I Know What You Bid Last Summer

by Sherry Harris

  There had been much protesting about my involvement. Ramirez hadn’t even wanted me to make the call. He had just wanted to use my phone. I had insisted that Kelly would know if it was my number but not my voice. Pellner hadn’t wanted me to be in the apartment. After the beating Kelly had given me in the gym, I felt I deserved to see the look on her face when she was caught. I’d won, since they needed my cooperation for this to work.

  Part of me hoped that she wouldn’t take the bait. That I was wrong, that the kids who’d talked to Seth during the day were wrong. Seth had done a lot of digging while I was at the sale. Kelly had an uncle who ran an auction house. The school board had bought the sports equipment through it. If our theory was correct, at some point Lance and Kelly realized the helmets were defective. Melba had somehow found out. Kelly killed her before she told anyone, and worked to frame Anil in the process.

  Kelly had used the Sportzfan moniker among many others. That’s how she knew I was trying to track the stolen items. Stealing the stuff from the high school gym helped cover up what was really going on. Lance and Kelly were in deep financial trouble because of all the businesses Lance had failed at. It seemed like Kelly would do anything to keep people from knowing. The kids Seth had interviewed had said Kelly was using the money from selling the stolen items to buy replacement helmets as well as to keep the family afloat. I’d thought back to the swap and how shiny the helmets had looked right before the sale.

  The apartment was stuffy with the windows only cracked open. I turned on the TV and the light in my bedroom. The spare key was back in its place on the door frame. It was Ramirez who had suggested I try to keep something of a normal routine, in case Kelly decided to watch my apartment before making a move. An hour later I brushed my teeth and changed into a T-shirt and gym shorts. My usual summer sleepwear wouldn’t be appropriate with all the men in the house.

  I turned off the TV and shut off the light. I lay down on what I still thought of as CJ’s side of the bed. I couldn’t use my regular side, because it was occupied by a Rescue Annie mannequin used for training EMTs in CPR. There was some sweet irony in using it. Stella had loaned us a wig that approximated my hair. The mannequin was tucked under a light blanket and was lying on its stomach, so little of it showed. Minutes ticked by slowly, and an hour in I started worrying that she wasn’t going to come.

  Five minutes later Pellner came into the room. “Someone’s coming,” he said softly. We both slipped into my closet, and Pellner left the door slightly ajar. I’d cleaned it out so that there was room for both of us and so we wouldn’t knock anything over. Awesome was behind the shower curtain in the bathroom, and Ramirez was hiding in the attic space off my living room.

  It was hard to hear anything over the sound of the rain, but at last there was fumbling at the door and soft steps in the hallway. A person dressed in black crept into the room and then to the side of the bed, ski pole in hand. The person lifted it and plunged it over and over into Annie. I watched my fake self being killed.

  “You were supposed to die with Seth in the fire. One fire two birds. You told Lance you’d be there. But you messed it up,” Kelly said when she finally quit.

  Pellner pushed me aside as Awesome flicked on the light. I stayed in the closet as instructed, not wanting to put the police in harm’s way any more than necessary. Kelly fought them, kicking, lashing out with the ski pole, and biting. I’d warned them about how strong she was. When she was finally cuffed, I stepped out of the closet. I realized my room smelled like the aftershave I’d noticed the night I was attacked and that Kelly was the one wearing it.

  We made eye contact as Ramirez read Kelly her rights. I didn’t feel victorious, as I had expected. I just felt sad, not only for me but for the kids she had manipulated into selling stolen goods, for the ones who’d been harmed by the faulty helmets, and for Melba. Minutes later they hauled her out of the house and everything was quiet. Even the storm had moved on.

  * * *

  An hour later I sat alone in my living room. My filmy curtains billowed in the cool breeze. As tired as I’d been earlier, I was awake now. I’d heard Ryne climb the stairs a few minutes ago and unlock his door. The police had asked him to leave the building for the duration of an operation they couldn’t risk explaining. He’d cooperated.

  Stella had been in Boston. Awesome had asked her to please stay there until he let her know it was safe to come back. No one wanted anyone to get caught in the cross fire, if there was any. Outside, a car pulled in beside the house and a car door slammed. I could hear Stella singing as she came up the steps. I met her at my door.

  “I got the part. I’ll be in the fall production of The Phantom of the Opera,” she said.

  I threw my arms around her. “Let’s toast to that.”

  Stella followed me into the kitchen. I popped open a bottle of prosecco and poured the bubbling wine into two glasses.

  “To new beginnings and hitting the high notes,” I said.

  We clinked our glasses before settling in the living room.

  “I would have never guessed that Kelly Long was so crazy,” Stella said.

  “Or that Lance was such a doormat. He couldn’t say no to her, even though her schemes were getting them deeper and deeper into debt.”

  “And in legal trouble. Why did she attack you that night at the gym?” Stella asked.

  “So Melba would show up at the gym. Kelly went there to replace some of the defective helmets. Some part of her didn’t want anyone to get hurt by using them. But she also wanted the auction items to sell.” I sipped my prosecco. “My being there made her plan to kill Melba easier.”

  “How so?”

  “The police notified Melba about what had happened. After they left the gym, Melba stayed behind and called Anil. Of course, she didn’t realize Kelly was hiding somewhere in the school.”

  “Is Kelly the one who attacked Seth?”

  “Yes. She thought getting him out of the way would stop his investigation into her theft ring.” I bit my tongue so I didn’t mention Mike’s involvement.

  “What a mess,” Stella said.

  “It is, but it’s over. Tell me about your role.”

  We ended up talking into the wee hours.

  Chapter 35

  Sunday afternoon was the big lasagna bake-off. At four o’clock I stood in the Bedford town hall, along with Stella and Awesome. We’d gone from booth to booth, looking at the lasagna. They had sampled something from each booth, but the thought of eating any more lasagna had turned my stomach. I was off lasagna for a good long while.

  The judges filed in and sat behind a table on a platform. One was a celebrity chef from Boston. I didn’t recognize the other two. Plate after plate of lasagna was put in front of them. They looked at them, sniffed them, and tasted. I could see Rosalie and Angelo across the room. Angelo was drumming his fingers against his thigh, and Rosalie was biting her lip.

  The judges made notes and drank water after each plate. The room filled with more people, and it grew hotter and hotter. The judges huddled together. Then they called for fresh seconds of a few of the lasagnas. They retasted and talked some more.

  This couldn’t be good for Angelo. I’d hoped he would be the clear winner. I spotted Tony from Billerica smiling and shaking hands, not a care in the world. But he didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t recognize any of the other chefs in the crowd.

  Finally, the celebrity chef from Boston stepped to a microphone and flashed his megawatt smile. “Hello,” he said. The mike screeched. “I’m so happy to be here in the lovely city of Bedford.”

  My knees started to shake. Just get it over with.

  “We ate so many wonderful lasagnas today. You made our decision nearly impossible.” He looked down at the notes in his hand. “The first runner-up is Angelo DiNapoli of DiNapoli’s Roast Beef and Pizza. And the winner is Chef Ben from Belliginos.”

  Belliginos was the restaurant in West Concord that I went to with Ryne. If anyone had to beat Angelo, it
should be Chef Ben. I tried to clap as I looked around for Angelo. Chef Ben leaped up the few steps and onto the stage. I finally spotted Angelo. He had a smile pasted on that looked so fake he might as well have been a mannequin. Just as Chef Ben reached for the large trophy, which looked like a bronzed piece of lasagna on a tall pedestal, one of the other judges whispered in the celebrity chef’s ear.

  The celebrity chef turned really red and said something back. The judges huddled again. Chef Ben stepped back, while another judge stepped forward.

  “Our apologies. We got that twisted around somehow.” He glared over his shoulder at the celebrity chef. “The winner of the lasagna bake-off is Chef Angelo DiNapoli of DiNapoli’s Roast Beef and Pizza.”

  A big cheer went up. I did my concert hoot and wormed my way forward. Angelo climbed onto the stage, pulling Rosalie along with him. They handed him the trophy, and he held it up over his head before stepping to the mike.

  “I know for a fact that Chef Ben makes a very good lasagna.” Angelo looked out at the crowd, spotted me, and beamed. Chef Ben had the good graces to laugh. “I’m honored to be in such good company. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my lovely wife, Rosalie. She’s the real star of DiNapoli’s Roast Beef and Pizza at one hundred Great Road in Ellington. Best lasagna in town.” He held the trophy up again and gave it a kiss.

  I waited my turn to congratulate Angelo and Rosalie. Angelo kissed me on both cheeks. “Thank you. We’re having a party at the restaurant at seven. Be there.”

  * * *

  I got dressed up for the party. A light blue sundress, open-toed wedge sandals, a swipe of mascara and lip gloss. I walked over to DiNapoli’s with a bottle of good champagne in my hand. I crossed the town common on my way over. People were out strolling, kids were chasing each other on the lawn, and someone was playing fetch with their dog.

  I couldn’t stop smiling. The sign on DiNapoli’s said CLOSED, but I pushed through the door, anyway. The restaurant was packed with people. I found Rosalie and gave her the champagne.

  “I guess you’ll have to save this until later,” I said.

  “It was lovely of you. And for what you did for Angelo . . .” Her voice caught. “He’s a character.”

  “But he’s your character. How can I help?” I gestured to the crowd.

  Rosalie handed me a bottle of Chianti. “Refill glasses?”

  “Of course.” I moved around the room, filling glasses for friends and strangers. Carol, her husband, Brad, Stella, Awesome, Pellner, Nancy, James and his new girlfriend. It seemed like half the town was here.

  I went back for a fifth bottle and opened it.

  Angelo stopped beside me, beaming. “Quit working. Enjoy.” He pinched my cheek.

  We both looked at the trophy standing on the counter.

  “Well done, Angelo.” I poured two glasses of Chianti and passed one to Angelo. “To lasagna,” I said.

  “To family,” Angelo said. “You may not be blood, but you are definitely family.”

  We clinked glasses and took a drink. I knew the warmth spreading through me wasn’t from the wine as I looked over all the people jammed in here. People I loved, people who loved me. The door opened again, and Seth walked in. His sling was gone. He wore a white shirt and black dress pants. He scanned the room, looking for someone, until his eyes locked on me. We stared at each other.

  Keep it professional, Sarah.

  A slow smile spread across Seth’s face as he watched me. A definitely unprofessional smile. I refrained from fanning myself. If hearts could sing, mine was.

  “Can I have your attention, everyone?” Angelo yelled above the crowd. “Thank you for supporting Rosalie and me through the years. Lasagna is on the house!”

  I wanted to thunk my head on something. Nooo, not more lasagna.

  Garage Sale Tips

  Lots of people sell food at their garage sales. Some even say they make more off selling food and drinks at the sale than they do selling their belongings. Here are some things to think about:

  1. First check with your city or county regulations to make sure you can sell food. Regulations vary widely from place to place.

  2. If you want to sell water, soda, or other drinks, make sure you have a way to keep them chilled (or warm, if it’s cool out).

  3. Think about what the weather is going to be like. If it’s hot out, avoid things that melt easily. Even chocolate chip cookies can make a mess, so a gingersnap or oatmeal cookie might be a better choice.

  4. Some people go so far as to sell hot dogs or hamburgers. Personally, I worry too much about having a hot grill out where strangers are milling.

  5. You will need an extra person to deal with food and drink sales while you deal with selling the garage sale items.

  Setting Up a Pretzel Bar

  What you’ll need:

  Bowls for the pretzels

  A scoop

  Paper lunch bags or single-serving plastic bags

  Assorted pretzels

  Cooking spray (optional)

  Seasonings and toppings

  Put a friend or family member in charge of scooping the pretzels into the bags. You can spritz the pretzels with cooking spray once they are in a bag to help the seasonings and toppings stick, but you don’t have to. Let the customers add their own seasonings and toppings.

  For your seasonings, you don’t have to look farther than your spice cabinet. Popcorn seasonings work especially well and come in a wide variety of flavors. For toppings, you can use everything from sweetened cocoa powder to jalapeños. Just keep in mind the messiness factor, especially on hot days. Have fun!

  Acknowledgments

  To John Talbot of the Talbot Fortune Agency, thank you for your support and for believing in me.

  To my editor at Kensington, Gary Goldstein, you are one of a kind! Thanks for working with me.

  To my Wicked Cozy Authors blog mates—Jessie Crockett, Julie Hennrikus, Edith Maxwell, Liz Mugavero, and Barbara Ross—who knew when we started this that our friendships would grow and strengthen like they have?! I love each of you and your uniqueness. And Wicked Cozy Accomplices Sheila Connolly, Jane Haertel, and Kim Gray, thank you for your friendship and creativity.

  Ashley Harris (no relation, but a dear friend and former neighbor), yes, I stole some of your garage sale stories.

  Michelle Clark, medicolegal death investigator, thanks for talking me through using a ski pole to kill Melba!

  Eleanor Carwood Jones, please don’t pay more for things at a garage sale than is asked.

  Barb Goffman, independent editor, you are a master at finding and fixing plot holes.

  Clare Boggs, your editing skills have sharpened with every book. Sometimes I think you know Sarah as well or better than I do. You are always willing to read at the last minute. Thank you.

  Mary Titone, you read for me, you set up events for me, and you go on adventures with me. Thank you for all three!

  My daughter, Elizabeth, thanks for bringing me chai, fixing me breakfast, walking Lily, and making me laugh when I’m stressed.

  Bob, my patron of the arts, partner, and love, I can’t imagine life without you.