Retrieval: A Woman's Unexpected Find

By Carrie Ann Baumgart

An ordinary Midwestern school teacher, Corinne turns into a daring sleuth as she attempts to find her deceased grandmother's stolen antiques. She attends one of the region's largest antique fairs, where she hopes to find something familiar. She comes to realize that others are as eager in their search, but for her. The question she and her friends, Susannah and Caleb, need to answer is "why?" They come up with a plot that goes awry, eventually putting both Susannah and Corinne in peril.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462042524

Carrie Ann Baumgart

Carrie Baumgart received her Bachelor of Science degree from U.W. Eau Claire and her Master of Arts degree from Viterbo University. She has been teaching middle school students for the past twenty-one years and currently resides in Merrill, Wisconsin. She has always had a passion for writing and creating stories.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I’ll have dry toast with some strawberry jam on the side and a cup of coffee. Black. Corinne watched as the waitress walked away. Conversation snippets of the patrons faded in and out. Nothing of interest, just gall bladder operations, complete with trophy stones, leaky roofs, and backed up sewers. Perfect café subjects.

Corinne had hoped to catch some information on the citywide antique show. Back in her hometown of Ash Creek, her colleague Susannah, an antique enthusiast, heard there would be some interesting new vendors at this year’s show in Granite Bluff, Minnesota. There had been a show at Granite Bluff for the past twenty-five years, but they never caught Corinne’s attention until this fall.

Collecting antiques never interested Corinne. Her grandmother’s house was filled with them; family heirlooms passed down since the late eighteenth century. The house held a comfortable fascination for Corinne, impossible to duplicate. Every item seemed to give its own unique flavor, and their sum gave the house its personality: the cast iron cook stove in the kitchen, the burgundy velvet settee and Persian rug in the parlor, the milk glass pitcher and basin in the bedroom, the leaded glass hutch in the dining room. These were but a few of the antiques that lent those rooms their character.

Because of her warm feelings toward her grandmother and her home, Corinne felt no affinity for someone else’s old things. Their story was no part of her heritage. Sadly, though, the priceless treasures were no longer hers to admire.

The waitress returned with her coffee and toast. Corinne sat back and mused about the circumstances of the past month that drew her to this small town.

Corinne’s grandmother passed away the previous month at the age of ninety-six. Uncle Jim, her mother’s brother, was to be the executor of the will; the reading of which was to take place a week after the funeral. In the meantime, the old farmhouse where her grandmother lived was locked up and checked on daily.

Three days after the funeral, Corinne and her mother returned to the old house. Corinne brought her camera to capture the house the way she always knew it before it was divided up amongst the relatives. Once they unlocked the old screen porch door, Corinne had a peculiar feeling something was not right. An old rag rug on the porch was scrunched up in a corner and there were scratches on the floor. Upon opening the main door, Corinne and her mother were aghast. Practically anything of value had been removed. The two women ran from room to room, but it was the same case everywhere.

Before jumping to any conclusions, Corinne called Uncle Jim from her cell phone to see if he had the items removed and kept under secure storage. Unfortunately, he had no knowledge of any removal, and informed the two that he was on his way out there.

After his arrival, the three searched the perimeter of the house for signs of forced entry, but found none. This was unusual, for the doors all had two or more locks, many of which locked only from the inside and required no key, such as hooks and slide locks.

While pondering the situation, her uncle remembered from his youth retrieving canned goods from the root cellar that was ten yards from the house. He vaguely recalled a three-foot door on the wall nearest the house. Curious, the three walked over to the cellar’s angled door. Afternoon sunlight revealed the small musty room below. They all descended into the cellar via a ladder kept in there for the purpose.

Once inside, Corinne looked all about her. The walls were paneled with roughhewn wood, and the same wood was used for the shelves, which were now empty with the exception of a few spider nests in the corners. Turning to the wall nearest the house, she spied what her mother and uncle were already looking at, a small door.

The door appeared to be made for a child’s playhouse, it was so small. Corinne’s uncle turned the wooden latch and pulled open the door. It was very dark, so her uncle hurried back to his car for a flashlight. When he returned, they all looked inside and saw a tunnel about four and a half feet high and three feet wide. The walls and ceiling were covered with the same wood as the root cellar. Cautiously, they entered and followed the tunnel until it ended, where they discovered a narrow metal ladder and a trap door above. Uncle Jim climbed the ladder, turned the latch, and pushed open the door. As he passed through the opening, he found himself inside of the back porch. Corinne and her mother followed.

It appeared the wall-to-wall carpeting was skillfully cut by her grandparents to keep the entrance a secret. This had to be the way the robbers entered the house, but how did they know? How did they find out about a passage if her own family didn’t know? How did they have knowledge of the valuable antiques in the house?

Ma’am, would you care for some more coffee?

Corinne hesitated as she shifted her thoughts back to the present. No thank you.

Have a nice day, said the waitress softly as she laid down the check.

Corinne brushed the crumbs from her lap, paid, and left the café.

For a moment, she panicked as she couldn’t see her car in the small parking lot. Then she chuckled to herself when she remembered she borrowed her father’s ‘78 Dodge pickup to haul back any finds from the show. Force of habit, she thought.

It was almost noon, when Corinne toted her bags up the rounded concrete steps of the large Victorian home which was converted into a bed-and-breakfast place. She had inquired about it a week before, and only because of a last-minute cancellation was she able to reserve it. Every hotel, motel, and spare room in town was booked due to the antique show.

As she entered the foyer, she was greeted by a slender, forty-something woman with graying red hair.

Hello, I’m Ellen Picket. May I help you?

Hi. I’m Corinne Carren. I called about a week ago regarding a room.

Yes. I remember you, she brightened, follow me. She led Corinne up an old oak staircase and down a narrow corridor to a room on the east side of the house. Inside was a high bed, covered with a handmade quilt in soft green and brown prints. The tall, dark walnut headboard stood ominously behind. A dresser made of the same wood and design faced the bed from the south wall. Attached to the top was a harp-shaped mirror, of which the silver backing was foggy and mottled. On a small mahogany table next to the bed sat an old metal lamp with a corseted beige fabric shade. The walls wore a dated sage-colored leaf pattern of wallpaper.

Gracious. There’s probably a chamber pot under the bed, she thought to herself.

The ladies room is at the north end of the hall. It has a shower and a claw foot tub, Ellen explained.

Corinne was beginning to wonder if this woman could read her thoughts.

We serve a continental breakfast in the dining room from eight to ten in the morning. There are pitchers of juice, carafes of coffee and tea, hard-boiled eggs, bagels, coffee cake, and seasonal fruits. You are welcome to eat in dining room or outside in the fenced-in garden patio. Well, let me know if you need anything to make your stay here more comfortable. Corinne thanked her and Ellen left.

Now it was time to put things in order so she could get on with her business of sleuthing for her grandma’s belongings. She opened her suitcase and laid out her grooming supplies on the old dresser. As she did this, she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Its lack of clarity softened the fine lines on her thirty-three year old face, while the shiny bottles on the dresser reflected light up into her large grey eyes. It not only made her appear years younger, but accentuated the positive as well.

I like this mirror, Corinne thought aloud as she set to pinning her golden hair atop her head so as to appear more Victorian. She held up a folded doily to her neck to complete the look.

After a few more moments of playful reverie, she thrust herself back into the present, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door on her mission.

Chapter 2

The downtown street was cluttered with vendors. It resembled the open market of some Far Eastern country. The street was blocked off, and there were tents and tables all over in it. Only the sidewalks were spared so that the locals would have equal opportunity to attract tourists to their businesses. Also, they served as kind of an expressway for those who did not wish to meander about the crowds.

As Corinne approached a nearby tent, she listened to a woman inquiring about an old painting by some obscure Dutch artist. The woman studied the paper backing, ran her fingers along the frame, then brought the picture out into the bright August sunlight to study it even further.

I feel like a party crasher, thought Corinne, not knowing exactly what to do or