I swear his cheeks pinked just a bit. “Okay.”
“There’s a dining-out on Friday night. I wondered if you’d go with me.”
I kept my face as neutral as possible. This was an interesting turn of events. Dining-outs were formal military banquets held by a wing or group. Different wings had them at different times throughout the year. Women wore gowns and men wore tuxes, or if they were in the military their mess dress—the military equivalent of a tux.
“For work. For the case,” Bristow added hastily.
“It will look like we are on a date,” I said.
“I know it’s a lot to ask since you’re involved with the DA.”
Involved was one way of summing up our relationship. I was surprised he knew, but maybe Pellner and Bristow had talked about this before I arrived. Pellner had taken off quickly. Maybe he didn’t want to witness this particular conversation.
“If it will help you find who killed Alicia, I’m in.” I was sure Seth would understand. He would want the killer caught as much as anyone, and his office might be in charge of prosecuting whoever did it. But first we had to figure out who that person was.
Chapter Six
Boy, was I wrong. Seth’s fork clattered back onto the plate between us with a piece of pistachio cake still clinging to it. We were sharing the cake at the end of our lunch at DiNapoli’s.
“It’s unconscionable that Special Agent Bristow would involve you in this,” Seth said. “And Pellner.”
I sat back, surprised. But maybe I wasn’t so surprised, since I’d waited until the very last minute to bring it up. Right before Seth had to leave to go back to work.
“It’s not a date,” I said, deliberately misunderstanding his comment.
“You know it’s not that.”
I glanced over and saw Rosalie tug Angelo’s arm, tilting her head toward us. They liked Seth better than they’d ever liked CJ. I didn’t want that to change. I relaxed my posture and smiled. I took a bite of the pistachio cake. Seth started to swivel his head. He could sense the change in my attitude instantly. I put my hand on his arm.
“Don’t look. Please. Angelo and Rosalie are watching.”
“And?”
“I want them to like you. To like us together.” I smiled again. “They are a little overly protective of me.”
Seth relaxed too. Laughed. “A little? Like grizzlies watching out for a cub.”
“Bristow just asked me to observe, listen, and report back. What’s the harm in that?” I took another bite of the pistachio cake. It had just the right amount of moisture and was silky smooth as it slipped down my throat.
“So, you aren’t going to run around asking anyone questions?” Seth finally picked up his fork and ate the piece of cake on it.
Darn it. He knew me too well.
“I love you,” Seth said. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Always.”
* * *
As I drove over to Jeannette’s parents’ house to work on the garage sale, I pondered why it was so hard for me to say I love you back to Seth. I’d only said it once. I think I loved him. I know I loved parts of him. Whoa, that came out wrong. I loved aspects of him—his intelligence, the way he understood me and let me be myself. And he was hot, there was no doubt about that. But I’d rushed things with CJ when I was eighteen. I didn’t want to do that again twenty years later. I needed to make sure I could stand on my own two feet before I made any major life decisions.
Fifteen minutes later I was inside Jeannette’s parents’ house. It was cool and dark since the thermostat was turned down and most of the windows had heavy drapes over them. I decided to start in the living room, and flung open the curtains. Snowflakes, the big, lovely, floaty kind, were falling. Sitting on the couch and just watching was so tempting, but one look around the place and I knew I had one huge project on my hands.
The anticipation of finding a hidden gem got me going. Every sale I’d done had been a new adventure. Even the ones that didn’t include anything of great value gave me pleasure and taught me things. Sometimes it was as simple as watching human interactions. And it was always nice to have a satisfied client who made some money.
I unpacked the tote I had brought in with me. It was full of stickers with preprinted prices from twenty-five cents to fifteen dollars. There were also unmarked stickers where I could fill in the price. I had packed scissors and a measuring tape, too—the tools of my trade. My phone was fully charged so I could use it to make notes. Sometimes I needed it to check prices online or with a friend of mine who was an antique dealer. She owned a shop in Acton, which was about ten miles west of Ellington.
The last thing was a small wireless speaker so I could blast music from my phone to help pass the hours. Since no one else was here, I cranked the volume on an oldies rock and roll station. It was the music my parents had always played, made me think of family dance parties, and it was energizing.
This house was a daunting task and I might need to hire some additional help. Since I was selling everything left in the house, it was more estate sale than garage sale. Maybe I should check and see if any military spouses would be interested. It was often hard to find a job—even harder to keep a job—with all the moves. An actual career was almost impossible. And some employers wouldn’t even hire a military spouse because they knew the spouse was likely a short-term employee, so why invest in training? Of course, employers would never come out and say that.
I tackled the first wall. It held a selection of masks, from Mardi Gras to African and Asian. They were beautiful. Everything from wood to porcelain to papier-mâché. Since I wasn’t very familiar with masks it was slow going because I kept stopping to check prices online. And okay, I confess, I kept trying them on and checking myself out in a mirror. I might have taken a few selfies. It was spooky seeing my eyes behind some of them. But it also made me want to learn more about them.
I took some kind of sword off the wall when I heard the front door slam open.
“Jeannette?” I called. I shut off the music. When I turned I saw a man standing about five feet away from me.
“What are you doing in here?” a tall, burly man asked. He had a heavy, dark beard that covered his face and neck. It was sprinkled with snow. A knit Patriots cap was pulled low on his brow and he carried a briefcase.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He glanced warily at me. I realized I was holding the sword out, but I didn’t drop it. I tightened my grip on it. I knew I had locked the door, so either he’d broken in or had a key. I was really hoping it was the latter because that meant he was supposed to be here. We stood there staring at each other.
“I’m running a sale for Jeannette.” Maybe this guy was a concerned neighbor. I needed to add notify your neighbors to my running list of things my clients should do prior to me being at their home. I still didn’t lessen my grip on the sword. My hand was starting to sweat and my arm started to shake with the weight of it. “And you are?” I asked again.
“Jeannette’s brother, Troy.”
“She told me you lived out of town.” I gave the sword a little shake, mostly so he wouldn’t see the tremor in my arm. What would I do if things went horribly wrong? Could I really run someone through with a sword? Aim for the gut, not the ribs. Where had that thought come from? I’d taken some self-defense classes, but none of them involved swords.
Troy stared at the sword. Took a step back. “I flew in this morning to take another look around. Before the sale. To see if there was anything I missed that I wanted.”
I pointed the sword at him. “Stay right there. I’m calling Jeannette.”
He nodded. I’m not sure which of us was more afraid of the other. I backed over to my phone and made the call. She answered and I hit the speaker button on my phone. We heard the chatter of kids and locker doors slamming. It was hard to hear anything she was saying. I could never work in a school. The noise alone would drive me crazy. I quickly explained about Troy’s arrival.
> “Troy, what the heck? You should have told me you were coming. You must have scared poor Sarah to death.”
“I think it’s the other way around. She’s holding a sword on me.”
Jeannette let out a hoot and I finally put the sword down.
“I wish I was there to see that. Way to go, Sarah. It’s not easy getting one up on my brother.”
After we hung up, I circled my shoulder to try to relax it after having a death grip on the sword.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said.
“Yeah, back at you.”
“Would you have really run me through with the sword?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.”
He gave me an assessing look. “In that case, me too.”
“You must have had an interesting childhood,” I said.
He shrugged. “I guess.”
“You and Jeannette don’t want more of all of this?” I asked. “There are some really interesting pieces.”
“It’s one of the reasons I’m here. My wife decided there are some things she couldn’t live without.” Troy looked around. “Some carvings, masks, and other stuff.”
“There are lots of carvings.” I’d seen some yesterday while I was here with Jeannette. “Some are in the study. Down the hall and to the left.” Yeesh, as if he didn’t know. It was his parents’ house.
Troy lumbered off. I went back to the living room. I picked the sword up to try to price it. Swords were way out of my realm of pricing. I checked online but didn’t find anything quite like it. I snapped a couple of pictures and sent them off to my friend.
I continued to work for the next thirty minutes, listening to music, but not as loud as before. Occasionally, I heard Troy moving around. A crash sounded from the back of the house.
“Troy?” I called. I didn’t hear anything. That was odd, but maybe he just knocked one of the many objects off one of the walls. It wasn’t hard to do in this house. “Troy?” I said it louder this time. I heard movement and couldn’t quite decide what to do. Give him his privacy or go investigate. A moan sounded from the direction of the study. I ran down the hall. Skidded into the room. Troy lay unconscious on the floor with his foot twisted at an odd angle. A cool breeze blew over me as the drapes bellowed out. The window was wide open.
I checked Troy’s pulse, which beat madly. I snatched my phone out of my pocket and called 911. As I gave the dispatcher the information I studied the room. File drawers were pulled open. Files and papers spilled across the avocado shag carpet. Desk drawers were open too. Was Troy searching for something back here, dumped all this on the floor, and then slipped?
A chill shook me. One that had nothing to do with the breeze coming in through the open window. What the heck had happened in here while I was out in the other room minding my own business, pricing, and listening to music. A couple snowflakes floated in. They fell onto the folders, leaving small splotches. Why was the window open? The house was a bit stuffy, but it seemed like opening it a crack would have been enough.
I ran to the linen closet in the hall, found some blankets, and covered Troy as best I could. It was cold in the room, but I didn’t want to close the window in case it had any evidence on it. Evidence of what, I wasn’t sure. For all I knew Troy opened the window and went through the files. Maybe he had tripped and hurt himself. But for some reason I didn’t think so.
I picked my way over to the window, trying not to step on anything. I nudged the curtains aside with my elbows and peered out. The storm window lay broken on the ground. Faint footprints led away from the window in the skiff of snow that had fallen. Sirens sounded close by. Tires screeched and car doors slammed. I ran back to the front of the house and yanked the door open.
Pellner shouldered by me as an ambulance pulled up. “Where is he?”
“Down the hall. To the left.” I pointed, but Pellner was already in motion. The EMTs hustled in and I directed them too. I stayed in the living room out of the way. I took my phone out to call Jeannette, but hesitated. I’d rather call after I knew where they were taking Troy and what his condition was. The EMTs came back, hauling Troy out on a gurney. An IV hung from his arm and an oxygen mask was clapped over his mouth and nose.
Pellner followed and detoured over to me. I filled him in on what I knew.
“Do you think someone else was in here when you arrived?” Pellner asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I would have heard them. This house isn’t that big. Unless I surprised them and they were trying to quietly wait me out.” There were plenty of closets to hide in.
Pellner’s dimples deepened, which was never a good sign.
“Maybe Troy walked in while someone else was climbing in the window,” I said. That made more sense and wasn’t quite as scary. I remembered reading a Mary Higgins Clark book when I was in high school. A man had hidden in the closet of a woman’s bedroom—for hours—until she came home. I’d spent a lot of time checking closets in the months after I’d read that book.
“I’d better call Troy’s sister Jeannette and let her know what’s going on. I’d like to meet her at the hospital if that’s okay?”
Pellner nodded. “I’ll lock up after we’re done here. Let me know if you think of anything else.”
* * *
I met Jeannette at the hospital in Burlington. A nurse directed us to a room in the ER. We rounded the corner. Troy looked gray under his oxygen mask. A doctor stood by his side.
“How’s he doing?” I asked the doctor.
Jeannette looked from me to Troy to the doctor.
“You’re his family?” the doctor asked.
“She is.” I pointed to Jeannette, who seemed to be in shock. I couldn’t imagine finding my brother in the hospital like this.
“That’s not my brother,” she said.
Chapter Seven
“What do you mean that’s not your brother?” I asked. “That’s who was in the house.” My voice shook. “He talked to you on the phone.”
“It was noisy when you called. Hard to hear. I never dreamed anyone would pretend to be my brother.”
We both stared down at the man.
“Who is he then?” I looked at the doctor, who frowned at me. “Where are his personal things?” He must have a wallet with an ID in it.
She was already shaking her head before I finished the sentence. “Get out. If you’re not his relatives you can’t be in here.”
Jeannette and I sat in the lobby of the ER trying to sort through the shock we’d both had. I called Pellner and filled him in.
“He had a briefcase when he came in,” I told him. “He took it with him to the office. Hopefully, there will be some ID in it so we can get this mystery straightened out.”
I looked at Jeannette after I hung up. She twisted a ring on her right hand, round and round. “Pellner asked me if we could wait for him here. He shouldn’t be too long.”
Jeannette nodded. “I’m going to call and check on my real brother. He’s a venture capitalist and it can be hard to get hold of him. What if the man in that room hurt him?” Her hand shook as she held the phone to her ear. Fortunately, her brother answered the phone and they talked briefly. “He’s okay. But shaken by what happened. He said he’d fly up, but I told him there was no reason to at this point.”
Jeannette and I went over what Fake Troy had said to us again.
“What happened when he walked into the house?” Jeannette asked.
“After he got over being startled that I was there, he acted so confident,” I said. “So casual. He said he wanted a few more things from the house.” We both thought that over. “The study was a mess. Someone had been looking through the file cabinet.”
“Someone?” Jeannette asked.
I told her about the open window and the footsteps leading away from the house. I didn’t want to scare her, but I thought she needed to know the whole story.
“Whoever he is, he knows enough about my f
amily to know who my brother is,” Jeannette said.
After that we waited for Pellner. A half hour later he finally showed up. I’d spent most of that time pacing the lobby while Jeannette sat biting her lip.
“I’m going to see what I can find out,” Pellner said. He veered over to the reception desk and then down the hall before I had a chance to ask him anything.
“Do you want some coffee? Or something else to drink?” I asked Jeannette. I couldn’t just sit here waiting any longer.
“Sure. Coffee would be great.”
“I’ll go to the cafeteria and be right back.” I followed signs and arrows until I found the cafeteria and bought some coffee. I hadn’t thought to ask Jeannette how she liked it, so I grabbed some packets of creamer, sugar, and those little plastic stirrers.
When I got back Pellner was still nowhere to be found. We sipped our coffee, which wasn’t terrible. Faint praise but better than some coffee I’d consumed. As I was tossing our cups in the trash, Pellner finally returned to the lobby.
“Who is he?” I asked. He pulled a chair over to where Jeannette and I sat.
“No idea. They carted him off to be x-rayed. We didn’t find his briefcase at the house. I was hoping it was here. That somehow the EMTs grabbed it. But he didn’t even have a wallet on him,” Pellner said. “After they x-ray his foot we’ll get his prints and see if we can identify him that way.”
“When will you be able to interview him?” I asked.
“Not for a while. The doctor said he’ll be loopy from the pain meds they’ve been giving him.” Pellner shook his head. “Neither of you have ever seen him before?”
We said “no” at the same time. I noticed Pellner watched Jeannette carefully while she answered. Could he suspect her? This day just kept getting weirder.
“Sarah told me that you are selling your parents’ belongings,” Pellner said. “What happened to them?”
I was surprised that Pellner didn’t know. Or maybe he did and he just wanted to hear Jeannette’s version. She told him what she’d told me about the faulty gas line. I thought again, given her parents’ past, officials would have taken extra precautions to make sure it was indeed an accident.
Sell Low, Sweet Harriet Page 4
