Frank took my keys from me and opened the door of the Suburban. “Thanks for coming tonight. It was way more fun than I expected.”
“You are quite the dancer,” I said as I maneuvered in.
“As are you,” Frank said.
I started the car. “Sorry I haven’t been more helpful.”
“Every little bit helps. Good night.”
I pondered what Frank meant by that as I drove home. I was volunteering at the thrift shop tomorrow so maybe I’d find out more.
Chapter Seventeen
Saturday morning Seth called before I’d even rolled out of bed. “Have you seen the paper?”
Uh-oh. What now? I was getting spoiled not having to be up at the crack of dawn every Saturday since it was the off season for garage sales. “No.”
“Good. Because when you do, the picture looks worse than it was.”
“What picture? What’s happened?” I got out of bed. The room was cold because I always turned down the thermostat at night. “What paper?” I got my thick, velvety robe out of the closet, stuck the phone between my shoulder and cheek, and ooched the robe on.
“The Boston Globe.”
I beelined for the thermostat and turned it up before grabbing my computer off the trunk in my living room. “There’s a picture of me in The Boston Globe?” That couldn’t be good. But I also couldn’t think of anything I’d done to warrant the Globe’s attention. I sat on the couch and opened my computer.
“No. It’s a picture of me. In the Style section.”
It only took me a couple of seconds to find the picture. Seth was dancing with a dark-haired, dark-eyed international model. I’d seen her on the front cover of more than one tabloid and beauty magazine. She was stunning and they both looked very happy.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” I said. Wow. I really felt that way. He might be dancing with her, but he was sleeping with me. “I was feeling sorry for you because I thought you were at some stuffy fundraiser.”
“That’s it?” Seth asked.
“Yes. That could be me with Frank at the dining-out.” Fitch had a newspaper but it didn’t have a Style section. And even if it did, it wouldn’t use a picture of me, it would use a picture of someone important on the base.
“You danced with Frank?”
I laughed. “You can’t be jealous. I was with a regular guy. You were with a supermodel.”
“She isn’t you.”
I stood and did a little happy dance. “And Frank isn’t you.” I went to the kitchen to make coffee. The linoleum floor was cold against my feet.
“You trust me.”
“We wouldn’t be talking right now if I didn’t.” I put the coffee and water in the pot and flipped it on. Okay, okay. I had a twinge or two when I saw the woman in the photo. Who wouldn’t be a teeny bit insecure? But I’d known Seth for almost two years now. And he wasn’t a cheater.
“What are you up to today?” Seth asked.
“Thrift shop this morning and working at Jeannette’s house this afternoon. What about you?”
“I’ll be in the office most of the day. Can I take you to dinner? Or has Frank got you booked?”
Oooh, Seth was a bit jealous. I grinned. “Let me check my calendar.” I paused as if I was checking. “I’m available.”
“Then I’ll swing by for you at seven.”
“See you then.”
* * *
I called my brother Luke. He was in Tampa, Florida, with his girlfriend, a colonel in the Air Force. It looked like she might get assigned to MacDill Air Force Base and they decided to check out the area. Last time I’d heard from him he’d sent a picture of him and Michelle at a beach bar. Jerk. I think the high was going to be thirty-two today in Ellington, and that was without the wind chill.
“It’s kind of early to be calling a guy on vacation,” Luke said.
“Ah, but I already saw you posted a photo of the sunrise, so you aren’t going to make me feel guilty.” I could hear gulls calling to each other through the phone. And it sounded like waves crashing in the background too. “I need to pick your brain.”
“Pick away,” Luke said, a cheerful note in his voice.
“If someone wanted to disappear, how would they do it?”
Luke paused for so long I thought he’d hung up. This was a sore subject that we were still working through in our new relationship with each other.
“It was easier when I left because there were less cameras, less laws about working a job off the books, and less dependence on credit cards.”
The brisk note in his voice made me want to hug him. Disappearing hadn’t been easy on him or the rest of my family.
“What’s going on?” Luke asked. “Are you planning to do a runner?”
“Not me.” I told him about Fake Troy and his disappearing act from the hospital.
“It sounds like what you want is to find someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
“You’re right. You are so smart.”
“Can you repeat that so I can get it on tape?” Luke asked.
“No.”
“Do you have a picture of the guy? You could plug it into a reverse image lookup site.”
“No picture. I can see about getting one, but I don’t think it’s likely.” I thought about Pellner’s face if I asked him for a picture and the lecture that would follow that request. “There was a murder on base and it’s a small department. Fake Troy didn’t hurt anyone, so it isn’t a top priority.”
“I read about the murder. And you can say no one was physically hurt, but you must be frightened.”
“I am. I don’t want to be. I thought being proactive would help push the fear back.”
“You could plug everything you do know about this guy into a search engine and look for similarities with other crimes.”
“That’s a good idea.” I also would see if I could find out about any crimes in the Blevinses’ neighborhood. Ellington’s crime rate was fairly low, so usually anything like this would be making headlines. However, with Alicia’s death the focus had been on her unsolved case.
“See if you can make any connections between the house, the people who own it, the people who hired you, and Fake Troy. There’s almost always a connection. People aren’t very smart. Maybe he’ll make a mistake.”
“Thanks, Luke. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.” I hoped Luke was right and that Fake Troy would come out of the shadows.
Chapter Eighteen
I was smiling when I arrived at the thrift shop because I was thinking about Seth.
“You are looking chipper this morning,” Eleanor said. She was sorting cash into the register, which was close to the front door. No one else seemed to be around. “Is it that stinking-hot man of yours?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Did you decide he was china worthy?”
I shook my head. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Have you heard any rumors about Becky and Alicia having a fight?” I asked. I was breaking the rules Frank and Pellner had set out for me, but this was Eleanor, not some random person I barely knew who could put me in a dangerous situation.
“Didn’t I tell you about the last Spouses’ Club meeting?”
I shook my head again. “No. When was it?”
“About two weeks ago.” Eleanor quit counting cash and rested her hands on the counter next to the register.
“What happened?”
“You know that Becky is very good friends with the general’s wife.”
“I didn’t know that. Ginger? She’s new, right?” I asked. I leaned against the glass counter where some of the more expensive items were kept. Bits of jewelry, a Waterford crystal clock, nothing too valuable, but things that someone could easily steal.
“Yes. And they’ve been friends for a long time. Anyway, the treasurer was giving a report and the money just didn’t seem to add up.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Ginger
started to ask a question. But Alicia, who is the parliamentarian, looked at her and said, ‘The general’s wife is supposed to wear beige, sit in the back of the room, and shut up.’”
“Holy crap.” I would never have spoken to someone like that at a meeting, regardless of their position or who they were married to. But I had to admit that it was even less likely that I would be rude to someone whose husband was higher ranking than CJ had been. Careers had been hurt for a lot less. What had Alicia been thinking to say that? It was out of character for the Alicia I’d heard so much about. Alicia and Ginger had bowled together, so it made the situation even more peculiar.
“The room went dead silent. Becky ended the meeting a few minutes later, then asked Alicia if they could have a word. Well, she wasn’t really asking. She was telling her.
“Everyone gathered up their stuff and hustled out of the room. But we all found a reason to linger outside the door. We could all hear a lot of yelling but not exactly what it was about. A few seconds later, Becky yanked open the door, glared at all of us, and took off. Her face was redder than a stop sign.”
“What about Alicia?” I asked.
“She came out and didn’t look the least bit ruffled. But she didn’t hang around to talk to anyone.”
“Have you heard anything since then?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Does Alicia’s husband work for the general?”
“He does.”
Wow. That offered up a bunch of suspects right there. Becky, Ginger, maybe even Ginger’s husband if he was a hothead and was mad someone disrespected his wife. Becky’s husband if he was defending his wife. All of them had some sort of reason to be upset by what had happened. Alicia’s husband as well, even though his smart bed supposedly proved he was in it when she was killed. Maybe he thought Alicia was screwing up his career.
“That’s almost unbelievable,” I said.
“You should have been there. People are still talking about it.”
Not people who talked to Special Agent Bristow. Unless he knew this already and hadn’t mentioned it to me. Now that I thought about it, he hadn’t mentioned anything he knew to me. Ginger and Alicia had bowled together. Alicia was supposed to be the darling of the upper echelon. What would make her talk to someone like that?
“Who is the treasurer now?” I asked.
“Cindy Mercer.”
I didn’t know her either. But she wouldn’t have a reason to kill Alicia, because Alicia defended her.
“Are there any other interactions between Becky and Alicia that you’ve heard of?”
Eleanor scrunched her forehead for a moment. “Nothing specific about them.”
“But about someone else?”
“You know how it can be. One person gets more attention from the so-called important spouses than others. People end up resentful or have hurt feelings.” Eleanor turned to the register.
“Speaking of hurt feelings, have you heard anyone talking about me? How I shouldn’t be here?”
Eleanor concentrated on counting out coins into their slots in the register. It seemed like it took a little longer than necessary.
“You did hear something. Spill it.” I put my elbows on the glass counter and rested my head on my hands for a moment.
“It’s all nonsense. And only a couple of women who are trying to desperately climb the Spouses’ Club social ladder.” Eleanor shook her head. “They don’t even know you. But why are you asking me this?”
I told her what had happened in the bathroom last night at the dining-out. “It was humiliating.”
“We want you here. I want you here. You’re a godsend. Half the volunteers refuse to work in the storeroom and you always jump right in. Besides, other retirees’ wives work here.”
“But I’m not a retiree’s wife. I don’t have any real connection to the base any longer beyond some friends and a love of the life that led me here.”
“You’re overthinking things. Don’t let a couple of gossips run you off. Please.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“While you think it over, there’s box of stuff I want you to price on the desk in the office. Now go earn your pay.” Eleanor shooed me toward the office.
* * *
I arrived at Jeannette’s parents’ house before Zoey did. I looked to see if there were signs of anyone lurking around. There weren’t. The bright sunlight for some reason made me feel safer—as if nothing bad could happen on a sunny day and all bad things happened on dark and stormy nights. I wish.
Once inside, after doing a quick walk around, I called Becky under the guise of thanking her for recommending Zoey. What I wanted was her thoughts on what had happened with Alicia. I stood in front of the picture window in the living room, watching for Zoey.
“I’m glad she’s working out,” Becky said, after we’d exchanged greetings and I had thanked her.
“I was at the dining-out last night,” I said.
“My husband’s group dining-out is coming up in a couple of weeks. I’m tired of them. So tired of them.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever be at another one. Are you hoping your husband retires soon?” I asked.
“Yes. I want to move back to North Carolina, have an acreage, put my feet up, and read.”
“That sounds good.”
“Why were you there?” Becky asked. “Who’d you go with?”
“Special Agent Frank Bristow,” I said.
“I thought you were seeing someone else,” Becky said. “I heard you were dating some hot guy. Not that Special Agent Bristow isn’t perfectly nice.”
“I am. I went with Frank as a friend. Just so he wouldn’t be alone.” That sounded plausible. “The rumor mill works fast.”
“It does.” Becky sounded bitter.
Maybe this was my in. “Yeah, I heard a lot of talk about Alicia.”
“Was I mentioned?” Becky asked.
I hated lying, but Becky was mentioned today, so it wasn’t a total fabrication. “Yes. It sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
I didn’t, but I’d like to. I heard a doorbell chime through Becky’s phone.
“Hang on. Someone’s at the door.”
A couple of seconds later I heard the door open.
“Can I help you?” I heard Becky ask. A male voice said something that I couldn’t understand.
“Sarah. It’s Special Agent Bristow and a police officer.” Her voice shook. “Call my husband and tell him to meet me at the Ellington police station. I’m in trouble.” The line went dead.
Chapter Nineteen
I did as Becky asked, wondering what was going on. Why in the world would Bristow and Pellner show up at her house and take her to the station? I’d mentioned Alicia and Becky arguing to Bristow last night, but that certainly wasn’t enough to cause this. Getting through Colonel Cane’s secretary, even on a Saturday, was almost as hard as making it through a locked bank vault. Eventually I managed, without telling her what was going on. Persistence paid off. Becky’s husband sounded annoyed that he was being interrupted. After I relayed the message he hung up abruptly. I would have done the same given the situation.
Concentrating on work was almost impossible, but I forced myself to after Zoey arrived. We worked side by side in the kitchen. Zoey dug out two electric frying pans.
“Who uses these anymore?” she asked. “They can’t be worth anything.”
“Campers come into the thrift shop on base and buy them up.”
“Really? I thought they were supposed to be roughing it and cook over campfires.”
“I guess not if there is electricity available.” We grinned at each other. “Mark a couple of dollars for each one.”
“Will do, boss. Doing this is certainly an education.”
“I hope in a good way.” I pulled out a set of Pyrex mixing bowls, yellow, green, red, and blue. “And you don’t have to call me boss.”
“Oh
, I love those,” Zoey said. “They are very collectible right now, right?”
“Yes. They are so simple yet so colorful. I’m kind of surprised Pyrex hasn’t brought them back in these colors.”
“They must be durable too.”
The bowls had a few black marks in the inside bottom, but I could get them out with a nonabrasive cleanser and a soft cloth. I knew they’d come out with a stronger cleanser but didn’t want to risk scratching the bowl. I’d leave that for whoever bought them.
“My mom had the brown and beige ones. She still might,” Zoey said. “Oh, look. Here they are.” The brown and beige set had three bowls instead of four. “How should I price these?”
“Why don’t you go online and see what they are selling for. If you can, find them on sites where the auction is almost over. That will give you a better sense of the difference between what some people ask and what people pay. Then we have to take into consideration that this is a garage sale, so people usually expect to pay less.”
“Wow. It gets very complicated.” Zoey pulled out her phone.
“It does.” Everything seemed complicated today. That thought led me to stew about Becky again and her saying she was in trouble. What I wanted to do was go to the police station to find out what was going on. Or to call Seth and see what he knew. But neither idea would provide me any information. It didn’t seem fair to use my relationship with Seth to find things out. I wouldn’t want him to, if our positions were reversed. The thought of him running garage sales made me smile.
After we settled on prices for the Pyrex, we moved on to the everyday dishes. They weren’t anything special, just some mass-produced tableware. “Let’s put them in boxes and sell them as a set. That will be easier than pricing them all individually, and maybe we can get rid of them all at once instead of a piece here and there.”
“What do you do with all the stuff that’s leftover at a garage sale?” Zoey asked as she packed the dishes into a box.
I studied Zoey’s face for a minute. “It depends on what the person who hired me wants done.” I pulled a bunch of mismatched glasses off a shelf. They ranged from jam jars to nondescript glassware. This kind of stuff was hard to get rid of, no matter the price. And the best time to get rid of it was in the fall when college kids were setting up apartments and in need of furnishings. “Sometimes people save it and do another sale. Lots of people donate it to a charity. I’ve hauled stuff to the base thrift shop for people. On the rare occasion, I’ll buy some of the leftovers.”
Sell Low, Sweet Harriet Page 10
