Chapter 3: Helmet In A Box
Jim didn’t go with them but promised to come down on the longer Memorial Day weekend and take photos. They waited till Sunday afternoon to drive back to Greenline so Roxy could go to Mass with her parents.
“Don’t worry, Roxy, no need to carry all those boxes again. The store is closed on Mondays, except for the holiday weekend, but I’ll call some of the staff to help in the morning. And if you have time, maybe you’ll have some suggestions for the new room. Does it need its own name, and what color to paint it.” Clare added hastily, when she saw Roxy’s raised eyebrows, “No, no, no painting. Just advice.”
Clare called Clench Bargo and arranged for him to unload the truck on Monday morning, but the boxes would have to sit on the floor until she could get some cabinets.
“I could afford to buy some antique display cases, but is it worth the money, or should I just get some cheap shelves?” she mused aloud to Roxy.
“Well, you could start thinking of the store as a destination in itself, a cute sort of tourist stop, not that it isn’t already. Get an old Coca-Cola cooler too. I mean, keep it simple but add a few touches here and there.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want people drinking pop around the merchandise.”
“Carry out only. No bottle opener. And glass bottles, of course, not plastic or cans. Are you going to put books in the new room too?”
“Well, I have a few books from the Sears catalogues, but I don’t want to have to learn about the rare books business. I guess if the locals have books they want to sell, I could handle that. Within limits. They could take up a lot of room.”
“Hey, Clare, what about this trunk? It’s locked,” Clench called out.
“Oh yeah, the trunk,” Clare said. She and Roxy walked over to him and examined the lock.
“That padlock isn’t worth saving so I’m not going to call a locksmith. We need bolt cutters. But I don’t have any.”
“I’ve got some at home,” Clench offered.
“Maybe I should just buy some,” Clare said. “Here, would you run down to the hardware store and buy bolt cutters? Is this enough?” She handed him $40.
“Oh yeah, more than enough. Be right back.”
When he left, Clare said to Roxy, “Sometimes I buy tools from the Sears catalogues, but just for my own use. I could sell them in the store but I don’t want to undercut Mr. Ernst.”
The hardware store was just a couple of blocks down the street and Clench was back soon, with change.
“Receipt too, Clench. I have to keep the books straight, you know.”
He pulled the receipt out of his pocket and handed it to Clare, then quickly and neatly cut the padlock. He opened the trunk and stood back as all three of them peered in.
Inside was a bulky object wrapped in an old sheet. Clare picked it up and removed the sheet, revealing a peculiar steel helmet. It had a spike on top, and on the sides and in front of the spike tubes were attached that must have held something at one time: more spikes? feathers? A brass filigree ornament was on the front band that held the center tube. Small holes circled the edge and also the medallion. Clare looked inside.
“You couldn’t wear this, there probably would have been a leather inner helmet attached at those holes,” Clare said. “It’s sure not American. I’ve never seen anything like it. And look at this.”
The conical helmet was etched all over with intricate outlines of people.
“Maybe it’s a theatrical prop,” Roxy suggested.
“But you couldn’t see these etchings from the stage.”
“Well, this would be a great piece to launch your new room with,” Roxy said as she got out her camera. “Let me take some photos. Jim will take good photos for the magazine but I just want some to prod my memory as I write the article.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I’m going to sell it. Not yet anyway. Have no idea what it is. And why would anyone throw this out, in a locked trunk?”
“A locked trunk mystery!” Roxy said dramatically. She was a mystery fan.
“It might be a bank vault mystery, because I don’t want to leave it sitting out. It could go in a glass case. The jewelry cases aren’t big enough, though,” Clare said. “I’ll just take it home till I figure out what to do with it. I’m going to put it in my car, then who wants lunch?”
“I gotta go now,” Clench said. “Still working on that vineyard, and Dad wanted me home by lunch. Thanks anyway.”
Clare paid him — he worked on an hour-by-hour or day-by-day cash basis — then she and Roxy walked over to the cafe.
“So the first story was just a notice about your opening The Rag and Bone Shop last year,” Roxy said as they ate their hamburgers, “but we want a longer piece now about what a success it’s been.”
“But you can’t write anything about how I get the stuff. Where it comes from. Jackson and the trucks. I mean, I don’t even know, really. And you know we’ve tried to follow him out of town and he always loses us.”
“Well, there’s enough for a great story without that. We also published a short item about your trial, you know, but now we can just focus on the merchandise and the new antique basement, and how the town is reviving. I mean, this can be a continuing story, really, there will always be something new to write about.”
“Yeah … of course I want the publicity, not that I need it, but your story will just bring more media down here and it will get crazy. And they’ll think I’m crazy if you write about …”
“Well, all they have to do is read the trial transcript to think that,” Roxy said bluntly. “But don’t worry about me.”
“I trust you. I just don’t trust … a lot of other people.”
“Are you thinking of Ed Bennett?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s jealous, for sure …”
“Just like a lot of people at the flea market. That’s why I didn’t want to hang out there for long.”
“But what can he do, really?”
“He still comes down to look around and buy things and try to find out where it comes from.”
“Well, if he tortures us we’ll never tell, because we don’t know either,” Roxy said matter of factly.
“So, should the new room have a different name, or just be an adjunct to The Rag and Bone?” Clare asked.
“I think just an adjunct. You could have a name on the door, the elevator door, and inside the room, and in the show window, you need good signs. But I wouldn’t actually give it a different name other than that; then you might as well set up a new business entity. Too much trouble.”
“So what goes on the sign? Buy and sell antiques and collectibles.
“Yeah, that’s good. Print “buy and sell” in big letters. And you’ve got to figure out the percentage to give the people who bring their stuff in.”
“Well, I’m thinking 50% or maybe more. 75%. Really, I’m making money from the Sears stuff, I don’t need to make much from the other stuff. I mean, people will bring it to me, I don’t even have to go out looking for it, and everyone around here needs the money.”
“You could call it Unsears.”
“Hmm.”
“Not crazy about it?”
“No.”
“How about … Your Stuff?”
“Better.”
“Stuff It?”
“No.”
“Well Seasoned.”
“A little too …”
“Maybe just The Antique Cellar?”
“That’s it,” Clare said.
“Or The Sellers’ Cellar? Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it. But … just The Cellar. And not Antique because some stuff might not be antique. Why lock ourselves in? I’ll get some signs made up.”
“I feel like I just did a day’s work,” Roxy said.
“You didn’t. But you helped.”
“OK. So, paint?”
“Just white, I think.”
??
?Can I get you anything or order anything from Akron? Like, is there a place around here to get signs made?”
“I think so, in the next town over. Not too far. And I’ll get paint at the hardware store down the street, that selfsame place that had the bolt cutters. I like to patronize the local businesses when possible.”
“Good idea.”
“And I want to go to the bank.”
Clare got the helmet out of the trunk and carried it to the bank.
“Hi, how are you?” she greeted the teller, who knew her. “I need to rent a bank deposit box. Big enough for this.”
“Oh my,” the teller said. “What on earth? Let me get one of the managers.”
It was a matter of moments to rent a safe deposit box big enough for the helmet, and Clare thought she might as well get one with enough room for valuable papers too.
“And I want my parents to be able to have access to it, if necessary.”
Clare and Roxy went to the hardware store to choose among shades of white paint and buy brushes and rollers and so on.
“How are the light fixtures in that basement?” asked the clerk. “It’s been years since I was down there, but I was in there a long time ago.”
“Well, the lights work and there seem to be plenty of them. I didn’t even pay attention to the fixtures. Maybe I’ll want to get something nicer, I don’t know. I’ll get back to you,” Clare said. “Oh, I’ll need to get the floor polished, maybe. It’s old tile, not hardwood like the main floor, but in pretty good condition. I’ll get Clench Bargo to take care of that. And the basement is dry.”
“You’re lucky there.”
“Well, thanks. I’ll be coming back this week no doubt, but Clench will pick up the paint and stuff later,” Clare said.
Roxy returned to Akron the next day, with a couple of bottles of opium and cocaine-laced tonic for ladies.
“What that stuff, Roxy,” Clare said warningly.
“Hey, don’t worry about me. I’ll be back with Jim this weekend.”
“Yeah, meanwhile, no open bottles in the car.”
“Of course not. You know me better than that.”
“Anyway, your boss is OK with you taking off today?”
“Oh yeah. She’s hot for this story.”