A Good Day to Buy

by Sherry Harris

  I picked up a framed photograph on the end table next to the couch where Gennie and I sat. It wasn’t much different from the one Mr. Spencer had in his office, only this one was of three women. Their arms were around each other; the blonde on the right had a cigarette in her hand. They looked so young.

  “I lost them both on the same day. Blown to bits by a sniper,” Charlie said, pointing to the photo. “I keep it out to remind me to be grateful for every day I have.” Charlie straightened her shoulders. “Now, why are you here?”

  I guessed her grateful philosophy on life extended to not wasting time. I glanced at Gennie, but knew she was waiting for me to ask the questions. “Did you know Mr. Spencer?”

  “The man who was killed in his home?” Charlie asked.

  I nodded. “He was a veteran.”

  “Yeah, I read it in the paper, but I didn’t really know him.”

  Darn it.

  “Why do you care?” Charlie asked.

  I didn’t want to mention my brother to Charlie. “I feel like he died on my watch. I was running the garage sale at his house. I’d gotten to know him and his wife.” I shrugged. “I have a misplaced sense of responsibility.”

  Charlie pursed her lips and studied me. Then she glanced at Gennie. Charlie nodded at the picture of her and her friends. “I get that. Why don’t you come with me to the American Legion tonight? We can see if anyone there knows him.”

  The American Legion was an organization for veterans. There was a large retiree population who stayed in Ellington because they could use the services on Fitch, such as medical care, the pharmacy, and shopping at the commissary or BX, base exchange. It saved them money.

  “Okay, what time?” I felt like I’d won Charlie’s approval.

  “Let’s say seven-thirty. It can get pretty crowded and we’ll want a good table. How’s your singing voice?” Charlie asked.

  Oh boy. “Why do you ask?” I tried to sound casual.

  “It’s karaoke night.” Charlie grinned.

  Rats. I looked over at Gennie. “Want to join us?”

  “No way. You two have fun.”

  * * *

  A few minutes after five, Stella and I stared at each other from behind Mrs. Thatcher’s back while she looked around the empty apartment. Her breath came out in wheezes. She wasn’t smoking a cigarette, although it seemed like a cloud of smoke hung over her like the dust did over Pigpen in the Peanuts comics. She was a stocky woman with more wrinkles than a Shar-Pei puppy.

  “I thought it would be bigger,” she said.

  “The ad did say it was a one-bedroom, one-bath,” Stella said.

  “I didn’t realize there’d be so many stairs,” Mrs. Thatcher said.

  “The ad did say it was on the second floor.” Stella raised her eyebrows at me.

  Mrs. Thatcher dug through her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Then she dug some more and pulled out a lighter with a Patriots logo on it.

  “There’s no smoking in this building,” Stella said. She’d instituted the rule after a problem last winter.

  “The ad didn’t say that.” Mrs. Thatcher looked at Stella with a raised eyebrow. It started a coughing fit. “It’s too small anyway.”

  We walked down the stairs with Mrs. Thatcher, one in front, one in back, in case she collapsed, which seemed all too possible. Mrs. Thatcher lit a cigarette as soon as she was out on the porch and inhaled deeply.

  Stella closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “Am I ever going to find a renter?”

  “Well, they can’t all be like me.”

  “Thank God,” Stella said.

  “Hey. You should be so lucky.”

  “I know. I’m kidding.” But Stella looked a bit down. I hoped it wasn’t man trouble with Awesome.

  “I’m going to karaoke at the American Legion tonight. Want to come along?” I asked. I knew how much Stella loved karaoke.

  “Sure.” She studied me for a moment. “Why are you really going? I usually have to drag you with a promise of reduced rent to get you to go.”

  “It’s uncanny how you can read me.”

  “Unless it comes to hiding your brother in my building.”

  I guessed she wasn’t quite over it yet. “I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

  Stella waved a hand and waited for me to go on.

  “I’m trying to find out more about Mr. Spencer. If I find out more about his background, maybe I can figure out what Luke was doing and find him.” Every time I thought about Luke, my stomach twisted. I realized if I could find out who killed Mr. Spencer then Luke would be free.

  “I’m in,” Stella said.

  Chapter 19

  Stella had her choice of spaces as she parked in the big lot behind the American Legion at seven-thirty. She locked her car and then yanked on the handle to make sure it was locked.

  “Everything okay?” I asked her.

  “Two murders and your missing brother warrant extra caution. Have you heard from him?”

  “No. Have you been here before?” I asked Stella. The warm spring day was turning into a cool spring evening.

  Stella tightened a purple silk shawl around her as we headed toward the door. “A few times. We go in through the door over there.” She pointed to one on the right side of the building. “The bar’s beyond a meeting room toward the front of the building.”

  We walked into the bar. About half the tables were occupied. Charlie waved us over to the bar, where she sat drinking a Sam Adams lager, and introduced us to Lesley Rife, the bartender.

  “She makes the best drinks in all of New England,” Charlie said.

  “What can I get you?” Lesley asked. A lock of bright turquoise hair fell across Lesley’s forehead. It contrasted with the rest of her hair, which was pale blond and spiky.

  “I’ll have a Cape Cod,” I said. A cranberry and vodka sounded perfect. Stella ordered the same. Lesley had on a sleeveless orange shirt and snug white jeans. Colorful tattoos covered her muscular arms, which seemed to come to life as Lesley whipped up our drinks. She added a couple of fresh cranberries to each drink before setting them in front of us.

  I bought the round and left a good tip. Then Charlie took me around the room, introducing me to people. I asked each of them if they knew Mr. Spencer. Most said no, a few said only from the newspaper articles about his death, and a couple said yes but had never seen him here.

  Stella and I settled in with Charlie at a small round table in a corner near the stage. Stella and Charlie’s families went way back. I half listened to them chat and watched as people came in. The crowd was a mix of old and older. A few must be Korean War vets, but the majority of the people looked to be from the Vietnam era. Some were around my folks’ age. The room filled quickly—it always surprised me how popular karaoke was. A harried waitress brought us three more Cape Cods. I could see Lesley making drink after drink. She moved in a brisk but smooth way; the growing crowd didn’t seem to faze her at all.

  James slipped in with a few airmen from base. This was a great time to talk to him. I excused myself and went over to where James and his friends leaned against the wall. They all had beers in their hands.

  “Hi, guys,” I said. James and two of the men stood straighter while the third looked at them and then followed suit. “Yeesh, at ease,” I said. “I’m not in the military.” The action was a show of respect for CJ when he had been their commander. Some things were hard to shake off, especially when you were associated with the military. We chatted for a few minutes.

  “James, could I borrow you for a minute?” I asked. He looked wary but nodded. His buddies exchanged looks, and I hoped this wouldn’t cause any gossip on base. We stepped a few feet away.

  “I wanted to apologize again for putting you on the spot the other night,” I said.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t very happy. You could have been truthful with me.”

  Ouch. James’s comment zinged me like an arrow. I nodded. “I’m sorry. It w
on’t happen again.” It seemed like I didn’t trust anyone anymore.

  James stood there like he was waiting for me to ask something else, but I couldn’t.

  James took a drink of his beer. “I’ve been thinking over my conversation with your brother.”

  “Did he say where he’d been?”

  “All over.”

  “Or what he did for a living?”

  “He was vague. I didn’t push.”

  “Oh.”

  “He did mention being estranged from his family. That he had a sister he loved very much and hoped that someday soon they would patch things up.”

  I felt tears starting to well up and blinked furiously. I didn’t want to cry here. “Thank you, James.” I had to hold on to that and figure out what had happened to the Spencers so when I did find Luke we could work things out. “Are you going to sing?”

  James relaxed. “No. I came to watch.”

  “Have fun then,” I said. I patted his arm. I noticed a table of four men watching James and me like we were specimens in a Petri dish. Well, three of them watched and one was focused on his phone. I didn’t recognize any of them and wondered why the heck they found James and me so interesting. But as soon as they realized I’d noticed them they all looked away. A couple of them leaned forward and talked. Another whipped out his phone. I shook my head and made my way back to my table. I wished I could hear what they were saying because they had my antennas up and rotating.

  * * *

  “Charlie, see that group of men over there? The guys in the plaid flannel shirts?” I asked when I arrived back at our table.

  Charlie and Stella turned in their seats to take a look. “Are they locals? I don’t remember seeing them around before.” But I hadn’t lived here that long.

  “I don’t recognize them,” Charlie said.

  “Me either,” Stella said.

  “I haven’t seen them in here before,” Charlie said. “Why?”

  “They were staring at me. In a creepy way.”

  “Well, honey, I’m not surprised they were staring. Have you seen yourself tonight? You look pretty cute.”

  We all laughed. The noise index rose as the room filled. Music blared from the speakers. The beat pounded into my temples. My chair was wedged between the table and the wall. Getting out wouldn’t be easy and I felt a little claustrophobic, which I usually wasn’t.

  Seth walked in. What the heck was he doing here? He wasn’t a vet. Then I noticed someone holding his arm. Instead of his usual model type, it was Herb Fitch. He stood as erect as he could with a cane and Seth’s help. It looked like the arthritis Herb battled was taking its toll. I wondered how they knew each other. Maybe because Herb used to be a police officer and Seth had worked in the DA’s office a long time before he’d become the DA.

  Seth glanced around for a table and spotted me. We looked at each other for a long moment before someone called his name. He smiled and helped Herb to a table, which, thankfully, was across the room. But once he sat in one of the two available chairs, I realized we’d be facing each other all night. I could ask Stella to switch spots with me, but that in itself seemed awkward.

  “Sarah? What are you staring at?” Stella asked. She swiveled around in her chair and spotted Seth. “What’s Seth doing here?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Charlie glanced back at them. “Seth often brings Herb. It’s getting harder for Herb to get around.”

  I wanted to talk to Herb, but it would be hard to do with Seth sitting there. Impossible to do with Seth sitting there. Not because I had any feelings for Seth, but because he’d know I was snooping.

  “Good evening, American Legion,” a man said from the stage. He drew the word evening out in an imitation of Robin Williams from the movie Good Morning, Vietnam. The crowd cheered in return. “I’ll kick this thing off with the one, the only, Elvis.” He launched into a rousing version of “You Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog.” Everyone joined in on the chorus, and I relaxed and enjoyed myself.

  I saw Herb stand up several songs later. Seth started to rise, but Herb put a gnarled hand on his shoulder and said something that made Seth sit back down. This was as a good a time as any to go to the bathroom. I yelled into Stella’s ear that I needed to get out and slipped away as everyone sang the chorus to “Mustang Sally.”

  I pushed out the door from the bar into the hall. The music quieted out here. Herb went into the men’s restroom. I hurried into the women’s, did my thing, and hustled back out as Herb left the men’s room.

  “Herb, it’s great to see you.” I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He sized me up and then gestured to a couple of wingback chairs upholstered in a dark tapestry fabric.

  “Looks like you got something on your mind,” he said as we sat.

  “A girl can’t powder her nose?”

  “Maybe other girls, but your timing is suspect.”

  I grinned, glad to see even if his body had slowed since last fall, his brain certainly hadn’t.

  “Go on then,” he said, “I’m guessing this is about the trouble your brother is in.”

  Herb certainly knew more about the police investigation than I did and likely wouldn’t share anything he did know.

  “I wondered if you knew Mr. Spencer. Did he come here?”

  Herb was shaking his head before I finished. “Not everyone who served wants to belong to the American Legion. Some people aren’t joiners, some don’t want memories dredged up.”

  “Mr. Spencer was really friendly. And he told me lots of stories about his service.”

  Herb studied his hands, placed one on top of the other on the wooden cane. “There’s stories, then the truth, the bits you don’t share with most folks. The bits that keep a person awake at night.”

  The door from the bar pushed open and music followed Seth out. His face was creased with concern but smoothed slightly when he saw Herb and I sitting together. We stood.

  “I was worried, Herb,” Seth said. Then he gestured to us. “But maybe the two of you talking should worry me more.”

  “Not at all, son,” Herb said with a wink at me. “You worry too much.”

  I patted Herb’s hand. “I can’t pull anything over on Herb.” I turned to Seth. “It’s nice to see you.”

  Seth nodded. “Herb, we’re next. Come on.”

  I watched as Seth and Herb went into the bar, disappointed I didn’t have more time to talk to Herb. Maybe I could track him down later. I hurried after them and squeezed back into my chair. Seth and Herb singing? This I had to see.

  Chapter 20

  Seth and Herb stood on stage. Herb rolled his eyes at something Seth said and then shrugged. Seth grinned. The music started and I almost popped off my chair. They sang “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” by the Righteous Brothers. Stella twisted to look at me, eyebrows raised. I lifted my hands in a go-figure gesture. They sang it a la Tom Cruise in Top Gun, clasping their hands over their hearts and gesturing to women in the audience. Everyone got into it and stood singing and swaying. Seth didn’t look at me once until the very last line as the music faded.

  The waitress set another Cape Cod in front of me. Stella leaned over. “I figured you’d need another after Seth’s song.” Thankfully, Stella had driven us over here.

  I took a healthy swig.

  “Besides,” Stella said, “we’re next. And I already picked out the song.”

  I almost spit my drink out but managed to swallow, then choked. Stella pulled me out of my chair and onto the stage. Charlie came with us. I’d have to remember not to leave them alone together in the future.

  The announcer kept the mike. “Next, we have American Legion member Charlie, singing instructor Stella, and our very own local hero, Sarah Winston.”

  People cheered and whistled. I grabbed a mike and flicked it on. If only these people knew the truth. I glanced at Seth because I was sure he did. “I’m not the hero here, but all of you who served and are serving are. Thank
you for giving much and getting little in return.”

  When the song came up on the screen of the karaoke machine, I glared at Stella, but I was trapped between her and Charlie.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I whispered to her.

  Stella laughed. The music started, and she belted out the opening line to Garth Brooks’s song, “Friends in Low Places.” The crowd stamped their feet, hooting and hollering, before joining in. It was a breakup song about someone who preferred the beer-drinking bar crowd to the champagne-sipping, black-tie crowd. It was all too true for my life and Seth’s. Although we both had managed straddling the two worlds well enough. I’d met him at a dive bar in Lowell, not knowing he came from a family with a house on Beacon Hill and a compound on Nantucket. I hoped to heck Seth didn’t think I’d picked this. I didn’t dare look his way.

  Charlie had a strong voice. One that made me think she sang in a church choir. We held our own against Stella, but only because she toned it down for us. When the song ended, we took a bow. I heard a loud whistle among the cheers and calls for more drinks. I looked around and spotted CJ lounging by the door. He wore jeans and a Henley shirt so he wasn’t here on official business. My heart pattered a little. It felt like days since I’d seen him. But his arrival meant an end to my mission. There’d be no more questioning people about Mr. Spencer tonight.

  He found a chair, pulled it up to our table, and introduced himself to Charlie. “You all were great,” he said. CJ was originally from Fort Walton Beach, Florida, aka Lower Alabama or the Redneck Riviera, and had a drawl that crept into his speech every once in a while. He threw an arm around me and pulled me close. I winced as he hit what must be a giant bruise on my shoulder from my training session with Gennie.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing. Just a bit sore from my workout with Gennie.” I couldn’t help myself. I glanced over to Seth’s table. He and Herb were standing and looked like they were saying their good-byes. CJ must have realized they were here. He might have looked like he was casually watching me from the door when I first spotted him, but he would have checked out the crowd and assessed its risk for threats at the same time.