Proof of Murder (Beyond the Page Bookstore Mystery #4) - Lauren Elliott Page 0,16
one hand the number of dinner parties she’d hosted these past two years, so this would be wasted space for her.
A dark cherry – finished dining table had been placed along the far wall to use as a display center for this room’s auction items. There was, by a quick count, a complete twenty-plate dinner setting of Hutschen-reuther cobalt-and-gold dinner plates. They looked to be in excellent condition. Addie knew that set alone would bring in some fairly high bids, as would the Victorian Bohemian crystal stemware. But she wasn’t here to shop for more collectables. Her late aunt had left her more than enough porcelain and crystal, most of which was still stored in the attic and garage. She certainly didn’t need any more. Refocusing on the room setup, she angled the folding chairs just right toward the auctioneer’s podium. She moved on to the next room Blake had tasked her with.
Aside from a few vintage pottery mixing bowls and some copper cookware, there wasn’t much to see in the kitchen. Blake obviously didn’t expect much interest in this room from the brokers, as there were only half a dozen chairs set up. Most of what was here, he probably expected would go at the public auction or yard sale. Brokers weren’t usually as interested in these finds unless the cooking containers or tools dated back to the 1700s or earlier.
Next stop on her to-do list was the library. She knocked on the closed door and waited. She knocked again. “Charlotte, it’s me, Addie. I’m here to help with the setup.” Still no reply.
Addie pressed her ear to the wood paneling and strained to hear any sign of movement behind the doors. The design of this room’s entrance was different from the other rooms’. Although it was still in the Victorian double-wide fashion, they opened inward, contrary to the other rooms where the pocket doors slide out of the way between the walls on either side of the entry. She suspected this room was designed as such so that the occupant could lock these doors for privacy or security whereas the pocket doors had no locks.
“Is there a problem?”
“No.” She met Blake’s gaze. “But there doesn’t seem to be anyone in there, and the doors are locked. Do you have the key?”
“Yeah, sure.” He retrieved a set of keys from a trouser pocket.
“Perfect.”
“This is the master. It opens all the rooms.” Blake jiggled it in the lock.
When she heard a click, she turned the door handles and pushed. They didn’t move. She pushed again.
“Let me try.” Blake stepped in front of her. “Sometimes these old doors stick.” He heaved against the doors. “That’s odd.”
“Maybe there’s something blocking it?”
“No, it feels like it’s catching at the top. It seems to be bolted from the inside.” He pounded his fist against the door. “Charlotte? Robert? Open up. We need to get in there.”
Addie pressed one ear to the door, sticking a finger in the other to block out background noise.
“Well?”
“Nothing.” She met Blake’s look of concern with one of her own. “Is there a key for the top latch?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s a sliding bolt on the inside.” Blake caught the attention of a young man carrying a folding chair under each arm. “Jeff.”
“Yes, Mr. Edwards.”
“Is that handyman still around?”
“Yeah, I saw him in the backyard fixing that bent tent pole we need for the yard sale.”
“Could you go and get him? Tell him to bring his tools.”
“No problem.” Jeff dashed off.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that the two of them have fallen asleep in there.”
“Then they must be pretty sound sleepers.”
A few moments later Brian, the town handyman, appeared with a toolkit in hand. Blake explained the issue, and Brian set to work. He drew a flashlight from his tool belt, clenched it between his teeth, and pointed the beam to the top of the doorframe. He shoved hard against the door, inserting a screwdriver between the door and the frame. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to jimmy the bolt, and if I take a pry bar to it, it’s going to damage the entire frame.”
“I don’t care.” Blake snorted. “The real-estate agent, what’s his name that works for Maggie Hollingsworth, can worry about that. I just need the door opened now.”
“Okay, if you say so. Addie, can you hand me the pry bar?”
“Exactly what am I looking for in here?” Addie rifled through the various tools.