Antiques Maul by Barbara Allan Read Free Book Online Page A

clothes than us, the man approached, his stern expression turning amused as he neared us. Mother and I kept our ground, and what little dignity we had left. I held my hands, fig-leaf style, as if naked, not nearly naked….
    “Young man,” Mother said in her most grandiose theatrical voice, “we seem to be locked out of our room.”
    “Yes, I know,” the guard responded. “Several guests called about the racket.”
    As he fished out a pass card from a pocket, Mother asked ridiculously, “Do you need to see some kind of identification?”
    An eyebrow raised on the guard as he looked us over, in a manner that might have been inappropriate if Mother hadn’t just suggested we might be carrying ID in our drawers.
    Then the guard smiled. “That won’t be necessary…I noticed you both when you checked in.”
    Mother preened. Touched the side of her face. “Why, thank you.”
    He didn’t say “you’re welcome,” too busy sneaking peeks at the younger idiot in the pink scanties.
    Safely back in our room, Mother remarked cheerfully, “Well, wasn’t he nice?”
    “Yeah…he’s probably used to dealing with all kinds of drunks and dopers in the middle of the night.”
    “Well, we must have been a pleasant surprise, then!”
    Rolling my eyes, I retrieved my covers from the bathroom and quickly jumped into bed hoping to beat Mother back to sleep.
    For once, I won the race.
    When the alarm clock shrilled at 7:00 AM , I about had a heart attack. Catching my breath, I shut it off and looked over toward Mother, who wasn’t in her bed.
    Nor was she in the bathroom.
    I was beginning to worry, when the door to our room opened and Mother, dressed again in the emerald outfit (it’s her favorite) entered, carrying a tray with coffee, fruit, and muffins.
    I said, reaching for the steaming java, “How nice!”
    “Yes, and it was free!”
    “Really? Complimentary breakfast came with the room?”
    “No,” Mother replied munching a muffin. “Not exactly. There’s a convention of morticians downstairs having a buffet, and I just got in line and pretended to be one of them. Made use of my improvisational skills, blending in.”
    I nodded, making a mental note to send the Morticians of America—if there was such a thing—a donation. I mean, flowers would be redundant.
    After hurriedly checking out, we followed the directions Chief Cassato had provided to an old armory on the south side of the city where the federal auction was being held.
    A good football field long, the massive brick and mortar structure gave no indication of its military past (or, for that matter, present) other than a few cement barricades around the front entrance. An orange-jacketed guy directing incoming traffic stopped us and we paid him five dollars for the privilege of parking a quarter of a mile away from the building. Mother and I should have rolled out of bed a lot earlier.
    We got hit up again entering the building—ten bucks!—and then once more when we signed up for our white-numbered bidding card.
    Despite my Prozac, I was getting annoyed, mentally calculating how much money this venture had cost us so far, what with hotel and gas, when I glanced over at Mother, who was taking in the aisles and aisles of merchandise with big, wide kid-in-a-candy-store eyes.
    Mother started to move away from me and I yanked her back by the sleeve of her jacket.
    “And where do you think you’re going, young lady?” I asked sweetly.
    She looked at me with feigned concern. “Have you been taking your medication, dear?”
    “Yes…have you ?”
    “Of course! But we must shake a tail feather if we’re going to see everything before the auction begins….”
    I put a hand on her shoulder. “I realize that, Mother, but we also need to stick together. We’d never find each other in this crowd if we got separated—understand?”
    “You are not dealing with a child!”
    “Mother…we need to be on the same team. Lots of competition…”
    She drew in a