WfW ... time flies!

 How did it get to be THURSDAY already???  I'm participating in Words for Wednesday found [here] and playing catchup again this week.  Once again, the detective adventures of Jack, his sister Rose, and his best friend, Simon continue ...

 "How can I help you, dear?  My name is Mimsy."

 "Um, hello Mimsy.  My name is Jack, and this is my partner, Simon.  We were looking for a metalsmith?  Is this Bittersweet Metals?"

 "Why, yes it is!  How can I help you?"

 "You're the metalsmith?"

 "Do you think a woman in a dress can't be a metal artist?"

 "Uh, no ma'am, not at all.  I was just a little ... um ... that is to say ..."

 "Hahahaha!  I'm just teasing you!  I'm not the metalsmith!  It's my grandson, or rather, granddaughter.  Oh, I'll just never get used to that ... just a moment ...

 THYME!  Get down here!  These gentlemen want to talk to you!"

 *BOOM* The sound of something heavy hitting the floor above us made Jack and me jump.  Mimsy cackled, and heavy footsteps sounded across the ceiling and down the stairs.  I had a flashback to the first time I saw Texas Chainsaw Massacre when I was ten years old, and inching behind Jack I decided I didn't want to stay there any longer than we had to.  

 "How can I help you, boys?"

 Thyme was as much of a surprise as Mimsy had been when we first walked in.  Instead of the Andrea the Giant image my adolescent mind had conjured up as she walked across the attic floor, she was about the same size as Jack and I.  She was wearing a heavy welding mask that was now flipped up, in a pair of denim coveralls and what appeared to be steel-toed work boots.  Welders gloves were shoved into one pocket, and she had salt and pepper gray hair braided down her back.

 Jack pulled out his cell phone and scrolled to the pictures of the coins.  "We were wondering if you had any experience in making coins, or if you could tell us anything about the process.  We're investigating a murder that may have been related to these coins that were supposedly from the future."

 "I don't suppose you got one of 'em with you?"

 "No, unfortunately, we don't.  These pictures were taken from a hidden camera that the victim had when he was inspecting them.  We think whomever killed him had the coins so we are trying to figure out if they were part of a con."

 "And you say they're from the future?"

 "Well, we don't know for sure.  That's what we're trying to figure out.  The year on them is 50 years in the future, and the letter designating the mint they were made at isn't one that is in existence now.  How hard is it for someone to replicate coins?"

 "You mean like counterfeit coins?  Well, it's a whole lot harder and more expensive than counterfeiting paper bills.  You gotta factor in the weight of the metal, get a press, and smelting equipment.  It'd be a big investment for someone to go to the effort, but I guess, depending on the face value of the coins, say if'n you was to make quarters or half-dollars ... yeah, could be done.  And easier to pass off without anyone noticing if you did a good 'nuf job.  But they'd have to be really good.  Most machines nowadays spit back anything that isn't up to specs, like weight, edge ridges, or even foreign coins.  But if you was to pass them off in a store, not likely anyone was going to pay attention to the date on them or where they was minted."

 "Do you know anyone with those kinds of skills?  Or have you heard of anyone making that kind of investment?"

 "Not offhand, but I can put some feelers out and see if there is any talk in some of the chat sites."

  Jack and I left cards with Thyme and Mimsy in case they heard anything and headed to town to see if we could find a motel for the night and get a dish of something to eat.  I was starving, and while we drove I told Jack about the first time I watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

 "You surprise me, Simon.  That's not really a movie genre I'd expect you to watch."

 "I think that was the movie that scarred me for life and I never could watch another horror movie.  Hey, stop at that coin and jewelry exchange shop there on the corner.  Let's ask if they've heard of any coins from the future."

 While Jack was busy chatting up the owner of the store, I was checking out some vintage jewelry for something to apologize to Rose when we got back.  I spotted a matching set of earrings and a pendant that were some type of embroidery and was about to look for a salesperson.

  "That's human hair, you know."

 "It's what?!?"

 "Human hair.  During the Victorian era, it was common for mourners to take locks of hair and turn them into jewelry or keepsakes.  Would you like to see them?  They are quite beautiful, and the roses on them are very unique."

 "Ah, no.  I don't think that would be something that she would appreciate once she knew what they were made of."

 "Is this for your wife or girlfriend?"

 "No, for my partner's sister.  I sort of hurt her feelings and was trying to find something to apologize."

 "You know, diamonds are a girl's best friend."

 "I think that would send the wrong message to her, and that's how I got in this mess in the first place, by sending the wrong message and putting my foot in my mouth."

 "Maybe instead of buying her jewelry that could be misinterpreted, you should take her out to dinner and really apologize.  It's possible that what she really wants is to feel acknowledged and appreciated, without being bought."

 "Are you speaking from personal experience?"

 She smiled and handed me her card.  "Maybe give me a call after your dinner with her and tell me how it turned out.  Then if you want to buy her a little bling we can find something she'll really like."  Turning away, she went to wait on another customer just as Jack came up and grabbed my arm.

 "Let's get checked into a motel and find someplace to eat, you will never believe what I was just told, and we can't talk here."

 Half an hour later, we were eating bread covered with an herbed butter spread at a local steakhouse while we waited for our meal.  Jack looked around to see how close the nearest diners were before whispering across the table.

 "They're authentic!"