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“What in blazes is botherin’ you?”
Leroy let out a burp that practically fogged the window. George held his nose with one hand and tried to wave the odor away. “I think it was the fried chicken.” Leroy burped again. George opened the door of the truck and stepped out. “For Pete’s sake! Man, you stink like a garbage dump. You better keep all that food you ate to yerself. I don’t want no puking or any other disgusting thing happenin’ round here.”
Leroy held his stomach. “Seriously, boss, I’m gonna be sick.”
“For the love of all get-out,get outand go behind the pickup.” George was getting frustrated, and he began to think that his good fortune was taking a turn for the worse. He had had no plan when they left the night before. The only thing George had on his mind was money. It had come so easily that evening, he figured he could get his hands on some more. He just hadn’t figured out how, or even why that junk was in such demand. Even if he got it back, what would he do with it? Especially since he didn’t know what all the fuss was about. Nope. The day had been long, and it was going to be nightfall soon enough. He had to figure out his next move. Driving with Leroy’s gastrointestinal issues for hours was not appealing in the least. George kept staring at that back door. He peered to see if he could spot any security cameras. Nothing he couldn’t get past.
George thought for a few minutes while Leroy regained some of his composure. He had a plan. He’d make Leroy wait in the pickup while he sneaked into the back of the workshop. He’d hide until the place closed, then he’d check everything out. Not having a clue about the layout, he knew he would be going in blind. He shrugged. He should have thought of that earlier. Check it out from the front? Too late now. If he got caught, he’d say he walked in the wrong way. No harm done. Now he had to plan his getaway. For sure, an alarm would go off when he came out of the building, so Leroy would have to be waiting for him. He told Leroy to rub dirt on the license plates so no one could read them. “Ain’t that against the law?” Leroy asked, stupefied.
“No foolin’, but we don’t want anyone to ID my pickup either. We can clean the plates when we’re far enough away. I’ll ring your phone once. Do. Not. Answer. It. Got it?” George was questioning his own good sense and whether he had any left. George coolly walked toward the rear of the building, casually looking in both directions. Thankfully, he didn’t look like a total mess. Just a worn-out handyman with a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. Cowboy boots, scruffy beard. He surely didn’t look like he was going to a black-tie event, but he didn’t look like he had crawled out from under a railroad trestle either. He sniffed his armpits.Ew.He hoped he didn’t run into anybody ’cause he was kinda stinky.
George finally reached the rear doorway and peeked in. Nothing too different from any other workshop. Tools, wood, table saw. Paint and brushes. Nothing different except the brass headboard that caught his eye. It looked familiar. He inched closer. And the side table. Yep. This was the stuff. But what of it? Nothing looked particularly special. If anything, it looked pretty much the same as when he had sold it. Faded, broken, and in a state of disrepair. So why would anyone want it? And more than one person at that. George was going to do his darnedest to figure out what was so valuable.
His first thought was that perhaps the brass headboard was really made of gold. Nah. Too much of a fairy tale. He heard footsteps outside. Someone bolted the door from the outside. It was a cylinder lock that required a key on either side of the door. If it was locked from the outside, you needed a key if you were inside in order to get out. Much to his dismay, the interior key was not in the lock on his side of the door. Unless he could bust the lock, he wasn’t getting out that way. He thought they had done away with those types of locks. Fire hazard. He shrugged. Nothing he could do about it now. He’d call Leroy and tell him to meet him around front, but he remembered he had told Leroy not to answer the phone. He had to come up with a plan B or wait until morning. He knew Leroy wouldn’t last that long. He’d be craving something deep-fried soon enough.
George decided to check out the front of the showroom. See if he could make his escape that way. He crawled along the floor of the showroom and looked out the big glass doors. He noticed someEXITsigns. He’d take the nearest one to the rear of the building. If he got caught, he’d tell them he had gotten locked in. Period. They couldn’t prove anything different.
Chapter Twenty-three
Cranberry Lake—Cobblestone Hill
Clive had suggested that Logan take Colette and Max out for a boat ride while he waited for Cullen Bodman to call. He wanted the others to enjoy the day out on the lake. And he thought that Logan was showing some interest in Colette, which he wanted to encourage and facilitate. The Internet was back up, and so was the landline. He was certain he would hear something shortly. But the entire afternoon had gone by without a word. He couldn’t understand why Cullen Bodman hadn’t returned his call. Clive had said it was urgent.
It occurred to Clive that perhaps Cullen hadn’t gotten the message yet. Strange thing in these techno-times. But then again, he lived in an area with sketchy cell service because of the mountains. Clive decided to phone him again. This time a woman answered. “Hello, the BARRN. This is Luna Bodman. How can I help you?”
“Yes. Hello. My name is Clive Dunbar. I represent the Millstone estate.”
Luna started to shake. How could she be sure it was really him? “Oh?” She pretended ignorance.
“Yes. I understand Mr. Cullen Bodman purchased a container from the garage of the Millstone Manor.”
Luna wasn’t sure how to answer him. What if he was a phony? And wherewasher brother? “How can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m trying to locate the property. There was a mix-up during the sale.” Clive wasn’t sure how much information he should share. She hadn’t acknowledged receipt of the goods.
“I believe you are going to have to speak to my brother about it, sir. Unfortunately, he isn’t available at the moment. May I take a message?”
Clive felt a little more comfortable knowing it was Bodman’s sister he was speaking to and not a clerk. He decided to share his concern about Rowena and Arthur Millstone. “Do you know if your brother received any calls from either Rowena or Arthur Millstone?”
“No. Not to my knowledge. May I ask why? Perhaps I can be of further assistance if I have more information.”
Clive hesitated again. “It has to do with the late Randolph Millstone’s estate. I’m not at liberty to discuss any details. However, should either of them get in touch with you, please do not discuss anything or have any transactions with them until you speak to me.” Clive sounded as serious as a nuclear threat.
“Certainly, Mr. Dunbar.” By that time, Luna was sure she was speaking to the attorney for Randolph Millstone, but she wasn’t ready to turn over information or the goods. Not until she spoke with Gaines and Cullen. “I’ll be happy to give him the message. I should be hearing from him shortly.” She hoped.
“Thank you, Ms. Bodman.” Clive hung up and continued pacing the floor.
* * *
It was just around five o’clock when Logan, Colette, and Max walked up the dock and climbed the decks to the main level. Clive was standing outside the porch. “Ahoy, mates!” He waved.
“Ahoy, Mr. Clive!” Max waved. Then Colette.
“Hey, Dad. What’s the latest?” Logan set the cooler down on the deck.
“Not very much, I’m afraid.” Clive heaved a big sigh. “I was able to reach the sister, but she wasn’t very forthcoming with information. She said as soon as she heard from her brother, she’d let him know I called.”
“Do you know if he got the first message?” Colette asked.
