Black Cat Weekly #47

Chapter 6

byWhen Detective Meredith McCall stepped through the doorway of the Fairfax Exhibition Hall, she was greeted by an obviously frantic young security guard.

“Detective McCall,” said the man she recognized as Sammy Watkins, “am I glad to see you.”

“My dispatcher said you called in a theft,” said Meredith calmly. “Exactly what was taken?”

“The Revere tankard,” blurted out Watkins. “Solid silver crafted by none other than Paul Revere himself. The Capital City Museum loaned it to us for this year’s Arts and Crafts Exhibit.”

“When did you notice it missing?”

“It arrived late yesterday afternoon right before we closed the hall. All the customers had left, and the exhibitors still here were shutting down their booths. I set the tankard in its display case then went up front to check everyone out before I locked up. Nobody carried anything out with them, and the hall was secure all night. When I arrived this morning, the tankard was gone.”

“Do you think the tankard might still be here somewhere?” said Meredith.

“That was my first thought,” said Watkins nervously, “but I searched high and low—nothing.”

Meredith surveyed the hall. “Who were the exhibitors still here when you closed yesterday?”

“Well, let’s see,” said Watkins. “Millie Jackson was putting her girls to bed as she says when she leaves her antique dolls for the night. And Walter Jones was sweeping up the sawdust he generates crafting those jewelry boxes of his. Oh, and Cy Dalton took forever to wash up after working on his pottery wheel all afternoon.”

“I’d better talk with those three. Maybe one of them saw something.”

Meredith found Miss Millie as she was known in Fairfax sitting amidst her “family” of exquisite antique dolls. “Meredith, my dear,” said Millie, seeing the officer approaching, “how nice of you to visit.”

“Miss Millie,” said Meredith fondly, “I don’t want to upset you, but we’ve had a robbery yesterday, and—”

“Oh dear,” said Millie.

“I was wondering if perhaps you saw anything out of the ordinary yesterday right before you left.”

“Dear, I’m afraid that my vision isn’t what it used to be, and I’ve been pretty much tethered to this booth what with my arthritis.” She gestured toward the walker at the corner of the booth.

Satisfied that Miss Millie had nothing to do with the theft, Meredith moved to the rear of the hall, where she found Walter Jones busily pushing pieces of wood through his bandsaw.

Seeing Meredith, the muscular man switched off the saw. “Detective,” said Jones in a deep baritone, “you must be here about the robbery.”

Meredith nodded.

Wiping some sawdust from his sleeve, Jones said, “Sammy’s put us all through the wringer already. See all those boxes over there? They need to go out this morning, and I still have several pieces to finish. I’m afraid I was busy back here yesterday and didn’t see anything.”

As Jones returned to his saw, Meredith headed to her left, where Cy Dalton was sitting at his pottery wheel. Covered with wet clay up to his elbows, Dalton barely looked up as Meredith stepped into his booth.

“Cy,” said Meredith, “we need to talk.”

“Make it quick. Business has been good, and I have no time for chit-chat.”

“You know about the theft.”

“Sure,” said Dalton. “Our c***k security guard has been hassling everybody. He can tell you that I was in the washroom yesterday from the time I closed up my booth till I left. Now let me get back to work, I’ve got a ton of orders to fill.”

As Meredith glanced toward the stack of sealed boxes at the rear of Dalton’s booth, a troubling thought crossed her mind. All three of the potential thieves had sealed boxes ready to ship. What if the guilty one had secreted the tankard in one of the containers?

Heading back toward the front of the hall, Meredith decided to take a look at the area where the tankard had been displayed. She poked around the glass case and shelving, running her fingers slowly over the surfaces. Feeling the powdery particles between her thumb and fingers, she smiled, realizing she wouldn’t have to open all the boxes to find the tankard.

When Meredith felt the rough sawdust between her fingers, she reasoned that Walter Jones had taken the valuable tankard, unwittingly shaking telltale dust from his shirt when he opened the case. Confronted, Jones confessed and pointed out the sealed box containing the tankard.