“Twelve pieces,” Dad said. “Mostly pocket watches. One small clock.”
“Why are the police here?”
“Because I called them.”
Dad had photographed the box, documented exactly where it was found, and contacted Eleanor.
He hadn’t opened it privately and he certainly hadn’t taken it home.
The items appeared to belong to someone else’s family.
So he had done what he believed was the only proper thing.
He had documented everything and called the authorities.
Richard, however, believed that because the box had been discovered beneath his property, the contents belonged to him.
The officers weren’t making a final ownership decision. They were securing the collection while its history and rightful ownership were investigated.
I looked at Dad.
“You found something potentially worth thousands of dollars and just called the police?”
Dad shrugged.
“It wasn’t mine.”
That was Dad.
Simple.
No complicated explanation.
No attempt to justify himself.
It wasn’t his.
Therefore, he didn’t take it.
While the officers documented the discovery, Richard’s attorney arrived.
His name was Garrett.
