Анна Керн - A Paw-sible Theory

“Where did this happen?”

She took a sip of coffee. “It happened at our regular Merchant’s Association meeting. Alyx and I presented the idea that it would benefit all of us to get involved in sponsoring community events such as the annual Arts Festival, taking the opportunity to show off our beautiful renovated downtown. Well, he stood up, got all red in the face and, directing his comments to Alyx, said he was tired of pushy newcomers changing the order of things. And we heard again about how long he and some of the others had been downtown and had gotten along just fine.”

“How did Alyx react to that?”

Maggie grinned. “She stood up, rested both hands on the table in front of her, and told Dan Ramsey that change was inevitable whether he liked it or not, but if he didn’t, he should consider selling so that those interested in developing the area to its full potential could do so without hindrance.

Hunter only smiled, and Maggie continued, “Ramsey was also the most vocal when we approached the group about changing business hours when we first opened our store. He and five or six others are in the minority. Most want the changes; they just didn’t know it when the old guard was always running the show,” she said, finishing her coffee.

He flipped a few pages back. “What about your employees, Bernice Kustaberry and Charvette Hattaras, anything unusual ever happen between them and Alyx?”

Maggie thought about it. “Nothing I know about. We stole Bernice from the Antique Emporium and Charvette came highly recommended by Novie Moresby next door, whom we know pretty well. Charvette used to work for her husband, Rupert. Although we all like each other and occasionally have lunch, Alyx and I don’t socialize with our employees. We prefer to keep things on a business level.”

He consulted his notes again. “What about George Lucas? What can you tell me about him?”

“Well, George isn’t really an employee,” she answered quickly. “He’s not on our payroll; we pay him by the piece, whether it’s an item he fixed or one he created. Alyx has known him for several years and she’s never said anything bad about him nor has he ever said anything bad about her. He’s a very talented man and we both feel lucky to have him as a supplier and woodworker.”

“I assume that in your business you travel to other cities to find merchandise to sell?”

“Yes, we do, but not very often. I think the last out of town trip was a couple of months ago when Alyx and Charvette went to an antique fair in Georgia, which was when Alyx gave me the key to her house, by the way. She asked me to take care of her cats. She didn’t ask for it back when she returned and I just forgot to give it back to her. In fact, it’s been here in the drawer of this desk until I took it out Monday,” she said.

He made no comment on the key issue and continued his questioning.

“Did anything unusual happen at the fair that you know of? Anything between Charvette and Alyx or someone else?”

She said no. He thanked her for the information and asked if he could speak to Bernice and Charvette.

“Sure, let me go tell them you want to talk to them. I’ll ask Bernice to come in first.”

“Thank you and I’d also like to speak to George.”

“It so happens, I spoke to him a little while ago and he should be here any time.”

The interview with Bernice was short, as she didn’t have a lot to tell him.

Charvette, conservatively dressed in a navy blue skirt and a light blue sweater set, appeared to be in her late forties, not unattractive but she wouldn’t have stood out in a group of women her age. A quiet look of desperation hung over her, though nothing she said or did alluded to that. She was pleasant and eager to answer his questions but didn’t have any additional information to add to what we already knew. However, I did notice her hesitance when he asked a routine question about her former employer, Rupert Moresby, in order to establish her background.

That got me thinking. Charvette had been at the hospital shortly after they admitted Alyx. How did she know Alyx was in the hospital? She said she had heard the 911 call go out on some sort of radio, but that wasn’t necessarily true. So what was she doing there? And why was she so interested in hearing what Dr. Casey was saying when she pretended to be looking for something in her purse as an excuse for lingering? Then there was the thing about the flowers. Maggie had caught that but had dismissed it as irrelevant. How did Charvette know who sent the flowers since there was no name on the card?

Maggie told Hunter he was welcome to use the office if he wanted to speak to George and Hunter said he did. She left and, while he waited, he made a call to his assistant. Luckily, I overheard.

“I need you to make a few appointments for me as soon as possible. First, call Maggie Broeck and set up a time when she can meet me at Ms. Hille’s house; try for tomorrow. Also, call Rupert Moresby of Moresby Realty, and Novie Moresby, Ocean Street Café, and tell both of them that I’ll be stopping by to talk to them in the next two days. Just get a general time frame from them.”

“Also,” he continued, “call Dan Ramsey, and make an appointment for a specific time, and make it at his convenience. Since you’ll be taking a lunch late, take your time coming back.”

“I gave an order to a cat, and the cat gave it to its tail.”

–– Chinese Proverb

CHAPTER TWENTY: A Crook or Whistle Blower

Tired and hungry, I was profoundly grateful that Hunter was able to interview George Lucas at Antiques & Designs instead of his home. I had accompanied Alyx to Lucas’s house once or twice and I knew that George lived in a rural area outside the city limits. There were a few farms and some homes, mostly on large tracts of land––some large enough to have horses. His house was a modest two-story home with a detached garage and a large shed separate from the house. A long, dirt driveway led to the house, guarded by gigantic Florida pines. The large shed was full of broken furniture, pieces of furniture, lumber and a large inventory of architectural items. In contrast to the shed, the living room was clean, uncluttered, and tastefully decorated. He had told Alyx that very few pieces were authentic––the rest were reissues or reconstructed. Some parts were authentic, some parts not.

Luckily, I did not have to travel so far out today. The two men were settled at one of the antique tables in the front showroom. I listened in from behind a potted palm.

“I read an article in the Times, ” said George, “that said the hot market for modernist furniture is calling into question the authenticity of the pieces as they are rebuilt, repainted, reproduced, or newly assembled. I read that a twentieth-century trestle table sold for over three million dollars. I’d hate to be the owner of that piece and then discover that it wasn’t authentic.”

Hunter asked him if he used authentic parts to reconstruct the items he sold.

“Yes, I do, but not just with modern pieces, I also do it with antiques and other pieces of furniture.”

George quickly provided an explanation.

“Antiques & Designs’ customers are fully aware of what they’re buying. I put a sticker on the back of each piece I work on, with my signature and an explanation of what was done to the piece.”

“Do you have other clients besides Antiques & Designs?” asked the lawyer, checking his ever-present recorder.

“I’ve had other clients in the past. Lately, I just work for myself––selling at flea markets and shows, and Antiques & Designs.”

“Did your other clients disclose the origins of the pieces they sold?”