First Book of Short Stories

By Suzanne Sink

Share the adventures of three unlikely sleuths, Maggie Williams in “Evening Shade”, Lizzie Morton in “The Vacation I Will Never Forget” and Mary Ann Bevington in “The Hardware Mystery”, as they solve mysteries that will change the course of their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781682892138

Book preview

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Copyright © 2016 Suzanne Sink

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2016

ISBN 978-1-68289-212-1 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-68289-213-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

Dedication

To my husband, J.W., who encouraged me every step of the way. Thanks for the confidence you had in me from the beginning. I love you very much.

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Chapter 1

It was a cool day in late September. The trees were showing slight hints of a change in color, and the townsfolk were excited about the prospects of an early snow. Hedges were being trimmed, yards were getting their final mowing, and only the brave ventured out without at least a light jacket. Fall was beginning to change the sights and smells in many of the market places and stores. There were chrysanthemums in every hue and dried flowers. Smells of pumpkin spice and cinnamon filled the air, and the first of the pumpkins were beginning to line the store fronts in all their orange splendor.

Within the next few weeks, many homes and businesses would be displaying their Halloween decorations complete with jack-o’-lanterns, spider webs, and spooky scenes. Many a young boy and girl were already thinking about what they wanted to wear to trick or treat, and moms and dads were left to figure out how to make it all come together.

My name is Maggie Williams, and I have owned an antique shop in town for the last eleven years, specializing in consignment pieces from local residents as well as many estate pieces. My shop is pretty large despite the size of the town, but early on, I figured out it had to be to house the many pieces brought into the store. When I first opened my shop and word got out, people were coming from all over to get my help in unloading unwanted furniture and various other items. Emily Winters has been helping me around my shop, starting part-time while she was attending college, and after graduation, she decided she liked the business and wanted to stay on until she found a job in her field. That was two years ago. No one ever really knew Emily well enough to know what she was truly capable of, except me, of course. Everyone thought she was a little slow in her thinking when she was really just taking a little extra time to think a situation through before acting on it. Emily had a keen eye and a creative flair about her, and she knew just what to do to make a particularly difficult selling piece more desirable. She had made quite a show of the little antique shop, so I just gave her the run of the shop, and I always seemed to be amazed when I saw what she has been able to do. I couldn’t have been happier to have her as my employee. Many out-of-towners, who were passing through, found their way into the shop, drawn by the way the items were displayed and decorated in the window. Emily is a very quiet and slightly unusual sort of girl, not as big as a minute, but strong even with her small stature. She walks around the shop with pieces of ribbon hanging around her neck, scissors and tape in her pocket, as well as a pad and pen. If she can’t find something in the back room that suits her fancy when she is dressing up the pieces, she leaves me a note, telling me what she needs. She amuses me so much when she comes out the back room looking much like a lady from days gone by, wearing a fancy hat, draped in multicolored boas, and practically dancing from piece to piece. I just sit and watch her until I practically burst out laughing. Emily is an independent girl, somewhere around twenty-five years old with no real connections in the town. She reminds me of a wallflower who just wants to work and be left alone. And that is just what I do. She doesn’t require managing and prefers to be left alone to work her magic.

I unlocked the doors one particular morning at 6:00 a.m., made a pot of coffee then lit my fragrant candles that helped give the little shop some ambiance. I always take this time in the mornings to wipe any dust off the pieces and sweep the floors, so I am ready to greet my morning customers. Mrs. Stafford came strolling in the store not ten minutes after I flipped the sign from Closed to Open. She is a very proper older woman, who lives in one of the richer sections of town. She appreciates the older pieces and always stops in the shop as soon as a new shipment arrives, so she can have first pick of the new items. I greeted her warmly, and she waved her hello as she began moving down the aisles, carefully looking over the pieces. She seemed to be looking for something in particular this morning. I gave her a few minutes to mill around the store on her own, then I walked up to her to see if I could help. Good morning, Mrs. Stafford. I hope you are well today, I said.

I’m as good as I can be under the circumstances, she replied.

One thing I found out about her long ago was that she always seemed to have some sort of ailment, and she wanted you to ask her just the right question to lead her into a fifteen-minute conversation about what was ailing her that day. But something was different on this particular day. She immediately began to describe a piece she was looking to purchase, and I quickly walked her over to the area of the store that housed just that sort of item. When she saw it, her eyes practically danced. She peered at the piece as if she were decorating it in her mind. I interrupted her train of thought to ask if it was what she was looking for, and she almost sang out the words, Yes, this is just what I wanted.

She had chosen a piece from a collection I had received just two days before. It was a kitchen armoire with intricate carvings on the wood that were both delicate and tastefully done. Before I knew what I was saying, I asked her if she had seen the pie safe that was part of the same collection. I took her to the piece, and she put her hand to her mouth and shouted, Yes, I must have that piece too. We went to the register to complete the transaction, and she told me she was sending someone around later in the day to pick up the pieces. Mrs. Stafford seemed very pleased with her purchases and waved her hand and said Ta-ta as she left the shop. I quickly placed Sold signs on the two pieces, so no one else would be tempted to give them more than a glance. After that, people were coming in the shop almost continuously throughout the day. I don’t remember a time when we had more activity in one day. In fact, there were more sales that day than the last three days combined, which kept me on my toes, running between customers, asking questions then to the register to ring up the purchases. Lunch went by the wayside and a hot bath was looking better every minute.

Many of the people I know were going home and getting ready for a night on the town but not me. After twelve grueling hours at my shop, I was ready to prop up my feet and eat a TV dinner. Most days, the time passes quickly, and today was no different. The antique shop was bustling with people mulling over some of the new pieces I had taken in on consignment a couple days ago. Emily had given the items particular attention when they arrived at the shop, dressing them up a little to help them catch the eye of my customers, and it must have worked. The shop was full of people asking questions, making purchases, and hauling away their treasures. I loved the activity of the store so very much, but at the end of the day, I was always ready to get out of my shoes, drop into a warm bath, and curl up with a good book.

Morning arrived all too soon in my estimation, but the sun was shining, and there was a cool crispness to the air. I quickly dressed and groomed and headed to the shop, early as usual, put on the coffee, and began my ritual of dusting and sweeping. Emily arrived at around 8:00 a.m., smiling and saying her quick good morning before she headed to her domain. She was scanning the store to see where she could start to make a good showing for the day. The phone rang, and when I picked it up, the caller identified himself as Allen Bedford with an auction house two counties over. He began to tell me about a big estate in his area where the lady of the house had just passed away, and her two children had no intention of settling in her home. In fact, they wanted it sold off as soon as possible. The local realty company had a buyer for the house, but they did not want any of the prior owner’s furniture, so he made some inquiries and found out that my antique shop had quite a good reputation in the community and surrounding counties, and he wanted to bring all the furnishings to me to sell on consignment. I almost couldn’t respond; this was just what I needed to bring in some fresh new pieces, so I told him, Absolutely.

Allen said he was in the process of inventorying all of the items in the house, and he would fax me the list as soon as it was complete. There should probably be in excess of one hundred pieces of furniture, not including dishes and silver, knickknacks, lamps, clocks and many other items. The children do not want anything, just the money they can get from them, he said.

I told him I would be anxiously waiting to get his list and hung up the phone. I had to sit down a few minutes before I could let it sink in what I had just committed myself to do, but it gave me a thrill. Suddenly, plans began to unfold in my mind, how I would move things around to house the pieces until we could clean and dress them up, ready for my customers to see. I practically shouted to Emily in the back room that I had some very exciting news for her. She ran in, slightly breathless and red-faced, ready to hear what I had to say.

You will never believe what I am going to tell you, and it will require both of us to put in some long days to make it happen, but I just got a call from an auction house, and they are going to bring us the entire contents of an estate home to sell on consignment.

Emily almost hyperventilated when she got the news. You could see the wheels turning in her mind. We both knew we had to rearrange things to conserve space, so