Last Case at a Baggage Auction

LAST CASE AT A BAGGAGE AUCTION

ERIC J. GUIGNARD

with illustrations by

Steve Lines

Harper Day Books

New York, NY

LAST CASE AT A BAGGAGE AUCTION

Copyright © Eric J. Guignard 2013, 2020

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and dialogue are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles.

Cover design by Eric J. Guignard

www.ericjguignard.com

Front cover illustration by SessaV

www.instagram.com/sessav

Interior illustrations by Steve Lines

www.rainfallsite.com

Ebook Layout by Lori Michelle

www.theauthorsalley.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Guignard, Eric J.

Last case at a baggage auction.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020938951

First Harper Day Books editions

ISBN-13: 978-1-949491-25-8 (hardback)

ISBN-13: 978-1-949491-24-1 (paperback)

ISBN-13: 978-1-949491-26-5 (e-book)

First published by JournalStone in September, 2013 in variant text as Baggage of Eternal Night

HARPER DAY BOOKS

New York, NY

Made in the United States of America

(V061020)

PRAISE FOR ERIC J. GUIGNARD

Writing that captures the depth of emotion underlying fictional terrors.

—Library Journal

Guignard’s works are as shocking as they are thought-provoking.

—Publishers Weekly

Eric J. Guignard is a talented author . . . his stories are beautifully written and compelling.

—British Fantasy Society

Guignard gives voice to paranoid vision that’s all too believable.

—Ramsey Campbell, Britain’s most respected living horror writer (Oxford Companion to English Literature)

For works that are beautiful and strange, read this writer of dark and speculative fiction!

—The Big Thrill Magazine

The defining new voice of horror has arrived!

—Nancy Holder, NYT bestselling author, Wicked

Guignard is someone to watch in horror.

—Cemetery Dance Magazine

Delivers fantastic tales . . . highly recommended.

—Famous Monsters of Filmland

A helluva writer!

—Rick Hautala, million-copy, international best-selling author of Nightstone and Little Brothers

Eric J. Guignard crafts storytelling into timeless masterpieces . . . haunting stories that will captivate readers that relish dark fiction.

—Fanbase Press

Eric J. Guignard is a visionary.

—Kaaron Warren, Multiple award-winning and best-selling author of The Grief Hole and Slights

Guignard’s writing is an adventurous journey the reader can think about long after the last page is turned.

—Amazing Stories Magazine

When Eric J. Guignard’s name is on something, it’s like the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval.

—Gene O’Neill, Lethal Birds, The Cal Wild Chronicles

Guignard is highly recommended. Brilliant . . . deserved to be read.

—Monster Librarian

Fiction Written by Eric J. Guignard

Doorways to the Deadeye (JournalStone, 2019)

Last Case at a Baggage Auction (Harper Day Books, 2020)

That Which Grows Wild: 16 Tales of Dark Fiction (Cemetery Dance Publications, 2018)

Anthologies Edited by Eric J. Guignard

A World of Horror (Dark Moon Books, 2018)

After Death . . . (Dark Moon Books, 2013)

Dark Tales of Lost Civilizations (Dark Moon Books, 2012)

The Five Senses of Horror (Dark Moon Books, 2018)

+Horror Library+ Volume 6 (Cutting Block Books/ Farolight Publishing, 2017)

Pop the Clutch: Thrilling Tales of Rockabilly, Monsters, and Hot Rod Horror (Dark Moon Books, 2019)

Exploring Dark Short Fiction (A Primer Series)

Created by Eric J. Guignard

#1: A Primer to Steve Rasnic Tem (Dark Moon Books, 2017)

#2: A Primer to Kaaron Warren (Dark Moon Books, 2018)

#3: A Primer to Nisi Shawl (Dark Moon Books, 2018)

#4: A Primer to Jeffrey Ford (Dark Moon Books, 2019)

#5: A Primer to Han Song (Dark Moon Books, 2020)

#6: A Primer to Ramsey Campbell (forthcoming) (Dark Moon Books, 2020)

The Horror Writers Association Presents: Haunted Library of Horror Classics

Edited by Eric J. Guignard and Leslie S. Klinger

Vol. I: The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux (Sourcebooks, 2020)

Vol. II: The Beetle by Richard Marsh (Sourcebooks, 2020)

Vol. III: Vathek by William Beckford (Sourcebooks, 2020)

Vol. IV: The House on the Borderland by William Hope Hodgson (forthcoming) (Sourcebooks, 2020)

Vol. V: The Parasite and Other Tales of Terror by Arthur Conan Doyle (forthcoming) (Sourcebooks, 2021)

Vol. VI: The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers (forthcoming) (Sourcebooks, 2021)

Dedicated as always, and with love, to my family—Jeannette, Julian, and Devin.

And to Lisa Morton for opportunity and support.

We’re all collectors of something.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD

AUTHOR’S REQUEST

THE AUTHOR

THE ILLUSTRATOR

1.

I WANT TO tell you about Joey Third.

You probably never heard of Joey before, but at one time in the early 1950s he was a big-shot gambler in the underworld circles of Chicago and Detroit. Joey Thurston was his real name, but Joey Third is the name some wise guy called him on account of there being three different Joeys gambling one night in Little Louie’s Den. After that, the name just stuck.

Joey and I became good friends. I didn’t get to know him until after his poker days were over. I wouldn’t have associated with him in those backroom circles anyway; those were the tables run by gangsters like Joseph Zerilli and Angelo Meli, men who could make you vanish if you laughed at the wrong joke or they didn’t like the color of your tie. But by 1959, Joey had quit with the cards. Seemed that when he lost at poker, he really lost big. And when he won . . . well, he still lost. After a night of straight aces, two mucks accused him of cheating and they broke every bone in his left hand with a framing hammer. I don’t believe Joey ever cheated—the times I knew him, he would return a gold watch to a man that dropped it on the street. I think those mucks that busted his hand were just sore losers. That, or their bosses were.

Anyway, how I met Joey was at the baggage auctions. Joey may have soured on cards, but he was a gambling man at heart. I began to recognize him at places like Roman’s and the liquidation house on 23rd. I got used to seeing him waving that crippled hand of his up in the air, those ruined fingers askew like the twisted legs of a dead spider. Joey had an affable presence about him, a sense that, whether he was joking or irritable or even plain silent, one could still find companionship just by standing next to him. He was a genuine people-person. I won a few auctions over him, and he won a few over me, and pretty soon we’d get to drinking a couple mugs afterward, bearing a bond of baggage gambling.

Now, in case I’m getting ahead of myself, let me explain what a baggage auction is, for those of you not around during the war in the Koreas. These auctions are for pieces of luggage that go unclaimed at all the big hotels, pieces left inside the rooms. Maybe the guests forgot about their baggage. Maybe folks got locked up, or they didn’t pay the bill . . . maybe they died. The bags are sold off unopened to the highest bidder. You never know what you’re going to find inside, but with a little education and experience, you get pretty good at guessing. A big, frumpy carpet bag with paisley print on it likely contains some old marm’s stockings and brassiere. A scuffed attaché case might contain makeup or the display merchandise of a traveling salesman. A midsize valise, plain in color, but from a high-end manufacturer—well, those are the best to go after. More often than not, you’ll find a gentleman’s vanity or lady’s jewelry inside. The first time I competed in an auction, I bid one dollar and won a dented footlocker speckled on the front by dark stains. Inside was an envelope stuffed with ten fifty-dollar bills. After that, I was hooked for life.

The tale I want to tell you about Joey Third involves a leather suitcase he won at a baggage auction. I want to tell you about what was inside that suitcase.

It all began late on a Thursday afternoon in the midst of July. I remember that day because the Tigers had taken an awful pounding by the White Sox for three days in a row. The whole city just seemed to slump at that, as if every building and car were inflatable and air slowly leaked out from the seams. People were in a foul mood, and the summer heat didn’t help none. The baggage auctions were normally a hoot for Joey and me both, but our hearts didn’t seem to be in it that day.

The auctions were a weekly event, every Thursday afternoon, and that day it was held offsite in a distribution warehouse that doubled as a union hall. There weren’t even chairs to sit on. We just stood in a large group, sweating and small-talking. Most of the guys in there knew each other—we all traveled to the same auctions the way you would follow horses at the tracks. We had our favorite auctioneers and our favorite hotels that the luggage came from. Today wasn’t much different, except we were in the warehouse rather than a lodge or liquidation house.

Joey and I worked our way over to Ray Galler, a friend from the north side of town who owned a couple consignment shops. Ray was also an art and collectibles dealer who bought anything of value that we won. Between his stores and his private dealings, Ray could find a buyer for just about anything, if the price made sense. He was only a few years older than us but twice the hustler. I didn’t make a lot of money from the auctions or races or my other gambling ventures—I also ghostwrote political editorials to pay the bills—but to Ray, the auctions were a way of life.

He had a habit of snapping his fingers when he spoke, as if the words hid a secret beat only he could hear. He snapped away. Charlie, Joey, what do ya say? Anything lookin’ hot?

The bidding started at five o’clock, but you were allowed to preview the closed baggage for an hour before.

Your eyes are as good as mine, Joey said.

What do you think of the big steamer trunk over there?

I saw it, I replied. Has nice locks, solid brass and polished. Somebody took good care of it.

Could be some nice artwork inside, Ray said.

Or Grandma’s family photos, Joey replied. Bet it wasn’t used for nothing but a hope chest, filled with baby clothes.

But why would someone cart it along to a hotel if that’s all it held? I