A Ghost to Die For (18 page)

“Uh, Geraldine, on the way over here, Alex told me about the other painting, what we now know as the impostor painting. He knows where it is. It is in private hands and, well; we, Alex and myself are hesitant to bring these lovely people into this mystery. I was wondering, would the impostor painting be worth anything?”

Geraldine chuckled. “Shannon if you mean Harriet Van Wyck and her husband Otis, then I certainly agree with your description, they are a lovely couple. I’ve known about their painting for many years. However, it was I who sought to protect them and I chose not to tell you about their painting. Yes, their painting is the impostor. As to its value, perhaps at best it would have novelty value, and only because of the history. However, the real value would be to have both paintings. Oh, my, now that would be some auction, to auction them off as a pair.” Geraldine punctuated her statement with raised eyebrows.

I smiled. “Now, that is an offer to consider. I wonder if Harriet and Otis would be willing to part with their painting and we could share all proceeds fifty-fifty?”

“Let’s wait and see how all of this plays out. And Shannon, if you are serious about the auction, I’d be more than happy to oversee it. And by the way, I do believe that Harriet and Otis would favorably consider your idea. But for now, I’ll not say a word to them. I’ll wait and let you decide.”

That said, I helped Geraldine pack my painting back into its box and then I helped her close up her office. I must say, our conversation was indeed lively on the drive to Blackthorne House. I invited her in for coffee. We were in the front parlor sipping coffee when Alex arrived.

Chapter 32

He barely greeted us as he rushed in. “Shannon, Geraldine, I’ve got news about that key, but we need to act on it right now. Shannon do whatever you need to, but we need to leave in ten minutes, we’re driving up to Orange County, to the City of Orange. There’s an antique dealer there who knows about the safe deposit boxes.” Alex said that all in one breath, he stopped, took a deep breath and turned to Geraldine. “I apologize for being abrupt, but Shannon needs to meet with this man tonight. He’s leaving in the morning and won’t be back in town for several weeks.”

She stood up, grabbed her purse and said, ”No problem, I was about to leave anyway. I do hope you will keep me informed on this. This mystery has piqued my curiosity.”

Alex saw Geraldine to the door. I dashed up stairs to freshen up and in ten minutes we were on our way.

“Where is it we are going?”

“To the City of Orange, in the historic district, there’s a section of antiques shops and malls. Most the shops will be closed by the time we get there, but this dealer has agreed to stay open for us.”

“Alex, begin at the beginning, please.”

“When I arrived at my bank, I asked to meet with the bank’s president, he’s an old acquaintance and he had some free time. When I told him about the key, he said he was certain it was from the old bank, the one that closed no too long ago. And I was right. That bank’s building is now a high-rise hotel in San Diego. Well, he made a few phone calls and found out that when the hotel took over the building, that in the basement there were odds and ends of old equipment, storage shelves, a teller’s counter, that sort of stuff. In going through the an old oak teller’s counter with storage cabinets underneath it, they found a small quantity of old safe deposit boxes, still locked and an old ledger that gave the names of the account holders for the boxes. Anyway, it looks like these old boxes were the only ones that remained in which the account holders could not be located. My friend said that there were about fourteen of the safe deposit boxes. In checking the ledger, the numbers on the boxes coordinated with names in the ledger of the account holders who were never located. Shannon, these are antique safe deposit boxes. Large, about the size of shoe boxes and heavy, made of steel. These safe deposit boxes go back to the time of the late 1800s, the time of the bank heist. Well, once the hotel took over, the boxes and other items left behind all these years, were sold to dealers. As it turns out, this is a lucky break for us. Had all that stuff been auctioned, I doubt there would be leads as to where the safe deposit boxes are today, because the auction company would have handled the sale and given over a percentage of the profit to the hotel. Because of Internal Revenue Service tax return requirements, the hotel had receipts for every dealer they sold items to. The dealer who bought the safe deposit boxes is named Thom Drake. Commercial and industrial equipment, especially bank equipment and saloon fixtures are his specialties. He has the safe deposit boxes and just brought them out for sale this past week. I spoke with him, he has box number 17.”

“But hasn’t he opened up the safe deposit boxes?”

“No. He did not have keys. I asked him that question, and he said he would have had to cut open each box, destroying whatever value they have for sale. These boxes are not at all similar to modern safe deposit boxes. They open like a drawer, but the drawer is restricted to opening only half way. You must reach into the drawer to access the contents. Evidently, it’s quite the rage to sale these boxes as surprise packages. You know, like the old-fashioned grab bag sales. People just can’t resist the element of surprise.”

“And he his willing to sale us number 17?”

“Yeah, I told him I just came across an old box of stuff in my attic that had belonged to a relative or in-law, I wasn’t sure of the name, but I had the key for number 17. He said he’d sell it to me for fifty dollars.”

“Wow, what a bargain. But what if he asks you for the name of the account holder?”

“Well, I did tell him I wasn’t sure of the name and that it could be an in-law. In which case I would not necessarily know, especially from over a hundred years ago. Really, Thom was more impressed with the fact that I had the key. He asked if he could use this knowledge for a newspaper article. You know, the connection to the Blackthorne family, Eric, the magician, and all that. I told him sure. Why not, if the local newspaper in the City of Orange wants to do a human interest story about the safe deposit boxes and it will help Thom sell them, why not?”

I stared at Alex. I could think of several reasons why not. “Alex, I won’t have to open the box in front of him, will I?”

“No.”

“And what about him asking about its contents?”

“He won’t.”

Now it was my turn to say, “Why not?”

“Because it isn’t his business. Shannon, he might ask if I would mind if a local newspaper reporter contacts me about the safe deposit box. And that’s okay, I can stall a reporter until we know what is going on. And I don’t have to tell a reporter the truth, it is not any more their business than it is the dealer’s business.”

I thought this over for a few moments. Alex noticed my silence.

“Hey, it will be okay. I promise,” Alex said. “No person is going to bulldoze us into giving out information that we don’t intend to divulge.”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “How much further?”

“About thirty miles.”

For the next half-hour I watched the world go by outside the passenger side window. It was near dinnertime and the after work traffic was getting congested. Alex exited the freeway and we drove toward Orange Circle, the hub of the antique shopping district. Most of the shops had closed up, which turned out to be fortunate, because we pulled right up to the curb and parked The sign above the shop read;
Bank on It
. We got out, walked up to the storefront, Alex lightly tapped on the window glass. A man came to the door, unlocked it and peeking out asked, “Alex Blackthorne?”

“Yes, and this is Shannon Delaney.”

The man opened the door and invited us in, and then he immediately shut and locked the door behind us. This brief moment gave me a chance to look at the store. It was as if we had just stepped over a threshold of time travel. The interior of the shop appeared to be from the late 1800s, a long oak counter of teller windows were off to the right. Further into the shop, was an old saloon bar. It too was of oak. Behind it on a wood plank wall were various displays of fancy mirrors and a display shelf of old saloon equipment, a couple of brass spittoons sat side by side with an array of colored glass whiskey bottles.

Thom turned to us and said, “Follow me to the back, that’s where I have your safe deposit box.”

At the back of the store we passed through a narrow open doorway and into Thom’s nondescript office. He stepped up to his desk and reached behind it, when he turned around he held the safe deposit box in his arms. “It’s a hefty one for sure. They certainly don’t make these like they used to. Uh, I was wondering, I sure would like to see what a key to these boxes looks like.”

Thom set the box on top of his desk. I reached into my purse and pulled out the key, keeping it in my open palm, I extended my hand out to show Thom. “If you look close, you can see the initials of the name of the bank and the numeral 17.”

Thom stared down at the key. “Why, I’ll be. It sure is nice to know that this box had finally found its owner.” He straightened up and smiled. “Alex you said you did not have a name for this?”

“That’s correct. You know Blackthorne House is now a B&B, but I still have family belongings stored at it. And just recently Shannon and I were up in the attic cleaning it out and we came across an old steamer trunk of things. And there was this key inside of it, stashed inside an old purse.” Alex looked so earnest, how could anyone doubt him? Thom certainly did not appear to.

“Well, that kinda fits. You see,” Thom reached over to pick up a small ledger book, he opened it up and pointed to a page, “it says here that safe deposit box number 17 belonged to a lady named Jill C. Snow.”

Jill C. Snow? I puzzled over that name because it rang a bell with me, though I could not fit a story or a face to it. Rats, where had I heard of that name? Jill C. Snow?

“Well, that’s good to know. At the holiday gatherings coming up soon, I can run that name by my relatives to see if they recall ever hearing it in my family. Okay, so Thom, I owe you fifty dollars, tax and all?”

“Yep, that’ll do it.”

Alex paid Thom and then Thom handed the box over to him. Thom walked us out to our car and I held the trunk open for Alex to put the box in it. In a few minutes we were on our way.

As soon as we were on the freeway and in the fast lane back to San Diego, Alex said, “Shannon, we need to delay looking at the costume. Hitting the traffic we’ll get into on the approach to San Diego, it looks like it will be late, too late if we want to take time out for dinner. I’m hungry, How about you?”

“Peas to carrots, and Etta to Sundance,” I blurted out.

“What?”

“Just a minute.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a small notepad. With pen in hand I frantically jotted down phrases.”

Alex leaned over to peek. “What in the world?”

“Shhh,” I hushed him. I worked a few more word puzzles and then I had it. “Bingo! Look.” I held up my notepad:
Jill C. Snow
is an anagram for
J.W. Collins
.

“Alex nearly lost control. He grabbed the steering wheel and regained his calm. “ J. W. Collins, one of the bank heist crooks? How did you put that together?”

“It was the name of Jill C. Snow, it kept itching at my brain. Then when you mentioned food, I remembered one of Rosario’s favorite descriptions and how I thought to myself when I met Otis and Harriet that they were such a perfect match, as a couple they are like peas to carrots. And then I remembered that early on we had discussed Andalyn’s possible involvement with Collins and Dare, drawing on the similarity of Etta Place and the Sundance Kid.”

Alex smiled. Then he reached over and lightly caressed my cheek with his hand. “I’ll never understand your uncanny ability, but I am profoundly appreciative of it. And now, more than ever, I’m hungry for food and hungry to satisfy my curiosity about the contents of the safe deposit box. It’s your call. What do we do first?”

“Open the safe deposit box. I’m feeling lucky about number 17.”

Chapter 33

We were home. Just Alex and myself, sitting in the privacy of the back parlor, on the coffee table in front of us sat the safe deposit box. The safe deposit box was open and I was dazzled by the contents. Too shocked, amazed and afraid to touch it, I asked Alex, “How much money can that be?”

“My best guess, it’s at least two hundred thousand dollars.”

“How bizarre. Alex, how in the world did you come up with that amount?”

“Just a moment.” Alex left the room a few minutes and came back in holding the same book about San Diego history that he had used to show me a photo of Bum. He sat on the sofa next to me, with the open book. “Look, right here is the story about the bank heist. It says that after the impromptu closing of the bank that Collins and Dare owned, a bank examiner came in to assess the damage. In examining all the accounts and the bank’s financial papers, he discovered that two hundred thousand dollars was missing.” Alex snapped shut the book and laid it on the table next to the open safe deposit box. “That looks like the amount that went missing. Let’s count it to be sure.” He dove in, carefully lifting each one-inch thick string-tied packet of bills and setting them in neat rows on the table. Almost all the strings fell apart upon handling, though the little stacks stayed upright. When Alex was finished, he tallied up the money. Indeed, he was correct. There was exactly two hundred thousand dollars.