“Thank you, that’s lovely to hear. I hope Hilda is all right after last night’s shock?”
“She wasn’t home so… But it was her book collection. And some furniture she inherited from an aunt. More of her things than mine, I suppose. Can tell you item by item if I’d take out my lists.”
“Lists?” Vicky queried.
Perkins nodded solemnly. “I am very particular about the way I store things. Everything in boxes, marked with what’s in it. And I have typed-up lists that say exactly what each box contains. Item by item. Those people upset me.”
He pointed at the men in protective clothing. “They show me all kinds of things that are supposed to have been in my barn, while I’m sure they were never there. First it was small metal elements, now a watch crystal. But I had no watch in there, nothing like it.”
Vicky tried not to jump at this chance. “Metal elements? Oh, you mean, like a lock? You must have had a padlock on the barn door.”
“Why are you asking me?” Perkins looked her over with a frown. “Michael Danning also called me this morning, at an insane early hour, to ask about a lock on the door.”
“Oh, I suppose that uh…sometimes kids get into a barn or shed and set a fire, just because they don’t know better.” Vicky fought her flush. “I was just wondering if that could be the case here.”
“There was a padlock on the door. A good heavy one. I’m careful with my belongings.” Perkins grunted. “Contrary to what people seem to be accusing me of. Those old files were police property. I don’t have those lying around for any fool to go through. Danning asked me if the lock had been tampered with. That is hard to say as it was scorched by the fire. I sure hope he is not after some sensationalist story. I don’t want my name involved with anything shady. And I told him so.”
Vicky assured him Michael’s coverage was very factual and Perkins’ good name would not be damaged by anything the Gazette wrote. She took her leave quickly before Perkins could start thinking her appearance on the scene was more than just neighborly interest.
As she walked back, her mind was working overtime on what Michael could be looking into, inquiring about a lock and possible tampering with it.
He had wanted a look at the files, and Mortimer Gill too. Both had heard from Hilda Perkins that her husband was out fishing and couldn’t give them the files until he was back after the weekend. Hilda had probably not wanted to risk ruining something about her husband’s perfect storage system.
But being the pushy and arrogant person he was, Mortimer Gill might not have waited for Perkins to come back from his fishing trip and had broken into the barn to take some files away to look over. Even with a padlock on the door, it would have been easy to get in if you really wanted to. After all, Mortimer was a handyman who was excellent with all kinds of tools.
If Mortimer had secured the police files on Celine’s case that way, illegally, it was obvious he would not tell the police about it, not even after the fire last night. He couldn’t very well admit he had broken into a retired officer’s barn to get them.
Besides, he had asked for them in the first place, with some purpose in mind. He was probably still intending that same thing.
Maybe he even believed that what he held had now become more valuable? The law of supply and demand.
Mortimer had suggested last night that he need not work small jobs anymore soon. And this morning he had sounded really smug when he had said that whoever had lit the barn now believed it was all gone. That he couldn’t be touched anymore.
Touched in what way?
Deep in thought Vicky reached the prospective gift shop where the sound of a power saw tore at her eardrums.
Over the whine Mortimer yelled at her that Marge had arrived, he had let her in and she had disappeared with the cordless phone into the back room to dim the noise. She had some important calls to make, she had said.
After half an hour Marge emerged with a wide smile and reported she had placed orders at two companies she had looked up online. Both had initially explained politely that their brand’s exclusivity could be lost if they started supplying smaller stores without a solid reputation. Vicky could understand their concerns, but it was a catch-22 situation. If the bigger brands didn’t want to supply her, she’d never build the reputation that she’d need to get them to supply her.
Marge grinned triumphantly. “I convinced them to do business with us anyway, as it is an awesome chance for them to get exposure on the east coast. I even got a reference for yet a third company. Some studio in Wales who do handmade silk flowers. If I drop the name of the person I just talked to, they would also help me out for sure. Those flowers will look gorgeous on those sideboards that are coming in today. Maybe in a big glazed vase or something?”
Vicky nodded. She didn’t know how Marge had done it, but she had, and without twisting anybody’s arm. It had to be her enthusiasm that was just infectious. “Thanks. I’ll place the call to the studio in Wales myself. Thanks for getting the reference for me.”
“No trouble at all. You still have so much to do. Anyway I can help…”
Vicky looked around. “Yes, well, as soon as we have some furniture in place, I want to bring some of my own decorations from my home and shoot a few nice atmospheric pictures to use on my flyer.”
“You’ll need lots of those,” Marge said. “We can put them at the library and at the community center. I also know someone in the tourist information center up the road. Oh, and Ms. Tennings can take them along to her bridge drive. Lots of ladies there who will be interested in embroidered pillows and scented candles.”
“You know Ms. Tennings?” Vicky asked, and added at once, “Of course, as you know everybody around here.”
Marge laughed. “I know Ms. Tennings just a little better. She’s a former nanny and she helped me loads with the boys when they were going through a naughty phase. Last night I was thinking that she would have known how to convince them fire is dangerous. She just has this natural touch with children. And she’s an Anglophile as well. Lived in the UK for thirty years.”
“Oh, she didn’t mention that to me at all when I talked to her on the phone.” Vicky frowned. “I could have invited her over to see the store. Well, I can still do that when we are a little more organized. Now I’d better get to calling that studio in Wales.”
With renewed energy Vicky accepted the note with the phone number and the reference from Marge and went into the back.
Marge’s husband Kevin appeared after lunchtime with his painting gear and together with the student he tackled the grubby walls with energy. He also promised to do the pantry in the ocean blue Marge had gushed about before and be out before the furniture came in at five. Vicky was really looking forward to seeing her sideboards. Online they had looked wonderful, but how would they turn out upon delivery? Would they fit in the room’s space or make it look cramped?
And the leather chairs to be put at the fireplace, would they look elegant or old-fashioned? She had a clear picture in mind of how she wanted her gift shop to turn out and hoped with all her heart the end result would live up to that expectation.
The scent of the painting mixed with that of wet mortar as Mortimer Gill worked on steadily, conjuring up the old fireplace as if out of nothing. Despite the less charming sides to his character, he obviously had the skills and technical insight to pull off the job with minimal means. So far as Vicky knew, he had only made a simple sketch with some calculations that he referred to.
In the course of his work he had to dive into the chimney with his entire upper body, and Vicky shrank inwardly imagining how claustrophobic that would be. But Mortimer didn’t seem to have any problem with it, humming contently to himself.
Progress