I Know What You Bid Last Summer

by Sherry Harris

  At 3:45 I pushed open the door to DiNapoli’s. A few people sat at scattered tables, but no one was at the counter, ordering. Betty Jenkins was at a table with her granddaughter. They were laughing and didn’t notice me come in. I handed the bag to Rosalie.

  “This is a gift for you. And Angelo.” I raised my eyebrows, hoping she’d get the message.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Rosalie said. She leaned in. “Really, you shouldn’t have.”

  “But you’ve both done so much for me.”

  Rosalie patted my hand. The door opened behind me as another customer came in. I decided to say hello to Betty before I left.

  “Do you want to join us?” Betty asked when I stopped at their table.

  “No thanks. I just stopped to say hello. It looks like you two are having fun.”

  “We are,” Betty said. “She’s the last little one in the family. The rest of them are all teenagers. Great kids, but always on the run.”

  “Are you going to paint another picture tomorrow?” I asked the little girl. She had white-blond hair and big dark eyes.

  “Yes. Of a rabbit.”

  “Oh. I like rabbits.”

  “So do I. But Grandma doesn’t, because they eat her lettuce.”

  We all laughed. I waved good-bye and walked back home. My thoughts turned back to the stolen sports items. I was borderline obsessed with them. But I felt like they were going to lead me to whoever had murdered Melba.

  If Seth had asked Mike to buy stuff, he’d probably do it, but why? Whoa, maybe I was going about this all wrong. Maybe I should try selling things instead of just trying to buy them. It might smoke someone out if I listed items that sounded like the ones that were stolen. Minutes later I was home. I quickly set up a new fake account and listed a bunch of items that I supposedly owned. An hour later I had my first bite.

  * * *

  I backed Rex’s truck into a space in a parking garage at 4:45 p.m. I could see the small coffee shop across the street. The buyer and I had agreed to meet in Arlington, at the independent shop. I reached over to the passenger seat and took the binoculars I’d brought along out of their case. I was deep in the shadows, and hardly anyone who knew me would expect me to be in anything other than the Suburban.

  I had gotten here early and had driven around the block several times to see if I could spot a black SUV like Mike’s. Nothing. So now I waited. Five minutes later a black SUV pulled up. I sat still, barely breathing, like somehow I’d be seen. I had told the buyer when I messaged him that I was a dude who’d have on a Boston Red Sox T-shirt.

  The SUV sat there for a few minutes before a car door opened. Through the binoculars, I watched as a man climbed out. I almost dropped them, because it was the tattooed man who’d helped me drag Seth out of his house. After pacing the sidewalk a couple of times, he looked at the SUV and pointed to the coffee shop. He went in but came out a few minutes later, empty handed. Another car door opened, and Mike eased out. I wasn’t that surprised. They talked for a minute, before Mike started taking a good look around. I shrank down as much as I could while keeping an eye on them. It felt like he was looking directly at me, even though I knew there was no way to see me here in the shadows.

  Both men climbed back in the SUV. I knew I had to follow them.

  * * *

  I noticed a baseball cap partially tucked under the seat on the passenger side of Rex’s truck. I snatched it up and jammed it on my head as I pulled forward. I drove like a madwoman out of the parking garage and turned left. I could see them up ahead, driving west toward Lexington. I stayed back. We went down Massachusetts Avenue, crossed the 95, and headed into Bedford. They passed the street that led to where Seth lived. Somehow that made me breathe a little easier.

  They turned onto Sweetwater Avenue, which ended at Fawn Lake. Back in the late 1800s, trains brought people from Boston to Bedford for the fresh air. Today it was surrounded by trails and wooded areas. They turned right onto a road that I knew led to a parking area by the lake. It was surrounded by woods. Since I couldn’t follow them there without being seen, I continued on. I parked illegally behind a building that in the 1800s had been a pharmaceutical laboratory that used the sweet water of the lake to make concoctions for people. The building had been converted to condos in the 1980s. I trotted along a trail that kept me close to the water’s edge and hopefully out of Mike’s sight.

  Car doors slammed in the lot. I went up a path that looked like it was more for deer than for people, brushing branches aside as I crept forward. Angry voices carried to me. Seth. I snuck up behind a big tree and peered around. Mike, the tattooed guy who’d helped me pull Seth out of his burning house, and Seth were feet away from me. I snapped a couple of photos with my phone. I took the precaution of e-mailing them to myself. The tattooed man’s Hawaiian shirt was untucked, but I could see a small bulge under it. Gun.

  Chapter 27

  The man reached around his back. I couldn’t let him shoot Seth. I raced forward. Twigs snapped. He started to turn. I charged him. It was a tackle any Patriots defensive lineman would have been proud to make. We landed inches from one of the rear tires of Mike’s SUV. I struggled, grabbing at the man’s hand, and finally put my hand around his . . . baseball cap? Where’d the gun go?

  I heard a lot of “What the hell?” from above me, and seconds later I was yanked to my feet by Mike on one side and Seth on the other.

  “He had a gun tucked in his pants,” I said.

  The man stood and brushed his jeans off. “She’s crazy. All I had was my baseball cap.”

  I looked at Seth. “He was at your house the night of the fire. He’s probably the one who attacked you.” I jerked my arms away from Seth and Mike.

  Seth didn’t look surprised. He knew that this guy was at his house that night.

  “If I attacked him, why would I help you drag him away from the house? I sacrificed my lucky Red Sox shirt to stop his bleeding.”

  “To make it look like you were a good guy,” I said.

  Mike stepped forward. “I told you to stay out of this.”

  I jabbed my finger in his chest. This was becoming a habit. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I jabbed again for punctuation. “Tell me what’s going on. Now.”

  “Just leave, Sarah,” Seth said.

  “An innocent man is in jail. Someone tried to make it look like he was selling stolen stuff. Mike is trying to buy things and then comes to meet you. I have pictures of you two meeting. If you don’t tell me what in the world you have going on, I’m sending them to the Globe.”

  Mike eyed my phone.

  “I’ve already sent them off to a safe place.” My e-mail probably wasn’t that safe, but they didn’t know that.

  “Obviously, this isn’t a good place to talk,” Seth said to Mike. They both looked at me. “Let’s meet back at my house.” Seth turned back to Mike. “Come in the way you usually do.”

  Mike nodded and got back in his SUV.

  Finally, I was going to get some answers.

  * * *

  Seth’s house smelled of fresh paint, with an after scent of smoke. I arrived before Mike and wondered if he was going to show or would do a runner. Seth sat on his couch, with his head tilted back, eyes closed. A pulse beat in his throat. He hadn’t said a word to me since he let me in. I sat in a brown leather chair across from him, feeling awkward, self-conscious, and perturbed. It was five-thirty, and it had been a very long day. A few minutes later Mike and his buddy came in through Seth’s back door. Seth pushed himself up with his good arm. I studied Mike’s companion.

  “This is Two-Toes,” Mike said.

  Two-Toes? I couldn’t help but look at his feet. I grimaced, trying not to think about how he had got that nickname.

  Mike noticed my expression. “It’s a long story. He was here keeping an eye on Seth because of a situation we’re involved in.”

  “Well, he didn’t do a very good job,” I snapped at them.

  Two-Toes hung his head a
nd nodded. “I heard somethin’ in the woods behind the house and went to investigate. By the time I got back, you were pulling Seth out of the house.”

  “How come you ran off?”

  “A known associate of Mike ‘the Big Cheese’ Titone at the DA’s house? How da you think that woulda played in the press?”

  He had a valid point. “So mysterious Good Samaritan worked better all the way around,” I said.

  The men all nodded. Then they exchanged looks. I waited for one of them to start talking.

  “The Mob is trying to make a comeback in the sports world,” Mike said.

  I tried to think of how many Italian athletes I’d heard of on teams around here. Not many, was my conclusion. “Go on.” It came out frustrated and tense.

  “They’re betting, trying to influence outcomes, expanding their business beyond racketeering, drugs, and prostitution,” Mike said.

  “Trying to influence outcomes. Like paying off refs and players?” I asked. New England teams had had their fair share of scandals.

  “Bingo,” Two-Toes said.

  I mulled this over. Why would Mike Titone tell Seth any of this? If it was happening in Boston, shouldn’t he be talking to someone in the city? And why would he be talking at all? Wasn’t the Mob his bread and butter? My skin prickled. I might be in way over my head.

  “Is the Mob also selling sports memorabilia?” I asked.

  “Trying to control the market to make things more valuable,” Seth said.

  “But someone has a decent business in fraudulent items, which is keeping market value low.” I didn’t know where that thought came from, but it made sense.

  All three of the men nodded again.

  “We stumbled across them during our investigation,” Mike said.

  Our investigation? Again, it struck me as odd that the two of them were somehow working together. I kept my mouth shut.

  Seth leaned forward. “Someone has a Fagin-like organization to sell the stuff here in Middlesex County.”

  “Fagin as in Oliver Twist, by Dickens?” Fagin used orphaned boys as pickpockets and took their earnings.

  “Only, instead of orphans, we think our Fagin is using teenagers. Kids who need money, for whatever reason.”

  “But you don’t know who’s running the operation?”

  “They’re slick,” Seth said. “Layers of people between the seller and the head. The couple of kids we’ve caught don’t seem to know anything.”

  “That’s why you were out trying to buy stuff, Mike?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why does the Mob even care? I don’t get it,” I said.

  “Because it’s hurting the value of the authentic items,” Seth said. “You hurt their pocketbook, and you end up with a lot of angry people.”

  “So, on one hand, you’re trying to prevent a crime,” I mused. “The Mob going after this Fagin character.”

  “Yes,” Seth said.

  “And you’re also trying to shut down their operations.” I rubbed my temples, trying to wrap my head around all of this. Maybe the two different teens who had approached Ryne were part of the ring. Who had access to kids? The school board, that was who. Each of them in their own way. Betty Jenkins had teenage grandchildren. Mac hired them at his grocery store. Lance had teens of his own, and Rex sponsored lots of teams. Anil tutored kids.

  I looked at Mike. “If the Mob is behind all of this, why don’t you just tell Seth who’s doing it? You two seem awfully close.”

  Mike shoved his hands in his pockets. A move that made me jump slightly. “Jeez, Sarah, none of us are carrying guns.” He pulled his hands back out of his pockets. “I don’t know who’s doing it.”

  I was so confused. “Explain your connection, then.” I gestured back and forth between Mike and Seth.

  Mike sighed. “I feed Seth information when I can.”

  Wow. The people in the Mob are notoriously tight lipped. “Why?”

  “I watched my dad pay and pay for protection when he owned the shop. If he didn’t have the money, the shop was vandalized or an arm was mysteriously broke.” Mike frowned. “Dad never told me this, but you learn a lot sweeping up when you’re a kid.”

  My heart broke for the little kid who watched his dad suffer. “So you joined them?” It sounded like an abuse victim who had turned into an abuser.

  “Only to infiltrate and provide information,” Mike said.

  “Why to Seth, instead of someone in Boston?” I asked.

  “Because I trust Seth, and he’s not in Boston.” Mike leaned against the wall.

  “How do you even know each other?” I asked. I wondered why Seth was letting Mike do all of the talking.

  “Prep school. Seth was a couple of years behind me. We were both on the baseball team.”

  I sat back in my chair. I didn’t know which bit of information was more astounding, that Mike snitched or that he had gone to prep school.

  Mike went on. “My dad wanted me out of the North End. He scraped every bit he didn’t give to the Mob to send me off. When he died my senior year, I came back. I wanted my revenge.”

  “You had to get your hands dirty to do it?” I asked.

  Mike glanced down at the floor, and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah. But Seth fabricated some charges against me to make me look like I was doing things I wasn’t.”

  Seth leaned forward. “We’re worried that Melba found out who’s behind the operation and was killed because of it.”

  “And you think that’s why you were attacked?” I asked.

  Seth nodded.

  “So things are escalating,” I said.

  “That’s why I told you to stay out of it,” Mike said.

  “You could have just told me the truth,” I said.

  Seth and Mike exchanged glances.

  “It’s dangerous for us and for anyone who knows the real truth. Only Two-Toes here and my brothers know I’m working with Seth. The rest of my guys don’t.”

  “But they helped me out in February, and Seth was there,” I said.

  “I may have let them think you and I were involved. Romantically,” Mike said.

  I slumped in the chair. Just what I needed people to think, that I was a mobster’s girlfriend.

  “They also think Seth is on the take,” Mike said. “That I have a DA in my pocket, which is good for everyone.”

  “That sounds dangerous.” I looked over at Seth. “What about your campaign? If that leaks out, you’ll never be elected.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Finding our Fagin and having an ear in the Mob are more important,” Seth said.

  “The greater good,” I said. Seth was a good man. A smart one who came boxed with model-like looks.

  Seth nodded.

  Chapter 28

  I made my excuses and left. While I drove home, I tried to picture each of the board members as Fagin. It was kind of hard to picture Betty in that role. Leading a tennis camp, yes. Ordering a bunch of kids to lie, not so much. Anil would be telling them all to study. Mac and Lance? They were maybes in my mind. But Rex Sullivan. Hmmm. He’d worked with all those kids, sponsoring all those teams, from the time they were little. Maybe it had given him time to develop insights into their personalities, and then he had used that when they became teens.

  I jerked my hands from the wheel of Rex’s truck like it had shocked me. What kind of monster was I dealing with?

  * * *

  At six-thirty Carol met me at Sullivan Luxury Car Sales so that I could drop off the truck. My Suburban had been returned mannequin free and clean a few hours ago. The dealership was empty again. The pictures of the teams loomed large, and I walked over to study them, as if they could give me some answers. Sadly, pictures didn’t talk. I heard a noise behind me and whirled around to find Tim, who’d taken me on the test-drive, standing there, clipping his nails. Ugh.

  “Did you come back to buy the car?” he asked.

  “I wish.” I held up the keys to Rex�
��s truck. “Here’s the keys to the truck Rex loaned me.”

  Tim looked disappointed, like he’d actually thought I’d come back to buy something. “You can toss them on his desk. His office isn’t locked.” He pointed to an office and walked away.

  I went into the office and flipped the light on. His glass-topped desk was neat, his filing cabinets were locked, and his computer password was protected. Yes, I checked them all. I turned to leave and noticed an old-fashioned ski pole in the corner. It was just like the ski poles in the two mannequins, and in Melba Harper’s chest.

  I hustled out of the dealership and leaped into Carol’s SUV.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What happened?”

  I sat for a minute as Carol peeled out of the lot. That ski pole made two matching sets. “I need to stop at the police station.”

  “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

  “I might be tied up for a bit. Why don’t you drop me at my car? Don’t you have a class tonight?”

  “Olivia is at the store. She can take care of things. I’m not leaving you.”

  Minutes later we were seated in an interview room, facing Pellner and Ramirez, the state trooper who conveniently was still in town. I would have much rather just told my story to Pellner. Both of the men had wanted Carol to leave, but she’d told them it was either her or Vincenzo DiNapoli.

  I explained that I’d seen the ski pole in Rex’s office. Ramirez questioned me about why I was at the dealership and specifically why and for how long I was in Rex’s office. I left out the part about trying to snoop.

  “How can you be sure it’s a match to the others?” Ramirez asked.

  “I didn’t say it was a match. I said it looked like the other ones.” I wished I’d taken a picture of it, but I’d left my purse in Carol’s SUV while I ran the keys in.