Juji -- Teen Investigator

Chapter 11 - "Annie's Antiques"

    As I rushed out of the library, I saw Miss Erika walking up the school hallway carrying the small stack of papers in the special-shaped box.

    Immediately, I knew these papers were the answer sheets from the History test I had taken this morning. The sheets were stacked in a small pile in the order they were handed in and contained only the colored-in answers that were to be computer-graded.

    “Ms. Quincy? Wait. I have tests here that need to be run through the test-grading computer.”

    “It’s passed my time,” answered Ms. Quincy. “These tests are going to have to wait”

    “I’ll just drop them off,” answered Miss Erika. “I can pick them up in the morning.”

    I tried to walk out politely and not make eye contact with Miss Dana but was immediately recognized. “What’s Juji doing here? Searching for mishandling of tests? Or trying to accuse someone of cheating?”

    “No Miss Dana,” I answered politely. “I was checking some information on the school computers, and now I’m only proceeding to an unscheduled appointment.”

    “No telling who’s in trouble now,” replied Miss Erika with a laugh.

    Before I walked down the empty hallway, I saw Miss Dana handing off the three boxes stacked with tests from the three classes of students.

    Ms. Quincy took the boxes and carried them to a table. “So is Freddy’s big History exam there?” asked Ms. Quincy. “I know he has a lot riding on it.”

    “Yes, it’s in the first stack. We’re all pulling for him.”

    I continued with my hurried walk out the front door of the school. I knew the clock was ticking and time was limited for my visit to Annie's Antiques. I understood the importance of Freddy’s exam and could only hope for the best.

    When I got to the door, I could see the football team in the distance practicing. As I walked past the fence surrounding the field, I could see no sign of Freddy. Coach Kenny was running alongside players and yelling. Before I turned, I spotted Freddy sitting alone on the empty bench.

    Freddy was wearing a full uniform with his assigned number but was not wearing the standard helmet. He seemed to be looking down nervously at his feet. The team on the field was playing without the standard quarterback formation. The running backs were instead taking snaps and running option plays to the left and right. No passes were being thrown.

    As I observed confusion on the field, Coach Kenny turned to Freddy and began yelling. “Your neck is on the line. If you don’t get the grades, we’ll be playing without a quarterback, and it will all be on your back!”

    Freddy replied nervously with words I couldn’t dissect. As the two began arguing, Coach Kenny looked up and saw me watching from outside of the fence. Freddy then spun around, and the entire team turned and looked in my direction.

    I respectfully continued towards my bike. The attitude of coaches and players on the football team had no relevance to my investigation of the parking lot exchange I had witnessed.

    My bike chain and position of the wheels showed that no one had touched the bike or moved it in any way. I immediately slid on knee pads and elbow pads and finally attached the small helmet in place. Finally, I loaded the wireless ear speaker and programmed my phone’s map to the new address located downtown, Annie’s Antiques.

    Several students looked on as I started rapidly pedaling out of the parking lot. I avoided eye contact with Hank as I raced out of the nearly empty parking lot and began heading up the road in a direction I hadn’t gone before.

    Through Pixley Road and south on Parker Boulevard, I raced my bicycle through the usual afternoon traffic.

    “In five hundred yards, turn right onto Main Street.” The computer map voice was instructing me on the exact distance and turns, but I still had to come to a complete stop at stop signs. I was also forced to ride along busy streets where cars were parked, and bicycles were not permitted on downtown sidewalks.

    Closing time for Annie’s was scheduled in thirty minutes, which meant with green lights and light traffic, I would still be cutting it close. As expected, downtown was filled with homeless people who were possibly suffering from alcohol a***e. Men with long sloppy hair and unwashed clothes seemed common.

    Would Annie’s Antiques be a legitimate dealer of the beautiful old furniture or a simple cover for criminal dealers selling an illegal substance? I didn’t expect a simple answer or confession to any wrongdoing, but I hoped to get confirmation to some key questions.

    When I finally saw the Annie’s Antiques store in the distance, it seemed completely out of place. Surrounding stores looked like run-down bars, tattoo parlors, and empty buildings for lease. Annie’s was not only freshly painted but had clean windows and an open door.

    I rode across the empty parking lot before pulling up to the side of the old antique store. Immediately I noticed two homeless men watching curiously as I climbed off of my bicycle.

     The two men said nothing as I removed the padding and walked my bike to a small pipe sticking out of an exterior wall. I smiled politely as I pulled off my helmet. The chain came right off, and I began looping it through my two tires. It was important that the bike be grounded to avoid someone carrying it away.

    I smiled politely at the curious men as they walked up. “Can you spare a dime? We’re just hungry.”

    “I’m sorry, but I have no cash at the moment,” I answered politely.

    The other man also reached out. “And I need the money to help my kids in school.”

    I answered politely, “Food is available at the homeless shelter one mile east at the corner of Seventeenth Street and Main, and public school is available to children at no cost since the Higher Education Act of 1965.”

    The two men looked at each other confused as I continued on my way into the antique store. I looked at my watch and saw it was exactly three-thirty closing time. When I got to the door, I noticed an older woman standing by the door and putting up a “Closed” sign.

    She immediately put down the sign and looked confused. “Hi, Welcome to Annie’s Antiques. How can I help you?”

    “Hello, are you Ms. Annie Barret?” I asked politely.

    “Yes, but just call me Annie. How can I help you?”

    “I need to come in and look around if that’s okay,” I said politely as I walked into the half-open door.

    Annie watched me curiously, then closed the door and followed me in. “I have an entire collection of old toys, and a doll set made in England in the 1940s. Are you interested in dolls?”

    “No, I just have a few questions. This should only take a few minutes.”

    Annie followed me in and seemed confused. “I know all about the most valuable articles and toys and can give you a complete explanation of every item in the store. If there’s something you’d like to see.”

    I finally pulled out my set phone and started recording, “What can you tell me about the business?” I asked.

    “Well, Annie’s Antiques is like a second home to me. It was a run-down nightclub when we started, but we performed major renovation making this the award-winning business of downtown!”

    I continued shooting video of the old refinished furniture along the side aisle and asked, “So where do items that you sell come from?”

    “We pick up stuff at garage sales and old thrift stores. And we do a complete renovation of many objects that we discover. We’re always on the lookout.”

“I see... And what kind of items do you look out for?” I asked as I searched through my phone.

    “We carry high-quality furniture and assorted antiques that hold up perfectly after as much as one hundred years, like this classic full mahogany wood table?”

    “And who else is doing work for you?” I asked, wondering if she would be willing to reveal details of her son.

    “Well, it’s just me, my grandson, and my granddaughter. They handle all the complicated purchases and sales, and I just deal with customers in the shop. We’re doing really well. Why do you need to know?”

    “I just have a few questions about Winston Barret,” I replied.

    “Winston? Do you know my grandson?” Annie put her hand to her mouth and looked shocked. “Is everything okay?”

    “I just have a few questions about some things going on at my school -- Pixley High.” I pulled out my phone and immediately opened up to pictures of Winston standing next to his car while surrounded by young students. “Can you identify this boy as your son, Winston?”

    “Yes, that’s Winston. Did something happen to him?”

    I immediately began touching buttons and began recording our conversation again and shooting video from around the store. “Are you aware of some deals that Winson may be involved in at the high school?”

    “Deals? Annie’s Antiques makes deals with people all around the city. My grandson, Winston, handles all accounting, and purchases and documenting supplies... And my daughter deals directly with sales transactions outside of the main office. We’re just an antique store!”

    “Your son, Winston, was seen at Pixley High School making unexplained exchanges with students. Are you aware of his dealings?”

    “Pixley High School? That is where he attended high school. He’s an alumni student, probably just visiting family and friends I’m sure. What business is that of yours?”

    “Winston did not graduate and was witnessed making exchanges with students. I wanted to know if you were aware of possible dealings with high school students and wondering who else may be involved.”

    “I don’t know what he does on his own time. He’s a good boy?”

    I walked down a long row of antique furniture to the front counter. “I’d like to examine some of the accounting books that you referred to earlier. Can you show me some of the expenses that Winston has documented?”

    “We have all the normal billing of any business. Winston is the dedicated ‘calculator’ of all purchases and exchanges. There’s nothing to see.”

    “I’d like to see a list of purchases and expenses made by Annie’s Antiques and list of tax deductions made by your grandson, the accountant.”

    “Winston works here at the store in his spare time... But I don’t interfere with his private life. That’s not my business.”

    “Do you have suspicions of his private activities?” I then held up the phone to get a good shot of Annie’s explanation.

    “I don’t know that this is any of your business. Winston handles the books and keeps track of all items brought in that are being sold. He is a very good boy.”

    I believed Annie and realized she had no knowledge of Winston’s personal activities, but I was forced to ignore her personal feelings and only worry about doing what was right.

    “Do you know the make and model of Winston’s car?” I asked.

    “His car? It’s an old car... I think it’s got a removable rooftop.”

    “It’s a 1965 convertible Triumph -- TR-4A. Is the car an antique that he may have obtained through the store?”

    “Antique car? I know nothing about his car. Or where he bought it. It’s none of my business actually. Now, if you want to talk to Winston, you can leave your name and phone number. And he can contact you. But I’m not...”

    “Thank you. I just have a few more questions.”

    Annie stared at me in nervous disbelief. She looked around the store thinking about my request before walking over to the front door. “Winston is not here, and without a legal warrant, I will not be disclosing further information.”

    “I understand,” I said. I then shot a few additional pictures around the inside of the store and price tags attached to furniture.

    Annie then spoke up again. “I’m sorry. It is now three-thirty, and Annie’s Antiques is closed. For the third time, I am politely asking you to leave.”

    “That’s fine, Ms. Winston,” I said as I stopped the recording option on my phone. “I will be returning in the morning and I would like to speak directly with you and your grandson.”

    “Winston’s not here in the mornings.”

    “Yes,” I replied politely. “Please be sure he is here before seven-thirty,” I said as I walked to the door. “I will be here to question you both about a few things, and I don’t want to involve authorities.”

    Annie stood with her mouth open as the door closed, and I walked to my bike.