“It’s me cat,” he said finally. “Martha and I are going to a bed-and-breakfast, or some such nonsense next week.” He looked as morose as if he’d said he was going to Dottie Brown’s knitting class.
“Could you look after the little feller? He has a cat flap so he can take off whenever he pleases, but if you could stop in every other day or so and make sure there’s food and water down, that’s all ah ask.”
“Of course, no problem.”
“I’ll give tha a key.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
This was a Big Deal for Cyril. As far as I knew, Martha didn’t even have a key to his place.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” I assured him. “Just enjoy yourself.”
He grunted and went back to serving coffee.
The auction, which started at 1 p.m. and was supposed to end at 5 p.m., finally wrapped up around 6:45 p.m., leaving us all exhausted and aghast at the fierce bidding. In addition to the packed auction hall, there had been lots of online action, which contributed to the astronomical winning prices.
I’d never seen Patsy Elliott cry in all the years I’d known her, but her eyes were full tonight as she ran over and gave me an even tighter hug than her daughter had earlier.
“Pats, what on earth’s the matter?”
She gulped in some air. “Angus told me before we started tonight’s auction that he was giving me a cut of the commission . . .”
Here she stopped and sucked down more air. “But I never dreamed we’d fetch prices like this. Those were crazy numbers. My God, Daisy, I think it’s enough for a down payment on a house. I can’t freaking believe it!”
As I hugged her, I felt tears coming to my eyes, too. Angus had confided to me that he was grooming Patsy to take over the place someday. There was a five-year survival rate for the type of tumor he’d had, and I hoped it was a hell of a lot longer than that, but you never knew.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Claire wrinkled her nose as she looked up at us.
“Because I’m happy.”
Claire shook her head at me and smiled. “Grown-ups are so weird sometimes.”
At that moment, I spotted Serrano at the entrance, so I excused myself and hurried over to him. Tonight he was in his casual, but chic mode. Black leather jacket, jeans, and white shirt.
“Are you here to bid on a dollhouse, Detective? Or perhaps a charming French bisque?”
“Very funny. I’m on my way home after my shift. Figured I’d stop in and see how things went. Where’s Joe tonight?”
I bit my lip. “It’s a case of ‘be careful what you wish for.’ I hoped he would find a hobby that he’d enjoy, but now all his time is taken up with making miniatures. He says he’s getting so many orders, it’s tough to keep up.”
I started to tell Serrano how amazingly well the auction had gone when his attention shifted to something behind me. I turned to see Bettina and Birch talking to Angus. They looked relaxed and happy, as Birch shook Angus’s hand and clapped him on the back. There was a brightness of spirit emanating from Bettina that even being around the wine club hadn’t tainted. They didn’t seem like guilty killers to me. Just a couple who were very much in love.
Serrano’s eyes narrowed as Birch placed a hand gently on her stomach.
“By the way,” he said, never taking his eyes off the father-to-be, “we checked Harriet’s phone records. Apart from your call that afternoon, there was one more. From a cell phone belonging to PJ Avery.”