The Mystery of the Curiosities Read online

  Aubrey lived in Key West and worked at one of the local historical homes. I’d always wanted to go down and visit the place, but outside of going on tours of old buildings, Key West didn’t exactly appeal to me. I was definitely not a beach-goer, and just thinking about that much sun made my eyes ache.

  “How’s the urban jungle?” Aubrey asked in return.

  “Rainy with a chance of murder.”

  Aubrey made a face and laughed awkwardly. “Come again?”

  “Aubs,” I said, unfolding a piece of paper from my pocket. Calvin had made a photocopy of Richard’s driver’s license and “accidentally” left it where I’d conveniently find it. “I know you’ve got some—er—history with the FBI guys who work in Art Crime….”

  Aubrey pursed his lips together. “History with a guy. Don’t make it sound like I fucked the entire lot of them.”

  “Right, sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Does the name Richard Newell sound familiar?”

  Aubrey’s bitter expression slowly transitioned into one of thoughtfulness. “Hmm… should it?”

  “I was hoping so. He may have been involved with a number of museum thefts. About four years ago. And possibly a murder.”

  “Jesus.”

  “My boyfriend says the FBI got involved.”

  “I knew this wasn’t a house call when I saw your name.”

  “I don’t mean to stir up unwanted memories, but I was hoping you might know something. Calvin’s a detective, but getting paperwork from the FBI is going to be a waiting game for him.”

  “Wait, who’s Calvin?” Aubrey asked.

  “Seb’s new beau,” Max provided.

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured. “About Richard?”

  “Sebastian,” Aubrey said with a sigh. “I wasn’t even with my ex four years ago. And by the time I met Matt, he had transitioned to Organized Crime.”

  “Here, just look at a picture of the guy. I know I’ve met him in the past. And this is a small world—you could have met him too before you moved to America’s retirement community.”

  “That’s Fort Lauderdale.”

  “I thought that was spring break gone wild?”

  Aubrey chuckled. “It’s both.”

  “Florida is weird.” I held up the photocopied picture to the webcam. “Can you see it?”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  “I think I know the guy.”

  I lowered the picture so I could see Aubrey again. “Yeah?”

  “He looks fatter—then again, show me one person with a flattering driver’s license.”

  I turned the picture around to stare at it.

  “I mean,” Aubrey continued. “It’s been a while, but when I used to work at the pawn shop in New York—that guy was on our wall.”

  “On your wall?” Max repeated in confusion.

  Aubrey nodded. “Yeah. The ‘don’t serve these assholes’ wall. I can’t entirely remember why, but he was probably trying to off something fake or of questionable origin.” He tugged absently on one of his gauged ears. “He had the weirdest voice. Like he’d inhaled helium.”

  Max started laughing.

  “Was he ever investigated by the FBI?”

  “I don’t know,” Aubrey said. “How much do you think a government agent actually told me about his cases? Dating or not?”

  “Maybe I’ve got a way of wooing information out of guys with badges,” I replied.

  “Seb harasses cops until they would rather divulge information than listen to one more minute of his pestering,” Max said.

  I was going to have to rethink this year’s holiday bonus for Max.

  “Do you have any recollection as to what Richard may have been trying to sell?” I asked.

  Aubrey closed his eyes.

  “Aubs,” I stated.

  He opened them. “Sorry?”

  “Don’t pass out on me yet.”

  “It’s my nap time.”

  “What was he selling?” I tried again.

  “Oh, Seb, it was years ago. I think maybe it was an old pistol and a samurai sword.” Aubrey nodded to himself. “Yeah, that sounds right. But I’ll text you my old manager’s contact information. He kept good records and reported stolen items. And if your boyfriend wants to talk to Matt… have him call the New York office and ask for Special Agent Jun Tanaka. That’s his partner. Jun will put him through to Matt. I don’t want Matt hearing my name at all, okay?”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “I have to go,” Aubrey murmured, looking suddenly exhausted. “Nap. I’ll text you in about fifteen minutes.” He waved briefly before the video call ended.

  Max sighed. “Aubrey’s so cute. I just want to pet his head and feed him cookies. Is that weird?”

  I glanced sideways at Max. “Yeah, a little.” I held up the picture of Richard. “If the weapons he tried to sell to an antique shop and legit pawn shop fell through, I wonder if he’d try someplace less savory?”

  “But then what?” Max asked. “Sounds like a dead end.”

  “Unless Aubrey’s old manager has an idea of where to go with hot items you need to unload fast.”

  Max frowned when I looked at him. “So why is Calvin letting you poke around? This doesn’t have anything to do with that Roger guy I looked up for you on Facebook, right?”

  “No, totally different situation.”

  Max reached out and nudged my arm roughly. “And?”

  “A security guard at the Met was murdered. This guy—Richard.”

  “Holy fuck.”

  “Yeah. The person behind the bricks and notes—they’re offing suspects from Calvin’s cold cases and then making me prove the victim was guilty of murder themselves.”

  Max scrunched his face up, looking horrified. “This is like—like some fucked-up horror movie or something.”

  “Let’s save that description for when I’m eventually kidnapped and forced to chew off my own hand to escape.”

  “Don’t joke, Seb!” Max ran a shaky hand through his hair. “So… who did Richard kill?”

  “Cal and I think it was an old museum employee from several years ago.”

  “How do we prove it?”

  I looked up at Max curiously. “We?” I echoed.

  “If you think I’m letting you run off by yourself, you’re out of your mind.”

  “I’m not supposed to go anywhere,” I pointed out.

  Max snorted. “As if you hadn’t planned on heading out to wherever Aubrey tells you after he wakes up from his beauty sleep.”

  “I’m not letting you come. It’s dangerous.”

  “Calvin gave me permission to disobey you. Got a problem with me tagging along, you take it up with Ginger Cop.” He grinned widely.

  “You’re a pain.”

  “Now you know how we all feel about you.”

  AUBREY WAS back in the land of the living about fifteen minutes after his necessary nap. His text message was the address of his old job here in New York, the name of his boss, and a string of emoji I didn’t understand. Max was reading the text out loud as I lowered the gate on the front of the Emporium.

  “Then there’s a kissy face, the face wearing sunglasses, a thumbs up, and a snail.”

  “Does all of that together mean something?”

  “No. I think he’s just messing with you.”

  “Jerk,” I muttered.

  After the gate was down, Max handed me back my phone, and we turned around, nearly bumping into Beth from next door. She put her hands on her hips and stood before us looking mighty displeased.

  “Howdy,” Max said.

  “You boys going somewhere? It’s the middle of the day.”

  “I wasn’t really open,” I answered, pushing my sunglasses up.

  “Calvin warned me you might try to sneak off,” she said.

  “He what?” I protested.

  “Oh, he’s good!” Max said.

>   “I was told to call him if you went somewhere on your own.” Beth raised an eyebrow. “So should I?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said firmly.

  “He seemed pretty adamant about it.”

  “Calvin is also adamant about toasted bagels and the Mets,” I replied.

  Beth held her hands up. “The Mets?”

  “Beth,” I continued. “Just pretend you never saw us leave, okay?”

  “I don’t know, Sebby,” she said slowly. “Are you going to get into trouble? Get hurt? Give that handsome man of yours a heart condition?”

  “Maybe a little, hopefully not, and probably sooner or later,” I answered.

  “Smart,” she said with a vicious old lady glare.

  “You can reprimand me later, I promise,” I said, motioning Max to follow me to the curb. “If anyone comes by looking—you never saw me, okay?”

  “Sebastian Snow, are you out of your goddamn mind?”

  I nodded and raised my hand up to hail a cab. “Just about.”

  Max and I climbed into the first taxi to stop, and I gave the driver the Midtown address before calling Calvin.

  “So?” he asked upon answering.

  “Hello to you too. I talked to my friend Aubrey Grant. He used to work at a pawnshop here in the city. He recognized Richard as a guy who had been banned from the store after trying to sell items his boss suspected were stolen.”

  “Name and phone number?”

  “Er—I’m waiting to get that from Aubrey,” I lied. “He’s narcoleptic and needed a nap.”

  “Seb.”

  “I would not make that up! I swear. He really is.”

  Calvin was quiet for a beat. “Anything else?”

  “He used to date a special agent who was once on the Art Crime Team,” I supplied. “He wasn’t sure about any details regarding the investigation of artifacts that turned up missing after Earl was killed, but he said if you needed to get in touch with his ex, to call the New York office and ask for his partner, Jun Tanaka. He asked to keep his name out of it. Bad blood.”

  The driver kept glancing in the rearview mirror at me.

  “All right. Thank you for this.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Calvin asked.

  “Got anything to share?”

  “No.”

  “Filthy liar,” I stated.

  “Are you still at the Emporium?”

  “Ah, yes. Max is right here.”

  “Hi, Calvin!” Max called obediently.

  “Earl… his bag was never recovered. By all accounts he religiously carried it, but it was never found at the museum, his home, anywhere. I believe there’s still at least one or two missing artifacts, which I hope to confirm with the FBI, but I suspect them to be in his bag. Wherever that is.”

  “Maybe Richard’s been holding on to it all these years. Maybe whatever the item is, it’s been too hot to sell, so he’s had to wait,” I supplied.

  “You’re on the same wavelength as me,” Calvin quietly admitted. “I’m in the process of getting some officers over to his apartment.”

  Max nudged my shoulder as the taxi pulled to a stop on the side of the road. He pulled some cash out of his wallet and reached through the window to pay the driver.

  “I’ll let you go,” I quickly said.

  “Be safe,” Calvin said before hanging up.

  Max and I got out of the cab, and it made a sharp turn to once again get lost in the sea of traffic. I looked at the storefront we’d been dropped off in front of. The sign and front window to Gold Guys were hidden amongst temporary scaffolding. Hammering and general construction noise echoed from overhead, mixing with the honking of horns in Midtown traffic, chattering groups of tourists, and one guy at the corner screaming about the world ending this coming Tuesday.

  Ah, the music of New York.

  “What did Calvin say?” Max asked as he led the way to the door, then waited outside of it for me.

  “He’s got officers heading over to Richard’s. Apparently the guy who was murdered, his bag went missing, which may still have some of the stolen items inside. I guess it’s a pretty clear-cut case if the bag is found in Richard’s home.”

  “Does it count if you didn’t uncover it, though?” Max asked. “You said this freak is making you solve the cases.”

  I hesitated. Did it count?

  “You didn’t give Calvin the address to this place.”

  “No. It’d be unfortunate if he found us here.”

  “You mean, you don’t want him to get information before you,” Max corrected.

  “What can I say, I hate sharing.” I opened the front door and stepped inside.

  The pawnshop was brightly lit with overhead fluorescent lights, casting a strange glow on items hanging on the walls. I had to look away and focus on the floor instead.

  Max whistled from behind me as he walked in. “Cool place.”

  “Is it? I can’t see.”

  “Oh shit. What can I do to help?”

  I shook my head and held a hand up to shield the top of my sunglasses as I stepped toward a glass display that had a man and woman organizing what I guessed was fine jewelry.

  “Hey,” the man said. He was a big, meaty-looking guy, with close-cropped hair. “Welcome to Gold Guys.” He reached out and shook my hand. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Gerald Topper,” I said.

  “Found him,” Gerald replied, pointing at himself. He wore big rings on his hands, like those football championship ones. “And you are?”

  “Sebastian Snow. I own Snow’s Emporium in the East Village.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a sort of friendly smile. “I know the place. It’s been about a year or two since I’ve been there, but it’s a nice shop.”

  “Oh, thank you. I’m actually here because Aubrey Grant gave me your name.”

  “Aubs, huh? I remember him. What’s he up to these days?”

  “Managing a historical home in the Keys.”

  “That lucky SOB.”

  I smiled. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”

  Gerald looked at the woman, and she shrugged and shook her head. “Nah. What’s up? Aubs isn’t in trouble, is he?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” I reached into my coat to take out the copy of Richard’s ID. “He said I should talk to you about this guy.”

  I glanced at Max as Gerald took the picture. He gave me an excited grin.

  “You’re not a cop, though,” Gerald stated.

  I quickly looked back at him. “No.”

  “You watch a lot of CSI: Miami?”

  “Aviators don’t suit me, do they?”

  Gerald laughed from his belly.

  “I have a light sensitivity.”

  He nodded and didn’t question me further. “Yeah, I know this guy—I never forget a face. But his name isn’t Richard Newell.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hold tight.” Gerald left the counter and disappeared around the corner.

  “This guy steal from your shop?” the woman asked, tapping the picture.

  “Not exactly. But he’s definitely put himself on the cops’ radar.”

  She scoffed. “Don’t expect them to do much.”

  “I’ve got an in with a particularly good cop.” She didn’t seem impressed by my assurance, and I found that it made me rather defensive of Calvin’s reputation. He was a good—no—a great cop, damn it. If she rolled her eyes at me, we were going to have words.

  Luckily Gerald came back before I had to puff out my chest.

  “Here we are. He got banned from my store about four years ago for trying to off-load some stolen weapons. Took off before I could get the cops involved.” Gerald put an old piece of paper down on the glass countertop, the image of a faded driver’s license in the middle.

  “Aubrey said it was a pistol and sword,” I said, pulling out my magnifying lens and leaning over the case to study the
picture.

  “Yeah, sounds right,” he agreed.

  “And this says his name is Mark Lewis,” I stated before looking up at Gerald. “Do you have any idea where he might get away with selling high-value goods like that?”

  Gerald crossed his huge arms over his barrel chest. “Parker’s Pawn on Ninth and Fifty-First.”

  “That easy?” I asked.

  “I’ve been running this shop for over twenty years, kid. I know who follows the law and who deals with dirty customers. I’m sure it’s the same for you in your world.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  He laughed. “Damn true. But if you plan on going over to Parker’s, you be careful. Just because he’s older than sin doesn’t mean he’s gonna be a granddaddy to you. His son does the questionable work these days. Ben Parker’s his name.”

  Consider me aptly warned.

  I raised the paper up. “Could I have a copy?”

  “Well… if Mark or Richard or whoever he is, is bothering you, you ought to—”

  “He’s dead,” I clarified. “But I still would like a copy.”

  “WOW!” MAX shouted as we were on the sidewalks of Midtown again, making toward Ninth Avenue. “That was so cool. You’re like a totally different guy when you go sneaking around.”

  “Am I?”

  “Hell yeah! I can see why you like this—it’s kind of exciting. I take back all the crap I gave you.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  “I won’t, I won’t,” Max promised. “Mostly since you’re not paying me to be Assistant Sleuth, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Why did you want a copy of his old license?”

  “He had a different address listed,” I answered.

  “So? Maybe he moved.”

  “Maybe. But most people don’t change their full name when they move a few zip codes.” I took the picture Gerald supplied me with and handed it to Max. “I might have to go check out his apartment building.”

  “What good will that do? It’s not like he’s going to come home.”

  “Well… no,” I muttered. “But if I could somehow confirm he still occupied both apartments, it would certainly aid in Calvin’s search for the missing bag.” I glanced up at Max by my side. “Besides, if anything, it does make Dick-Mark seem pretty suspicious. The whole point of this insane game is simply to prove he was guilty of something during life. That seems to be all our joyful maniac wants.”