by Sharon Dunn
Tammy cleared her throat. “I know you’re probably tired. I didn’t mean for us to meet this late. The evening kind of got out of control for me.”
“Someone pushed Ginger down in the parking lot when we were waiting to go into Macy’s,” Suzanne said. “Some people can just get so greedy that they throw manners out the window.”
Ginger stacked the sugar packets one on top of another. She hadn’t told Suzanne and Kindra about the man’s threat. And she wasn’t going to tell them. She didn’t want them to worry.
“All I’m saying is that I think the investigation of your friend’s death was swept under the carpet too quickly.” Tammy leaned a little closer. “I can’t afford to lose my job—I hope I haven’t already lost it—but when I’m not on duty I will help you as much as I can. What matters here is that the right thing is done.”
Kindra touched Ginger’s shoulder. “That’s good news, don’t you think?”
“I don’t see what good it will do. If someone powerful in the police department doesn’t want us to get to the bottom of this, how are we going to find out anything?”
The furrows between Suzanne’s eyebrows intensified. “What are you saying? We’ve worked so hard already.”
Ginger tossed a sugar packet on the table. “And we’ve come up with nothing.” She wrapped her arm around Arleta’s bony shoulder. “This woman is obviously not a criminal. The stuff Mary Margret got from her is benign.” Of course, she didn’t believe that. The break-ins were probably connected, but she needed to protect Kindra and Suzanne.
Suzanne stirred her soft drink with a straw. “We still have to connect that shell box to someone.”
“We need to catch Keaton Lustrum at home.” Kindra bounced three times in her plastic seat. “I bet that box is worth a million dollars or something. Maybe it got sold by accident, like the fishing pole.”
Ginger shook her head. If someone knew she was retracing Mary Margret’s steps and that Kindra and Suzanne were her best friends, that meant someone had them under surveillance. What kind of power would a person have to have to find out that kind of stuff about you?
She stared at the store entrances that surrounded the food court, studying each loitering shopper. One of these people was probably watching them right now. A chill, like a million tiny spiders with frozen feet, ran down her spine. She gathered the collar of the cardigan up to her neck.
“The box isn’t worth a million dollars. I think we should just forget the whole thing.” Besides, just because three women could track down a good deal didn’t mean they could take on a person who could track their every move. Maybe they should just pony up and hire a private detective.
“This isn’t the best time to make a decision.” Tammy took a sip of her Diet Coke. “Maybe you’ll change your mind. I’ll stay in touch.”
Ginger wasn’t so sure about Tammy’s motive. First she said Mary Margret’s death was an accident, and then she said it wasn’t. Maybe she was a spy planted to watch them. She pressed the sugar packet between her fingers. She didn’t know who to trust anymore.
“I just don’t get you, Ginger.” Kindra yawned, took the top off her latte cup, and peered inside.
Ginger had lost count of how many caffeinated beverages the nineteen-year-old had downed in the course of the evening. “It’s late, kid. Why don’t you come back to the house and spend the night. I just hate the thought of you walking through that dorm room parking lot and up that elevator by yourself.”
And I just hate the thought of you getting an arrow through your back. Suzanne would be safe with Greg.
Kindra stared at her for a moment before answering. Ginger had never lied to her friends, never kept anything from them. This was worse than if one of her contacts at Dillard’s told her about an upcoming sale and she hadn’t told Kindra and Suzanne.
“Sure, Ginger. That might be easier than you taking me home.” Kindra licked the foam off her coffee lid and continued to gaze at Ginger. The kid was no dummy; she knew something was up.
Tammy gathered her keys from the table. “Actually, I need to go back to your place. I left my son there with your husband.”
“Oh, really?” Ginger rose to her feet. Tammy certainly was getting awful cozy with them very fast.
“Yes, your husband is quite a clever inventor. Trevor was pretty impressed.”
Why was it that everybody else could know Earl for ten minutes and see him as a genius, and she had spent the last two years thinking he was “piddling” around his garage working on “contraptions”?
Ginger grabbed her purse. They headed toward the Macy’s entrance where their cars were parked. Tammy waved good-bye and said she’d see them out at the house. When Ginger said good night to Suzanne, she held her an extra moment longer, squeezed her a little tighter. Suzanne smelled of cooking oil and baby lotion with the hint of her own floral perfume buried underneath.
She pulled free of the hug and held Ginger’s hands. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, it’s just that I…I…” Ginger pulled her hands out of Suzanne’s grasp.
Suzanne tilted her head and gazed at Ginger. The strong emotion she had not been able to keep out of her voice probably confused Suzanne. After all, she wasn’t leaving to be a missionary in Antarctica.
“Ginger, is there something you’re not telling us?”
“Yeah,” added Kindra.
“No, it’s just the fallout in the parking lot. It made me realize how much I care about you two.”
“Kind of like a near-death experience.”
Ginger nodded at Kindra. “Something like that, kiddo.”
Satisfied with the answer, Suzanne lumbered toward the entrance. Even from the back, her duck walk gave away that she was pregnant.
Ginger unzipped her purse to pull out her keys. Inside were the three tea packets wrapped in cellophane that she always carried with her. She bought the tea in eighty-bag boxes at the Costco in a neighboring town. Such a deal. She pulled the bags out and turned them over in her hand.
“Kindra, why don’t you go on up ahead. I’ll meet you outside.” Ginger took two steps and then turned back around. “Be careful.”
“Yeah, sure.” Kindra nodded, but her expression communicated confusion.
Ginger made her way back down to the food court. Arleta sat by herself sipping her dollar and a quarter tea. She smiled when she saw Ginger. The mall was almost completely abandoned, only a few stragglers left.
Ginger walked over to her table. “You must have had quite a scare. That man coming into your house and everything.”
Arleta spoke rapidly, as though longing to talk to someone. “The police officer didn’t believe me. But I am telling you that neighborhood is not safe anymore. I should just sell the place, but I can’t think of where I would go.”
“Must be hard to think about going back there tonight. Why don’t you come and stay with me. I’ll put Kindra on the couch, and you can have the guest bed. You can follow me out in your car.”
Arleta’s mouth curled up and she nodded. “Thank you.”
Should she share the financial benefits of carrying a tea bag in your purse instead of paying a buck twenty-five? Arleta had said she was on a fixed income, so she could probably use some money saving tips. Maybe she would save that little tidbit until they were better friends.
Suzanne crawled into bed beside her snoring husband and performed the twenty-minute procedure of trying to find a sleeping position that was within a couple miles of comfortable.
She was pretty sure she wouldn’t ever get a good night’s sleep until the last kid graduated from high school and left home. Who would have thought an ordinary thing like sleep would become such a precious commodity? Mattress commercials made her cry. All those people looked so comfortable, so relaxed. She pulled the body pillow a little closer.
Greg’s voice, faint and groggy, floated across the bed. “Hey, how was midnight shopping? Did you have a nice time with the girls?”
Suzanne drew
her legs a little closer to her body. The baby was doing karate in her tummy tonight. “We didn’t get much shopping done. It was pretty exciting though. I’ll tell you in the morning. Did the kids behave okay for you?”
Greg rolled over and touched her arm. “They were good. Except you need to have a talk with Emily about telling lies. She said there was a man with a price tag on his head looking for boxes in our house.”
“She just has a good imagination, Greg.”
“She made the dog bark, probably poking at him again, and I think she was trying to cover for that.”
“A man with a price tag on his head.”
“Weird, huh?” Greg’s breathing intensified and then turned to snoring.
She stared at the ceiling, waiting for the heaviness of sleep to overtake the discomfort of being so huge.
A man with a price tag on his head. The thought of Emily telling the story while sucking on her fingers made Suzanne smile.
When she and Tammy entered Earl’s shop, Ginger spotted two men whose welding helmets made them look like bugs. Earl and the teenager who must be Trevor were hunched in the corner of the shop.
The smaller bug placed the welding rod on one of the arms that came out of the Bobcat while the larger bug watched. From time to time, Earl jerked forward spastically as if he were about to grab the welding rod out of the kid’s hands. But he stopped midspasm and continued to watch.
Tammy had arrived only a few minutes before them. She said she spent the time talking to her mother and calling work. Kindra had offered to get Arleta settled inside, an offer Ginger readily accepted. The aura with the bright lights floating across her field of vision had started. She was still hopeful that she had taken the medication soon enough to at least reduce the migraine’s strength.
Tammy crossed her arms and shook her head, staring across the expanse of the shop; a faint smile formed on her lips. “I don’t suppose there is any way we can get them to notice us.”
Ginger wasn’t sure what to make of this Officer Welstad. She had seemed compassionate that night she had to tell them about Mary Margret. But her actions after that had been contradictory. Maybe the police department really was trying to cover up something, and they had gotten tired of watching Ginger at a distance, so they sent in Tammy to buddy up to her.
And maybe the incident in the parking lot had made her paranoid.
The sparks stopped flying off of Trevor’s welding rod. Both men tilted back their welder’s hats. Trevor rose to his feet, set the rod down, and tore off his heavy welding gloves. “Cool, way cool. Mom, did you see? Mr. Salinski taught me how to weld.”
Trevor continued to bounce around the shop; then he ran back to a corner and grabbed a skateboard, which had a motor mounted on it. He tilted it toward his mom. “Check it out. We used an old board that belonged to one of his sons, but I’m going to do the same to one of my boards.”
“That’s neat. Trev, we’ve got to go. It’s late.” Tammy offered Ginger a furtive glance. “We’ve used up enough of these people’s time.”
He dashed toward his mom. “Mr. Salinski is an inventor. Cool, way cool. Can you bring me out here again tomorrow? He’s like a genius or something. He knows everything.”
“Trev, that’s up to him.”
“Trevor is welcome anytime.” Earl grinned as he wound up an electrical cord and placed it on a hook. “He’s a good hand.” He patted the boy on the back. “Come on, son, we need to put the tools away.” They retreated to the far end of the shop where Earl held up each tool, handed it to Trevor, and pointed to where it needed to go.
Ginger’s heart squeezed tight. Somehow, she had thought that she would be the one learning the names of tools and where they went. She could have alphabetized them.
Tammy put her hands over her mouth. Her voice wavered. “I know this won’t make any sense to you, Mrs. Salinski, but your husband is an answer to prayer.”
Ginger smiled. Whatever Tammy’s motive was for staying close to them, she obviously loved her son.
Contradictory emotions swirled and chugged inside Ginger as she watched Earl give Trevor a friendly punch in the shoulder and hand him another tool. She was glad that Tammy’s prayers about her son had been answered and happy that Trevor thought everything in Earl’s workshop was cool, way cool. It was just that the night she had brought Earl his Stroganoff, she had pictured herself standing where Trevor was standing. Somehow, she thought she’d be the one wearing the extra welding cap and handing Earl his tools. Once she learned the names of them, of course.
Trevor bounded across the shop. Tammy put her arm around her son. “Come on, we better get home. I’ll only be able to get in half a shift, if that.” Worry colored her voice. “Grandma’s waiting up for you.” Trevor dashed out of the door carrying his new motorized skateboard.
Tammy stood in the doorway for a moment watching her son. “Maybe you will reconsider about your friend. I have a few things I can look into, visiting the place where her body was found for one.” She looked Ginger in the eye. “But I sure would appreciate your help.”
Ginger nodded. She was warming up to the idea that Tammy was the real deal. Most people didn’t cry when they talked about prayer being answered if they were just pretending. Perhaps she should tell Tammy about the threat. It would be so nice not to have to keep it to herself.
Ginger pressed her lips together. “I wish I could give you my help, but I can’t.”
Tammy stared as if expecting more explanation.
Ginger was too tired to explain…too tired and too afraid.
The police lady left, closing the door behind her.
Earl continued to work, smiling and shaking his head. “That boy is something, huh?”
“He seems like a nice kid.” Ginger’s heart felt like it had been compressed to microscopic size.
“He’s a quick learner. It’s nice to have some help out here…and some company.”
“I’m happy for both of you.” Her voice lacked commitment. A pain she could not name welled up inside her. That coupled with an impending migraine meant it was going to be a doozy of a night.
Ginger’s eyes shot open. She blinked several times. She rolled on her side to check the clock. Five-fifteen. She’d only had three hours sleep. No bright spots floated across her field of vision, but her temples throbbed and her forehead felt tight. She’d managed to reduce the full-blown migraine to a stress headache. A welcome exchange. She pulled the covers up to her chin and listened.
Earl snoring beside her drowned out the possibility of hearing anything else. The bed shook on his nasally exhale. An intruder could be in the house stomping around and listening to music, and she wouldn’t hear it.
Earl must have slipped into bed after she’d fallen asleep. His schedule was so erratic, based only on the level of interest he had in the contraption—no, invention—he was working on. She’d seen him go twenty hours without sleep.
She turned over on her side. Earl had found his assistant, and it wasn’t her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She ought to be exhausted. Her dreams had awakened her, and now she was hopelessly alert. After three more minutes of listening to Earl’s impression of a motorboat, she sat up and threw off the covers.
His snoring subsided enough for her to hear a plastic something or other fall off the countertop. Just Phoebe, the monster cat. She played all night. This was how the cat amused herself when she wasn’t sleeping on Ginger’s head. She had grown used to the sound of things being pushed off countertops and display cases in the night. She had long since packed away the breakables.
Ginger rubbed her temples. Her dreams had been of someone watching her, following her in a brownish-gold car, looking at her through binoculars. And then when the man pulled the binoculars away from his eyes, he had no face.
Then she found herself at a dock by a lake. Kindra yelled for help, flailing in the water. Morning mist nearly obscured her from view. The panic in Kindra’s voice had planted fear inside Ginger. The residue of the a
ngst still paralyzed her even though she was awake and aware that it was a dream.
In the dream, Ginger stood on the dock and threw what she thought was a life jacket to her friend, but when she looked down through the clearing mist, she realized it was the vest Mary Margret had bought from Arleta. Kindra’s screams and the splashing of water grew fainter and fainter. The dream had ended the moment she heard water lapping on the shore.
Ginger slipped into her bathrobe and headed toward the family room, where Kindra was sleeping. The nineteen-year-old lay on the couch, one leg stuck out from underneath a fleece blanket with kittens frolicking on it. Her blond hair covered most of her face. Moonlight washed over her pale skin.
She tiptoed across the family room and covered Kindra’s exposed leg with the blanket. The dream didn’t make any sense. Kindra was a wonderful swimmer. Yet Ginger could still feel the tightness in her chest the dream had caused. She listened to Kindra’s soft breathing. Checking on the kid felt so natural. For years, she had gotten up in the night to check on her own four babies.
Phoebe knocked something heavy onto the kitchen floor. With a sigh, Ginger ambled into the kitchen. Her babies were gone, and now all she had was this mutant cat. The feline sat in the middle of the kitchen floor flicking her tail, chin in the air. Mary Margret’s shell box lay on the floor with a few stray shells scattered around it.
Ginger picked up the box and turned it over in her hand before placing it back on the counter. She refolded the vest and flipped through the photo album, shaking her head with each passing photograph. She lingered for a moment by the photo of Arleta and David, arms around each other, surrounded by piles of rocks. They looked so happy.
She slammed the photo album shut. What in this pile of junk had caused Mary Margret to make that frantic phone call? Something horrible, something from the past.
David had been an archaeologist; his whole life had been about looking at the past. None of this made any sense. It was a puzzle with too many pieces missing. Yet Tammy felt strong enough about what she had seen at the police station to track Ginger down in the middle of the night.
