I thought back to Marjorie’s house and how it had been neat and organized one day, and completely trashed the next. “All the obvious stuff couldn’t be that valuable, because all the obvious stuff was overlooked,” I mumbled. “And Nick—”
“Nick? Nick Klinker?” Studebaker threw back his head and laughed like a jolly Santa Claus. “Now I see what you’re up to. You’re Nick’s fiancée, aren’t you?”
Though I’m not sure what it means and I don’t know who would want to look inside an animal’s mouth in the first place, I am a firm believer in never looking a gift horse in the mouth. I stuck out my hand and shook Studebaker’s. “You can call me Bernadine,” I said. “I know you’ve been to . . .” I coughed, but then, it was kind of hard to get the words out without gagging. “To dear, sweet Aunt Marjorie’s house to look things over. But really, Mr. Studebaker . . .” I leaned closer. “I’m sorry to be so secretive, but Nick has been acting so strange. He says not much of what dear Marjorie had is very valuable. I just can’t believe that’s true!”
He hesitated, weighing the wisdom of getting in the middle of a family argument. I liked to think it was my winning personality that helped him make up his mind. “Nick is right. About some of it,” he finally said. “But Marjorie had a good eye when it came to Garfield collectibles. That tile from the railroad station!” His eyes glowed. “Now there’s something I’d love to get my hands on. I saw something similar once on the wall at Lawnfield. You know, the president’s home.”
“And the tile?” I did a sort of slow-mo rerun through my last visit to Marjorie’s. As far as I could remember, the framed tile was right there on the floor with everything else that had been left behind. “Is that tile especially valuable?”
“It doesn’t have as much monetary value as it does historic value.” Studebaker studied me closely. “What are you getting at, Bernadine? I’ve had a couple long talks with Nick and he assured me he’d been through everything and he was being totally up front with me. Is there something Marjorie had that he hasn’t told me about?”
I could play coy with the best of them, and I went all out. I glided one finger back and forth over the glass countertop, then realized I probably shouldn’t have. As sparkling as the whole place was, I hated to be the one who left fingerprints. I also couldn’t take the chance of Studebaker noticing my definite lack of an engagement ring. “There are a few more things I need to look through. You know, boxes in the attic. That sort of thing. I’m not even sure Nick’s seen them yet. I just wondered if I should pay more attention to certain things. You were saying, about how some things are more valuable than others. Like what?”
He thought about it. “Well, one-of-a-kind things, that’s for certain. And if you’re not sure if something’s one of a kind, all you have to do is call me. I’ll be glad to pop over and take a look for you.”
“That’s so kind.” I smiled my thanks. “So what would be one-of-a-kind?”
“Well, certainly anything of national significance.” Studebaker made a face. “Obviously, you’re not going to find anything like that. Marjorie knew her stuff when it came to the president. Anything like that, she would have donated to the government. You know, so it could be put on display.”
“Display.” The word ping-ponged through my mind for a couple confused moments. I wasn’t sure why until I thought about the first time I’d met with Marjorie about the commemoration. “She was all happy about something,” I said, remembering Marjorie’s weird, secretive grin. “She wouldn’t say what it was. She only said it was important and that she was going to put it on display.”
“Maybe it was something—”
Before Studebaker could continue, the front door opened and the mail carrier walked in. “I’ve got that package you’ve been waiting for, Mr. Studebaker!” she chirped.
Studebaker excused himself and went running.
“Heard what you said!” The ghost with the scar along his jaw crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the glass-front display case. “What’s the story, morning glory? You’re asking an awful lot of questions. Seems to me, you ain’t getting very far with the answers, neither.”
“You got that right.” I kept my voice down so Studebaker and the mail carrier couldn’t hear me. “There was a break-in, see, and I’m trying to figure out what whoever broke in was looking for.”
“And this Nick guy . . . ?” The ghost angled me a look. “He the one who’s been calling here?”
“Calling? Here?” I wasn’t as dense as I was surprised that a ghost would have been paying attention.
Predictably, the ghost thought dense was the likelier explanation. “Calling. You know, sister, like on the Ameche, the horn, the blower.” He held a hand to his ear like he was talking on the phone. “I heard Studebaker jabbin’ on the phone just the other day to some fella named Nick. That Nick, he must have been talkin about sellin’, ’cause Studebaker, he was talkin’ about buyin’.”
This wasn’t news.
Studebaker was walking along with the mail carrier toward the door, and I knew I didn’t have much time. “Did he say what he wanted to sell?” I asked.
The ghost grinned. A couple of his front teeth were missing. “That Nick, he must have said as how it was something personal because Studebaker got all excited like. But then he sort of froze. You know, just as he was about to say somethin’ else. He listened to the Joe on the other end of the horn say somethin’, and I swear, I thought Studebaker was gonna have some sort of apoplexy or somethin’. ‘What? What!’ he says, and I’ll tell you, he’s usually such a hotsy-totsy Abercrombie. But I swear . . . I swear, I thought the guy was gonna cry. That’s how excited he was.”
Studebaker opened the door to let the mail carrier out. “Thanks,” I told the ghost.
“Soitenly!” He had already faded away when Studebaker came back.
“Now . . . you were saying . . . about some of the other things Marjorie may have owned . . .”
But I had already found out all I needed to know.
I thanked Studebaker for his help, promised him that my darling Nick would be in touch with him soon, and headed outside.
The ghost was waiting for me on the sidewalk.
“So you got the lowdown, right, sister?”
There was a couple passing by, so I couldn’t answer. I just nodded.
“You wanna share?”
I didn’t especially, but I owed him that much. “Nick Klinker’s got something personal that once belonged to President Garfield,” I told him. “That’s what he’s been so excited about. It’s not just an inaugural invitation, or a newspaper or anything like that. It’s got to be something the president actually owned.”
“And . . . ?” The ghost waited for more.
“And I think that means it’s plenty valuable.”
“Now we’re talking!” He rubbed his hands together. “You think this Nick is gonna sell it?”
I thought back to the mess that was Marjorie’s, and now that I thought about it, I thought back to the night I had visited her at home, too. Just as I was driving away, I saw her tearing through the house as if she’d lost something. “I think Nick would be happy to sell it if he could find it,” I said. “And I think—no, I know—that two people know it exists. One of them is Nick, and the other is Studebaker. The only thing I need to figure out now is if either one of them might have wanted it so bad, they were willing to kill for it.”
I was sure I was right, and so caught up in what it all meant, I walked away. It wasn’t until I heard the ghost behind me that I turned back around.
He was standing outside the antiques shop and he raised one hand. “Abyssinia,” he said.