Page 95 of Lost Cause
“I’m Leonard Shaw, the owner,” he said, his pleasant expression remaining in place.
Abby took the evidence bag holding the belt buckle from her backpack. “We were hoping you could give us an idea of when and where this buckle might’ve been made.”
He picked up the bag. “Can I take it out to examine it?”
“If you wear gloves,” Burke said.
“No problem.” He grabbed a pair of white cotton gloves. “These were freshly laundered.”
“Actually.” Abby drew a pair of disposable gloves from her backpack. “We’d prefer you’d use ours so we can be positive there’s no contamination.”
“I can do that.” He put on a pair of glasses and the gloves she gave him, then bent over the buckle. “Gorgeous piece. My first impression is it’s French.”
He flipped it over. “Ah, I was right. The maker’s mark is for Hermès. I imagine you’ve heard of the very high-end French designer.”
“I have,” Abby said. “Do you have any idea when this was made?”
He pointed at a small circle holding the letter A engraved on the back. “Circles were used for Hermès designs from 1971 to 1996. The letter A corresponds to a specific year. I just have to grab my detailed Hermès date stamp guide to check what the A means.”
He dug under the counter for a small binder, flipped a few pages, then paused and ran a finger down the plastic sleeve enclosing a piece of paper. “Ah. Here it is. The buckle was made in 1971.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes,” he said, a puzzled look on his face. “But here’s the thing. I don’t think Hermès was making such pricey buckles in those days. This was most likely custom-made.”
“Pricey?” Burke asked. “Like how much?”
“I saw a recent Hermès Kelly diamond buckle with crocodile belt in 18K yellow gold go for over fifty thousand.”
Burke let out a low whistle. “So the guy who wore it would’ve had money.”
“Yes, or someone he knew who could’ve gifted it to him. And they’d have to be well-connected to get a custom piece made.”
“Anything else you can tell us about it?”
He shook his head.
“How about the woman you were talking to?” Abby asked. “Might she know something about the buckle?”
“Her?” His face blanched. “No, she doesn’t have a background in antiques.”
“But she works here?”
“No. Just a customer.”
Abby leaned closer to him. “I heard your conversation about the painting when I came in. She sounded pretty knowledgeable to me.”
“Sorry, you’re wrong.” He stiffened.
“What’s her name?” Burke asked, his tone more casual and less intense than Abby’s.
“I don’t give out customer information.” He put the buckle back in the bag and ripped off the latex gloves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“I’ll just check with her.” Burke moved to the opening in the counter.
“Now wait a minute. You’re not authorized to go back there. Besides, she was leaving anyway.”
Burke didn’t listen but powered ahead. Shaw rushed after him. Abby couldn’t stand around and wait. She put the buckle in her backpack and hurried after them.
