The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  When a middle-aged salesman approached me to see if I needed help, I asked him where I could find Mr. Washburn.

  The man glanced toward the building. “He’s with a customer at the moment, but I can answer any questions you might have, ma’am. Name’s Gunther.”

  “Hi, Gunther. A friend of mine purchased a car here a few months back, and she suggested I deal with Mr. Washburn directly. I’m happy to wait until he’s available.”

  The resigned expression on his face told me that he was used to rejection. “Well, in the meantime, would you like to test drive one of the new electric vehicles we just got in? That red Prius over there is still under warranty, and it goes from zero to thirty in five seconds.”

  I had to give him credit for not giving up so easily. “No thanks. I’m looking to buy a car for my son. Preferably a vehicle that doesn’t go very fast.”

  He smiled and nodded. “How old is your son?”

  “Almost nineteen. He goes to school in Boston, but he’s home for the summer ...” I stopped mid-sentence when I noticed Clark emerge from the building with a young couple who were all smiles. Probably just found out they were approved for a car loan.

  Gunther saw that my attention had been diverted, and he didn’t say another word. I didn’t want to be rude, so I thanked him for his time, and made my way over to the man I’d come to see.

  Clark wore slim khaki slacks, a light blue linen, button-down shirt, and leather loafers. His skin was lightly tanned. Just as I had expected, he was in tip-top shape with no hint of a gut. His height helped him out in that department.

  Once the young couple had left his personal space, I moved right in. “Hello,” I said, “are you Clark Washburn?”

  He tilted his head and looked down at me while shielding his eyes from the sun. “Yes, that would be me. How can I help you, young lady?”

  He’d wasted no time with the flattering remark, which was obviously bullshit. “My name is Sarah. A friend of mine bought a car from you a few months ago, and she said I should talk to you. What kind of car would you suggest I buy for my nineteen-year-old son?”

  For the next half an hour, Clark dutifully walked me through the car lot and introduced me to a multitude of vehicles, extolling the virtues of each one like he’d birthed the vehicle himself. The perfect posture, eye contact, lightly touching my shoulder every few minutes, he knew how to connect with his customers. It was no big mystery why he was the top salesman, and why he had the most five-star reviews of all the other salesmen.

  There was certainly nothing about him that screamed wife beater to me.

  While Clark was giving me the spiel on a late model Jeep Cherokee, I finally had to make up an excuse to leave. I got on my cell phone and pretended to read a text. “Oh no,” I said, in mock exasperation. “I have to go. I’m really sorry. Maybe I’ll bring my son back next week so he can look around. I really appreciate your time, though.”

  Clark smiled pleasantly, with no hint of annoyance. “I understand. Please take my card and ask for me when you come back next week.”

  I accepted his card and reached out to shake his hand. “Was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Washburn.”

  “Please,” he said, gently squeezing my hand, “it’s Clark.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, when Karen got out of work, she met me at my office.

  “What’s your impression of Clark?” she asked.

  I told her the truth. “He’s a smooth operator, for sure. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a gentle soul.”

  She plopped down onto my lime green sofa and glanced around the room at the framed posters on the walls: a collection of vintage noir movies from the forties to the sixties. “Do you have any ideas about what to do?” she asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and there’re only two solutions I can come up with. The most direct course of action would be to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom. I know you’ve already tried talking to her, but it might be worth another shot. The second solution is more involved, riskier, and will require some patience.”

  “I’d like to hear about your second option.”

  I went to my desk and opened the top drawer. I pulled out the gold jewelry box and handed it to her.

  She opened it to find a necklace with a heart-shaped locket. “What’s this for?”

  “It looks like a necklace, but it’s actually a hidden surveillance camera with voice activation. The battery lasts up to seven days, which is pretty amazing. The device costs a small fortune, which is why I would eventually need the necklace back.”

  “What do you propose that I do? Give her the necklace as a gift and hope she wears it?”

  “Yes. If you put a baby picture of yourself inside the locket, I don’t know any mother who wouldn’t wear it immediately.”

  Karen’s face remained blank for a few seconds, and then she brightened. “Her birthday is next month so I could say it’s an early birthday present. I could take it to her tonight … if only Clark wasn’t going to be there.”

  “Maybe I can distract him. He gave me his card today with his personal cell phone number. Assuming he answers his phone after hours, I could ask him more questions about the cars he showed me today. Keep him on the phone for as long as possible while you visit your mom.”

  “That might work.” She checked her watch and frowned. “It’s almost 7:00. I should go there now.”

  “I will follow you in my car. I’ll need at least two minutes to get the video feed linked up with my computer program. Then, I’ll call Clark right before you go to their door.”

  Karen closed the jewelry box and placed it inside her purse. “What happens if we catch him hurting my mom? Can we give the recording to the police and have him arrested?”

  “We can give the video to the police, but with his clean record I doubt he’d spend any time in jail. Especially if he were to retain a decent lawyer. I think what we need to focus on here is for you to use the video as leverage, to convince your mom to leave him. Or at least, urge her to get therapy. Another thing you have to consider: if we are successful in getting proof that Clark abuses your mom, she’ll know that you tricked her with the necklace. It could permanently damage your relationship.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk. I just want her to get away from that man.”

  “I’ll try to keep Clark on the phone as long as possible, but you still need to make it quick with your mom. Give her the necklace, make sure she puts it on right away, and then leave before Clark gets suspicious.”

  * * *

  I followed Karen to her mother’s house and parked my car at the convenience store at the end of the block. I had a clear shot of the house. As soon as I saw Karen heading to the front door with gift bag in hand, I dialed Clark’s number.

  He answered on the second ring with a friendly, “Hello?”

  I cleared my throat. “Hello, is this Clark?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope I’m not getting you at a bad time,” I said. “This is Sarah Woods. If you remember, I’m looking to get a car for my son. You said I could call you any time, and I really hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Not a problem at all, Ms. Woods. What can I do for you?”

  There wasn’t the slightest hint of irritation in his voice, so I began throwing out random questions about the cars he had shown me earlier. Meanwhile, Karen had disappeared into the house.

  I had no way of knowing where Clark was speaking to me from inside his house, but I could hear no other voices in the background. I dearly hoped he was outside on the back deck, or in the basement, or in a bedroom behind a closed door so that Karen could have a few private moments with her mother.

  I was only half-listening to Clark’s responses, but I began to notice impatience creeping into his tone. I didn’t blame him, especially since there was no guarantee that I’d ever purchase a car from him. But I wanted to keep him on the line for as long as possible.

  Finally,
after about eight or nine minutes, I saw Karen emerge from the house without the gift bag. She made a beeline for her car, got in, and pulled out of the driveway. Once she was gone, I thanked Clark for his time and told him that I’d stop by the dealership tomorrow and make a decision on a car.

  Ending the call, I immediately opened my laptop and signed into the program, which allowed me access to the live video and audio feed. Sure enough, I heard a woman’s voice as Clark’s face came into view. I assumed it had to be Sandra, Karen’s mother.

  “Who was that on the phone?” she asked him. Her voice sounded meek.

  He didn’t look up at her from where he sat on the edge of a bed, removing his shoes. “Some woman who came into the shop today, looking for a car for her son. A real idiot. I can’t believe the asinine questions she was asking. All I can say is she’d better buy a damned car from me.” He looked up at the camera and narrowed his eyes. “Did you buy a new necklace? Damn it, I told you we have to tighten our belts. Don’t you have enough jewelry?”

  “I didn’t buy it,” Sandra said, with trepidation in her voice. “Karen stopped by for a quick visit while you were on the phone. It’s an early birthday present. Her baby picture is inside if you’d like to see it.”

  He turned away as he removed his watch and set it on the bedside table. “Maybe later.”

  The camera angle turned away from Clark. Within a few seconds, the screen went black. I waited a few more minutes to see if the conversation would pick up again, but all was silent. I had no idea if Sandra had left the bedroom or not.

  A few seconds later, I got a call from Karen. “Tell me what’s going on? Did it work?”

  “Yes, the camera is working,” I said. “You did great, but let’s hope your mom keeps wearing the necklace. If she decides to take it off and put it inside her jewelry box, then we’re out of luck.”

  “When I gave her the gift, she got a bit emotional, which is a good sign, I think. I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Clark was in the bedroom. I could hear him talking to you, although I couldn’t really make out his words. Anyway, my mom loves the necklace and she said she’d never take it off. It’s going to be awkward when I have to ask for it back.”

  “You can replace it with something similar. I have an alert on my phone to let me know when the video feed turns on. I’ll keep an eye on it and let you know if or when something happens.”

  “Sarah, thanks for doing all this. I guess it’s a relief to know that I have someone on my side who understands.”

  “I’m glad to help. Let’s hope this plan doesn’t backfire.”

  When I got home around 8:30, I noticed a black Honda parked in my driveway and immediately realized that it was Jackie’s car. We had made plans days ago, and I had completely spaced it. I used to live in the same apartment building as Jackie, before I moved into Carter’s house. She was in her early forties and single, but she was devoted to her dog Chester. Half Greek, half Italian, she had a wild mane of black curly hair, and an outrageous personality. She dated a lot of men, but didn’t seem able to hold on to any of them for very long.

  I parked next to her, and we both emerged from our vehicles at the same time.

  “You look surprised to see me,” she said, holding up a bottle of wine. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

  “Not at all,” I fibbed. “Just running late.”

  I gave her a big hug. It had been weeks since we’d seen each other. After my gunshot incident, Jackie had brought over enough food to feed an army, three bottles of wine, a plate of cookies and brownies, and the latest copy of Playgirl magazine. Jackie had a dirty sense of humor, which was why the two of us got along so well.

  Once inside, Jackie took a long, hard look at me as she set the wine bottle on the kitchen table. “Hey, you’re not wearing your arm brace. How does it feel?”

  “It feels amazing. Just like new.”

  “You’ve been working a case, haven’t you?” Her tone was more worrisome than accusatory. “Your face is flushed, and I know you didn’t just get back from a run. I thought you were supposed to take it easy.”

  “I took a small job, just to keep my mind occupied. Nothing crazy, I promise.”

  “What does Carter think about it?”

  “I haven’t given him the details yet. He’s got more important things to worry about in Hawaii. I’m also helping him with research for his case, but, you know me. I need more, or else I’ll die of boredom.”

  Jackie waltzed right over to the cabinet drawer and pulled out a corkscrew while I rinsed two wine glasses.

  Minutes later we were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, facing each other, legs stretched out in front of us. “Do you want to talk about this case of yours?” she asked. “I know you can’t mention names and all that, but maybe I can offer an objective point of view.”

  I didn’t see the harm, so I gave her some details. “I’m running surveillance on a guy who might be physically abusing his wife.”

  Jackie made a face as if she’d tasted something sour. “So, you’re hoping to catch him in the act?”

  “I wish there was a better way, but the wife defends the guy. I apologize in advance if my phone starts making noises. I’ll have to check my computer program, if it does. By the way, I have a question for you. You’ve worked as an RN in an emergency room before, right?”

  “Yeah, years ago, why?”

  “Did you ever have patients come into the ER who complained of injuries that they couldn’t or wouldn’t explain?”

  “Sure, but most of them were drunks. Most likely they’d fallen down, but couldn’t remember what had happened. We did have this one girl, she was about twenty, unmarried, who came in twice in one week with broken bones. First time she told us she had fallen off a ladder. The second time she claimed to have tripped over a brick in her basement. But then she showed up a few weeks later with a bad cut on the side of her head that needed stitches. That’s when I became suspicious and had a long talk with the woman. I asked her point blank if she was being abused. She looked at me like I was crazy and denied it.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, in looking at her medical charts, something occurred to me and I asked one of the doctors if he’d be willing to take some tests. Come to find out, the woman had a brain tumor, which skewed her depth perception and balance.”

  “In other words, things aren’t always what they seem at the beginning.”

  Jackie topped off our glasses and said, “By the way, I signed up for another DietBet for the month of July. Please do it with me again.”

  I rolled my eyes, not too keen on the philosophy behind the friendly online challenge to lose 4% of your body weight in 30 days. In order to play, you had to pay $30.00. If you didn’t lose the 4% in that month, you wouldn’t get that money back, and it would be divided up among the winners. Needless to say, I wasn’t one of the winners. “No thanks, Jackie,” I said to her gently, so as not to discourage her from playing a second time. “In case you don’t remember, I actually gained a pound that month. So, not only did I lose my thirty bucks, I lost self-esteem and the hope of ever losing these last few pounds.”

  She couldn’t resist a chuckle. “Ah well, you don’t need to lose weight anyway. You look great.”

  “Come to think of it, you didn’t win that bet, either. What makes you think you’ll win this time?”

  “Because this time I placed a bet for three hundred dollars. I can’t afford to lose three hundred dollars, so I’ll starve myself if I have to.”

  I decided not to voice my opinion on that one, especially since she’d already gone ahead and done it. “If you cut out the wine, I bet you could eliminate three or four hundred calories a day.”

  She rubbed the side of her wine glass like a Buddha’s belly. “I’ll give up anything, just not this.”

  A few hours later, Jackie left, and I realized my surveillance program hadn’t notified me of any activity. I double checked just to make sure. Either Sandra Washburn
hadn’t spoken to her husband all evening, or she had removed the necklace and placed it in a soundproof box. There was no way for me to know.

  Chapter 8

  Molly

  Kippy’s tongue was in my ear when I woke up. Sunlight came in through the window, and I figured it was probably nine in the morning.

  “OK, ok,” I said, rolling over to the opposite side of the bed, pulling the blanket over my head, “just give me five minutes.”

  Even if Kippy could understand human language, he wouldn’t have been able to hear me anyway.

  I threw the covers off and pushed myself up. “Fine. You win. I’m up.”

  Kippy followed me down the stairs, his tail wagging so furiously that he almost knocked himself over. I smashed up his pills and hid them inside his food. While he chowed down, I checked my phone.

  No messages.

  Part of me thought that maybe Sarah called with an update about Karen and Benjamin. Then again, I never asked for any updates.

  Still, I was curious how Sarah was gonna handle the situation. I thought about calling her, but no. Just let it go.

  When Kippy was done eating, I grabbed his leash and we headed out.

  We continued down to the river walk, where the farmer’s market sets up every Saturday, always drawing a crowd. I wasn’t much for crowds, so we found a shady spot on the grassy knoll that overlooked the water and the market’s white tents. There was a live band playing folk music, and the smell of coffee and donuts made my stomach growl.

  Oh, how I missed Cuban coffee at Rico’s bakery in Little Havana. My ex, Marco, and I would go there every Sunday morning because it was where we first met, and where he’d proposed to me eight months later. So what if the ring wasn’t a real diamond. I didn’t care.

  I knew I wasn’t a beauty queen compared to all the glamour girls in Miami. I hadn’t dated much before I met Marco. He was gorgeous, and I wasn’t, so when he first asked me out, I thought it was a joke. But he made me feel beautiful. He said it was nice to date a woman who wasn’t all into money and being fake. He liked me because I wasn’t obsessed with fancy cars, plastic surgery, and hobnobbing with celebrities, like so many people our age. He was right. None of that stuff interested me. I liked art and music and old movies. Even though I never went to college, I had goals. I was taking classes in website design and planned to do some freelance work once I get my certificate.