I Know What You Bid Last Summer

by Sherry Harris

  Someone cleared their throat behind me, so I said my good-byes to Betty. That left the last two board members, both men. They both wore suits and were the middle point, dress wise, between Anil and Lance. I stepped in as the first one, Mac Danucci, reached out to shake hands. He looked startled and stepped back, but not before I almost sneezed at the overpowering scent of cigars. He had always reminded me of the worst stereotype of a used car salesman.

  I turned to Rex Sullivan, who stepped closer to me, which made me want to step back, but instead I inhaled. I realized he reeked of bourbon. After murmuring my condolences, I mingled a bit in the room where cookies and coffee were being served. My nose was on overdrive as I moved about the room. I finally caught a whiff of the aftershave and tried to figure out where and who it was coming from. I moved from position to position but didn’t have any luck. What did it prove, anyway? Every department store probably sold the stuff, so anyone with enough money could buy it. I needed to think of another tactic.

  As I crossed the parking lot to my Suburban, I heard a commotion behind me. I turned in time to see Anil being handcuffed and stuffed into the back of an Ellington police car.

  * * *

  I caught the DiNapolis just as they were locking up. “Come in, Sarah,” Rosalie said as she gestured to me.

  I handed the bag from Villa Bella over to Angelo. He opened the box carefully, set the lasagna on a plate, and looked at it from all angles before carrying it over to a table.

  “It looks good,” Rosalie said.

  Angelo frowned and nodded. He went to the kitchen and got three forks.

  “You’re going to need some knives, too,” I said.

  “Really?” he asked. But he grabbed some knives and brought them over.

  We all took a bite.

  “Hmmm,” Angelo said. “Let me heat it up, and we’ll give it another try.” He wrapped the lasagna in tinfoil and stuck it in the oven. DiNapoli’s didn’t have a microwave. “Let’s have a glass of wine while we wait.” He opened a bottle of Chianti with a flourish, poured three glasses, and we settled at the table.

  “I went to Melba’s visitation.”

  “We planned to but were so busy, we couldn’t get out of here,” Rosalie said.

  “The police handcuffed Anil Kapoor and stuck him in the back of the police car as I left.”

  “They think Anil killed Melba? Does that mean he attacked you?” Angelo asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope not. He came over to my house the other night and asked me to help him. He said he was being set up.”

  “Did he say how?” Angelo asked.

  “Melba asked him to meet her at the school the night of her murder. He went, but no one was there.”

  The oven dinged. Angelo brought the lasagna over to the table. We all dug in again. Angelo lifted a forkful to his nose and breathed in like he was smelling a fine wine. We all ate a few bites, chewing slowly, considering.

  “It’s good,” I said. “But not as good as yours. It doesn’t taste award winning to me.”

  Rosalie nodded.

  Angelo took another bite. “A little too much fennel in the sausage and oregano in the sauce. It’s not as good as mine.” Then he smiled and topped off our glasses of wine.

  “Did you know Melba well?” I asked them.

  “Our son had her for math, and he wasn’t good at math. She took a lot of extra time with him, and he got it,” Angelo said.

  “She was a very private person. Wonderful with the kids, but hard to get to know.” Rosalie swirled her Chianti thoughtfully.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I always wondered if she had some kind of secret life.” Rosalie smiled. “But that’s probably me just imagining things.”

  * * *

  A secret life. The thought wouldn’t let go as I walked home. I stopped in front of Stella’s door and listened but didn’t hear anyone singing. I hoped that meant her private lesson was over. I knocked on the door.

  “Want to go on an adventure?” I asked when she answered. Her tuxedo cat, Tux, came out and rubbed against my ankle. I bent down and scratched his ears until he purred. “Who’s a handsome boy?” I asked.

  Stella pursed her lips. “Last time I went on an adventure with you, I almost got arrested.”

  “True, but you also met Awesome.”

  “Let me get my purse. Come on, Tux.” Tux followed Stella back into her apartment. Minutes later she came back out and locked her door.

  When we climbed into my Suburban, Stella twisted toward me. “Where are we going?”

  I backed out of my parking space and drove along the edge of the town common. “I thought we’d drive by Melba’s house.”

  “That’s it? That’s the big adventure?”

  I glanced at her, surprised. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve just been feeling restless lately.” Stella sighed. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.”

  “I looked up Melba’s address. It’s over close to the base and Gillganins. Want to go have a drink afterward?” Stella liked to drag me with her to karaoke nights there. My voice was okay, but no match for Stella’s operatic one. “Maybe Ellington is too little for you,” I said. “That could be making you feel restless.”

  “No. I like it here. Especially since I started dating Awesome.” Stella shifted in the seat. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Of course I can.” I glanced over at her but then looked back at the road, which was narrow and lined with a granite curb. Granite curbs and tires weren’t a good mix.

  “I tried out for a part in a production of The Phantom of the Opera.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “I’m scared I won’t get. I’m scared I will get it.” Stella closed her eyes for a minute. “What if I get it and I freeze or I’m horrible? I haven’t been onstage for a long time.”

  “But you’ve been singing at faculty events at Berklee. You’re always brilliant.”

  “I know. But this is a step back to an old life that I loved and hated.”

  “Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I’d love to see you in action.”

  Stella smiled at me nervously. “Thank you.”

  I turned down South Street and then onto the street Melba had lived on. Most of the houses were one-story ramblers. Some of them were duplexes. I slowed as we looked for her street number in the dark. We pulled up in front of the house. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see. Maybe something that would indicate what Melba’s secret life was about. If she even had one.

  “Look. Her front door is open,” I said.

  “That seems odd.”

  I saw a bit of light bouncing around inside. “Is that a flashlight beam in the house?”

  “It is.” Stella flung her car door open and leaped out.

  “Wait. Get back.”

  But Stella kept heading for the door. I grabbed my cell phone and laid on the horn as I dialed 911. I didn’t want Stella to walk into a dangerous situation. I slid out of the car and ran after her as I talked to the dispatcher. I grabbed Stella’s arm. A door slammed at the back of the house. A person wearing all black rounded the side of the house and dashed down the driveway. Something silver was tucked under his left arm. His right arm pumped furiously.

  “He took something from the house.” Stella started in his direction.

  I’d noticed that, too. “It looked like a laptop. Get in the car,” I yelled. “We’ll have better luck following that way.”

  We bolted back to the car. An engine started up down the block and a small yellow pickup truck squealed away from the curb. As I started the Suburban, I heard the dispatcher yelling not to follow anyone. I zoomed down the street, anyway. We saw the truck two-wheel it around the corner. I tossed my phone to Stella.

  “Tell the dispatcher where we are,” I said as I took the corner, too. The truck had jetted down several blocks. I didn’t want to drive too fast, because we were still in a residential neighborhood.

  “St
ep on it,” Stella shouted. “He’s getting away.”

  It suddenly felt like I was in some kind of action movie, with bad guys and car chases and corny lines. I went as fast as I dared.

  “He’s turning left,” Stella yelled. I was not sure if it was for my benefit or the dispatcher’s.

  I took the turn and accelerated. This road was less populated. We flew by the hockey rink as Stella gave the dispatcher the play-by-play. I heard a siren not too far from us. We were close to the Fitch Air Force Base FamCamp. A place where military people could stay in tents or RVs. Only military people were supposed to use it, but there weren’t any gates or guards, although the grounds were patrolled by base security and they did random ID checks.

  I topped a hill and couldn’t see where he’d gone. “Do you see him, Stella?”

  We both peered into the dark as I crawled forward. There were some long driveways on either side of the road and lots of trees. We got to a stop sign where the guy could turn right back toward the center of Ellington or go straight onto the FamCamp.

  “There,” Stella yelled. “I see taillights.”

  He had driven onto the FamCamp. Just as I pulled in, a police car caught up to us. I pulled over so they could go on. Stella hung up.

  “The dispatcher said to leave it to the police,” Stella said.

  “Should we?” I asked.

  Stella shook her head no. Instead of staying put, I followed the police car. A few minutes later we caught up. The little yellow pickup was stopped in the middle of the road. The driver’s side door was open. Another cop car pulled up behind us. I rolled down my window as the officer walked up.

  “Stay put until I can question you,” she said. As I nodded my agreement, she approached the truck. She talked into her shoulder mike and then hustled down a path in the woods.

  Thirty minutes later another police car pulled up. I saw Awesome climb out and walk over to my window.

  “Go home,” he said. “The guy’s on the run. You two don’t have an ounce of sense between you.” Then he jogged away toward the abandoned pickup.

  * * *

  Stella and I remained silent on the drive home. I felt the sting of Awesome’s words about us not having any sense. It wasn’t true.

  Stella sighed.

  “Awesome was just worried about us.” I said as I turned onto Oak Street. “He didn’t really mean we don’t have any sense.”

  “It sounded like he meant it to me,” she said.

  I pulled into the parking area next to the house and parked. “Give him a chance to apologize,” I said as we walked toward the house.

  Stella stopped on the sidewalk and pointed at my living room window. “It looks like you’ve got company. Did you leave your door unlocked again?”

  I looked up. A silhouette of someone sitting in my grandmother’s rocker could be seen through the gauzy white curtains I’d hung for the summer. “I locked the flipping door. Mike Titone seems to have a way with locks.” I obviously needed to spend the money to get a new one that was more challenging to get through.

  Stella went with me to my apartment. I tried the knob, and it was locked. Yeesh. After unlocking the door and stepping into the hall, I yelled to Mike, “Quit breaking into my apartment.”

  I turned the corner into the living room, powered by a righteous indignation. I halted three steps in and clapped my hands to my mouth. Stella barreled into my back, making me stumble forward. She screamed behind me. It wasn’t Mike. It wasn’t anyone. A mannequin sat in my grandmother’s rocking chair, with a vintage ski pole plunged through its chest.

  Chapter 18

  Ryne ran in, wearing what looked like a hastily pulled on pair of jeans. The top button wasn’t even closed. “What of all that is holy was that noise?”

  “Stella screamed,” I said.

  He looked at the mannequin sitting in the chair. “Is that your idea of art?”

  “It’s my idea of a threat.” I inched closer. The mannequin was pure white, with no defined eyes, nose, or lips. Someone had arranged its arms so they were holding the arms of the oak rocker. Its feet rested on the floor. It looked like something out of a nightmare. The gauzy curtains blew gently in and out in the breeze. The scent of night-blooming jasmine came in, too. All of it added to the dreamlike quality of the scene. For once I wished it was Mike sitting in the chair.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Stella said. “I called the police.”

  Ryne looked from Stella to me. “That’s terrible. Who would do something like that?”

  The police hadn’t released anything about the murder weapon. No one knew about the ski pole except for me, a handful of officials, and—I hugged myself—the killer. My mind raced. Whose toes had I stepped on? No one that I could think of, although I had been pursuing the stolen items with almost relentless abandon. Was this a “back off” message or something worse? “You might want to put some clothes on before the police get here,” I said to Ryne. I wanted to think about anything but that creepy mannequin.

  He looked down and reddened. Stella looked over and smiled appreciatively at Ryne’s bare feet, bare chest, and tousled hair. “Do you want to wait in my apartment?” he asked.

  “Good idea,” Stella said. “We didn’t even look to see if anyone was in here.”

  We all whipped around and looked behind us like we expected the bogeyman to be standing there. No one was.

  “I’m going to look around. There’s three of us here.” I ducked my head into the kitchen. It was mannequin free. In my bathroom I yanked back the shower curtain. Empty. Likewise, there wasn’t anyone or anything unusual in my bedroom closet or my bedroom, and yes, I looked under the bed, too. All clear.

  Pellner and another officer arrived. Ryne left to get dressed after explaining who he was and why he was there.

  “Oh, that’s just creepy,” the officer with Pellner said as he whipped out his phone and snapped a couple of photos.

  Way to make me feel better.

  Even Pellner looked like he was weirded out by the mannequin. His dimples were as deep as I’d seen them, and it looked like he was repressing a shudder.

  Before Pellner had a chance to ask, I filled him in on my past several hours. Dinner with Stella—Pellner looked at her, and she nodded—a stop at the visitation, and then DiNapoli’s.

  “I came home and asked Stella if she wanted to go for a drive.” I didn’t think mentioning that I had called it an adventure would make Pellner happy.

  “A drive that just happened to take you two by Melba Harper’s house. And then chasing after someone like you’re Charlie’s Angels minus one,” Pellner said.

  The other officer guffawed at that, but Pellner shot him a look.

  “Did you find the guy we were following?” I asked.

  “No. You two yahoos probably scared him straight, though,” Pellner said.

  Getting told you didn’t have an ounce of sense and then being called a yahoo wasn’t really much of an ego booster. “Can’t you track him down through his truck?”

  “Nope,” Pellner said.

  “Stolen?” I asked.

  “How’d you know?” the other officer asked me.

  I managed not to say aha out loud.

  Pellner slashed a hand across his neck to stop the officer from saying anything else. “She didn’t. She’s just nosing around.”

  “Do you know what he took from Melba’s house?” I asked.

  “None of your business,” the other officer said.

  Pellner nodded his agreement.

  Footsteps pounded up the steps, and Awesome came in. Ryne slipped in behind him. His feet were still bare, but at least he’d pulled a black T-shirt on. He’d probably chosen the black because it brought out the green in his eyes. Not that it needed bringing out. His hair had been combed. Ryne carried a tray with a pot of coffee and mugs. He poured and passed out mugs. I took a big swig of mine.

  “Thank you for this.” I held up my mug.

  Ryne nodded in response.


  I kept my hands clasped around the mug because they felt cold, even though the apartment was warm.

  Awesome looked a little green when he saw the mannequin. That surprised me because he’d been a homicide detective with the NYPD before he came here. He must have seen much worse. Everyone’s reaction to the mannequin was almost scarier than the mannequin itself. Oh, who was I kidding? The thing was terrifying. And when I thought about how I could have been home when it was delivered . . .

  Awesome looked at Pellner. “Do you mind if I ask them a few questions?”

  “Be my guest,” Pellner said. He turned to the other officer. “You can take off. I’ll take care of this.” He gestured toward the mannequin.

  “Fine by me,” the guy said. He hustled out the door without looking back.

  “I have some follow-up questions about the incident at Ms. Harper’s house,” Awesome said.

  I nodded, but Stella ignored him. Still stung by his earlier comments, apparently. He gave her a perplexed look. Men could be so freaking clueless.

  “Can you describe the person you saw?” he asked.

  “He was dressed in dark clothes, but that’s all I saw. It was dark, and he ran by quickly. Right, Stella?” I looked over at her. “Oh, and he was carrying something silver. Probably a laptop.”

  She nodded her agreement.

  “How do you know it was a guy?” Awesome asked. “If you didn’t get a good look at him?”

  “I guess I just assumed it was.” It was like I always assumed a bad driver was a man and CJ had always assumed it was a woman.

  “So you don’t know for sure?” Awesome asked.

  “No,” I snapped. Apparently, I wasn’t quite over his earlier comment, either.

  Awesome looked over at Stella, but she ignored him. “Stella, anything to add?”

  “Well, since I don’t have an ounce of common sense, I don’t think I can be of any help.”

  Pellner raised his eyebrows and looked over at me. I shrugged. Pellner had dated Stella in high school, so he had probably seen this kind of attitude before.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But Melba Harper was murdered, and someone was searching her house. If you saw anything that can help, please tell me.”