Chapter 25
“Your trunk,” I repeated.
“The locked trunk I bought yesterday,” she said.
Wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? I didn’t recall that we’d completed the sale yesterday. Not to mention the small detail that the trunk was evidence in the murder investigation. Was she serious?
“You mean the one the body was in?” I asked.
“That’s the one,” she said. “Where is it? My husband is waiting in the van.”
“I’m afraid you can’t pick it up yet,” I said, frowning.
“How dare you—”
“No one can pick anything up until the police say so,” I said.
“And when will that be?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “When Chief Burke tells me, I’ll spread the news.”
“This is unacceptable,” she said.
“Tell it to the chief,” I said, through gritted teeth.
“I need the trunk now!” she said, stamping her foot.
“Sorry. Not much I can do.”
“But what am I supposed to do when my auction ends?” she wailed.
“Your auction?”
“I’ve got it up for auction on eBay,” she said. “I’ll need to ship it to the buyer in eight days.”
She must have deduced how I felt about the idea from my face—I certainly didn’t say anything.
“It’s my trunk!” she said. “I can do anything I want with it.”
“It will be your trunk when and if you buy it,” I said. “In the meantime—”
“How much was it?” she asked, pulling out her wallet.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t remember,” I said. “And right now figuring out who owns it is academic, don’t you think?”
“Academic?” she echoed.
“After all, I doubt if the police will be finished with it for a long time,” I said.
“How long?”
“Certainly not until after the trial,” I said, with a shrug. “They’ll want it as evidence.”
“Oh, dear,” the woman said.
“In fact, a lot of times they hang on to the evidence until after all the appeals are finished,” I said. “It could be years.”
She actually whimpered.
“But don’t worry,” I said. “As soon as the police give it back, I’ll let you know. Tell me—did you see anyone else in the barn when you found the trunk? Leaving the barn, perhaps?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she said. “I thought you said it’s mine?”
“It’s yours when the police let us sell it, yes—you were the first one to bring it to the cash register. But if we knew more about what happened in the barn, maybe that would speed up what the police are doing. So did you see anyone else in the barn?”
“Who should I have seen?” she asked.
I stared at her. Was she completely clueless, or shamelessly eager to perjure herself in return for the trunk? Or possibly both?
I decided I was wasting my time. She probably wouldn’t have noticed anything that didn’t have a price tag on it, and even if she had, no sane person would believe a word she said.
“Never mind,” I said. “I’ll let you know about the trunk when I hear from the police.”
In the front yard, the SPOOR contingent had segued into a new number—The Four Tops doing “Reach Out,” with the whole audience joining in to mangle the first words of the chorus into “Owl Be There.”
On my way to check out their choreography, I passed Michael, still trying to escape from Cousin Bernie.
“But you can learn so much from knowing your ancestors,” Bernie was exclaiming.
“He’s right,” I said. “Like finding out that two of our Hollingworth ancestors had been hanged as horse thieves—so reassuring to know I could blame all my little peccadilloes on hereditary criminal tendencies. Which reminds me—Michael, Mother was looking for you.”
“Right,” Michael said, looking immensely grateful. “I’ll go find her right away.”
“The man doesn’t even know his maternal grandmother’s maiden name,” Bernie said, staring at Michael’s departing back with horror.
“I’m sure he can look it up if he needs to,” I said.
“He said perhaps he’d take an interest in ancestors when he had some prospect of becoming one himself,” Bernie went on.
“Sounds sensible to me.”
“For all you know, he could have hereditary lunacy in his family!” Bernie exclaimed.
“Probably does,” I said. “He gets along so well with all of our clan.”
“He could be anyone,” I heard Bernie mutter, as I turned away.