Shadows at the Spring Show by Lea Wait Page A

doesn’t know antiques could figure pretty quickly what was worth stealing. The estate jewelry dealer will take his top-end merchandise home every night, but most people will leave everything here. I’d feel better if there were someone in the gyms overnight—we could even put in a cot, if they were a light sleeper—to make sure no one tried to break in.”
    “You want one of my guys to sleep in the gym?” Al raised an eyebrow. “Those antiques must really be big-ticket items.”
    “Perception is reality. Tell people there’s a building full of antiques and they’ll imagine hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of items. And when you multiply the retail value of even a relatively small inventory by thirty-six dealers . . .”
    Al nodded. “Got it.”
    “I’d planned to ask one of the adoptive fathers connected with the agency to stay overnight. But now the situation is more complicated. The agency has asked the local police to keep aneye on the gym, but that just means they’ll drive by once an hour or so. I’d like someone there who knows what to do in case of an emergency.”
    Al put his pen down. “Professor, I mean, Maggie, what’s the real deal? There’s something you’re not telling me. What’s this ‘complicated situation’?”
    Al seemed incredibly sane and easy to talk with. And trustworthy. “This has to be just between you and me. But Our World Our Children has been receiving threatening letters from someone who is angry about something the agency does. Or did. We don’t know what.”
    “My niece and her husband out in Ohio adopted a real sweet little girl from China. I don’t see how anybody could be upset about people bringing kids and families together.” Al leaned back in his chair.
    “Exactly. I have no idea what the problem is either.”
    “They must be nuts!”
    “Maybe. A lot of nuts are out there.”
    “You don’t have to tell me.” Al sat up straighter and paid close attention. “Talk to me about these threats.”
    “Carole Drummond, the head of Our World Our Children, has gotten several hate letters in the past couple of months. They were nasty, but they weren’t threatening. The local cops said there was nothing they could do.”
    “Right. Can’t arrest anyone for words. Just actions.”
    “Then last week the agency got another letter. This one said they should stop the antiques show. It specifically mentioned the dates. Carole talked to the police yesterday and they connected it to letters sent to an adoption agency in Trenton.”
    “Same sort of language?”
    “Apparently. But all the letters are postmarked near here, in Somerville. I haven’t told anyone yet, Al, but yesterday someone left a threatening message on my home answering machine. It sounded like the same sort of rhetoric. And mentioned the show.”
    Al looked sternly at her. “You haven’t told the police?”
    “Not yet.”
    “You need to do that, Maggie. Today. Did you erase the message?”
    “No. I listened to it several times. And that’s what stopped me from calling anyone. Al, I think I’ve heard the voice before. I’m pretty sure it was a man, but he was speaking in a high voice.”
    “You need to get to the police, Maggie. Whether you recognize the voice or not.”
    “I will. Today. Right after I drop some food off at the Sloanes’ home. Did you see in the paper? Holly Sloane is the adoptive mother who was shot Sunday morning.”
    “I did see that. And she’s connected to the same agency that you’re doing the antiques show for?”
    “She runs a support group at OWOC. She and her husband have adopted eleven hard-to-place kids. And one of her sons is missing. They’re trying to find him, too.”
    “This could all be connected, Maggie.”
    “I don’t understand how, or why. But that’s why I really need your help on security for this show.”
    “Any chance you or the agency will cancel the show?”
    “No! We’re not going to give in to this . . . adoption terrorist!”