Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “No, but my neighbor Jackie has a dog. I take care of him whenever she's working late. So, in a way, I feel like I have a part-time pet. It works for me.”

  “How about children? Are you married?”

  “My son Brian lives in Boston, taking some courses in music production. His dad, well … I'm not sure what he's up to these days. Last I heard, he moved out of town. We don't keep in touch.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that. But you're such a pretty little thing. I'm sure you must have an adoring male companion.”

  I laughed. “An adoring male companion? Hmm, something like that.”

  “Well,” Martha said, holding up a spatula for emphasis. “I know how it is. Kids grow up, move on, and have their own lives. When our daughter Melissa moved to London, it nearly broke our hearts. But we have to let them go, Sarah,” she said with a serious expression. “It's all a part of the cycle of life.”

  After breakfast, Martha would not let me help clean up the dishes. She was about to pour me another cup of coffee, but I kindly declined. I was starting to think that maybe she didn't have any work for me to do after all. Maybe she just needed someone to cook for and have a friendly chat with. But I had to remind myself of the real reason I had come – more information about Dick.

  “So,” I began nonchalantly. “Do you think it's true what your husband said yesterday about your neighbor?”

  She smiled and her cheeks turned pink. “Oh, I don't know what to think. I mean, Dick is hardly the kind of man to hire a prostitute. He has a reputation to uphold. And why would he invite a woman like that to his home? No, it just doesn't make any sense.”

  “Does Dick have friends over to his house very often?” I asked.

  “Not often. He has a sister who visits him a few times a year, but I've never actually met her.” Martha squinted her beady eyes at me through her glasses. “Why are you so interested in Dick?”

  I shrugged. “Just curious. Do you think he's good dating material? I have a friend who's looking.”

  Martha folded her hands over her bosom and tilted her head with a faint smile on her cheeky face. “Well, gosh, Dick certainly does extremely well in his career. And he's handsome, if you like them intelligent types. Oh, and he's very helpful. He might not look very strong, but you should see him working in the garden, hauling all those dead bushes and digging up those trees. He's very meticulous about his work.”

  “Have you ever met other family members?” I asked.

  “Well, no. He never talks about them. I assume his folks are dead, although I don't know why I think that.” Martha pushed her coffee mug aside and slowly stood up. “Well, dear, I don't want to waste your day, so let me show you what we need to have done.”

  * * *

  I spent the next hour packing old books into boxes – books of every genre in hardback and paperback, including some vintage Time magazines. I even found a signed, hardcover copy of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. I set it aside, hoping Martha would let me purchase it from her.

  I hauled eight boxes up the stairs and to my car, filling up my trunk and back seat. Martha was worried I might hurt my back, and she watched me like a hawk from the front door.

  When I asked her about purchasing the signed book, she smiled and said, “I'd love for you to have it, Sarah. Consider it a bonus for all your hard work.”

  “It's probably worth a few hundred dollars,” I said. “Are you sure?”

  “I want you to have it,” she insisted. “I didn't know you were a fan of espionage.”

  If only she knew that my real job had much to do with espionage, she probably wouldn't believe it. “I plan to give it to a dear friend,” I said. “This is one of his favorite authors.”

  “How nice. It's yours to do with as you please.”

  “Tell you what, I'll take this book in exchange for the work I did for you. Deal?”

  She stood there, hands on hips, thinking it over. “Okay, it’s a deal. And Sarah? Please, come back anytime to visit, okay?”

  I saw the hurt and longing in her eyes, and I figured she was probably just missing her own daughter and I was like a temporary replacement. “I’d love to come back, Martha. Let’s have lunch next week, okay?”

  She smiled with hesitation. “Really? I don't want to tear you away from anything important.”

  Nothing too important, I thought. Just busy spying on people for a living. “I’ll be in touch,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “And thanks again for the book.”

  When I left Martha’s and Henry's house, it was a little past one o'clock. I had worked up an appetite packing boxes, so I stopped at my favorite deli and ordered a pesto, ham and cheese sandwich to go. I went back to my car, and while I nibbled on lunch, I called Carter to see how he was making out.

  “Did you get any more information about Dick and the prostitute?” he asked with a chuckle in his voice.

  “Come to find out, Henry has brain cancer. Martha says he sees things that aren't there. He even thought I was his daughter yesterday.”

  “Tough break,” he said. “How old are they?”

  “Eighties, I think.”

  “Anyway, getting back to Dick, I have another plan for him. Call him up and tell him you're interested in looking at houses. Sooner the better.”

  “For what purpose?” I asked.

  “Just to distract him while I get into his house and have a look around.”

  “He probably has a security system. It's a nice house.”

  “Let me worry about that,” he said. “I'll get in.”

  “What about the neighbors?”

  “Again, let me worry about it.”

  When I called the number on the business card, Dick seemed very motivated to show me some properties that same afternoon. After we planned to meet at his house around three, I called Carter and told him to get ready.

  Chapter 8

  The Remax office was deserted on a Friday afternoon, except for one agent who remained at her desk, clicking away on a computer keyboard. The placard on her desk said Molly Salinger.

  She was about fifty years old, with deep wrinkles on her face, and impossibly tanned for early May.

  When I cleared my throat, she looked up, startled.

  “Hi, sorry to disturb you,” I said with a friendly wave. “Do you have a minute?”

  She shot up from her desk and came over to let me into her office. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. The secretary has the day off.” She held out her hand as a dozen silver bangles clattered around her wrist. “I'm Molly Salinger.”

  “Sarah Woods,” I said. “I'm here about Dick Mackenzie?”

  She swallowed. “Oh, well, you see Dick no longer works here. He left about a month ago. Perhaps I can assist you?”

  “Do you know why he left the company?”

  She licked her lips as if she wasn't quite sure how to respond. Finally, she just shrugged. “One day he came in and packed all his stuff in a box. Said he was striking out on his own. That's all he said. We haven't spoken since.”

  I had a quick decision to make. I could lie and tell her that I was Dick's client, or I could tell her a version of the truth. Since she apparently hadn't spoken to Dick in weeks, I figured I might get more information if I was forthcoming. “To be honest,” I began carefully. “I'm a private detective and I've been hired to do a background check on Dick.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? For what reason?”

  “I'm sorry, I can't divulge that information, Ms. Salinger, but I'd really like to hear your thoughts about Dick. Are you willing to talk to me about him?”

  “Well, what do you want to know?”

  “Were you two friends?”

  “Friends?” she said dramatically. “I don't think Dick even has any friends. He spends all of his time working.”

  “Have you ever met any of his girlfriends?”

  “He always kept his personal life to himself. You can ask anyone who works here, and they'll agree with me. But hey, mayb
e that's why he's so good at his job. He has no personal distractions.”

  “Thanks, Molly,” I said, shaking her hand. “I appreciate your time very much.”

  When I arrived at his house at 3:00 sharp, Dick was waiting for me on his front porch with a stack of papers in hand. Today, he wore a similar outfit consisting of pressed dark slacks and a lavender button-down shirt.

  “I made some printouts of the three houses we'll be visiting today,” he said, holding up the sheets of paper. “Just so you have all the details handy.”

  “Great,” I said, clapping my hands together. “I can't wait to see them.”

  As we drove to the first house, I couldn't help but notice how pristine the inside of his BMW was. It smelled like leather and Windex, and my jeans squeaked on the seat when I adjusted my position.

  I tried to engage him in small talk, hoping he'd open up about himself. Instead, he rambled on about the housing market, the government, taxes and other boring stuff I didn't really care about at the moment. I wanted to know why he left his last job so abruptly. I wanted to know more about him.

  The first house was located near the river in Kittery, Maine. It was a charming two-bedroom with a partial water view and a large backyard. I glanced at my watch as we entered the home. It was 3:15, and I imagined Carter was probably en route to Dick's house, if he wasn't there already.

  Dick walked me through the entire place, pointing out the beautiful granite countertops and the to die for custom tiled bathroom. And oh, didn't I just love the hardwood floors? I agreed with everything he said, giving the impression that this might be the house for me.

  By 3:45, we locked up the property and walked back to his BMW.

  “Well?” he asked, starting the engine. “What did you think? It's the perfect location, don't you think?”

  “I loved it,” I said. “But I think the price is a little high for my budget.”

  “No problem,” he said, unfazed. “This next property is listed at two-hundred thousand. A steal at that price.”

  Dick was about to pull out of the driveway when a beeping sound came from his pocket, not like regular cell phone chime. He quickly removed his smart phone from his pocket and pressed a button. As he read something from the phone, his expression became tense. “That's weird.”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “I don't know,” he said, shaking his head in doubt. “The security system at my house sends me alerts when there's been a breach. It's probably a false alarm. My cat sets the thing off, occasionally.”

  “Do you have to call the police?” I asked in a calm voice, even though my stomach was tied in knots.

  “I'll just call the neighbors,” he said. “If Martha tells me everything looks fine at my house, then I won't worry about it.” He dialed a number and waited.

  Meanwhile, I got on my phone and sent a quick, discreet text to Carter:

  What happened? The alarm went off. Are you still in the house?

  Dick said into his phone, “Hello, Henry. Is your wife there?”

  I could faintly hear Henry rambling on about something I couldn't quite decipher.

  Dick sighed in frustration. “Look Henry, I'm glad your favorite TV show is on, but I need to speak with Martha, please. Can you get her for me?”

  Again, I heard Henry's voice, talking excitedly about something, and I could tell Dick was getting exasperated with him. I sat there, hands folded in my lap, silently thanking Henry. Maybe Carter would have time to vamoose before Martha came to the phone.

  Finally, Dick said, “Never mind, Henry. Have a good afternoon.”

  Ending the call, he turned to face me. “I apologize Sarah, but I really need to get home. Can we go see the other two houses some other time?”

  “Sure,” I said, swallowing hard. “I understand.”

  When we got back to Dick's house fifteen minutes later, he apologized again for cutting our afternoon short. He said he'd call me to set up another meeting as he hurried to his front door with keys in hand.

  I scanned the neighborhood as I walked to my car, looking for Carter's Buick. He must have already left, because I didn't spot it anywhere. Thank God! I let out a sigh of relief and checked my phone. There was a text:

  Meet me at the Diner

  When I arrived at our favorite breakfast hangout, Carter was already sitting at our usual table. By the calm yet slightly amused expression on his face, I knew he had everything under control.

  “What the hell happened back at the house?” I whispered as I slid into the booth across from him.

  He shrugged. “I got in just fine through his back door. I was inside for about forty-five minutes and, on my way out, I reset the system, but I must have tripped the sensor. How'd you know?”

  “Dick has one of those programs that alerts him. Are you sure none of the neighbors saw you?”

  “Pretty sure. But even if they did, I was just a cable man doing his job.” Carter leaned back in the booth and smiled at me. “Well, you wanna know what I found?”

  “Anything interesting?”

  “That's an understatement.” He slid his phone across the table. “Our friend Dick seems to have quite a collection of kinky toys in his bedroom closet”

  “Are you serious? Like what?”

  “Take a look.” Carter held out a hand, gesturing to the phone.

  I flipped through the images and couldn't believe my eyes. Dick had a veritable porn shop in his closet. Whips, handcuffs, muzzles, dildos, and things I'd never seen before.

  Carter laughed at my wide-eyed expression. “Keep going, it gets better.”

  I flipped through more photos and found women's clothing – slinky dresses, bras, and even a few fancy high-heeled shoes in red and black patent leather. There were a few wigs in boxes, one blonde and straight, and the other, red, long and curly. “Why do you think he has these slutty women's clothing?” I asked. “And women's wigs?”

  Carter raised an eyebrow. “Did you see the shoes?”

  “Yeah, what about them?”

  “They're a size twelve. So unless Dick has a thing for women with gigantic feet, my guess is he's the one wearing them.”

  It took a moment for the idea to sink in. “Are you saying he's a cross-dresser?”

  “Yep.”

  I shook my head in astonishment. “Maybe Henry was right after all. He did see a woman dancing up in Dick's bedroom, but it wasn't a prostitute.”

  “I did a little research on cross-dressers while I was waiting for you. Unlike transvestites, most cross-dressers are not gay. In fact, some are happily married and their wives are very understanding.”

  “I doubt Kathy Woodward will be so understanding when she finds out about this.”

  Carter shrugged. “You never know. Maybe she's got a kinky side, too.”

  “Good point. Anyway, I think it's safe to assume we've discovered the skeleton in Dick's closet.”

  Carter laughed. “I'd say so.”

  I sipped the coffee and checked my watch. “It's still early. I think I'll head over to the Sports Emporium where Bob Owens works. He hasn't called for his house cleaning yet, so I was thinking I'd remind him.”

  “How do you plan to do that?”

  “I'll leave another flyer on his car window. If that doesn't work, I suppose you won't need to put your cable man garb away.”

  Carter paid the bill and donned his leather jacket. “I'll head over to Travis Miller's house and take a look around if he's not home. You think he's got a security system I'll have to breach?”

  “I doubt it. His house is in rough shape. I can't imagine he'd spend a bundle of money to protect that place.”

  “Good. Makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”

  Chapter 9

  It was just before five o'clock when I arrived at Sports Emporium.

  The registers were located to the right of where I had entered the store. Two of the three stations were open, and that's when I saw Bob, standing closely behind a girl with a po
nytail. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.

  Bob was dressed the same as the employees: khaki pants and white polo shirt with the company logo embroidered in royal blue lettering, Sports Emporium on the sleeve.

  Bob looked older in person than his profile picture, his skin starting to resemble worn leather. But his blonde, wavy hair and bright blue eyes gave him a youthful essence. And yes, he still resembled the ever-handsome Robert Redford. He appeared to be in good shape, albeit a slight paunch, but nothing to complain about. He was probably just under six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong stature.

  He was explaining something to the trainee while punching numbers into the computer. He was standing very close to her, I noticed, and at one point, he put his hand on her shoulder, but only for a brief moment. As I stood very still, observing their interaction, I noticed another employee walk by with a box full of tennis balls. She was young, too. Probably seventeen or eighteen and very cute. As I scanned the entire store, it became obvious that all the employees appeared to be in their teens or early twenties.

  My concentration was interrupted when I heard a loud, familiar voice behind me.

  “Sarah?”

  I spun around to find my neighbor Jackie standing a few feet away, gawking at me. She must have had the day off because she was dressed in jeans and a skin-tight, pink sweater that did not flatter her plump figure.

  “Hey, Jackie. What's up?” I said quietly.

  She immediately put a hand over her mouth. “Oh shit. Are you working?”

  I nodded and moved closer. “Yeah.”

  Jackie knew that I was a private eye, and that I went under cover for certain jobs.

  She lowered her hand and whispered. “Are you following someone?”

  “Sort of. I don't want to draw attention to myself. Let's go over here.”

  I led Jackie down an aisle toward the golf section.

  “Who are you spying on?” she asked.

  I folded my arms over my chest and gave her the look. “You know I can't tell you.”