“Robyn, did you remember to bring plastic bags for the cashier?”
Robyn straightened from where she’d been arranging a display of belts and regarded Marla with amused brown eyes. “Relax, darling, I already gave them to Cherry. She probably put them underneath the table. You can’t see because of the cloth.”
“Whew, thanks for that.” With a grunt of relief, Marla swiped her brow. “I can’t help thinking I’ve forgotten something.”
Robyn patted her arm. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’ve done a great job, and we’ll be fine. Each of us knows our stations.”
Marla nodded to Susan Feinberg, over by the toys. Some were on tables while larger items were laid out on the lawn behind the parking lot. Susan’s two kids played on the grass. And Jeanie from across the street had surprised Marla by taking charge of the shoes. Those were always one of the more popular stops at garage sales. Robyn was right. Everything seemed to be in order.
Marla took a deep, calming breath. Even when things were hectic at the salon, she never got this rattled. She was accustomed to that environment, while here she felt helplessly out of her element.
A thin, narrow-faced man approached her. “Excuse me, are you Marla Vail?”
“Yes, I am.” Her gaze roamed from his receding hairline to his nervous dark eyes.
“I’m Debbie Morris’s husband, Jimmy.”
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” She glanced beyond him. “Is Debbie here? She’s supposed to assist Cherry at the cashier’s table.”
“Debbie had to go take care of her sister. Poor thing has breast cancer and is having a bad time of it right now.”
“I’m so sorry.” Marla tossed a strand of hair behind her ear. The breeze was picking up, a godsend since the crush of bodies and rising temperature would soon raise the heat level in the parking lot.
“She sends her apologies. I’d stay and help, but I’ve got to watch the kids at home.”
“Of course. Give her my regards and let me know if I can do anything.”
She evaluated Cherry’s situation. Could the treasurer manage the cash box alone? She’d taken a few steps in her direction when Robyn signaled to her.
“I forgot to mention it, Marla, but after this event is over and you’re free, let’s do lunch together. I’m always planning special events for my clients, and maybe we can work something out involving your day spa to give you some publicity.”
“That sounds great, thanks.”
She’d like to get to know the marketing expert better. Robyn, a single woman, must make a good income to afford a house on her own. Marla admired her independence, although she couldn’t help wondering why Robyn wasn’t in a relationship. Certainly with her looks and energy, it couldn’t be from lack of male interest.
“Oh, look who’s shown up.” Robyn nodded toward a plus-size lady in navy pants and a cute patterned top. “It’s Laura Ferret. You heard about her fiasco with the Board, I suppose?”
Anxious to move on, Marla hesitated. “No, I haven’t. What happened?”
“She and her husband, Orville, built a second-story addition to their house and failed to get HOA approval. You know how it says in the rules we have to get certain improvements passed by the Board? Well, they neglected to do so. The Board cited him because his structure was too high.”
“You mean the cost was elevated?”
“No, the height of the building exceeded allowable parameters. Alan threatened to put a lien on the Ferrets’ property if Orville didn’t fix it. The reconstruction cost and legal expenses set him and Laura back in mortgage payments big time. Now the bank may be moving to foreclose. Orville held Alan personally responsible for his financial troubles.”
Marla gaped at her. “Did anyone mention this matter to the detective investigating Alan’s death?”
“Why would they? Alan was despondent and hanged himself, according to what I’ve heard.”
“You heard wrong. Alan was murdered. A public announcement should be coming any day now.” Dalton had said it was okay to mention the case, which had been determined to be a homicide. The news had been released, but the broadcast stations hadn’t covered it yet. Maybe the political scandals in Miami were more important.
“No way.” Robyn scraped a hand over her face. She wore an attractive shade of coral lipstick. “Do they know who did it?”
“Not at this point. Would you have any theories?”
“Huh. You’re looking at her.”
“You mean Laura?” Incredulity tinged her voice. Surely the woman wouldn’t kill their president because he’d enforced association rules? Then again, it had cost Laura and her husband thousands of dollars in reconstruction, and vengeance could have filled their hearts.
After concluding her conversation with Robyn, Marla sauntered in Laura’s direction.
“Hello, I’m Marla Vail, the garage sale chairwoman. Can I help you find something?”
Laura regarded her with violet eyes. She had ash blond hair teased in a bouffant style that had gone out in the sixties. “I’m just browsing, thanks.”
“Well, take a look around. We have baked goods inside the clubhouse, too.” Marla paused. “I’m relatively new to the neighborhood. Is there always this much drama?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard about the murder, of course? Who’d have thought someone hated Alan Krabber enough to do him in?”
“What? I’d heard the terrible news that he had hanged himself, but not this.”
Marla lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Oh, yes. I don’t believe the news is all that widespread yet, but it’s definitely a homicide.” Hopefully, Laura didn’t realize she was a police detective’s wife. “Can you think of anyone in the community who might have wished him harm? Since the man was retired, it couldn’t have been colleagues from work. And he didn’t have that many relatives.”
Laura’s face flushed. “He had his fans, but he offended lots of people, too.”
“You sound as though you’re one of them.”
“I’ll say.” Laura shot her a venomous glare. “We forgot to get Board approval for our two-story addition, and the Board sent us a citation that the structure was too high. They requested we tear it down and rebuild. Despite the potential cost, they wouldn’t make any concessions.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Orville was furious. We had to extend our loan, and that’s led to other worries. But neither one of us would go after Alan for it. The entire Board agreed with him. Did you know—”
“Marla, there you are!” Brianna rapped on her elbow. “How’s it going? We came to see if we could help.”
Marla twisted her neck to see Dalton bearing down on her. “Hi, honey. We’ve got everything under control, thanks.” She smiled at her husband. “Dalton, I’d like you to meet Laura Ferret.” But when she looked back, the woman was gone.
Bless my bones, what had the lady been about to say?
Marla pressed her lips together in frustration, but then shoved aside her musings and turned to her family. “Are you hungry? Angela baked cupcakes that look delish.”
“No, I’m gonna check out the DVDs if you don’t need me.” Brianna skipped off, her ponytail bouncing against her back.
Dalton grinned down at Marla, admiration in his gray eyes. “You’ve done a bang-up job of organizing this thing.”
“Thanks. How come you’re not home doing the Sunday crossword puzzle?”
“It’s too nice out to stay inside. We should go to the park later.”
He’d solved his case and had been returned to his desk job. Marla was grateful he had weekends off again, but knew he got antsy. It was terrible to say it, but he needed a case to occupy his mind. His tomato plants, crossword puzzles, and household projects didn’t take enough of his time. God help her if he ever retired.
“I won’t be finished until three or so,” she said. “The sale closes down at two and then we have to clean up this mess.”
“Don’t you have people assigned to that detail?” He shaded his face with his hand.
The rising sun made Marla wish she’d brought a hat. She fished for her sunglasses in the purse slung over her shoulder. “I’m chairperson, so I should stay. Everything that’s left over gets picked up tomorrow by the Salvation Army.”
“Okay. Why don’t I take care of dinner for tonight? You’ll be too wiped out to cook. You can do the salmon croquettes tomorrow.”
“Good idea, thanks.” She searched the throng for Brianna’s familiar head. “Uh-oh. You’d better go supervise your daughter. She’s looking at the jewelry.”
As he walked away, Marla noticed how some of the residents steered around him or gave him the evil eye. This, too, shall pass, she thought. Eventually, the incidents of the fence and Alan’s boat and even his untimely death would become old news and people would forget about Dalton’s role. There, see? Some guy had stopped him and shook hands. They should realize the valuable insights he could bring to neighborhood security.
The morning wore on with a steady influx of customers. Marla had gone inside for a snack to still her growling stomach when she heard a steady thumping sound. What was that? Had someone turned on a loud radio?
Robyn rushed into the clubhouse, a frantic look on her face. “Marla, come outside. We have trouble.”
She should have known. Didn’t her mother always say, A tsoreh kumt nit alain? Trouble doesn’t come alone. According to Anita, things came in threes. Alan’s death and Marla’s problems with Dara at work made two. Now what?
Stuffing the rest of a brownie into her mouth, she hurried outdoors. Robyn pointed toward the driveway entrance, where a circle of people held up placards. The rhythmic beating noise came from over there. Cherry had abandoned her post, leaving the cashier’s table to an impromptu assistant. From Cherry’s wild gestures, she appeared to be in a heated discussion with one of the demonstrators.
Marla approached, her dismay rising. The signs called for a boycott of their sale, saying the homeowners were desecrating sacred ground.
“What’s going on here?” Marla addressed the treasurer, whose black hair hung in a braid down her back.
Cherry turned to her in exasperation. “Marla, this is Herb Poltice. We have to get him and his troop to leave. They’re blocking the entrance.”
“So I see.” Wishing the community had a daytime security guard she could call, Marla pondered what to do. Several of the men pounded on drums, while the rest of the gang marched in a circle to the beat, waving their signs. For the most part, they wore loose-fitting shirts over jeans, but what struck her as peculiar was the war paint on their faces.
“Cherry, you can return to your post if you wish. I’ll handle this, unless you can explain what the signs mean.” Marla spoke in a mollifying tone, hoping to calm tempers.
“The spirits have summoned us,” Herb intoned like a seer at a séance. “We cannot let this blasphemy go unpunished.”
“Like you care what our ancestors might think. You’re only in this for your own glory.” Cherry glared at Herb, who shared the same raven hair and dark eyes. If glances could shoot poison arrows, he’d be dead by now.
Herb jabbed his thumb at her. “Oh, and you’re not?”
“You promised me you would wait,” Cherry said.
“You only told me to wait so you could verify the discovery.” Herb’s longish hair was bound in back, his face lined with crevices. Silver streaked his temples.
“What discovery? What is this about?” Marla felt as though she was intruding on a personal argument.
“Herb, keep quiet.” Cherry’s admonition seemed out of place when she had to raise her voice to be heard over the drums.
“The voices cannot be silenced any longer. We of the Immowakee must respect our heritage.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, you imbecile.”
He sneered at her. “On the contrary, you want to collect more evidence. In doing so, you are defiling the land.”
Cherry put a hand on Marla’s arm. “Can’t you call your husband or something? He’d put a stop to this. They’re disturbing the peace.”
Gritting her teeth, Marla stepped back. If those drummers continued to make that racket, she’d end up smashing their instruments herself. Their presence wasn’t deterring customers, however. People merely parked further along the main road and trudged over, giving the tribesmen curious glances. Maybe they figured this was some sort of entertainment.
Marla gave a startled glance at one guy who raised his cell phone in the air. Was he filming this protest? Great, all they needed on top of Alan’s murder was to become the subject of another news feature.
“Herb, I’ll have to ask you and your group to leave,” she said, still unclear as to why the Native Americans were there.
“Oh, and who are you exactly?”
“I’m Marla Vail, chair of this garage sale and wife of homicide detective Dalton Vail. Do I need to call in reinforcements from the local police force?”
“Go ahead, Mrs. Vail. I’ll tell them how this development is going forward with construction on consecrated ground.”
Marla glanced between Herb and Cherry. Connections raced inside her head, like mental light bulbs popping on, one at a time, along a wire strung between poles. A theory took hold, one that would explain this little diorama and possibly Cherry’s role in it.
“Aren’t you barking up the wrong tree?” she said to Herb. “Shouldn’t you be talking to the builders?”
“Heck, no. This started with her friend, the president. He should have reported his find to the authorities right away and not to you.” Herb pointed an accusatory finger at Cherry.
Cherry stiffened. “He needed me to confirm his discovery. Herb, we’ve discussed this before.” A pained look crept over her face.
“And see what happened? The spirits took their revenge on the man.”
Marla leaned forward. While she wanted to learn more, she had to disband this group and get back to work. “If you’re talking about Alan Krabber, my husband says the case is a homicide.”
The man gazed at her with astonishment, but then his eyes narrowed. “Either way, he paid the price for his indiscretion. So will you,” he told Cherry. “Nobody can disrupt the bones of our ancestors and not suffer the consequences. You should do the right thing and come clean.”
“I need more time for my research.”
“The longer you delay, the angrier the spirits will become. They’ll take their revenge again, mark my words.”
“Maybe I can help,” Marla said. “Tell me your demands, and I’ll relate them to my husband. He can see that the message gets to the proper person.”
His glance scorched her. “We only learned of this site fairly recently. It hadn’t been recorded in our annals. We must respect the dead and call a halt to any further building.”
“Alan Krabber is with the spirits now. Why don’t you ask him to intercede?” Cherry snapped. A vein pulsed in her neck, and her eyes blazed. She looked about to have a stroke.
“Make your choice, Cherry. You’re either with us or against us. But be warned that the law is clear on the subject.”
“Herb is the tribal shaman,” Cherry said to Marla with a disdainful lift of her nose. “He considers it his job to commune with dead people. But he doesn’t do it to bring harmony to nature. He does it for his own stature in the tribe.”
Marla’s gaze darted about in desperation. How did she get to be a buffer in this conversation? She needed help here. These people weren’t going to budge.
The drums rose in crescendo. She glanced beyond the drumming circle toward the street and groaned. A local TV news crew had pulled up in a van, and a cameraman and a nattily dressed lady reporter spilled out. With eager expressions on their faces, they headed straight at her.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
After the demonstration by the Native Americans, the arrival of the news crew, and the frenzy of the garage sale, Marla
wanted nothing more than to sink into her bed and relax. But Dalton was preparing dinner, and she couldn’t wait to talk to him.
She did spare the time to shower and change into comfy drawstring pants and a pullover sweater before entering the kitchen.
“Where’s Brie?” She sniffed garlic and spices. A big soup pot sat on the electric range along with a covered saucepan. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten much all day and wouldn’t mind an early dinner.
“She’s over at Kim’s house. I told her I’d pick her up at five.”
Marla glanced at the wall clock. They had twenty minutes to spare.
“What are you cooking? It smells divine.”
Dalton, standing by the sink, chopped up a red bell pepper for a salad. “Spaghetti and meatballs. I didn’t feel like making the meatballs from scratch, so I used the ones from the freezer. The sauce is done. I put them in there to cook.”
Marla gave him an affectionate smile. She thought he never looked sexier than when he worked in the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist. “Dalton, those turkey meatballs are already cooked. You could have heated them in the microwave.”
He shot her a wry glance. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“Why didn’t you ask? Anyway, you can probably turn off the burner for now.” Bone tired, she sat on a chair at their round table in the breakfast nook. “You won’t believe what happened at the garage sale after you left.”
“Oh, yeah?” He tossed the diced red pepper into the salad bowl, then picked up a cucumber to peel. “Did you make a lot of money for the HOA? How much stuff was left over?”
“Cherry is still tabulating the results, but we did quite well. The turnout was great, especially when we hit the local news station.”
That caught his attention. He whirled toward her, the cucumber upright in his hand.
“What? I didn’t see anything on TV, but I was watching sports all afternoon.”
11 Hanging by a Hair Page 12
