|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Having read the article regarding the thefts in the Sacramento Bee, April decided to pay a visit to Mr. Franklin's store and see how he was doing. The girl was no cop, but she definitely had a knack for seeing things other didn't, so she figured that maybe she could be of some help to the older man.
"Hello?" called out April as she walked through the front door of the shop. "Anyone home?"
The front of the shop is sort of quaint, painted a pale green with flowers in full bloom on the front. There is something almost defiantly British about it, and undoubtedly old-fashioned. It is not hard to imagine, seeing the outside of the place, to believe he has kept the design exactly the same through each incarnation.
Alfred's Shop
A brass bell jingles as April stepped inside, and from the semi-darkness came a soft clunk, clunk of Alfred's Augustus Franklin's walking cane. He appeared from a back room, to the right of the young woman.
"Ah, Miss Davenport. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
April had been taking a quick look around the antique shop while she waited for a response. As she heard the sounds of the cane, she turned to face the elderly man, offering a pleasant smile. "Mr. Franklin! Glad to see you are ok," she said to him with sincerity in her words. "I read that there was a break in at your shop, so I wanted to check in on you and make sure you were alright."
Alfred leaned forward on his cane, one hand atop the other as his fingers curled around the silver top. He April a calm nod.
"How thoughtful of you," the old man responded in a gracious tone of voice. Currently he seemed the epitome of everyone's gentile grandfather. There was even a bit of wisdom behind the gold spectacles.
"I was not here at the time of the break-in, thank goodness. The police have been through the building repeatedly-," there was a deliberate pause, and something crossed his face.
"Thus far, they had discovered nothing helpful. I am told vandals operate in the area."
He turned, walking slowly toward the back of the shop where a few things had been pushed around; remanants of fingerprinting dust is still visible.
"I must admit, at times such as this, it would be most pleasant if Hellhounds were purchasable from the local breeder."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
April listened to Mr. Franklin's words, paying close attention to what the man was saying. "I am glad to hear you were not present at the time," she said to him with a sincere smile, taking notice of the look in his eyes. "It's unfortunate that they haven't been able to find any good leads yet. Hopefully something will come up soon."
As he turned, April followed him towards the back of the store. "Well, I doubt you'll be able to find any Hellhounds amongst the local breeders, but a guard dog may not be a bad idea," she commented, suppressing the urge to chuckle a bit at his words due to the seriousness of the situation.
"Did they take much?" she asked, curious as to what his answer would be. After all, the newspaper article mentioned that Mr. Franklin had declined to talk much about the incident.
1 suxx
While there is obvious irritation that his shop was broken into, Alfred looked around at the disarray caused by the police was a sharp expression of venom.
He really did not like people touching his things. They were antiques.
"One or two objects of great value. The police seem to be of the belief that there will be attempts to sell them on the black market. Due to their unique quality, they should not be too difficult to locate."
He paused at the counter.
"Would you like some tea, Miss Davenport?" he offered, with all the perfect manners of one who was used to treating company terribly well.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
April picked up on the fact that Mr. Franklin didn't like his things being messed with, something she made a mental note of. After all, she wouldn't want to upset him in the future. "That's too bad," she said in reference to the items that were stolen. "Well, if the police are right about their assumptions, you may get the items back sooner rather than later." She gave him a quick smile, trying to inject some cheerfulness into the conversation.
"Oh, sure...some tea would be lovely," she said in response to his offer. "Thank you." April gave him another quick smile, a gesture of gratitude this time around. "Mr. Franklin, if you don't mind me asking, how rare were these items?" she asked, hoping that the elderly man wouldn't be offended or opposed to answering her question.
Alfred turned around to a black kettle plugged into the socket, behind the counter. He flicked the switch and quite soon, the water was boiling away. “I cannot abide modern kettles,” the old man commented. “They may be more efficient than the metal pots, warmed over a hot fire, but they persist in tasting of plastic.”
Clearly, Alfred was rather particular about a few things. He picked out drawstring teabag, and deposited it into one of the china cups. A silver spoon was set precisely on the matching saucer.
“Rare?” Alfred turned around, his eyes meeting April’s. “Oh yes. Some of them were quite rare. Irreplacable. The police say the thieves wore gloves, as no fingerprints were found.”
Something in his voice suggests that the local constabulary could have tried much harder.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
April resisted the urge to chuckle at his comment about kettles, only allowing a little smirk to touch the corner of her lips. "Well, the way I see it, modern technology is both a blessing and a curse," she commented in response. "While some of it is very helpful, we have become rather dependant on it."
She frowned slightly at his next words. "That's too bad," said the girl, her words sincere. "I really do hope you can get the items back somehow." April offered Mr. Franklin a shy smile, trying to cheer up the old man just a bit. "You know, it is possible that the people who did this may be trying to sell the items to private collectors," she said, as she started to entertain the thought of who may be interested in stealing antiques.
"If the local police isn't looking into it, perhaps the idea should be brought up to them," said the girl, trying to be helpful in any way she could.
"I had considered that," Alfred answered, with a short nod of agreement to April's comment on collectors. "I have various contacts in that particular field, of course," he added with a small smile. Naturally, being the owner of an antique shop, there was a professional... competition to keep tabs on other collectors.
And Alfred Augustus Franklin was a voracious collector.
"I imagine if my possessions turned up with another private collector, I would hear of it through the grapevine."
Angels We Have Heard On High
Draft this Post