Page 22 of Hawkeye

“I’ll come.”

Calder grabbed my bag as I ended the call. “Let’s go.”

I locked the conservation room behind us. The ribbon could wait. The people who had lived with those medals could not.

Calder drove again, and I couldn’t resist turning in my seat to tease, “I should ask Mr. Smythe to put you on payroll as my chauffeur. It’s a great perk.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Only for you, baby doll.”

“Good point.” I let out an exaggerated sigh. “All my coworkers would want you to drive them around if the auction house made it official.”

“Never gonna happen.”

Our joking lightened the mood until we arrived at Wynnock, then I got back down to business.

Mr. Smythe had the returned collection laid out in one of the examination rooms. My gaze drifted over the medal group, watch, and small studio photograph that had been tucked behind the velvet instead of mounted. The possibility that these items had been stolen from their rightful owner made my blood boil. And it wasn’t long before the suspicion was confirmed.

A woman about my mother’s age walked in with a younger man holding her arm. She did not wait for introductions before crossing to the table and staring at the medals. “Those are Dad’s.”

“They disappeared while we were at Grandpa’s funeral,” her son added, shaking his head.

“We told the police, but it’s been three months without any leads.” Her voice broke and then steadied as she added, “I didn’t think we’d ever see them again until you called.”

“I apologize for our part in this mess.” Mr. Smythe opened the lot file. “The estate company consigned the collection a few months ago, so they must have moved quickly after the theft. But the buyer returned every piece this afternoon. He does not want them in his house while ownership is in question.”

“There’s no question.” The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “I have the police report to back me up. These items were meant to be handed down to my son.”

“I grew up hearing stories about them from my grandfather,” the young man added with a sniffle.

“We’re working hard to make sure they’re returned to you,” I promised.

Her gaze swung to me. “You figured it out?”

“I played a small part in uncovering the items connected to a theft, yes,” I confirmed. “But Mr. Smythe has a whole team on it, plus the help of Black Castle Security.”

She studied my face for a moment before noticing Calder near the door. “That makes me feel a little better, thank you.”

I dipped my chin in acknowledgment. “I can only imagine how hard this has been on you.”

“There’s some paperwork we’ll need to complete before you can take them home,” Mr. Smythe murmured.

“I understand why you can’t just hand it all back to us tonight.” She reached for her son’s hand. “Just don’t put it back in a catalog for someone else to buy.”

I grimaced at the verbal jab, but it was fair, considering the circumstances.

Mr. Smythe walked the woman and her son out. When he returned, one of the other junior appraisers was with him.

The director tipped his chin toward us. “Tell them.”

“Another family called about an engraved watch and packet of service letters from an archived lot. They identified both from the photographs we sent.”

Mr. Smythe pinched the bridge of his nose. “They also confirmed the pattern. Somebody went through the house while they were gone for the wake.”

“The police file they emailed over is from September,” my coworker added.

Mr. Smythe pulled up the archived lot on his tablet. “One guess on the estate-clearance company.”

“Tippon,” Calder murmured.