something. For the time being, I think it would be best if we spread out in the store.’
‘Why’s that?’ Ulster wondered.
‘If he comes back with a shotgun, I don’t want to be an easy target.’
‘Are you serious?’
Payne shrugged half-heartedly. ‘Kind of, but not really. It’s obvious we’ve stumbled onto something important. Until we know what that is, I think it’s best if we take precautions.’
‘Like what?’ Heidi asked.
‘Like spreading out in the store.’
Jones moved first, grabbing a defensive position near the front door, while Heidi and Ulster went to opposite corners. Meanwhile, Payne stood off to the right where he had a clear view of the entire room. From there, he could see everything and control the action.
Five minutes later, Hauser emerged from the back. Although his hands were weapon-free, he was armed with a question - one that would determine what happened next. He spotted Payne off to the side and walked in his direction, sensing he was the leader of this group. Hauser stopped a few feet in front of him and lowered his voice to a whisper.
‘My father,’ he said, ‘is nearly a hundred years old. During his lifetime, he has suffered through two world wars and the death of his entire generation. In the last decade, he has buried the love of his life and two of my sisters, so the man has endured far more than most. Because of that, I’m willing to respect his wishes - even in situations that I don’t fully understand.’
Payne stared at Hauser, trying to figure out where this was going. ‘What does any of that have to do with us?’
‘I spoke to my father about the receipt, and, well, to be perfectly honest, he got upset.’
‘Upset?’
Hauser nodded. ‘He said he didn’t have the strength to talk to you. Unless …’
‘Unless, what?’
‘Unless you can answer a question.’
Intrigued by the whispering, Ulster crept closer. ‘What’s the question?’
Hauser sighed. ‘That’s the thing. It isn’t even a question. It’s more like a statement that you’re supposed to finish. If you finish it correctly, my father will speak to you. If not, I’m supposed to escort you from the store.’
Ulster welcomed the challenge. ‘Such fun! What’s the statement?’
‘Yeah,’ Heidi said as she approached, ‘what’s the statement?’
Hauser took a deep breath, then whispered the words his father had told him to say. ‘He who holds the key …’
The group answered in unison. ‘Gets to wear the crown.’
Hauser blinked a few times, stunned. ‘That’s correct. How did you … ?’ His voice trailed off as he thought about the past few years with his father. They had been more than difficult. ‘Do you know what? It doesn’t even matter. I’m just glad someone knew what he was talking about. He’s been babbling about your receipt for ever. Until today, I thought maybe it was a figment of his imagination. I’m thrilled to know it wasn’t.’
Payne cut to the chase. ‘Does this mean we can talk to him?’
Hauser answered cryptically. ‘Not only that, it means you get to open the case.’
‘What case?’ Jones demanded.
Hauser smiled. ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
70
Hauser led the group into the stockroom at the rear of the store. To their right was a walk-in vault that protected the most valuable merchandise at Hauser & Sons and any currency that had been collected during the course of the week. To their left was a small office filled with a desk, chair, computer, printer and three filing cabinets. Everything was simple and clean.
‘Where’s your father?’ Payne asked as his eyes darted from side to side, looking for danger. While he walked, he kept his hand near his gun. ‘I thought he was back here.’
Hauser glanced over his shoulder. ‘He’s in his workshop, which is in the rear corner of the building. We put it back there so the noise wouldn’t disturb the customers.’
Jones whispered. ‘If he’s chained up and making sneakers, we’re going to set him free.’
Hauser didn’t hear the joke. ‘I wanted him to retire years ago, but he says work is the only thing keeping him going. If that’s the case, he can stay here as long as he wants.’
Heidi asked, ‘What kind of work?’
‘Jewellery design and repair. Despite his age, he still has the hands of a surgeon. Unfortunately, his eyes are a different story.’
They walked down a hallway and came upon a well-lit repair shop where an old man was sitting on a metal stool, hunched over a counter. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark pants held