Sell Low, Sweet Harriet

by Sherry Harris

  “She seemed like she was at first.”

  “Where do you want me to work?” Harriet asked.

  “Let’s work on pricing all the items hanging on the walls in the hall.”

  The hall was narrow so we started at opposite ends. Harriet turned out to be quite knowledgeable about where different masks were from, along with paintings.

  “Where are you from, Harriet?”

  “Here and there,” she answered.

  Harriet was a tough person to get to open up. “Military family? Salesman?”

  “Military. My dad was in the Navy.”

  “Did you settle in one place as an adult?” It seemed like military kids went one of two ways—they continued moving from place to place or settled and couldn’t be blasted out of their homes.

  “No. My job moved me around a lot and I traveled a lot on top of that.”

  “What was your job?”

  Harriet took a mask off the wall and turned it over in her hands. “This is worth way more than you’ll ever get for it.”

  “It is.” I guess I wasn’t going to pry anything else out of Harriet.

  She put a price on the mask and hung it back up. I would double check her pricing later. I didn’t want to question her too much now.

  “I worked for the FBI,” Harriet said.

  “Wow. That must have been interesting.” Well maybe not. Lots of people in the FBI spent their lives in offices doing research. Not everyone could be a field agent. Although she said she moved and traveled a lot. “What did you do?”

  Harriet studied me for a moment and shrugged her shoulders. “I was a hostage negotiator.”

  My eyebrows shot up and I burst out laughing. Harriet frowned at me.

  “That poor woman.” I laughed again.

  “What woman?” Harriet asked, still frowning.

  “At the thrift shop,” I said. “She didn’t have a chance with you and that bracelet.” I finally managed to quit laughing, but I swiped at my eyes to get the laugh tears out of them.

  A strange look passed over Harriet’s face and then she laughed too. “Force of habit. My dear husband always said he never had a chance with me when it came to disagreements.”

  “Does he still feel that way?” I asked.

  “He died a couple of years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. Retirement isn’t anything like I expected it to be.”

  “I guess that explains all the drastically different outfits.” Harriet frowned again. Oh, boy. I might have overstepped this time.

  Then she grinned at me. “You’re right. I feel like I’m trying on different personas to figure out who I am now that I’m single and retired.”

  “Which one feels most like you?” I asked.

  “The first one. The black, with a little of the thrift shop outfit on occasion. But this outfit?” She gestured to her clothes. “It is definitely not me.”

  “So shed some of it.”

  Harried grinned again. She had a beautiful smile. And those cheekbones. Harriet unwrapped the three scarves and stretched her neck.

  “Oh, that is so much better.” She took off all the bracelets. “I’m free. Let’s get back to work.”

  When we finished the hall Harriet announced she had to go.

  “Would you be able to help out the day of the sale?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Harriet said. “As you know I love to bargain.”

  “But you’ll have to do the reverse of your thrift shop performance. Drive the price up.”

  “No worries. I can handle it.”

  As I walked Harriet to the door I had no doubts that she could.

  After Harriet left, I went to the cedar chest in the front room and pulled out the family albums that I had seen the day I found the vintage valentines. Luke had said to look for connections between Fake Troy and the family. I set the albums down on the couch and started flipping through them, viewing snippets of the Blevinses’ family life. Jeannette’s parents looked so ordinary. I watched the kids grow up. Jeannette became a sullen teenager who always stood a bit away from everyone else. Then I found an album of pictures of Troy at college. He was on the crew team and they were posed in front of their boat, oars in hand. I was about to flip the page, but took a second look. I stared at the guy on the end. It was Fake Troy.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Troy and Fake Troy in a photo together. I continued to stare down at it, trying to make some sense of what that meant. My conclusion was it wasn’t anything good. I took the photo out of the album before I called Pellner. “You’ve got to come over to Jeannette’s house right now.”

  “What’s going on? Are you safe?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. I found a picture of Fake Troy. In Jeannette’s brother’s things. They were on a crew team together at college.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I am. You have to come see this.”

  “Is there a name on the photo?” Pellner asked.

  I flipped it over. “There’s nothing but maybe there’s a yearbook around here. At the very least someone at the college should be able to identify him.”

  “Troy should be able to identify him.”

  “Don’t contact him yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if Troy put him up to coming into the house? Or what if it was Jeannette’s brother who got Fake Troy out of the hospital?” I studied the photo again. “Troy was just here in Ellington yesterday. Maybe he’s been in town longer.”

  “Why would he send someone to his parents’ house?”

  “I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. Just come over. Please.” I really hoped I was wrong. Jeannette had already suffered the unexpected loss of her parents. Losing a brother would be devastating.

  “Okay, I’ll swing by and get the photo.”

  * * *

  I snapped a picture of the photo with my phone, then I flipped through the rest of the album to see if there was anything else in it that would give me Fake Troy’s name. There wasn’t. I debated calling Jeannette, but decided to wait until Pellner showed up and we could talk all of this through.

  I went through more albums while I was waiting for Pellner, looking for other photos of Fake Troy. A noise at the door made me grab the photo and run to the front door. Jeannette’s brother stood there.

  “Troy,” I said. I put the picture behind my back like a kid hiding contraband from a parent. “I thought you left town.”

  “What’s behind your back?” he asked, stepping forward as I took steps back.

  He didn’t ask in a friendly way. It was more threat than question. The foyer wasn’t large, but I wasn’t far from where I could run to one of the other rooms. Pellner should be here any minute.

  “Nothing. Just a picture.” It felt like all of my suspicions and worries flitted over my face even as I tried for a neutral “nothing to see here” look.

  “Are you stealing from my folks? From Jeannette and me?” he asked.

  “No. It’s just a photo.” I pulled my hand out from behind my back and waved the picture around, not so he could see what the picture was of, but so he could see I was telling the truth. “I was sorting through things when I heard you at the front door.”

  He put his hand out. “Let me see it.”

  I didn’t have a choice. Pellner, where are you? I handed Troy the photo. “I didn’t realize you did crew in college.”

  “Why would you?” he asked. He looked down at the picture. A brief smile flickered over his face. He glanced from me to the picture and back again. “You seem to think this is important. Why?”

  “You know Fake Troy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I pointed at Fake Troy in the picture. “That’s him.” I didn’t add as if you didn’t know.

  Troy stared at the photo. His face went from white to deep red in an instant. “We need to talk,” he said.

  His voice was grim. The way he said we need to talk didn’t make me think h
e wanted to talk at all. I bolted. For the kitchen. The kitchen led to the garage. But I knew the safety chain and extra dead bolt were fully engaged. I hoped I could free them before Troy caught up with me. He pounded after me.

  I grabbed a box off the kitchen table and tossed it at him. It was full of plastic containers. He batted it away as I tried to release the safety chain. Troy grabbed my arm. He was huge.

  “Let her go.” Pellner stood there. His hand rested on his gun. His dimples said I mean business, as did his voice. I knew from personal experience just how scary Pellner could be. We hadn’t liked each other much, or at all, when we first met two years ago.

  Troy let go of my arm. Put his hands up and stepped away.

  “What’s going on here?” Pellner asked.

  I slipped past Troy and over to Pellner, well behind Pellner.

  “I don’t know,” Troy said. “I asked her what she had in her hand and she was acting all fishy. Then she ran in here so I followed.”

  “Sarah?” Pellner asked.

  I nodded. That more or less summed up what had happened except for the fishy part. “He’s the one who was acting fishy.”

  “She ran. I chased her.”

  “Do you have the picture, Sarah?”

  “Troy has it. He said we need to talk in a threatening voice. It scared me, so I ran. Then he grabbed me.” I didn’t add the thank heavens you showed up when you did. I think both of them got that.

  Pellner pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit.”

  I did, but Troy continued to stand.

  “Both of you,” Pellner said.

  Troy sat at the opposite end of the table. We stared at each other over a sea of glasses that Zoey and I had priced. Pellner took the chair between us.

  “I want to see the photo.” Pellner leveled his steely cop look on Troy.

  “I don’t have to give you anything,” Troy said.

  “I took a picture of it with my phone.” I swiped my phone open and brought the picture up. Pellner took the phone from me and I pointed to the guy I thought was Fake Troy. “That’s him.”

  Pellner studied the photo and nodded. He enlarged the picture and showed it to Troy. “Who is this?”

  Troy handed Pellner the real photo. I noticed his hand wobbled a little. What was with him?

  “It was a long time ago. I was a stupid kid.”

  Pellner leaned forward. “Do we need to go down to the station to talk about this?”

  Troy’s face twisted. “No.”

  “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

  I sat quietly, trying to stay out of Pellner’s way, trying to make sure Troy would keep talking.

  “Why don’t you ask her what’s going on here?” Troy flicked his head toward the photo. “I think she’s up to her ears with him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Me?” I sat straighter. “I just met him. If you could call our interaction meeting. He lied about who he was. Said he was you.”

  “So you say,” Troy said. He looked at Pellner. “How’d he even know about the sale? Jeannette told me that was his story when he showed up here pretending to be me.”

  Pellner and Troy both looked at me.

  “I started advertising it right away. That’s how he must have known.”

  “Who is he?” Pellner asked. “Let’s start there.”

  “His name is Sam. Sam Cousins.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “We were on the crew team together.”

  As if we didn’t already know that from the picture.

  “And?” Pellner asked.

  I didn’t know how Pellner remained so calm. I wanted to shout at Troy. I tucked my hands under my legs to keep me from blurting out questions.

  Troy glanced down at his lap. “Sam was a year ahead of me. The quintessential big man on campus. Girls loved him. Guys loved him. I wanted to be him.”

  I nodded. Who didn’t want to be someone else when they were young?

  “I bragged to get his attention. About the money my parents had. About some other things they had. I wanted to impress him.”

  I felt kind of bad for that young Troy. Insecurity was a terrible thing and even at this age, I’d almost let some nasty comments do me in.

  “What things?” Pellner asked.

  “My parents had a box of coins, some loose jewels, rings my mom would wear. I talked about them around Sam. A lot.” Troy looked at Pellner. “Sam dropped out of college during the winter of my freshman year. I haven’t seen or heard anything about him since.”

  Pellner gave a slight nod. “And why do you think he has a connection to Sarah?”

  “Sam could have read about my parents’ death, remembered my stories, and got hold of her to help him find them.” He glanced at me, frowning. “They might have already stolen the coins and jewelry.”

  “Then why would I still be here?” I asked.

  “To look for more valuables? To keep up appearances so you can do the same thing at the next person’s house.” Troy turned to Pellner. “She’s been arrested before.”

  I paled at that and wondered how long that incident would haunt me. “Arrested, not charged, and cleared of any wrongdoing. Besides, I’ve never seen that man before. And I certainly wasn’t working with him to steal from you.” My temper flared in a way it usually didn’t. “I wouldn’t last a month in this town if I was stealing. It’s too small. Everyone would put it together.”

  Pellner nodded. “You may be right about Sam. But you’re dead wrong about Sarah.”

  Troy looked at me and shrugged. Pellner’s statement might have helped, but I’m not sure Troy was completely on board with my innocence yet.

  “How come you didn’t recognize him from the photo from the security footage at the hospital?” I asked. Maybe Troy was the one who was in on it and was afraid he got caught.

  “You’ve seen the picture,” he said. “All blurry, with his head down and in a baseball cap. I wouldn’t recognize Jeannette like that.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Could your parents have put the coins and such in a safety deposit box?” I asked.

  “Jeannette and I checked. We didn’t find anything.”

  “Did they keep them in anything in particular?” I had a friend whose parents kept old coins in a vintage tobacco tin.

  “Nothing I remember.” He thought for a moment. “For a while they used an old lacquered box. Have you seen anything like that?”

  I stared straight into his eyes. “I haven’t. But I’ll watch for it. Why do you think Sam went through the office?”

  Troy shrugged.

  Pellner leaned in. “He could have been looking for car titles, deeds, stock certificates. If they couldn’t find the coins and gems, they might have wanted to find other valuables.”

  “Could your parents have sold them?” I asked Troy.

  “It’s possible. But if they did, they sure never mentioned it. And some of that was family jewelry. Hard to believe they’d part with it.”

  Pellner scooted his chair back and stood. “I need to get going. Let me know if either of you thinks of anything that could help us find Sam.”

  Troy stood too. “I have to go check in with my office.”

  “Are you okay with me being here alone?” I didn’t want to cause any strife between Jeannette and Troy.

  “If the police think you’re okay, I guess I do too.”

  Not a ringing endorsement, but good enough for now.

  * * *

  After they left I got back to work. I was glad Zoey wasn’t around to hear any of this. I shook my head. I’d found out a lot of interesting, sometimes terrible, things about people’s lives doing garage sales. What a day. I went to the guest room to tackle things in there.

  As I went through things I continued to think about the coins and gems. Why hadn’t the Blevinses put them somewhere obvious or left a note? That
was what you were supposed to do, but they’d died unexpectedly. I wondered again if they had a home safe. I should have asked Troy. Jeannette didn’t seem to know anything about one. That made me think of the combination I’d found in the flour. Maybe they had a safe somewhere in the house even though Jeannette and Troy didn’t know about it.

  Or maybe her parents didn’t trust Troy for some reason. They would have realized that Jeannette would be the one to clean out the house. Putting the combination in the flour was their way of making sure she’d find it. Maybe they had left clues somewhere else too—in places they didn’t think Troy would look. Jeannette and I had talked about her favorite place to live. It had been Japan because her mom had more time there for baking. That would tie in with putting a note in the flour. Jeannette had also said she loved Japan because it was exotic.

  They had several pieces of Japanese furniture in the house. I went to the living room where there was a Japanese chest-on-chest. My friend the antique dealer had priced it for me. I’d looked inside when I first saw it, but it had been empty. I went and took a closer second look. Nothing. There was a smaller piece that they used as a nightstand in the master bedroom. It had two drawers that pulled open. I searched it, even upending it to make sure there wasn’t anything underneath.

  Then I remembered the step chest in the basement. Its real name was kaidan-dansu. They were modular storage units that could easily be reconfigured and used as a staircase. In Japan people positioned them for attic access or for caring for silkworms under thatched roofs. I ran down to the basement.

  This step chest had eight drawers and four sections with doors. I searched all the drawers, even taking them out and turning them over. After that I went through the other sections. I found Japanese dolls, some silk fabric, and children’s clothing including small embroidered shoes that Jeannette must have worn at some point. But no clues. I thought I’d been on to something.

  I moved back to study the step chest to see if there was anything I’d missed. The steps led to the two-foot square drop ceiling tiles. The space between the ceiling and floor above would make an excellent hiding place. I tested the first step. My foot was longer than it was, but it would hold my weight. The steps were taller than a standard American staircase. I climbed the steps and pushed on the tile right at the top. It slid out of the way easily. I went up two more steps so my head was above the drop ceiling.