I Know What You Bid Last Summer

by Sherry Harris

  Rex Sullivan pushed through the crowd. “I heard someone stole your car.”

  Pellner and I both nodded.

  “How are you going to get home?” Rex asked.

  I looked at Pellner. “Will you give me a ride?”

  Before he could answer, Rex spoke up. “How about I give you a ride back to my house? I have a loaner there that I let my customers use.” He winked. “I’ve got plenty of cars.”

  I looked at Pellner, then back at Rex, astounded by his generosity. “Thank you.”

  “You can just keep it until you work out a new car or they find yours,” Rex said. “I’ll go in and grab my gear while you finish up.”

  “I’m going to go in and see if they have any security cameras that cover the parking lot,” Pellner said.

  “I’ll wait out here.” The last thing I wanted to do was go back in the noisy bowling alley.

  “You can take off whenever Rex is ready. I’ll let you know what, if anything, I find.”

  “Thank you.” I wondered what kind of car Rex drove. I’d seen lots of Mercedes, Lexus, and Jaguars sitting on his lot when I stopped by. A little thrill ran through me. It would be fun to drive a luxury car, even if it was only for a few days.

  “Ready to go?” Rex asked when he came back out. He pointed down the lot toward a red BMW. What a beauty. We climbed in. The seat seemed to hug me. He shifted into reverse, backed out of the space, and shifted into drive. Soon we were sailing down Great Road.

  Ten minutes later Rex pulled up in front of a newish-looking McMansion. It sprawled across a massive lawn like a fortress. But no lights shined in the windows, and it looked a little sad. There was a low-slung yellow sports car in the drive. I felt a little nervous as I walked toward it. What if I damaged it? But Rex walked right on by and stopped at an old pickup truck. It might have been green at one time, but now it was more rust than anything.

  He patted the backend. “Hop in.”

  What the heck? My dream of driving a sports car poofed away. Why was he loaning this when he had access to all those amazing cars? Be grateful. I went around to the driver’s side and tried to open the door.

  “Throw some muscle into it,” Rex hollered over the top of the truck. “It’s a little cranky sometimes.”

  I finally managed to wrench the door open, promising myself I’d conceal my disappointment.

  “Watch out for the spring in the middle of the seat.”

  It was a bench seat that might have been leather at some point. A spring had burst through the very center of the seat.

  “This was my dad’s,” Rex said. “I got it when he passed a year ago. It’s better than anything I’ve got on the lot. Just got a new engine in it. The bodywork is next.” Rex handed me the keys.

  “Thanks so much,” I said. “I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”

  “No rush.” As he walked up to his front door, security lights popped on. He waved while I stood looking at my new ride. In some ways this pickup truck might be more precious to him than the fancy cars on his lot. Rex’s actions seemed to be so opposite of what Mac had told me about him.

  “I’ll take good care of you,” I told the pickup as I climbed in.

  * * *

  It was hot in my apartment, but at least it was mannequin- and Mike Titone-free. Pellner had sent me a text saying that the bowling alley didn’t have security cameras pointed at the parking lot. He’d let the surrounding communities know my car had been stolen. What the text didn’t say, but I knew, was that it could be in pieces in a chop shop by now. There’d been some problems in Ellington with stolen cars last winter.

  Something thumped against my door. I went over and cautiously peered out the peephole. The peephole was getting more use than I’d ever imagined it would. Stella stood there, hands full of scotch and wine, using her hip to knock again. I unlocked the door.

  She held up the bottles. “Awesome called me and told me about your car. Which works better?”

  I wasn’t a big fan of scotch, but the burn it gave was tempting. “I’ll take the wine. Come in.”

  I grabbed glasses, and we sat on opposite ends of my couch. I poured wine for me and scotch for Stella. I handed Stella her glass and noticed her deep green eyes looked serious. They reminded me of olives, while Ryne’s green eyes reminded me of emeralds.

  “It’s been a rough few days, on top of CJ leaving. Attacked, you found Melba, stuff stolen from the swap, saved Seth, the mannequin, and now your car’s been stolen,” Stella said.

  “You forgot that we tried to follow a suspect.” She didn’t know about my encounters with Mike.

  “How are you going to get around?”

  “Rex Sullivan loaned me his old truck.”

  Her eyes widened. “He did? Oh. Well, uh, Rex can be very generous.”

  “But?”

  “It’s usually when he wants something.”

  “What could he possibly want from me?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think he’d want from you?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe he sees you as a lonely divorcée.”

  “Oh, ugh. No.” I shuddered. “I can think of something more important that he’d want from me.”

  Stella perked up. “What?”

  “For me to believe him. That he’s a good guy who didn’t have anything to do with Melba’s death.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m not sure, but I can’t be bought.”

  “Or at least it’s going to take more than a rusty old truck, right?”

  I laughed. “Absolutely.”

  Stella took a slug of her scotch. “What’s going on with you and lasagna?”

  Uh-oh. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ve been talking to people. First, you take Carol for lasagna. Then me, and tonight Ryne. Only, you didn’t get any with Ryne, fought the waiter for a piece, and then left.” She bolted up and whirled toward me. “The lasagna bake-off. Angelo put you up to something.”

  Unfortunately, Stella was good at observing and putting things together. “He might have asked me to check out the competition. You can’t tell anyone.”

  Stella grinned. “I’m in. Where are you going next?”

  “It’s a new place in Bedford. Lucina’s. But I think Tony—the guy from Billerica—warned all the other entrants in the bake-off that I was checking out the competition. He threatened to, and the incident last night at Belliginos was crazy.” I tapped my fingers against my leg. “I’m going to have to go incognito. Tony must have passed around my picture with his warning.”

  Stella grinned a very wicked grin.

  “What?”

  “Just let me take care of our disguises. Berklee has an amazing costume department.”

  “You’re going with me?”

  “Did you really think I’d let you go alone?”

  “Awesome wouldn’t like it if something goes horribly awry.”

  “We date. He doesn’t run my life.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  After Stella left, I did another search for Sportzfan. Nothing. I followed that up with a search for the stolen items. There were a couple of possibilities, so I sent messages and made arrangements to meet a couple of people in the morning. Another knock on my door interrupted my search.

  A glance through the peephole told me it was Ryne who stood out in the hall. I rested my head on the door for a minute. I felt bad that I’d made an excuse and left him at the restaurant, so I opened the door.

  “How are you feeling?” Ryne walked in with a bag from Belliginos in his hand.

  “Better. Sorry about disappearing.”

  “I brought you lasagna.”

  I didn’t know whether to hug him or throw up. “Thank you. I thought they were out.”

  “I was able to get some after you left.” He studied my face. “You know you’re a little strange.”

  “Yeah. It’s a lot of work, but I man
age.” Ryne handed me the bag. I noticed some red hairs on his dark shirt. “Looks like the lasagna isn’t the only thing that reappeared after I left.”

  Ryne looked as his shirt and shrugged. “She isn’t good at taking no for an answer.”

  “Oh, poor you.”

  Ryne spread his hands out. “It’s a curse.”

  “Again, poor you.”

  “But she did order the lasagna for me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have any for you.”

  “Well, I guess I owe her, then.”

  “I’ll take care of it for you.”

  I laughed and pushed him out the door. Everything had caught up with me, and I need to sleep. “Good night.”

  I put the lasagna in the refrigerator to take to DiNapoli’s tomorrow. Ryne was turning out to be a good neighbor and friend. But that was all he’d ever be. I climbed on top of my bed. I didn’t even bother to fold down my blue-and-white comforter. Too hot to crawl under the covers and too tired to undress.

  I could hear Ryne’s voice through the wall and wondered if he was on the phone or if he’d brought the redhead home with him. Sometimes alone could be very lonely. I thought about CJ. I’d moved so many times for him, but he wasn’t willing to stay in one place for me. I realized CJ didn’t love me enough anymore. I’d made all those changes for him and loved doing it. He couldn’t or wouldn’t support me in the same way when I needed him to. But in this moment I wasn’t angry or resentful. Maybe I’d finally moved on.

  Chapter 24

  Thursday morning a call from Pellner woke me up at eight. “Your car’s been found.”

  “That’s great news.” I’d been worrying about having to replace it. “Is it in one piece?” I listened for an answer. “Pellner?” I looked at my phone to see if the call had been disconnected. It hadn’t.

  “It is.”

  “So what’s going on?”

  “Maybe you should come take a look.”

  Oh, boy. That didn’t sound good. “Okay. Where are you?”

  “The conservancy land down by the Concord River.”

  Ten minutes later I was driving Rex’s truck across town. One of the perks of sleeping in your clothes was that it didn’t take long to get ready to go somewhere. The sky was a cloudless blue; the humidity was heavy in the air, even this early in the day. I discovered the truck didn’t have air-conditioning, so I had the windows rolled down. I turned down the road to the conservancy land and could see my Suburban and a couple of police cars in the distance. I bumped onto the gravel road leading to where they were.

  Maybe the car was stuck and I was going to have to pay to have it towed. Although paying a tow truck would cost a lot less than buying a new car. Pellner had been so weird on the phone. Scenarios started going through my head. Oh, no. I slammed on the brakes. Dust from the road swirled up around me, and I coughed. I pictured the interior all slashed up. I could handle that. But why wouldn’t Pellner just say that? I tried to push aside the thought that kept rearing up. The one saying there must be someone dead in the car. I let off the brake and crept forward, wanting and not wanting to know. But there didn’t seem to be any crime-scene people out here, so I sped up a little.

  Pellner walked out onto the road to meet me when I stopped. I slid out of the truck.

  “What the heck are you driving?” Pellner asked.

  “A loaner from Rex.”

  “All the luxury cars and that’s the loaner you get?”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers. And it runs just fine.” I sounded a little defensive. After all, it was Rex’s favorite truck.

  “It doesn’t look very safe.” He frowned. “But it has a current inspection sticker.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, pointing at my Suburban, which did look stuck in the swampy land.

  Pellner gestured for me to follow him.

  “Please tell me there’s no dead body in it.”

  “No one that’s never been alive is dead.”

  I trotted after him, mystified. The driver’s side door was open, so I looked in. A mannequin leaned again the front passenger door, with a ski pole through its chest. Fury gripped me with a choke hold. I wanted to grab that thing, toss it on the ground, and stomp on it. Then take the pole and beat the person who was doing this. I must have taken a step forward, because Pellner grabbed my arm and held me back.

  “Who’s doing this? Why? What have I possibly done to someone to make them do this to me?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you. Who’ve you pissed off lately?”

  I’d talked to Nancy, Betty, Mac, and Rex yesterday. Oh, and Tim, who’d let me take the Porsche out. That covered it. No it didn’t. I’d also talked to Mike, the lady with the fake signed jerseys, and the Longs when I’d been at their house working on the garage sale. And of course I’d been in a couple of Italian restaurants. Stella and Ryne. I’d talked to them, too.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s a long list,” Pellner said when I didn’t answer his question.

  “Maybe it’s a mistake. It’s not the only white Suburban in town. Maybe you have a serial mannequin killer in town.”

  “Don’t you think it’s kind of a big coincidence that they left one in your apartment and one in your car? Face it. This is personal. So why don’t you just spill what you’ve been up to.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Nothing important.”

  A sleek silver car came jouncing down the road. “Who’d you call?” Pellner and I said to each other almost in unison.

  “No one,” I said.

  “It’s not the crime-scene techs,” Pellner said.

  “Crime scene? It’s not a dead person. Can’t we just forget this and let me get my car back?”

  “It’s an attack on you. Chuck would never forgive me if I didn’t follow up.”

  Chuck was what the police personnel had called CJ. “What does CJ have to do with this?”

  Pellner hooked a thumb through his belt. “Plus, the car was stolen. They need to dust for fingerprints.”

  The car stopped a few feet away from us. Pellner and I watched as Seth eased himself out of the front passenger seat. He wore a white long-sleeved button-down shirt and dark pants. His left arm was immobilized in a sling, probably so his shoulder could heal. Nichole climbed out of the driver’s seat. She didn’t look happy, but then neither did Seth.

  I tried to remember if I’d brushed my teeth or hair before I’d left the house. He walked over to us.

  “I was at the office, catching up, and heard they found your car.” His face was paler and thinner. But is was good to see him moving around even though it looked like it took a lot of effort.

  Seth moved toward the Suburban, with Pellner by his side. Nichole stayed put, and so did I. They talked in low voices. When Seth looked into the car and saw the mannequin, he balled his right hand into a fist. After a couple of minutes, he turned around and walked back over to me.

  “A word?” he asked me.

  I nodded.

  He pointed over to a tree down the road a little bit. An iron bench with a curlicue back sat under it. Neither of us spoke until we were seated on the bench. It was slightly cooler here, but sweat beaded on Seth’s forehead. I waited to hear what he had to say. Cicadas buzzed, adding a low background noise.

  “First, I want to thank you for pulling me out of my house during the fire.”

  “You’re welcome. How are you feeling?” That sounded professional. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

  “Better. Each day.”

  “And how about your house?” I really didn’t want to talk about the mannequin.

  “It’s almost ready for me to move back into.”

  “That was fast,” I said.

  “The damage was contained to the kitchen.”

  I looked toward the silver car, where Nichole was tapping furiously into her phone. “Are you going to move back?”

  “Of course. Staying at my parents’ is temporary. The commute is a killer.” He winced a littl
e at the word killer.

  “Why did someone try to kill you?”

  Seth looked startled. His answer was a head shake.

  “Do you remember anything that happened? Who attacked you?” I looked at my Suburban. “Does this have anything to do with Mike Titone? I know you have some connection to him. What is it?”

  Seth’s jaw set. He didn’t look like he wanted to answer any of my questions. He stood. “Thanks again. And for getting hold of Nichole that night so my family knew what had happened before it hit the news.” He turned and walked away from me.

  Nichole hurried around and opened the car door for him. Wasn’t that sweet? I waited until Nichole had backed the car around before I headed back to Rex’s truck. I climbed in and slammed the door a little harder than I should have.

  “Sorry,” I told the truck.

  Pellner came up to the window.

  “Please call me when I can get my car back,” I said.

  I thought back over my conversation with Seth as I drove off. What had I said that made him leave so quickly? It must have been my question about Mike. Maybe Mike had ordered a hit on Seth. One that had failed. But in the past it had almost seemed like they were friends. I didn’t even have an idea on how to dig any further. Something else had been bothering me about that day. The timing of the fire and my arrival. I worried that something I’d done had brought this on Seth. But I had no idea what that possibly could have been. It wasn’t until I was almost home that I realized that the first thing Seth had wanted to say was thank you. I wondered what the second thing was and why the mention of Mike Titone was so upsetting that he left without saying it.

  * * *

  I showered, blew my hair dry, and put some makeup on when I got home at ten. I threw on a yellow sundress with a full skirt and walked over to see Carol at Paint and Wine. She’d asked me to stop by and see her new classes, and I hadn’t made it yet. Her summer camp class was wrapping up as I got there. Fifteen elementary-aged kids all had painted pictures of koala bears, and everyone wanted me to see theirs.

  Carol’s hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Her jeans and stylish top were paint free, which seemed incredible to me. How did she manage that while working with all these kids? A little boy grabbed my hand and tugged me over to his painting. After I complimented his painting, I went from one to the other. The kids had varying degrees of talent, but each painting looked like a koala bear. Even more important, the kids all looked happy. Parents started coming in and picking up their jabbering kids. It was such a happy sight after the past few days.