Jack, owner of Smith Auction House, handed them their orders early that Monday morning. Haulers Joe and Sam were just pouring their morning coffee when Jack showed up with his clipboard.
"Just got a call from a man whose old aunt died three weeks ago. The nephew wants you guys to clean out the place, throw away the junk, and bring the good stuff to me to auction off. There's only a couple of things he wanted me to warn you about. There's some complications."
Joe groaned. "I hate it when you say 'complications', Jack. What is it this time? House falling in? A flooded basement? Snakes in the attic?"
Jack sighed. "Well, he didn't mention any of things, although all of them may be true. What he did say was that his two spinster aunts lived in that house for forty years, and they like to collect stuff."
Sam sipped his coffee, frowning. "He means they were hoarders."
Joe nodded. "But what kind of hoarders? The good kind that stashes money under their mattresses and puts silver teapots in the garage? Or the bad kind that collects magazines and alley cats?"
"Let's just say the police had to use dogs to find the body of the aunt in the house. They could smell her but couldn't see her. She's been dead for at least a week."
Sam's eyes went wide. "That's terrible! Going to need masks, gloves, and a very large trash container."
Jack nodded. "Container's been delivered. Call if you need a second one. Now, the nephew had a special request. You have to bring to me the urn on the mantel containing the ashes of his Aunt Louise. He didn't want you to throw it out with the rest of the trash."
Joe nodded. "Okay. We can do that. What were things he wanted you to warn us about then?"
"He said his aunts liked to hide things inside of things. Check the insides of the couch, cabinets, and even the washing machine. They stuck stuff where ever they thought no one would think to look."
Sam smiled. "A treasure hunt, then. That doesn't sound too bad."
Jack put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "He also said the house was infested with mice. They never took the trash out."
Joe crossed his arms. "You should pay us double for this kind of aggravation."
Jack laughed. "I pay you plenty. Well, you're burning daylight. Get going."
Sam and Joe gathered their supplies and drove over to the quiet row of houses on Dogwood Lane. The house was a one story brick rancher with neatly planted rows of flowers in the yard. A large black trash container sat next to the garage.
Joe pulled up to the garage. "Looks normal enough on the outside."
Sam opened his truck door and got out. "They always do. They pay someone to do the yard work while making sure no one steps inside the house. They don't want anyone to know."
Joe pulled out the keys and garage opener. When the garage door finished going up, they saw they couldn't enter the house that way. There was a solid wall of boxes, bags, and newspapers tied together with strings blocking the way.
Sam peered over a stack. "You think there's a car in there? Somewhere?"
Joe shook his head. "No room. Probably didn't drive anyway. Let's try the front door." They walked up to the porch steps to the front door. Joe inserted the key and opened the door.
Immediately the smell of dead mice, cat urine, rotting food, and something they couldn't quite identify assaulted their noses. They pulled out their face masks and covered their noses before going all the way into the entrance hall.
They soon stood in the living room. To the right was a faded yellow couch and two stained chairs which were covered with old newspapers and clothes. Cardboard boxes, paper wrappers, and empty food containers littered the floor. To the left was the peeling white mantle over a fireplace filled with trash. In the far corner Sam could see a large upright mahogany piano.
Joe pulled down his mask. "Fetch the box and bubble wrap. Let's get the urn out safely before we move anything else."
Sam returned with the box and wrap. Joe scooted the blue china urn off the mantel and almost dropped it. As he maneuvered it into the box, he said, "Since when are ashes so darned heavy?"
Joe set it down carefully into the box. The lid was loose and slid off into Sam's hands. Joe looked down into the open urn.
"Have a look, Sam. Those aren't ashes!"
Sam looked, reached his hands in, and pulled out a gold dollar coin. "Nice," he said, holding it up to the light. "It's real all right. Wonder where the aunt's ashes ended up? Coffee pot? Think the nephew knew about the money? Maybe he didn't want to step foot in this filth."
"Probably. Wrap it up good with the bubble wrap, Sam. Lock it up in the front seat of the truck."
Once the urn was put away, they returned to their work of shoveling piles of trash into garbage bags and carrying them to the trash container. Eventually they got to the walnut grandfather clock in the corner by the old T.V. Joe had to pry the clock cabinet open with his pocketknife. He was shocked when packing peanuts spilled out onto the floor. Behind them were bars of gold, stacked long ways.
Sam suggested they steal the bars, but Joe said no. "We'd be the first people they arrest. You can't just take the bars to the bank and exchange them for cash. There'd be too many questions. Let's just do our job and get this done."
Sam moved to the piano. "A Steinway, Joe!" He ran his fingers over the keys, but was disappointed when they didn't make a sound. He pulled a chair over and stood over the top of the upright, He tried to open the lid, but it was stuck fast. Joe brought him the crowbar, and Sam carefully pried around the lid until he heard the wood crack. The lid flew open, the old hinges screeching. Sam looked inside and motioned for Joe to pull up another chair.
Sam reached inside and pulled out a mice-eaten sheet first. He dropped the filthy mess on the floor. Then he pointed to the brown rug rolled up inside the piano.
"No wonder the keys wouldn't work. There's a rug crammed in over the strings."
Sam tried to pull the rug out, but a corner was wedged tightly. Joe reached in and tugged on the other end of the rug until together they lifted the heavy carpet out. It was tightly rolled and tied with a black cord.
"What do you think is inside, Joe? More good bars? Family jewels? Diamonds?"
They set the rug on the floor and cut the cord with as pocketknife. The carpet still remained rolled up until they forced it apart. Sam held the rug while Joe unrolled it. A smelly purple housecoat and mice-chewed black slippers fell out. Then a skull with a few gray hairs and some long bones rolled out next. They dropped the rug and backed away.
"What the hell?" Sam hollered as they headed for the front door.
After they called the police and Jack, Sam and Joe waited out on the front porch, refusing to go back in. The nephew arrived with the police and identified the housecoat as belonging to his Aunt Louise, the other sister.
"It was all she wore," he explained to the police.
The police asked more questions. "But you thought she died some years back, right? Was there a funeral?"
"No. My Aunt Camille had her sister cremated and put in the urn without any ceremony. All we got was a phone call."
The police examined the skull. "There's a deep dent in the skull. Looks like she was killed by a blow to the head."
Sam and Joe gave the urn filled with gold coins and the gold bars to the nephew while the police wrapped the crime scene tape around the front of the house.
"Why do you think your aunt killed her sister?" Joe asked him. "A fight over the coins? Gold bars?"
"Not at all," he told them. "They were devoted to each other. Aunt Louise had cancer and was dying. Camille couldn't bear the thought of Louise leaving the house. Leaving her. So she collected her sister like everything else. First she put her out of her misery, and then she put her sister in the piano so she would always have her. All she had to do was concoct that cremation story. Easy enough to have an urn delivered. Fooled us completely."
The nephew reached inside the urn and drew out a handful of gold coins. "Take these for your trouble. You can finish the house after the police leave. I still need to sell the place."
As the nephew drove off, Joe and Sam sat down on the porch steps to wait. Sam muttered again, "I hate hoarders."
