Read Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Flinn

Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (27 page)

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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“You’re off base, Dino. For all I know, you had him knocked off to save your precious wine and your job.”
“Hey, hey! My job wasn’t on the line, and you know it. If anyone was gonna get axed, it was you. You were number one on his list. I heard Jessop tell Carla you had to go. So back off, man. Besides, my brother isn’t an award-winning skeet shooter.”
“What? You bastard! You got a nerve bringing that up. So what if he is?”
“Just saying, okay? So you back off, and I will, too.”
“Screw you! You think I’d have my brother knock Jessop off? Oh, man! That’s really reaching. Like he’d do it? Sure. Maybe you hired someone?”
“As if I could afford a hit man. Now who’s smokin’ shit?”
Molly flattened herself against the outside wall. She made a dash for the van and hurried inside. She put her finger to her lips. “There’s an argument going on inside between Dino Horne and Reggie Sullivan. Let’s pretend we just got here. Grab those two new auction catalogs in the back. You read one, and I’ll read the other.” By the time Molly noticed her window was open, it was too late. Both men were out the now closed door and staring at her. Molly took a deep breath, smiled, and opened the van’s door. “Hi, just got here. I’m meeting Carla, but I don’t see her car. Did she park somewhere else?” Molly knew the corporate offices were in the building next to the tasting room. She decided not to act surprised at seeing them here on a Saturday. “You guys working today?”
“Hey, Molly,” Dino said. “Yeah, we’ve got some work to catch up on. I haven’t seen Carla.” He turned to Sullivan. “Have you?”
Sullivan’s face was flushed. “Uh, no, we just got here, too. We’re parked in back, but I didn’t see her car. Something we can help you with?”
Molly got out of the van and walked toward them. “No, but thanks. Carla said the furniture had arrived and she wanted me to get it placed.” She glanced at her watch. “Guess I’m early. Can you unlock the tasting room for me? I’d like to get in and do some shoving around.”
“It’s open,” Reggie said. “It looks like everything is in place already. I guess Carla was here earlier with some of the guys.”
“Oh. Well, maybe she decided not to wait for me. No problem. Emma and I can wait out here for her.”
“Yeah, sure, but you’re welcome to go in,” Dino Horne said.
Molly was positive they’d bought her story of just arriving. At least she hoped so. “Thanks, we’ll do that.” Molly waved to Emma to follow. Once inside, she was surprised to see that the large refectory table had already been centered and the other furniture positioned exactly as laid out in her drawing. She stood in the center of the room and wondered why Carla hadn’t waited for her. She was about to leave when Carla came rushing in. “Sorry I’m late. I was in the cave getting boxes ready for you.”
“The furniture has already been placed.”
“I got here early so I had some of the guys do it. Some things have come up and I didn’t want to waste time in here. Why don’t you and Emma follow me and Michelle. I’ll pull out in front. It’s not far.”
Molly followed Carla’s Jeep past what seemed like acres of vineyard, but were in fact, less than two city-blocks’-length of vines planted just for show to the tourists. They drove a short way up a sloping gravel road to what looked like an old wooden shed built against a small hill. When they parked and got out, Carla said to Molly, “It’s not really a cave as such. We just call it that. It used to house equipment before some of the newer buildings went up. Now it’s just for storage and old furniture. It’s got stone walls inside, so it’s pretty well weather-resistant. But hold your nose when we go in. It still smells of wine. We had a spill in there years ago, and it soaked the wood-planked floors.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll get some of the warehousemen here to help us load up.”
Molly didn’t have to worry about holding her nose. She was too busy trying not to gag. The musty odor combined with the old wine spillage was enough to make her wish she hadn’t stopped for food earlier. Emma and Michelle were giggling at Molly. She put on a brave face for everyone’s sake. She hoped to hell whatever Carla had found was in front and close to the open door.
But that was not to be. Molly held her hand over her mouth as she and the girls followed Carla farther into the room. From outside, the size of the building was deceptive. What had appeared to Molly to be no bigger then twenty feet wide and probably fifteen feet deep, was, she soon discovered, misleading. The so-called shed was merely a façade. One would never know it was the entrance to an enormous cavern built into the hill. “How far in do we have to go?” Molly asked.
“Oh, maybe a hundred feet,” Carla replied.
That was ninety-nine feet farther than Molly would have liked.
Molly followed Carla for a short distance, then stopped when Carla pulled a rope hanging from the ceiling to turn on a row of overhead lights. Boxes, old wine barrels, and crates lined the walls, and the sour wine odor was strong. Molly knew by now they were heading deeper into the hill than Carla had said, and she was quickly overcome by claustrophobia. It wasn’t a basement, but the feeling was the same. Even the chance of finding something great might not be a decent payoff for her fears. The finds would have to be at least nineteenth-century to warrant going farther. And even then, she wasn’t sure if she’d go on. Maybe she could talk Carla into having some of her employees take the boxes out to the front of the shed. “Uh, Carla? I’ve got a problem, remember? I think I told you about my fear of closed-in places. I don’t do caves, okay? Could some of your employees get the boxes for us instead?”
Carla looked at Molly and laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t be a ninny.”
Stung by Carla’s remark, Molly hesitated. There was no reason to embarrass her in front of Emma and Michelle. Bristling, she said, “How much farther?”
Carla shrugged. “Oh, maybe ten feet?”
“Okay. But a quick look, and then I’m out of here.” Molly turned to Emma and Michelle. “Do you two want to go back?”
When both girls shook their heads, Molly said, “Thanks. I was hoping you’d say yes and insist I go with you.”
Molly followed closely behind Carla. They made one turn to the right and walked into a smaller room piled high with more boxes and wooden crates. Molly could see that some of the large crates had already been opened. She moved to the first one and caught her breath. Sitting on top of a mound of packing straw was a single dish. She picked it up and ran her hand across the surface of the dish and then around the rim. Without saying a word, she turned it over and then carefully placed it back on the straw. “Is this the only one, or are there more? I mean, with this pattern?”
“There’s a full set in there. Sixteen, I think. Cups, saucers, soups, the gamut. It’s not one of my favorites. Those strutting birds and sprays of flowers are kind of insipid.”
“Do you have any idea what these are?” Molly asked. “I mean value-wise?”
Carla’s eyes were scanning the room. She seemed to be distracted as she moved from box to box. She turned to Molly and folded her arms impatiently. “No. That’s why you’re here.”
Molly was sympathetic with what Carla was going though, but still that was no reason for her to be short with her. She was no longer interested in attempting to be polite, and decided it was time to let her know. “Well, these
insipid
dishes are eighteenth-century Italian faience. This dish is probably worth about nine hundred bucks. I’d have to check current values, so that’s just a guess.”
“You’re kidding. Just that one dish?”
Molly’s voice was brisk. “I don’t kid about stuff like this.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s check another box.” She tried hard to ignore the thick, cloying air. She could feel perspiration already running down her back. She focused on what might be in the next box instead of where she was. But she knew, no matter what they might find, she could manage maybe another five minutes in here, and that was the max.
Carla selected a nearby cardboard box. “This old packing tape is really brittle,” Carla said. “I should be able to just use a fingernail to start a tear.” It only took a moment to get the tape off. Carla was soon pulling out several layers of crumpled newspaper. She unwrapped a small jug and handed it to Molly. The light tone of her voice seemed forced. “This is kind of cute. We could use this in the tasting room.”
In spite of her growing anger with Carla’s indifference to her problem and her sudden change in attitude, Molly’s eyes lit up as she reached for the jug. She heard Emma’s quick intake of breath. She looked at Emma and smiled. “Cute? What do you think, Emma?”
Emma moved closer to Molly. Her grin was huge. “I’ve never heard Bow jugs called cute before. Can I hold it? I might never get the chance again!”
Molly handed Emma the jug. She said to Carla, “Whoever your grandmother bought this from was a collector. This baby is worth a cool two grand, or I’ll bite my tongue.”
Emma whistled. “Wow! I’ve only seen these in pictures.” She handed it back to Molly. “Here. I don’t want to be responsible for it.”
Michelle shrugged. “Doesn’t look all that special to me.”
“Big bucks, Michelle,” Emma said. “Really big.”
Carla had just pulled out a small wooden box. She looked at Molly. “Wonder what we’ll find in this one.” She opened it and smiled. “I’ll be damned. Old silver wine labels!” She handed Molly the box. “I told you I’d found some great stuff!”
Molly’s forehead was damp and her sweatshirt was clinging to her back. She began to hear a ringing in her ears. Great finds or not, she couldn’t stay a moment longer. She could actually feel the walls closing in on her. “Great. Uh, look, I really have to get out of here.”
Carla was elbow-deep into the large box. Ignoring Molly, she pulled out a silver-mounted clear glass claret jug. “Oh, this is gorgeous!”
“Stunning,” Molly said. She put down the box and began to step back. “Looks like it’s Victorian. If it’s signed, even better.”
Carla handed it to Molly. Annoyed, Molly turned it over and squinted. “I’m not sure, but the maker’s mark might be Robert Harper. He was a fine silversmith. I’d have to check my marks book to be sure.” Molly handed the jug back to Carla.
“Is that good?” Carla asked.
Molly continued to back away. “Very good.” She could feel her heart pumping. “Twelve hundred, if it’s perfect.”
“Wait!” Carla said. “Just take a look at these wine labels and then we’ll leave.”
Molly picked up the small box again. She took a deep breath, opened it, and gave Carla a weak smile. Some of the chains on the labels were broken. “Nice. We can use these.” She set the box down on a table near one of the crates. “If you want to stay, that’s fine. I’m leaving, Carla. I really, really have to.”
Molly’s annoyance with Carla was at the boiling point. How much clearer could she be? It was as if Carla were purposely ignoring her. She motioned to Emma and Michelle to move aside and brushed past them. She was thankful there were no twists and turns to try to remember. Once out of the small side room, it was a straight shot to the shed and she was there in no time. She found an old metal chair and plopped herself down. She could hear her heart hammering in her ears. After a few seconds, she got up and flung the door open. She stepped outside and sucked in as much fresh air as she could.
There are moments of clarity that pop up at the strangest times, and Molly experienced one that moment she’d never forget. Facing your fears was bullshit. She’d just faced hers and lost. Even the lure of treasure hadn’t been worth it. She’d succumbed to pride and the curse of greed that drives antiques dealers, and that made her angry. She also decided that once she looked over Carla’s finds and gave her the valuation information, she was out of there. Carla Jessop was on her own.
Chapter 25
 
MOLLY HEADED for her van parked alongside the shed. She opened the door on the driver’s side and reached for her tote. Fishing out her cigarettes, she lit one quickly, then leaned against the open door and inhaled deeply. She’d only been outside for a few minutes when two pickups arrived. The first one parked in front of the shed. Two men got out and headed inside. The second pickup seemed to idle, as if waiting for someone, or maybe, Molly thought, to see if he too, was needed. Molly could barely see the driver over the steering wheel. She didn’t know if he was slumping down in the seat or just short. It was his cap, however, that made her notice him. Most of the laborers wore baseball caps, but this man wore what appeared to be an old-fashioned shooter’s cap with a short, peaked brim. What made her think of a shooter’s cap was the gun rack attached to the rear window. Somehow the combination seemed to fit.
Molly quickly lost interest and turned away. She was still seething about Carla’s indifference and with herself for not holding her ground in the first place, when she saw the second truck finally pull away. She checked her watch. She hoped Emma at least would have the courtesy to come out and join her. She quickly discounted that thought. Emma had much on her mind. Worrying about Molly’s pride wasn’t one of them. But, she decided, if Emma wasn’t out in five more minutes, she would go in and call her. Molly didn’t have to wait much longer. Emma stepped outside, with Michelle still in the open doorway. “We can go back now. Michelle wants to ride with us, okay? She’s mad at her mother and doesn’t want to ride with her.”
BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
9.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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