bought the store?”
“I used to love coming into the store to see what was being sold.” He rocked on the balls of his feet. “When I was a veterinarian, I’d stop by after work just to relax and look around.” He glanced back to the store.
“What?” Evelyn pressed him.
Roger appraised Evelyn. “I hope you didn’t purchase anything without checking the item quite well.”
“Why is that?” she asked. “Sandy says even though you browse a lot, you never buy anything.” Evelyn eyed the store herself, and then Roger. She felt as if she’d known him for a long time. He had a way about him she knew she could trust. “You asked Philip a lot of questions about his antiques, though. May I be so bold as to ask why?”
His eyes—the color of faded denim—sparkled with mischief. “You’re quite perceptive.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I think Philip’s been acquiring pieces of rather dubious provenance, if you take my meaning.”
Evelyn blinked. This was an interesting development. “Counterfeit antiques?”
“I’ve been coming to his store for years, and I’ve noticed a few items that raise questions.” He sighed. “Philip does have exquisite taste, dubious or not.”
“What makes you suspect his antiques aren’t quite legitimate?” Evelyn asked.
Roger grimaced. “Philip claims to have travelled the world, acquiring exotic artifacts. However, he won’t say where exactly he’s purchasing some of the pieces, which are remarkably well-preserved, considering their age. But some of the antiques seem too pristine, as if they were produced recently, then aged artificially.” He paused, stroking his chin. “I don’t like that he might be cheating people. I can’t prove it, but I have an eye for detail. Some carvings and joinery on some pieces seem off. Of course, Philip insists they’re authentic, but if so, why so secretive about his sources?”
“Have you seen a man named Thompson?” Evelyn described him. “I overheard an odd conversation between him and Philip.” She told about her first encounter with Philip at the café she and Margaret had visited.
He shook his head. “I’m not familiar with that man, but his connection to Philip does sound strange.” His brow furrowed. “I’m really wondering what Philip has been up to. Has he been selling fake antiques? If so, he could’ve swindled people out of a lot of money.”
“Should we call the police?” Evelyn mused. Then she frowned. “And tell them what? We don’t have any proof of this.”
He shook his head. “You’re right. I’m only speculating at this point.”
Evelyn snapped her fingers. “What about the book in the desk? Philip was so mad when Sandy got her hands on it.”
“What book?” Roger asked.
Evelyn told him about the small book Sandy had seen in Philip’s desk, and then how it seemed to have disappeared.
“I saw Philip at that desk a time or two, but I don’t know about a disappearing drawer.” Roger’s brow furrowed. “If Philip is buying and selling fake antiques, he wouldn’t want that documented on any software for tax purposes. Maybe he’s keeping track of things in some kind of handwritten ledger.”
Evelyn wondered if there was more to the book than that. And she doubted Henry had been involved in counterfeit antiques.
“I want to take a look at the desk,” she said. “Call it a hunch, but there’s something fishy going on. However, we won’t know anything until we can look at that book.”
Roger smiled grimly. “I want to know if I’m right about the fake antiques.”
“What if we’re wrong?” Evelyn asked. “Sandy could lose her job.”
“We could figure out something, and make sure nothing points to Sandy.”
“If we could distract Philip, I could get into his office and look at his desk,” Evelyn said.
“Perhaps I should go into his office,” Roger suggested.
Evelyn shook her head. “Philip doesn’t trust me.” She told him about Henry having visited the store. “There’s no way he’ll talk to me for very long, and he’ll be wary of me.”
Roger thought for a moment. “This is what we could do. I’ll go into the store first, get Philip’s attention, and you can sneak into his office. But be careful.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” Evelyn smiled with confidence.
Roger gently touched her hand, and then he headed for the store entrance. Evelyn stood back until he went inside. She saw him through the front window as he walked swiftly toward Philip. The two moved away from the entrance, and Evelyn sneaked inside, the bells on the door jingling. However, Philip was looking the other way. Evelyn hurried down an aisle. She didn’t think the store owner had seen her. Philip left Roger and began a conversation with another customer who was asking about an antique grandfather clock.
Evelyn peeked over some furniture and watched Philip like a hawk, tracking his every gesture and expression. For a fleeting moment, his genial smile flickered into a scowl when the customer pressed him about the clock. Then, in an instant, the charming mask was back in place. Glancing at Roger, she could tell he’d noticed the same details. His eyebrows were knitted in a frown, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
When the customer walked away, Roger sauntered over to Philip again, and the two men began to talk. Roger artfully shifted his stance, forcing Philip to turn his back to Evelyn. The subtle creak of floorboards beneath their feet mingled with the low hum of their voices, creating a symphony of distraction. She seized the opportunity, her heart pounding as she slipped into his office. Old furniture was pressed against the back wall next to the suit of armor, and another wall was lined with rows of old bookcases that seemed to close in around her, their musty scent filling her nostrils. She eased the door partially closed. As she crossed the room, a voice startled her.
“Hello, hello.”
Evelyn whirled around to see a green-feathered parrot perched in a large cage. It stared at her, then bobbed its head.
“Oh, my stars,” Evelyn whispered. “You scared me to death.”
The bird squawked, and Evelyn shushed it as she hurried to Philip’s massive, dark wood desk. It was an old oak rolltop with several nooks and small drawers, with a rolling chair nearby. She checked where Sandy had seen Philip put the book. As Sandy had said, there was no drawer there, just smooth wood. Evelyn glanced over her shoulder to the door. Outside, Philip and Roger were still talking. Every creak of the floorboards seemed amplified, echoing through the hushed office like a gunshot. Evelyn turned back to the desk and ran her fingers along its smooth surfaces, then studied its contours. The top drawers revealed only old invoices and pens. Nothing seemed remotely odd.
“Come on,” she whispered to herself. “There has to be something.”
“Come on, come on,” the bird said.
“Ssh,” she whispered at the bird as it stared at her.
She checked all the other desk drawers, but didn’t see a book like Sandy had described. Evelyn stepped back and stared at the desk. Something didn’t seem quite right. She felt along the left side, her fingers exploring each nook. Then she felt a ripple of excitement when her finger brushed against something unexpected. She moved some papers aside and saw a small button. She pressed it, and a small lid popped open, revealing a secret compartment.
Evelyn reached inside and pulled out a small rectangular book, like a ledger. It didn’t appear to be an antique. She opened it. First some notes about antiques, then numbers and dates were scrawled on some pages. Evelyn had no idea if it was Philip’s handwriting. She flipped pages, wondering what was so significant about the ledger that Philip would want to hide it. She started to study it more, but the phone ringing startled her.
“I think I just had a heart attack,” she whispered to herself.
The parrot squawked. “Get the phone! Get the phone!”
Evelyn gave the bird a withering look, but it kept fussing in its cage. Then she almost dropped the ledger as Philip’s voice grew louder, and footsteps echoed down the hall toward the office. With lightning reflexes, Evelyn shoved the ledger back into the compartment, then pressed the button to close the lid.
“I’ll just be a second,” Philip was saying.
Evelyn pressed herself against the wall next to a tall bookshelf just as the door pushed open wider. She held her breath, praying she would remain unnoticed.
“I’ve got it,” Sandy’s faint voice called out. The phone stopped ringing.
“Hello, hello,” the parrot said to Philip, who stood in the doorway.
“Keeping an eye on things, Kermit?” Philip asked the bird.
Evelyn held her breath. The bird didn’t rat her out.
Then Roger spoke up, “Philip, tell me about this vase.”
Philip’s footsteps faded. Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief as she tiptoed to the door and peeked out. Roger was engaged with Philip again. Evelyn ducked down and slipped back into the main room, leaving the door slightly ajar, just as it had been before. She met Roger’s gaze, and they shared a knowing glance before she made her way to the exit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Well?” Roger asked Evelyn.
They were standing in a parking lot a few blocks away from Wright Antiques. Roger paced excitedly as he ran a hand through his hair.
“I found a secret compartment, and the ledger,” she said.
Roger pumped a fist. “Excellent!”
“Not really. I barely glanced at it before Philip came back to the office. The ledger had some notes on antiques, and lists of numbers and some dates, but I don’t know what it all means.”
“Oh.” His glee deflated like a popped balloon as he kept pacing. “Why hide the ledger, unless it contains information he doesn’t want anyone to see?”
“My thoughts exactly. I want to get another look at it.”
“How?”
Evelyn pulled out her phone. “Sandy might be able to help. I’ll text her with an update.” She tapped slowly on her phone, not nearly as adroit at sending messages as her children and grandchildren were. “There. Let’s see what she says.”
Roger strode back and forth, but they didn’t have long to wait. Evelyn’s phone beeped with a text, and she read the message and looked up.
“Sandy wants to know more about the ledger, too. She said Philip’s edgy today, and she wonders what’s going on. He has to leave early, so she’s in charge of closing the store tonight. She said if we can meet her at eight, she’ll let me in and I can look at the ledger again.”
“I want to go with you.” Roger stopped pacing. “That’ll give me a chance to examine some of the antiques more closely. I can’t be stooping around underneath them with Philip around.”
She thought about that. Having an accomplice seemed like a good idea, even if they had different reasons for going after Philip. “I’ll let Sandy know.” Evelyn typed a reply. “She says to meet in the alley behind the store, and she’ll let us in.”
“We’ll go in, look around, and get out before anyone’s the wiser.”
She nodded. “What’s your phone number, in case I need to get hold of you?”
“Oh, good idea. Text me yours, and that way we have each other’s.”
He gave her his number, waiting patiently as she typed it into her phone. Then she texted him, and the faint sound of a dog barked. He looked sheepish.
“My ringtone. I recorded my dog.” He checked his messages. “Got it.”
“What kind of dog do you have?”
“He’s a rescue. Part German shepherd, and I don’t know what else. He’s a sweetheart.”
“I have three rescue cats.”
“Do you have pictures?”
“Yes.”
She had almost as many pictures of her cats as she did of her kids and grandkids. She showed him one, and he asked to see more. Before she knew it, Evelyn had shown him a bunch of her family, too. His eyes twinkled as he looked.
“Do you have pictures of your dog?” she asked as she lowered her phone.
“Of course.”
He took out his phone and showed her pictures of Oz, although he didn’t have nearly as many. She oohed at them, and he smiled, then shook her hand lightly.
“We’re quite the pair of detectives, aren’t we?”
“Something like that,” Evelyn murmured as he opened her car door. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Roger grinned and waved as she drove out of the parking lot.
***
The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow on the brick façade of the buildings in the alley behind Philip’s antique store. Evelyn and Roger huddled together near the alley entrance, and then Sandy came out the back door to the store and joined them.
“You stay out here,” Evelyn advised Sandy. “Just in case.”
“Are you sure about this?” Sandy asked, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to get in trouble, but I can’t ignore how strange Philip has been acting lately.” She wrung her hands.
“As sure as I’ll ever be,” Evelyn said.
In truth, she’d been questioning what they were about to do, wondering if she’d lost her mind. But she had to know what Philip was up to, and what he knew about Henry. That made her decision for her.
Sandy nodded. “Hurry, okay? The alley door’s unlocked, and the security cameras aren’t turned on. Philip’s office door isn’t locked, either.” She scowled. “I’ve got to be honest, though, I’m a little nervous.”
“If anyone sees you, just act casual,” Evelyn advised in a low voice. “Roger and I’ll be quick.”
“That we will.” He had swapped his khaki shorts for jeans and a dark T-shirt.
“Don’t worry about me,” Sandy said, her eyes shining with determination.
With that, Evelyn and Roger walked quietly down the alley to the back exit of Wright Antiques. Heart pounding, Evelyn glanced at Roger before cautiously turning the knob and pushing open the door. The hinges squeaked loudly, and they both froze. Nothing happened, so they stepped inside the dimly-lit store. Only the faintest glow from a streetlight filtered through the front window. The quiet was like a blanket surrounding them.
“Roger, you check the antiques while I head to the office,” Evelyn instructed in a hushed tone, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.
“I know exactly which ones I want to inspect,” he whispered.
“Just be cautious. We don’t want Philip to know we’ve been snooping around.”
“Right.”
As Roger moved off to scrutinize the antiques, Evelyn tiptoed into Philip’s office, her heart in her throat. She moved carefully in the shadows toward the desk, moved a rolling chair aside, and turned on a small lamp. Kermit squawked at her.
“Hello, hello.”
She rolled her eyes at the bird. “Hello, yourself,” she said, then tacked on, “Would you be quiet?”
Kermit sat on his perch, his head bobbing as he looked at her, but to his credit, he stayed mute. The suit of armor stood in a corner, like a sentry who frowned upon her subterfuge. In another corner, a grandfather clock ticked the seconds. Evelyn rolled up the desktop, moved some papers, and deftly opened the secret compartment. She gingerly retrieved the ledger, her fingers trembling as she flipped through it, then focused her phone on the first page. As she snapped photographs of the mysterious notes and numbers, Evelyn wondered what they meant. “What are you hiding, Philip?” she muttered.
