The Case of the Angry Auctioneer (Auction House Mystery Series Book 1) (16 page)

“Alright,” Kiefer grumbled. He dug out an additional ten and handed the 30 to Cookie who accepted the half-payment. “Thank you,” she said. She escorted them to the door of her consultation room. “You know,” she said quietly, “you did get to hear from your dad, dad-in-law.”

The Austrings paused. “You’re right,” Kiefer said. He shook hands with Cookie and with Jasper.

“If only that awful other man hadn’t interrupted,” Emily said. “I wonder who that was.”

Cookie smiled and shook her head. Jasper knew that Cookie knew but was not sharing with the Austrings who now headed toward the stairs, talking to each other. They paused and Kiefer turned back toward Cookie and Jasper. “So you’ll still be coming over to the new house to do the clearing?”

“Oh yes,” Cookie said. “The current owner’s paying for that.”

“Well, thanks. Thanks again,” Kiefer said. He hurried his wife away.

Behind the closed door of Cookie’s office, Jasper asked, “Okay, Sis. Who was the interloper?”

Cookie smiled in that annoying older twin kind of way she had sometimes. “You tell me.”

“Oh, come on,” Jasper began to complain. Then it came to her. A clear picture in her head. Short man. Sturdy stance. Pushy. Dressed in a suit jacket and tie – just like he was getting ready to conduct a fund-raising auction. “Jimmy! It was Jimmy, wasn’t it?”

“Uh-huh. You got it.”

“Oh, blessed cheese-head,” Jasper said.

“That just about sums it up,” Cookie said.

“Bid and buy at Biggs!” Grace recited into the phone so quickly that she could’ve been an auctioneer herself. It came out sounding like BiddenbuyitBiggs. “Yeah, yeah. Right, right. We never buy things. You wouldn’t want us to. We take stuff on consignment.

“Now listen, you big bag of wind! What if we paid you 50 bucks and we coulda got you a hundred on auction? Well, if you do find another auctioneer who’ll buy your stuff outright, just remember – he’s a crook! Thanks for calling,” she added in a super sweet voice.

She slammed the phone down on the marble countertop. “Another worthless windbag,” “Seems like they’re asking to be cheated. What’s up with you?” she asked Jasper who stood waiting just inside the office.

“I mean, you’ve been here a lot longer than I have – “

“Don’t go pullin’ the age card on me, baby girl,” Grace said. She pinched Jasper’s cheek affectionately.

“But, Grace, don’t you think there’s something to that old saying, ‘The customer’s always right?’”

“You’ve spent too much time in church, honey. The auction draws a tough crowd. You gotta hold your own with this bunch or they’ll eat you alive.”

“I’m tough,” Jasper said.

Kelly snorted. She was busy magic-marking numbers on a stack of fresh bidder cards. “Tough as chicken skin,” she mumbled.

“I heard that.” Jasper lifted her chin.

“You were supposed to!” Kelly said. “You think I say these things to amuse myself?”

“Well, what the heck – what the hell do I say to that?” Jasper held her hands palms up.

Kelly snorted again and Grace gave Jasper a light elbow to the ribs.

Kelly said, “You can’t pull that off, lady. You shouldn’t even try.”

Jasper couldn’t think of a single smart-alecky retort.

Grace reached an arm around her shoulders. “She’s right, honey. Just be yourself. You’ll do just fine.”

A man on the other side of the counter cleared his throat. “Can’t anybody get waited on around here?” he asked. There was no smile in his voice.

“Who’s not getting waited on?” Grace said.

Another bidder had come up to the counter and Jasper turned to help. “Number 67,” the large mahogany-skinned man said.

“Oh, you’re a regular,” Jasper said. She found his number on the list of permanent bidders, faithful auction-goers who got to claim the same number as their own by dint of visiting the auction week after week, some of them for many years. “Mr. Johnson.” Jasper marked a line across the plastic sheet cover through his name and number. Grace would register him in the computer program later so he was on record as a bidder that evening.

“Call me Ernie,” the big man said.

“Jasper.”

“Got a joke for you, Jasper. Why did the Auctioneer cross the block? To sell something of course!”

“That’s just ….. kind of groan-worthy. I don’t know what to say, Ernie.”

Ernie held a big grin on his face. “Just say it’s bad. Big Bad Ernie. I got my reputation to keep up.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you, Mr. Big Bad Ernie Johnson.”

He saluted her with a two-finger wave, took his card with the big 67 written in red across the top, and headed purposefully into the main auction room to preview items that would be auctioned that night. If he found something he liked, Jasper knew he would scrawl the item description and his top bid on the back of his card so that Kelly could proxy-bid up to that amount for him.

Grace was still on the phone, rat-a-tat-tatting her fingers against the marble that topped the counter underneath the phone and the charge card reader. It was auction day! She had plenty to do! Jasper admired her friendliness under pressure even if it was just a polite veneer half the time. “Grace clicked down the receiver. “Some people just don’t get it. What’s up, Jasper?”

Jasper explained that she had to leave the building for a while. She had two last minute look-ats that Ted had handed off to her, and a 1:30 meeting with Ray Clippert to get a new contract signed. She didn’t tell Grace that she also wanted to secure Mr. Clippert’s permission for the house clearing Cookie had scheduled on the Austrings’ behalf for Friday evening. She loved her sister and respected her work but she didn’t like to rub her beliefs in someone else’s face. Grace was a good-natured person and, from what she’d seen so far, pretty accepting about other people’s peccadilloes but maybe ghost hunting and house clearing were beyond her ken.

Grace’s reaction startled her. “What is that jackass doing sending you off alone. You’ve only been here two weeks. Take one of the guys with you. Tony!”

Tony, busy out on the floor, demonstrating how easily the drawers of a bureau opened and closed to a customer, looked up, waved, and kept going with his demonstration.

“Why, that lazy little toad! I swear they can read my mind when there’s extra work to do.”

“Grace, Grace. That’s not necessary.” Jasper put a calming hand on Grace’s arm. “Ted said these were really simple. Somebody’s Precious Moments collection and an apartment with a few furniture pieces. I can handle it.”

“Well, you know what your father the philosopher used to say? Have your precious moments now. Don’t hold on to the things.”

“Jimmy said that? Maybe there were things I didn’t know about him.”

“Most of it you wouldn’t want to know,” Grace said. Some customers approached the counter. “Just a minute, you guys. I’ll be right with you.” She took Jasper’s elbow and walked her away from the people. “You say you’re going on that appointment to Ray Clippert’s? Doesn’t that sort of give you the willies? I mean, you gotta remember that it was just about this time of day when Jimmy god rest his goddamned soul went to the Clippert house. And you know what happened to him.”

“Grace! Don’t be silly. Ray Clippert is at Forest Park Nursing Center now. Nothing can happen to me at a nursing home. I’ll be back way before it’s time for the auction.”

“W-e-l-l. Just a goddamn minute, Bobby! I said I’d be right there.”

“Come on, Gracie,” the man at the counter wheedled.

“Jasper, keep your cell phone with you at all times.”

“Great. I’m fine. I’ll do good,” Jasper said, edging out of the office.

“You’ll do great!” Grace called after her. “Now what are you fellas chafin’ at the bit for? Go get ‘em, Jasper!”

“Go get ‘em, Jasper!” the men echoed.

Jasper waved and marched briskly away, shooting out brief “hi’s,” “just fines,” to customers entering the building as she left. Even in the rough world of auctioneering, mutual respect helped soften the edges of human interaction.

Jasper’s two auction look-ats went just as planned. The first one, at a small apartment in a rent-controlled building for seniors, wrenched her heart a bit. A woman no taller than five feet showed her in to her place. It smelled of cauliflower and cabbage and, indeed, there was a pot of soup simmering on the gas range in the kitchenette. The 80ish woman led Jasper into a bedroom piled up with dolls and teddy bears. The Precious Moments collection of black-eyed girl and boy figurines took up the wide windowsill.

Jasper pretended to scrawl on her notepad but there wasn’t anything noteworthy. She broke it to the woman as gently as she could without patronizing her. “Brand name collectibles like this just aren’t bringing much on the auction block. Right now. Uh - Mrs. Sperling.”

The woman’s hunched shoulders straightened a bit. “Then I’ll just have to wait,” she said.

“I’m glad you took this so well,” Jasper said as Mrs. Sperling escorted her to the door.

“Just as well. If I die before the price comes up, they go to my lousy excuse for a daughter-in-law.”

“Well, all righty then.”

Jasper’s next look-at took her to the home of two professors from Forest Grove College. Theirs was a red brick ranch house a few blocks west of campus. It had the appearance of upper middle class respectability. Jasper knew better than to judge by appearances. Inside, the two female professors walked her through the sparsely furnished living room to show her the furniture they wanted to auction. Maybe they had had to sell other things. One woman kept her arm draped over the other’s shoulders while Jasper examined their dining room set.
Oh God
, she thought,
another chance to break people’s hearts
. Aloud she said, “Nice Windsor set. Maple. Six chairs.”

“The hutch goes too,” one of the professors said.

“The server, dear.”

“We have the expert right here,” the first professor, the taller one said. “Hutch or server?” she asked.

Jasper hesitated. She took a deep breath and said, “Hutch, server, buffet, or sideboard. See the thing is, it may not matter what you call it. It’s not part of the original set. See – look really close at the finish. It’s different.”

“Maybe the family who had it before used the wrong finish,” the shorter professor said.

“That would be your family, dear.”

“There she goes again – always about my family. I’m sociology. She’s art. They always told me to watch out.”

Jasper stepped between them. “And the chairs – they don’t really match the table,” she said.

The woman turned their mutual glower upon Jasper. They were not pleased.

She backed toward the door. “What’s more important than any of that is that formal dining room sets are not selling so well right now. Not at our auction house.”

“I knew we should’ve tried that new guy I saw in the shopping news,” the art professor said.

“He auctions on line,” the sociologist said.

Jasper’s hand reached found the doorknob behind her. “Good, good idea. Well, ladies, wish I could’ve helped.” She edged out the door. Her cell phone went off with Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of the Cole Porter song, “Love for Sale.” The auction house was calling.

“Jasper here,” she said.

“Everything okay out there, baby girl?” Grace asked.

“Ladies! Bosh. Did you hear that?” Jasper heard from inside the half-opened door.

“Peachy,” she told Grace.

Jasper hurried down the front sidewalk and escaped into her car. Grace wanted to know where she was and whether she had found anything auctionable. “Nope. Just as predicted,” Jasper said. The professors emerged onto their front porch. Jasper waved cheerfully at their angry faces and accelerated away. “Whew!”

“You sure you’re okay?” Grace asked.

“Oh, you bet. I’m off now to the nursing home.”

“Guess you can’t get into any trouble there.”

“Trouble and I are not even on speaking terms,” Jasper said with a pseudo laugh.

“Be right there. Gotta go, Jasper. Hurry back,” Grace said. The phone went silent in Jasper’s hand. She laid it on the seat next to her and focused on driving across town to the Forest Park Nursing Center. All she had to do was head west to the river and then turn right. Ten minutes max

A half hour later, Jasper finally pulled into a parking stall at the nursing home. “Love for Sale” was coming from her cell phone again. She didn’t want to explain that her lousy sense of direction had reared its awkward head again. She left the cell phone singing away on the passenger seat, grabbed her clipboard with the auction contract clamped to the front, and headed into the one-story blond brick building.

The resident directory posted inside the front door said that R. Clippert was in SE 3. Jasper had to ask only three uniformed assistants for help before arriving at SE 3. She used the brass knocker to tap out Shave and a Haircut.

“Nobody’s home!” a gruff voice shouted from inside

“Mr. Clippert! It’s me, Jasper Biggs from the auction house.”

“Don’t want any. Go away”

An older woman using a cane to make her way slowly down the hall paused next to Jasper. She rapped on the door with the curved head of her cane. “Ray Clippert? There’s a nice young lady out here wants to talk to you.” To Jasper she said, “You look okay.” The woman opened the door. “Go on in,” she told Jasper. “He won’t bite.”

“You interfering old biddy!” the man inside shouted. He was lying down on the sofa, a brown and orange afghan draped over his legs. “Well, get yourself in here, girly. You want to give me a deathly chill?”

Jasper stepped inside. The air smelled of urine and moth balls. “This won’t take long, Mr. Clippert,” she said. She hoped that was true.

Ray Clippert struggled up to a seated position. Jasper hurried over so he wouldn’t grow any gruffer.

Jasper perched atop a short stack of newspapers on a stepstool. “I brought the auction contract for you to sign.”

“Oh, talk to my daughter. She’s another busybody. She’ll know what to tell you to do with your paperwork.”

“It’s not much. She doesn’t have Power of Attorney, so you have to sign this yourself or we can’t go ahead with the auction.”

“Who says I want to go ahead with the auction?”

“Why, don’t you want to make some money for yourself? This can’t be cheap living here and keeping your house too.”

“Money, money, money. It’s all you females think about. Fee Males. Get it?”

Don’t take it personally, don’t take it personally, don’t take it personally
, Jasper told herself. “The idea is to make money for you.”