She stared. “But we haven’t slept a wink. And everything is here. Isn’t that the end of it?”
Tinker guffawed, his mouth open to show partly noshed toast and beans. Trembler tutted and asked for more eggs, bacon, and perhaps just six more slices of fried liver, please. The women rushed, pleased.
A lass laid a place and poured tea as I said, “It’s the start, love.”
Michelle sank in the chair, pale.
“ ’Ere, Lovejoy,” Tinker said. “Notice yon Belfast geezer, tenth truck, fetched them frigging Brummie gasoliers?” The gaslight chandeliers had delighted me, genuine Ratcliffe and Tyler sets of three-lighters, 1874, with sundry wall brackets for the extra singles. They are valuable collectibles now, especially pre-Victorian versions. Tinker was falling about, cackling. “He got done at the sessions. Selling tourists parking tickets!
Magistrate went berserk.”
Trembler joined in the reminiscing. “Nice to see Antioch Dodd again,” he said. “We last met when I auctioned that old mill down Stoke way. Antioch owffed it on canal barges.
Even pulled a special police guard…”
Michelle was shaky, superwhelmed by all this criminology. Mrs. Buchan on the other hand was oblivious, keeping her assorted team busy. Aren’t women different? They’re a funny lot. We talked on, preparing for the grind ahead.
By midday Trembler had made up his mind. All fixtures and fittings were to be assembled in the corridors for security, but I was downcast.
“What’s the matter?” Michelle had left Mrs. Moncreiffe in the office bombing out the checklist.
“It’s not elegant.” I’d had visions of using the retainers—four more by now—to maybe redecorate the house. “But Trembler’s right. Bidders have sticky fingers.”
Trembler drew an outline plan on an improvised blackboard. He likes to talk to everybody at once. We were called to the Great Hall, crowded in among the furniture.
Schooltime.
“This is where I’ll hold the auction itself.” He pointed with his cane. “There are all sorts of problems: security, money, catering, a bar, parking cars. But the most difficult is people. You’ll all have a number. Anybody who hasn’t memorized everybody’s number by tomorrow must leave Tachnadray until the sale’s over.”
People shuffled, looked askance, nodded. Tinker snored. He was on an early Georgian daybed, cane-backed. I guessed it was from Jake Endacot’s shop in Frinton.
“Hector, you’ve got dogs. Patrol outside, and check cars in. One of you men will photograph, obviously as possible, every car arriving. One or two people might complain or turn away. Let them. Remember, these people are mostly townies. They don’t know sheepdogs are harmless.”
Two of the girls nudged when Robert glared my way. More knew of Shona’s missing dog than I’d thought. It still hadn’t been mentioned openly.
“You will be in two groups.” Trembler notices everything, pretending not to. He’d have spotted those meaningful nudges. He’d ask me about it later. “One group will help with the auction itself. The others will be stationed at a doorway, a corridor’s end, wherever.
Stay there. No matter what—a lady customer fainting, a man having a heart attack, a sudden shout for help, a customer telling you that Miss Elaine, me, or, er, Ian wants you urgently—stay there.” We all paused while Tinker coughed a majestic mansion-shaker of a cough. It faded like distant thunder. Trembler resumed. “And nothing must be taken away. Suppose a bidder in fine clothes comes up to you with a receipt bearing my signature, saying they’ve got special permission to remove their lot an hour early.
What do you do? You stop them. They’ll be thieves, robbers, crooks who make a superb living.” He smiled his necrotizing smile. “My rules never change: Stay at your post. No exceptions. Everything, sold or unsold, stays until five o’clock. Then a bell sounds, and it’s all over.”
“Sir,” one red-haired girl piped up. I liked her, our coffee lass. “What if we need…?”
“There’ll be a floater. One of you circulates, takes the place of each of you in turn, for ten minutes at a time. Your list will give the order in which you’ll have a break. And when your break time comes, you must take it. No deviation.” He did his wintry smile. I watched it enviously. “We have a rehearsal. It’s called Viewing Day, which is Tuesday.
Wednesday is Sale Day. Last point: Take no bribes, accept no explanations, and don’t talk to people. If they insist on talking, simply smile past them.”
Robert had been fidgeting. Now he rumbled. “If you’re so clever spotting the thieves, why not bar them? It’s stupid, mon.”
“Then we’d bar all. They’re all crooks.” Trembler looked down his nose at Robert, who flushed in fury. “Rich Swiss, showy Yanks, suave Parisians, pedantic Germans, cool Londoners. The lot. Remember they work in groups. They’ll lower jewelry, even furniture, out of a window to friends outside. They’ll try all sorts.”
“But we know this place,” Duncan protested.
“Not you. Once, a lady carried an oil painting in. The guard let her pass. A minute later she left with her picture, saying it was the wrong room after all. They discovered she’d arrived with a worthless fake, and swapped it for an Impressionist painting worth a king’s ransom. No. Do as you’re told, and we’ll profit. Do what you think is best, and we’ll be rooked hook, line, and sinker.”
Robert was still glowering, so I chipped in. “Mr. Yale is right. It’s obvious you have no idea of the forces we’re up against.” I hesitated, but Elaine nodded me to continue.
“The best experts in the country are on Tachnadray’s side. They’re me, Mr. Yale, and Tinker there. Tachnadray’s crammed with valuables. Your job is to contain them until the money’s in. That’s all there is to it.”
Trembler tapped the board. “Those who will obey my orders without question, please rise.”
