Read Online The Case of the Angry Auctioneer (Auction House Mystery Series Book 1) by Sherry Blakeley - Free Book Online
Authors: Sherry Blakeley
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orange orange, lemon yellow. Old dried out chocolate brown, poison mushroom gray, bile green. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Don’t be such a priss. I’ve seen worse. The trick is to focus. Look for anything other than the crap that’s on the top.”
“I’ll try.”
“Atta girl.” Jimmy’s moods had always been unpredictable. Grumpy, angry, belittling, then suddenly a small word of praise.
Jasper lifted away a foot-deep stack of old National Geographics. Even with their exotic locales and beautiful photos, they never brought much on auction. Her stepfather had been complaining about them for years. Underneath staring up at her sideways was a bathing beauty who had lost her bra. Jasper couldn’t make out the date in the semi-dark but she could see that the picture on the cover of a PhotoPlay magazine was from the pre-implant era. Underneath was another. As she dug down through the stack, Jasper felt like an archaeologist unearthing layers of someone else’s life. The further down she went, the more revealing the covers became.
“I think there’s something here you should see” she called over to Jimmy.
“What?”
“Magazines.”
“NGOs? I’ve told you a million times.”
“Nope. Not unless NGO stands for No Gowns On or Nude Girls Only.”
“Hm. If they’re in good condition, get me a count. Mark the spot. Then get moving. We’ve gotta find some big ticket items in here if we’re gonna make anything happen.”
Jasper counted up to 103 until she got to the damp bottom layer. She wondered if Mary Clippert knew about her father’s collection. She hoisted the short stack of National Geographics back on top. Five feet out from the stairs, left side, angle of approximately 45 degrees.
She worked her way around the basement. Several feet away from the paper goods she came across a piece of furniture. Its dark wood poked out of a pile of petrified sponges, ragged towels and an assortment of coffee makers missing their glass pots.
Jasper didn’t know a Victorian breakfront from a 20th Century sweet gum piece but she did recognize quality. She pushed some of the junk to the side. This piece reminded her of one of the pulpits in an old church where she and Rev. Tim had ministered. This was real wood, not a cheaply veneered copy. More magazines and books waited behind the glass-fronted doors. “Jimmy, you’ve got to see this.”
Jimmy grumbled his way over to her. “Give me some room.”
He and Jasper did an imbalanced do-si-do and she retreated to the steps where she took a seat. She was almost 30 years younger than her stepfather but she was going to have to start some serious exercising if she was going to keep up with the dogged auctioneer.
More knocks and bangs sounded from upstairs. Jasper glanced toward the doorway at the top of the stairs.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You were thinking about it. Take it from me – don’t mess with other people’s stuff.”
Jasper glanced around the basement full of other people’s stuff that they were pawing through.
“Come over here,” Jimmy said.
“How?” Jasper asked, a little weary of the mess. But she stood up ready to obey.
Another large noise came from upstairs. Suddenly something struck the top step and rolled rapidly downward. Without thinking, Jasper dived into the nearest pile. The bowling ball just missed her. It slam-bounced its way down the trail between the clutter piles and struck Jimmy low. He went down like the last pin that had been left standing.
“Dammit.”
“Jimmy, are you okay?” A mouse ran over Jasper’s hand and disappeared. She stifled a scream with her clean hand. She tottered to her feet.
“Did it get the Stickley?”
“Did what get the what? I’m coming over to help you.”
“The Stickley, dammit. The bookcase. The Stickley Mission Oak Bookcase. What the hell!” Jimmy had scrambled to his feet and stood brushing away soot
“Don’t be such a priss. I’ve seen worse. The trick is to focus. Look for anything other than the crap that’s on the top.”
“I’ll try.”
“Atta girl.” Jimmy’s moods had always been unpredictable. Grumpy, angry, belittling, then suddenly a small word of praise.
Jasper lifted away a foot-deep stack of old National Geographics. Even with their exotic locales and beautiful photos, they never brought much on auction. Her stepfather had been complaining about them for years. Underneath staring up at her sideways was a bathing beauty who had lost her bra. Jasper couldn’t make out the date in the semi-dark but she could see that the picture on the cover of a PhotoPlay magazine was from the pre-implant era. Underneath was another. As she dug down through the stack, Jasper felt like an archaeologist unearthing layers of someone else’s life. The further down she went, the more revealing the covers became.
“I think there’s something here you should see” she called over to Jimmy.
“What?”
“Magazines.”
“NGOs? I’ve told you a million times.”
“Nope. Not unless NGO stands for No Gowns On or Nude Girls Only.”
“Hm. If they’re in good condition, get me a count. Mark the spot. Then get moving. We’ve gotta find some big ticket items in here if we’re gonna make anything happen.”
Jasper counted up to 103 until she got to the damp bottom layer. She wondered if Mary Clippert knew about her father’s collection. She hoisted the short stack of National Geographics back on top. Five feet out from the stairs, left side, angle of approximately 45 degrees.
She worked her way around the basement. Several feet away from the paper goods she came across a piece of furniture. Its dark wood poked out of a pile of petrified sponges, ragged towels and an assortment of coffee makers missing their glass pots.
Jasper didn’t know a Victorian breakfront from a 20th Century sweet gum piece but she did recognize quality. She pushed some of the junk to the side. This piece reminded her of one of the pulpits in an old church where she and Rev. Tim had ministered. This was real wood, not a cheaply veneered copy. More magazines and books waited behind the glass-fronted doors. “Jimmy, you’ve got to see this.”
Jimmy grumbled his way over to her. “Give me some room.”
He and Jasper did an imbalanced do-si-do and she retreated to the steps where she took a seat. She was almost 30 years younger than her stepfather but she was going to have to start some serious exercising if she was going to keep up with the dogged auctioneer.
More knocks and bangs sounded from upstairs. Jasper glanced toward the doorway at the top of the stairs.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You were thinking about it. Take it from me – don’t mess with other people’s stuff.”
Jasper glanced around the basement full of other people’s stuff that they were pawing through.
“Come over here,” Jimmy said.
“How?” Jasper asked, a little weary of the mess. But she stood up ready to obey.
Another large noise came from upstairs. Suddenly something struck the top step and rolled rapidly downward. Without thinking, Jasper dived into the nearest pile. The bowling ball just missed her. It slam-bounced its way down the trail between the clutter piles and struck Jimmy low. He went down like the last pin that had been left standing.
“Dammit.”
“Jimmy, are you okay?” A mouse ran over Jasper’s hand and disappeared. She stifled a scream with her clean hand. She tottered to her feet.
“Did it get the Stickley?”
“Did what get the what? I’m coming over to help you.”
“The Stickley, dammit. The bookcase. The Stickley Mission Oak Bookcase. What the hell!” Jimmy had scrambled to his feet and stood brushing away soot
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