Read The Persian Helmet Page 9


  Chapter 9: Lock, Stock, And Gun Barrels

  The morning after the Fourth, Clare called the sheriff’s office.

  “Hi, this is Clare Bower down at The Rag and Bone Shop.”

  “Hey there,” Sheriff Matheson said. “You put on quite a show for us yesterday.”

  “More than I planned,” she said. “I know this is asking a lot, but I have that helmet locked up here and I want to just put it back in the bank safe deposit box, but I’m kind of afraid to walk down the block with it, even if I put it in a bag. Would it be possible for you or someone to, uh, give me an escort? I know it’s an imposition. Actually I feel kind of stupid.”

  “That’s quite all right. Clench is here this morning and it won’t take but a few minutes. He’ll be right along, won’t you, Clench?”

  Clench was at the shop in a flash, as it seemed to Clare.

  “Hi! Thank you so much. Just let me get this thing out of the elevator and put it in a bag … I won’t keep you long.”

  “Your taxes at work. And it is a police matter now.”

  “I didn’t see you again after you took off after that guy last night. Did you catch him?”

  “No, but we got an ID. Yesterday morning Sheriff Matheson sent the other deputy to all the parking lots around town and told him to look for a license plate covered with mud. A lot of times, of course, the farmers’ trucks are all muddy but we haven’t had any rain for a while so there shouldn’t be much mud, especially if it’s just on the plate and not on the wheels or vehicle. So the sheriff told him to look for something like that and clean it off and write down the number and the car model and so on.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  “Yep. An out of county car, a blue Ford Escort, real clean except for muddy plates. In fact the front plate was missing. Technically you’re supposed to have two plates on your car, in Ohio, but sometimes the front of a car isn’t made to hold a plate so nobody pays any attention to that, but this Escort had a place to mount a plate in the front but only had a plate on the back.”

  “So did you track it?”

  “Yeah. It’s from Akron. Registered to Mohammed Ebrahim.”

  Clare stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at Clench.

  “Did I tell you where I got this helmet?”

  “No.”

  She told him.

  “Now, it really was put out for trash pickup because everyone had stuff on the curb that day. It’s the monthly large item pickup in that neighborhood. I did not steal that helmet.”

  “I didn’t think you did. But that kid wants it, and someone else wanted to get rid of it.”

  “Did you contact this Mohammed Ebrahim yet?”

  “No. The sheriff is thinking about it. The car wasn’t reported stolen. Maybe it’s his dad’s car. He should be told what the boy is up to, of course. Maybe he can explain it. But the sheriff doesn’t want to arrest the kid. So far he hasn’t done any real harm. Besides make you nervous, which we don’t want.” Clench smiled at her.

  Clare smiled back.

  “Well, I’m not inclined to give the helmet back. But I’m even more curious about it now.”

  “The sheriff is considering whether to call this Ebrahim or send somebody up to talk with him in person. And the boy. Semi-unofficially.”

  “Hmm. Could I go along? I would not take the helmet,” Clare said emphatically.

  “We’ll see.”

  They got the helmet safely deposited in its box, and walked back to the store.

  “That concealed carry class is this Saturday, right?”

  “Yeah. You planning to sign up? We have a few other people registered. It will be a small group.”

  “Do I sign up at the sheriff’s office?”

  “Sure, come on back with me and get ‘er done.”

  “I will. I think those guns might be delivered from Sears today.”

  “OK. I’ll stop by this afternoon.”

  “Wait a minute — ,” Clare put her hand on his arm as he started to walk away. “What did that kid say to you when you grabbed him? And then you said something to him. What language were you speaking?”

  “Persian. Also called Farsi. He was swearing, and I was swearing. Son of a dog, things like that.”

  “So, he’s Persian? I mean, Iranian?”

  “Apparently. We were both surprised.”

  “I was trying to find out something about that helmet online, and I got the idea that it was Persian armor, or Indo-Persian, they call it.”

  “There’s a mosque in Akron,” Clench said, more to himself than to Clare.

 

  Jackson came in with one of his trucks and delivered the four guns Clare had ordered, among other items for the store. The truck was full, though Clare had gotten over the urge to order everything possible, before it all disappeared. Unless she planned to go into the mail order business herself, she’d best confine her business to the store space she, and her small staff, could personally manage.

  When Jackson came in, Clare repressed the small pang she always felt on seeing him. She felt that they had an almost magical connection, but he still would not really talk to her. She’d also gotten over the urge to press him for information about the source of the Sears stock, but aside from what seemed to be meaningful eye contact, they hadn’t really gotten much closer after his appearance at Aunt Adela’s funeral. But she shook it off and started unpacking.

  “Unpacking, that’s good, huh?” she said to Jackson. “I’m unpacking so I can be packing. I’m taking a concealed carry class tomorrow. Get it?”

  Jackson smiled and nodded. Clare couldn’t tell if he got it or not.

  “You do a lot of traveling, carrying valuables. Do you carry a gun?”

  “No. I don’t need to.”

  Clare looked puzzled at this but decided that, based on all her experience with Jackson, it wasn’t worth the trouble trying to get him to elaborate, elucidate, or answer simple yes or no questions. She watched him drive away with a sigh, and went into her office to open the boxes of guns. She’d ordered from the 1902 Sears catalogue, with no input from anyone, so her choices might not have been the best. But the prices were so low that it would be no problem to buy new ones if Clench told her not to use these, though she had chosen the most expensive models in the catalogue.

  The shotgun was an L. C. Smith Breech Loader. Was there another way to load, Clare wondered. The one she bought cost $77.62, the special high grade 12-gauge:

  “… fine 4-blade Damascus steel barrels, fine English walnut stock, finely checkered grip and fore end, rubber butt plate, case hardened locks, frame and breech handsomely engraved and finely finished in 12-gauge.”

  That’s a lot of fineness, Clare thought, considering she didn’t know what all those specs meant. But she’d learn. The special order she bought added about $10 to the cost and provided an automatic ejector, whatever that was.

  As for the rifles, she recognized the name Winchester, and thought the 30-Caliber Army Box Magazine Sporting Rifle sounded good, at $17.82. But she had also bought an oddball Improved Quackenbush Bicycle Rifle for $3.65. It had a little steel handle and a long barrel, coming to 27 inches total length, or 16 inches closed, though she couldn’t tell how it closed.

  “… all steel … can be used either as a rifle or pistol. … The skeleton stock can be moved in and out quickly. … Weight, 31 ounces.”

  Sounded like a deal.

  There were ladies’ revolvers and vest pocket revolvers and one with a bayonet. The Colt Special Pearl Handle Revolver had an ox head carved on it. The Smith & Wesson Military and Police Revolver seemed like a good bet, but she had chosen the Colt Pearl Handle with a 7-1/2 inch barrel for $22, plus a little Remington Derringer with a 3-inch barrel, total length 5 inches, for $6.35 with a blued barrel and pearl handle (extra).

  To round off her collection she’d bought a Colt Automatic Pistol for $18.50 — eight shots in one second, w
ith a 500 to 1,000 yard range.

  She’d had the forethought to order ammunition to fit all these firearms, and felt prepared, except that the 1902 catalogue had featured no gun safes, so she planned to buy a new one, or rather, one from a local store. But she intended to shop for holsters and any implements that might be required to care for a gun. And there were some nice shell bags and cases, and a tooled leather Cowboy Holster, and a Texas Shoulder Holster. Too much fun.

  Meanwhile, everything went into the elevator.

  As for the purchases for The Rag and Bone Shop, this time she’d focused on cameras, telegraph instruments, talking machines, graphophones, stereopticons, magic lanterns, slides (Spanish-American War, Noted Places Around the World, Old and New Testament Bible Views, The Passing of the Indian, etc.), and a piano and an organ.