“Fine,” I said. “I’ll look, but if anything in there is alive I’m tossing you inside and closing the lid.”
“Mrrr,” he said, and it almost seemed as if he shrugged.
I set the train engine back on the window ledge and gingerly opened the box. As soon as I’d pulled the flaps apart, Elvis was poking his nose inside.
“Let me see,” I said. I couldn’t hear any noises that suggested anything had set up home in the carton.
Inside the box I found four more train cars. They looked to be the right size and vintage to go with the steam engine.
“Nice work,” I said to Elvis. He blinked his green eyes at me, then began making his way toward the door.
I picked up the engine again and squeezed through the maze of boxes and bags. I left the box with the other train cars behind. I knew I couldn’t squeeze through the narrow space if I was carrying it.
Elvis was already headed to the kitchen, so I followed him. Rose was humming softly while she wrapped a china cereal bowl in newspaper and Mac was standing in front of the large pantry cupboard typing on his iPad.
“Mac, do you know anything about model trains?” I asked, holding up the engine Elvis and I had found.
“Not really,” he said. “Is it Lionel?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s old, whatever it is. I think it might be a replica of some kind of steam engine.” I showed him the word ROCKET lettered on the side of the cylinder.
Rose tucked the paper wrapped bowl into a box at her feet and joined us. “Alfred knows a little about model trains,” she said. “Would you like me to call him?” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and held it up.
Mac looked at me and shrugged.
“Why not?” I said.
Mac took the engine from me, turning it over carefully in his hands. “It looks old, but it’s in decent shape. Where did you find it?”
“That little bedroom, the one that’s piled with stuff.”
Elvis meowed loudly and jumped up onto the only kitchen chair that didn’t have a box on it.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “it was actually Elvis who found it. And there’s a box with several cars that I think probably go with it.”
Rose was nodding at her phone. She ended the call and rejoined us. “Alfred thinks it may be a Marklin engine,” she said. “Could we take a photo and send it to him?”
Mac cleared a space on the counter. He set the engine down and Rose snapped a picture of it. It might have been another minute after she sent it to Mr. P. that her phone rang.
“What do you think?” Rose asked. She listened for a moment. “Oh, that would be lovely.” She looked at me and held out the phone. “Alfred would like to speak to you.”
I took it from her. “Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning, Sarah,” Mr. P. replied. “Rose said you found some additional train cars. Could you describe them to me?”
I shared what I remembered from my brief look inside the box.
“Splendid,” Mr. P. exclaimed.
“Does that mean you know what this engine is?” I asked.
“I believe I do,” he said, and I could hear an edge of excitement in his voice. “I think what you have is a Marklin S Rocket, which is a replica of Stephenson’s Rocket, one of the most advanced steam locomotives of the early eighteen hundreds. It wasn’t a big seller in its day for Marklin. A complete set with all the cars would be a very rare find. It sounds as though that’s what you have.”
I looked at the tin engine. “Does rare equal valuable?”
“Indeed it does, at least in this case. The last set, minus one car, sold for more than twenty-five thousand dollars about eighteen months ago.”
“So this set could be worth more than that?” I said.
“To a collector, yes,” he said. “And I should caution you that I’m no expert on this kind of thing. You need to get the train evaluated by someone who knows model trains.”
“I will,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear,” he said.
I handed the phone back to Rose.
“You’re smiling,” Mac said.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the rounded edge of the counter. “If Mr. P. is right, that engine and the train cars I saw in the box could be worth twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Wow.”
I smiled even wider at him. “Exactly.”
By noon Rose and I had packed all the dishes that were going to Stella, and Mac had finished the kitchen inventory.
“I’ll check with Stella about getting these boxes moved before the estate sale,” I said to Mac, indicating the cartons of wine. “Unless they turn out to be evidence.”
“What do you mean, evidence?” he said.
“Michelle told me that the police are looking into the fraud with the wine,” I said quietly.
“As part of this investigation or as something separate?”
“Both,” Rose said, looking up from the box she was taping shut.
“How do you know that?” I said, rubbing a knot out of the back of my neck with one hand.
Rose looked at me unblinkingly. It was disconcertingly like the look Elvis often gave me.
I shook my head. “This falls into the category of things I’d probably be happier not knowing, doesn’t it?”
Rose just smiled.
“Do you know how Edison Hall got interested in collecting wine in the first place?” Mac asked. “Did Stella say anything about it?”
“Not to me,” I said. I looked inquiringly at Rose.
She shook her head. “She didn’t say anything to me, either.”
Mac raised an eyebrow. “That might be useful information to have,” he said.
Rose nodded slowly. “Yes, it might,” she said. She glanced at her watch. “Sarah dear, don’t you need to get back and get ready for your lunch date?”
I straightened up. “Yes, I do. Are you two coming back here after lunch? I don’t need the SUV.”
“I brought lunch for the two of us,” Rose said, smiling at Mac and tipping her head in the direction of her tote bag sitting on the one bare space on the counter. “We could just stay here and you could come back for us.”
Mac shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“Why don’t you drive me down to the shop?” I said to him. “Then when you’re ready, you and Rose can leave. I have no idea how long this lunch of Liz’s is going to take.”
“Do you mind staying here by yourself?” he said to Rose. “It won’t take me very long to drive Sarah back to the shop.”
Elvis meowed loudly and it seemed to me, just a bit indignantly.
“As Elvis just pointed out, I won’t be by myself,” Rose said with a smile. “Go ahead. I’ll start packing up those National Geographic magazines while you’re gone.”
Rose seemed to have an unlimited amount of energy. She could work someone half her age under the table.
“There are a couple of plastic bins in the living room,” Mac said. “You can use those, but don’t lift them. I’ll move them when I get back.”
“All right,” she said in the tone of someone who was just humoring him. She patted my arm as she passed me. “Don’t let Liz get off-topic, dear,” she said. “You know how she can be.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, pulling down my shirtsleeves. “But I’m not promising anything, because I do know how she can be.”
“I’m just going to grab the toolbox,” Mac said as we pulled in to the lot at the store. “I think I’m going to have to take the hutch and the sideboard apart.”
“Put in a couple more hours and call it a day. I’ll be back . . . when I’m back.”
“All right,” he said. Then he smiled. “Good luck with Liz.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think finding that model train was a good omen.”
Of course I was wrong.
Chapter 11
Liz was standing by the front door talking to Charlotte when I came down the stairs. I was wearing the dress Charlotte had suggested with heels that were probably too high and lipstick that was probably too red.