A Good Day to Buy

by Sherry Harris

  “When is it?” Every year, the spouses club had a big event with a silent and regular auction. All the money went to scholarships for the dependents of military members. It was usually a fun party, and there was always a happy rivalry among the bidders.

  “It’s in a couple of weeks. You and CJ should come.”

  “We haven’t been to anything on base in a really long time. Maybe it’s time to reappear as a couple.”

  “We always had a great time when we were all together.”

  “Maybe I can get Carol and Brad to come too.”

  “Yes. And let’s ask them to join us for a last fling together before we move.”

  “Oh, come on, there will be more than one fling.” There were usually lots of going-away parties when you left a base, some official events like a change of command, and some fun office and neighborhood parties.

  Something thunked against the back door. I hurried over and yanked the door open. Lindsay stood there with Phil, the reformed drug dealer. His arm was around her waist, holding her tightly to him. He had a relaxed “everything’s cool” look on his face, but Lindsay’s hair was messy and her breath came out in short pants, as did his. Laura walked up behind me.

  “It’s about time you got here, Lindsay,” I said. “Are you going to help us sort through stuff too, Phil?” Phil’s eyes widened when I used his name. I had no idea what was going on, but wanted to make sure Lindsay was safe. Something about Phil gave me the shivers. I stepped toward Lindsay and pulled on her arm. For a minute, Phil held tight and I thought we were going to have a Lindsay tug-of-war, but then he dropped his arm.

  “Sure you have to work, Lindsay?” Phil said. “I wanted to take you out to dinner.”

  “I promised Sarah I’d help her. Sorry,” Lindsay said. She stepped around me and into the thrift shop.

  I mentally reviewed everything Gennie had taught me in case Phil didn’t give up easily. Instead, Phil sketched a salute and ambled off, hands in pockets. I hustled back inside, locking the door and throwing the dead bolt. Sobbing noises came from the main area of the thrift shop. I found Laura rubbing Lindsay’s back as they sat on an old couch that was for sale. Laura raised her eyebrows at me like she had no clue why Lindsay was crying.

  I sat on the other side of Lindsay and took her hand. “Did he hurt you?”

  Lindsay babbled out something, but it didn’t make sense.

  “Take a moment,” I said. I was wondering if I should call the security police but decided to wait until Lindsay told us what the heck was going on.

  Lindsay closed her eyes and took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths. “I think Phil killed that homeless vet.”

  Chapter 33

  “Ethan? You think Phil killed him?” That wasn’t what I’d been expecting to hear. But I trusted Lindsay. She was a smart girl.

  “Why?” Laura asked. We looked at each other over Lindsay’s head.

  “I met him in the woods over by the old thrift shop.”

  James had told me kids were hanging out there.

  “He said there was going to be a big party.” Lindsay shrugged. “I’d been hearing about them and decided to meet him. Ugh, I’m an idiot. He’s one of those boys that says all the right things. I didn’t listen to the voice telling me something was off.” She sighed.

  “You aren’t the first it’s happened to.” It had happened all too recently to me.

  “I got there, and no one else was around. Just Phil smoking some weed.” Lindsay’s face turned bright pink. “He had a bottle of vodka too. We drank part of it, and then he started bragging about all the money he had. He whipped out this wad of cash. He doesn’t have a job and his dad is enlisted. I can’t imagine him giving Phil lots of money. I asked him where he got it.” She stared down at her purple, sparkly UGGs.

  “He wouldn’t say at first. I started teasing him, saying, ‘What, did you take someone’s lunch money?’ Stuff like that. Then he got paranoid and asked me what I knew.” Lindsay shook her head. “I told him I didn’t know anything and that I had to go.”

  I took Lindsay’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “He said he couldn’t let me leave until I understood it wasn’t his fault. I asked him what wasn’t his fault. And he said that the homeless man died.” Lindsay took in a deep breath. “Phil said he hit him up for some heroin. Ethan denied having any. Phil shoved him and Ethan’s head hit something. He got scared and ran off. Then he heard later the man had died.”

  “He left him there?” I asked.

  Lindsay nodded. “When I grabbed my phone, Phil saw the look on my face. He snatched the phone out of my hand. I kicked him in the, uh, in a vulnerable place. When he doubled over, I ran. I could hear him running after me. He kept getting closer. I saw Sarah’s car and came here. He caught up right after I knocked, tried to make it look like everything was fine.” She shuddered.

  “You did the right thing. Laura, call the security police. I’ll call CJ.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, the base had been shut down, troops were out searching for Phil, and gossip was flying, judging by the number of texts Laura and I were getting. From what I had overheard, it sounded like Phil was long gone. Even so, each car was being searched as it left base.

  Luke hadn’t killed Ethan. I’d wanted so much to believe the story he’d told me the night at the VA. The relief washing through me made me realize how many doubts had crept into my mind since that night. I’d started to believe what CJ was saying instead of trusting my gut.

  James and CJ came over to where Laura, Lindsay, and I still huddled on the couch. CJ squatted down so he was eye level with Lindsay. “Do you have any idea where Phil might have gone?”

  Lindsay lifted her shoulders and dropped them. “No. I don’t know him that well.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “We can’t find him.” CJ blew out a frustrated puff of air. “He tossed his cell phone on the side of the road before he left base.”

  “Doesn’t he have an aunt in Bedford?” I asked.

  “The Bedford PD have already been over there. No sign of him.” CJ stood.

  “Maybe he still has my phone,” Lindsay said.

  CJ whipped out his phone and Lindsay typed in the locator information. A few minutes later, a map popped up, showing the phone moving south on Interstate 95.

  “Thanks, Lindsay. Hopefully he’s the one with your phone and he didn’t pass it off to someone else,” CJ said. He called the state troopers so they could track down the car. Then he turned to Lindsay. “James will drive you home if that’s okay with you.”

  Laura rose. “Why don’t I take her? She knows me better.”

  “It’s up to you, Lindsay,” CJ said.

  “I’d rather ride with Miss Laura. My mom will freak if I get dropped off in a police car.”

  “I’ll go in with you, if you want,” Laura told Lindsay. We all exchanged hugs and James walked them out.

  “Sarah, can I talk to you for a minute?” CJ asked when I started to head out after them.

  I followed CJ over to a quiet corner of the thrift shop in front of the kitchenware.

  “You realize you’ve been wrong about Luke this whole time, don’t you?” I asked him. I’d never call him out in front of anyone, but I wouldn’t hold back now that we were alone. “You’re wrong about him killing Mr. Spencer too.”

  He looked down at me.

  “What is it? Is Luke okay?” I asked. I wrapped my arms around my waist.

  “We haven’t found Luke.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. “Then what’s going on?”

  “I looked at the Purple Heart from the Spencers’ garage.”

  “Was it his?” This could be the proof I needed that Mr. Spencer had faked being in the military. That something was going on and it centered on him. Purple Hearts popped up on eBay or at flea markets occasionally.

  “No.”

  “I knew it. I told you he faked being in
the service.”

  “He might have—we’re looking into it. But the Purple Heart had Luke’s name on the back. He was there.”

  No. None of my workouts with Gennie had hurt as much as this. “It looks bad,” I said. CJ nodded. “He didn’t hurt the Spencers. He might have been there for some reason, but he wouldn’t have hurt them.”

  “Chuck?” Pellner came in the thrift shop. “You’re needed.”

  CJ sighed and held up a finger. “Give me a minute,” he said to Pellner before turning back to me. “I don’t think I’ll make it back to your place tonight. I hate not to be there.”

  “It’s okay.” I wished I meant it.

  “Love you,” CJ said as he walked away.

  “You too,” I said to his back. I had to find Luke.

  * * *

  Seeing Lindsay reminded me of the pictures she’d taken at the Spencers’ yard sale. I had a lot more information now than I’d had the first time I’d gone through them. Maybe, if I looked again, something would click. I sat in my Suburban and scrolled through the photos. One stopped me. It was two men climbing into one of those extended-cab pickup trucks. The back of the truck was splashed with mud, and the license plate was obscured. Was it deliberate? I zoomed in on the photo to get a look at the men’s faces. But both were in profile with hats low on their brows. One wore a plaid flannel and the other a long-sleeved T-shirt. Nothing unusual there.

  But the more I stared at the picture, the more convinced I was that these were two of the men in the group of four I’d seen around town. I went through the photos again, looking for a group of four men, but Lindsay had only taken pictures at the end, when people were leaving.

  As I stared at the picture a theory began to take shape in my head. Thoughts fell into place like coins being sorted in a change drawer. The men knew who I was because they’d come to the garage sale. I thought back to all the stolen valor videos I’d watched online. In most of them you never saw who the accusers were. Maybe an arm here or a back there but never a good look at their faces.

  My brain buzzed like it was a hive full of angry bees. Liars. Stolen valor. Those four men in town. I’d overheard bits of their conversation at DiNapoli’s. Out of context, it didn’t make a lot of sense, but now I think it did. They had talked about hunting and veterans. I’d put it together wrong. They were hunting fake veterans.

  What if they planned to expose Mr. Spencer that day, but things went horribly wrong. It wasn’t much to go on, but I forwarded the picture to CJ with a short explanation of my suspicions. After waiting a few minutes, I realized I wasn’t going to hear back from him.

  I looked through the rest of the photos, enlarging each one to see if the other two men were in the background of any. My eyes almost popped out of my head. There, in the background of a photo of two women getting into a silver car, was the back of a man in a bomber jacket and newsboy-style cap. Just like the ones Mr. Spencer wore. No. Not like Mr. Spencer’s—they were Mr. Spencer’s.

  Chapter 34

  I thought back to the day of the murder. Mr. Spencer had had the jacket and hat on when he had taken Mrs. Spencer away. But he hadn’t had them on when he and Mrs. Spencer had been found in the garage. I enlarged the picture as much as I could and saw the blurry outline of red hair. Tim Spencer. Tim, who was supposedly in Florida, who said he’d flown up as soon as he’d gotten the news.

  I thought of him asking me to help him go through things in his dad’s office. One that someone had obviously been in. I was so stupid. He wanted me to be there when he “found” the insurance policy. He had a history of violence and alcohol abuse. He’d mentioned worrying about paying for college for his kids.

  But then there was the Tim who had cried because his dad was dead. His grief seemed so genuine. I didn’t understand what all this meant, but I quickly forwarded the picture to CJ with a note. I tried calling him, but ended up leaving a message for him.

  My phone binged at nine-fifteen, but it was Charlie asking me to meet her at the American Legion. There wasn’t anything more I could do about Tim. I turned my attention back to finding Luke. Hopefully, figuring out what was going on with Herb would shed some light on Luke’s whereabouts. I wrote her I could stop by in a bit. Please don’t let it be another karaoke night.

  * * *

  The parking lot behind the American Legion wasn’t very crowded, which was a good sign.

  Charlie sat at the bar talking to Lesley, the bartender. I hitched myself onto the stool next to Charlie’s.

  “Can I get you something?” Lesley asked.

  “A gin and tonic sounds great.” I looked over the room. A couple of women sat in one corner, eyeing four men at another table. The turkey hunters who I suspected were hunting down fake veterans. The men ignored the women as they hunkered together in an animated discussion. Two other tables held groups of people playing cards. There was no DJ or karaoke machine in sight. I sighed with relief as Lesley put my drink in front of me. “Thank you. Cheers.” After a deep drink, I told Charlie and Lesley about what had happened on base tonight. “At least I know my brother didn’t do it,” I said.

  “Any sign of him?” Charlie asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Lesley raised an inquiring eyebrow. I told her about my brother. “Have you ever met Luke Winston?” I asked her. “Has he ever been in here?”

  Lesley grabbed a dish towel and polished a spot off the bar. She set the dish towel down. “Not that I can think of.”

  “How about Bart or Bartholomew Winst? He uses the name professionally sometimes.” At least I hoped that was why he was using it.

  Lesley tapped a finger on her chin. “What’s he look like?”

  “I wish I had a recent picture of him.” I flipped through the photos on my phone and found the one of him right when he joined the Marines. I’d snapped a photo of a photo my parents had when I was out in Pacific Grove last Christmas. He was in his dress uniform, cap low on his forehead. He looked young. “His shoulders are broader now, more five-o’clock shadow.”

  “He doesn’t look old enough to shave in that one,” Charlie said as I showed them the photo.

  “His hair his longer, brown.” I looked hopefully at Lesley.

  “Sorry. I don’t think he’s been around.”

  “Why’d you want me to meet you?” Charlie asked.

  “I wanted to ask you about Herb Fitch,” I said, lowering my voice.

  “I heard about his house,” Charlie said.

  Lesley shook her head and made a tsking noise. I guess everyone in town knew about the vandalism at Herb’s.

  “I found this photo of him from an event here.” I showed Charlie the photo. Lesley leaned over to look at it too.

  “What about it?” Charlie asked.

  I enlarged the part to show Herb’s belt. “That’s not a regulation belt. Is it possible Herb faked being a vet, someone found out, and spray-painted ‘LIAR’ on his house?” I glanced back at the four men. I hoped I was wrong because I liked Herb.

  Charlie shook her head, her Afro flowing around her. “His arthritis makes it hard for him to use his uniform belt.” She pointed at the picture. “The one he has on is made for people with arthritis and is easier for him to work. Even then, it’s not easy. A couple of months ago, I saw him come out of the men’s room, still fumbling with the buckle. He misinterpreted my intentions when I told him I’d be happy to help him with his belt next time. I’m still trying to decide whether to take him up on his misinterpretation or not.” Charlie grinned.

  Lesley and I laughed. Thank heavens Herb was on the up-and-up. I quit laughing when I realized another door in my search for Luke had just slammed shut in my face.

  Charlie frowned. “Trust me, Herb served, and if someone around here thinks he didn’t, then we have a problem.”

  “I think it’s those men.” Instead of turning to look at them, I hitched a thumb at them over my shoulder.

  “Why them?” Charlie asked. “They seem harmless.”

 
I tried out my theory on her and Lesley. Having someone older to talk to who’d served was a relief. If she bought my assumptions, CJ might find it believable too.

  “Look at this picture.” I flipped to the picture I thought might be of two of the four men. “Do you think that’s two of the men sitting back there?”

  Charlie and Lesley took turns looking at the photo.

  “It could be,” Charlie said.

  “Then again, it could be anyone,” Lesley said. She looked across the room. “Duty calls.”

  Charlie and I turned. The ladies were signaling they wanted another round so Lesley grabbed an order pad.

  “Lesley, do me a favor. Look and see if any of the men’s hands have black paint on them.”

  “Why? Oh, because of Herb’s house. Got it.”

  “Be subtle,” I added.

  She nodded and headed over to the women first because their signaling was growing increasingly frantic.

  Charlie and I looked over the crowd. Lesley took the women’s order and then stopped by the group of men. She chatted and laughed. She dropped her order pad on the table. As Lesley picked it up, I watched her study the men’s hands. On her way back over to us, she checked in with the card players.

  “Any luck?” I asked when Lesley got back behind the bar and started to mix drinks.

  “No painted hands.”

  Darn. “Thanks for trying,” I said. “So do you think anyone else who’s here will talk to me?” I asked Charlie. “Maybe the card players know something about those men.”

  “We can’t interrupt the card players, and they’ll play into the wee hours, right, Lesley?” Charlie said.

  Lesley faked a big shudder. “Half the time, I’m afraid to ask if they want anything to drink. But it’s hell to pay if I don’t.”

  “Do you know anything about the men?” Charlie asked her.

  “Not much, except they’re here on vacation or something and they tip real good.” Lesley smiled. She filled a couple of mugs with Sam Adams lager.

  “What about the women in the corner?” I asked. “Should I talk to them?”