It was too dark to see anything so I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and turned on the flashlight. Oh, boy. Cobwebs draped from the crisscross of wooden beams that supported the floor above. I hoped those furry things on the ceiling panels were dust bunnies and not mice. I shined the light, swiveling it back and forth. There it was—a lacquered wooden box with handles and a lock, just out of reach wedged in between a beam and the floor above. I went up to the top step and rested my hand against one of the wooden beams so I didn’t topple forward. Crashing through the drop ceiling onto the concrete floor wouldn’t be fun.
I reached, brushed the box with my fingertips and reached again. This time I managed to grab one of the handles. I hefted it toward me, being careful to keep it on the metal pieces that the ceiling tiles were resting on. The box was surprisingly heavy. I didn’t want to damage the ceiling. When I got it close enough I took a step down, and another, so only my head and shoulders were above the ceiling tiles.
“Whatcha got there?” a man said.
I recognized the voice even before I looked down. My hands shook. I didn’t want to drop the box. Fake Troy, or Sam as I now knew him to be, smiled up at me, but it wasn’t a nice smile. I thought about trying to shove the box back into the rafters. But to do that I’d have to go up a step and Fake Troy would know something was up. “Probably whatever it is you’re looking for.” Most likely the coins and gems. I sorted through options. There weren’t many. I was in a precarious position on the small steps.
“Hand down whatever it is you found,” Sam said.
How had he gotten in here? I thought I’d locked the door after Pellner and Troy left but maybe not. Or maybe he could pick locks.
“Okay,” I said. I lifted the box, managed to get it and myself out of the drop ceiling. Sam reached up for it. I shifted slightly and threw the heavy box on his head. Sam yelped as he crumpled to the floor. The box crashed beside him but didn’t break apart. I scrambled down the steps to retrieve it and get the heck away from Sam.
“Sam, I got the new camera set up in case they change the security code again,” a man called from upstairs. “They’ll never spot this one.”
Oh, no. Sam wasn’t alone. I held my breath. What now?
Footsteps tromped across the floor upstairs. “Sam? What’s going on down there?”
I snatched up the box and stashed it in one of the sections of the step chest with the doors. It’s the best I could do on short notice. Then I ran back up the step chest. I grabbed one of the beams, pulled myself up, and wedged between the beam and the floor above me. As I clung to the beam I reached down, stretching, stretching toward the drop ceiling panel. Footsteps pounded down the stairs. If I didn’t move the ceiling panel back in place he’d find me before I could get help. My arm burned as I clung to the beam and reached down. Finally, my fingertips swiped the panel and I eased it back in place.
I carefully slid my phone from my pocket. A heavy tread sounded on the basement floor.
“Sam? Sam?” The man’s voice came closer.
One-handed I texted 911, grateful Ellington had upgraded their system to accommodate texting. Typed help and the address. I slid the phone back into my pocket as I wrapped both arms around the beam. It smelled of old wood. Splinters dug into my arms and the wood was hard against my chest and abdomen. Sweat beaded on my brow. It rolled slowly across my forehead and dripped down onto the ceiling tiles. Each drop sounded like an explosion to me but was lighter than a mouse’s whisker.
“Sam,” the man exclaimed. “You are such a klutz. First you slipped upstairs the day we first came and now here. What happened?”
It sounded like he was right below me. I clung to the beam. Literally hanging on for dear life. The man didn’t seem to know I was in the house. That was good. Very good. Sam didn’t respond, so he must still be unconscious. Oh, no. I hoped he was only unconscious. Not dead. That thought made me shake. I couldn’t afford to shake, clinging like I was. One wrong move and I would crash right through the ceiling.
I heard a groan. It had to be Sam. At least I hadn’t killed him, but he would know to look up here. I felt steps vibrating from above before I heard voices. Then there was lots of shouting. People yelling, “Hands where I can see them” and “On the floor, now.” I heard Awesome’s voice then Pellner’s. It quieted down, but still I clung.
“Sarah? Where the hell are you?” It was Pellner.
“Up here. Above the drop ceiling. I’m coming out.” I let loose with aching arms, moved the panel, and shakily made it down the steps before collapsing to sit on the last one. “Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The two men were being prodded up the basement steps when I had come down from my hiding place above the drop ceiling. I’d followed Pellner upstairs once he told me they’d been stuffed in patrol cars and driven away. I stood in the living room waiting for the questions to come. And they did. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to explain what had happened.
Seth showed up. Roared up, screeched up, slammed the car door so hard that it rattled the living room window. I still shook even with his arms wrapped around me. I tried to tell myself it was muscle fatigue from clinging to the wooden beam. My fingers had a few splinters in them, but I’d deal with them later. For now I just wanted to reorient myself. Catch my breath. Feel safe. Pellner retrieved the box from the basement, set it on the coffee table.
“It’s locked. A combination kind. We’ll need to contact Jeannette.”
“I know the combination.” For some reason I’d memorized it the day I found it in the flour. I explained to them why I knew.
“I still have to call Jeannette first.” He quickly made the call and got Jeannette’s approval to open the box.
I recited the combination as Pellner put it in. It clicked with the last number. Pellner slowly lifted the lid. He took out a folder, glanced in, and looked over at me.
“It’s a will,” he said.
I hoped it was a more recent, more equitable one. A thin piece of wood covered whatever else was in the box. “What else is in there?”
Pellner pried out the piece of wood. We all stared down and then at each other. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and other jewels twinkled at us from one side of the box. Some of the stones were set in rings from Art Deco to Edwardian to modern. The other side was filled with gold and silver coins. It looked like the treasure chest I’d always dreamed of finding as a kid. Jeannette and Troy were going to be rich.
I plucked one of the rings out. It was a pink stone, possibly a sapphire or ruby, set in gold. Stunning.
“I wonder why they hid them in the basement,” Seth said.
“I’ve had friends who hid things in odd places when they travel. No one ever expects to die. I guess we won’t ever know for sure why this was hidden.” I squatted down to take a closer look. “Amazing.”
* * *
Eventually, I convinced Seth to go back to work. That I was safe here now and that I needed to work too. At three thirty, I decided to leave. Jeannette hadn’t been by so I left her a note. This time I made sure it was a pen with normal ink in it. I told her I’d be back in the morning around eight and to call if she needed anything. Pellner had taken the jewels with him when he left. None of us thought it was a good idea to leave them here.
On my drive home, I decided to swing by the cemetery where Alicia was buried. I’m not sure why. I got there, trudged along a snow-packed path, and found her grave. I stopped under a pine tree five feet away. I said a little prayer.
“I hope they find justice for you, Alicia,” I said softly. A gust of wind blew. Branches shook the snow clinging to them down on me. I shivered and went back to my car. After starting it and turning the heater on full blast, I sent a couple of texts including one to Becky saying I had news. Asking her to meet me at the Dunkin’ Donuts on Great Road in Bedford. It should be quiet there this time of day. Becky sent a text back that she’d be there in thirty minutes. Maybe I needed to help justice along a little.
>
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Traffic on Great Road was slow. I inched along, passing Bedford Farms Ice Cream, the turn to the high school, and Wilson Park, where they had the pole capping ceremony every spring near Patriots’ Day. I saw Becky pull into the Dunkin’s just ahead of me. I waited until she was inside before I headed in so I didn’t have to talk to her outside. I wanted witnesses around if need be.
Becky sat in a far corner with a cup of coffee in front of her. I ordered a large coffee regular, which meant it would come with four creams and four sugars. I’d learned that from the locals, because there was no little station in a Dunkin’s where you could add your own. Although I usually just drank my coffee black, right now I needed the extra boost from the fat and sugar. I slid into the bench seat across from Becky. Dark shadows rimmed beneath her eyes. Her hair was slicked back and greasy, so un-Becky-like. But other things had been unlike her too. Delaney saying that Becky was sobbing in the bathroom and the hug she gave Alicia. All so out of character.
“What have you found out?” Becky asked.
Her tone was flat. You’d think if she thought I had news, she’d be a little more excited. “I have a theory about what happened.”
“It was Delaney, wasn’t it?” Becky leaned forward. “I take no pleasure in saying that.”
Of course she’d say that. “How did you figure it out?” I asked. Might as well play along and see what she had to say.
“After Alicia’s funeral I found Delaney crying in the bathroom. She was just this side of hysterical.”
That was the exact opposite of what Delaney had said. I shifted on the hard bench seat.
“She told me that Alicia had been poisoned. She hastily added that she’d been told that.” Becky glanced down at her coffee and back up at me. “But she wouldn’t tell me who had told her. The only way she could know about the poison is if she did it herself.”
I put my hand to my mouth. The way Becky told it, her voice, it chilled me. Take a sip of coffee. I picked up my cup, hoping Becky would think my shaking hand was from what she’d just said. The sip I took scalded my tongue. I set the cup back down.
“That doesn’t explain the wound on Alicia’s head.” Or why you were out walking in the middle of the night, because it wasn’t that your marriage was breaking up.
Becky shrugged. “Maybe the poison wasn’t working fast enough. I told you I was out walking that night. I saw Delaney drive past me. Fast. Going away from Alicia’s house.”
Could that be true? “If it was dark, how did you know it was her?” I asked.
“She’s given me rides before. She has an old blue Thunderbird. It’s hard to miss.”
I hoped that Delaney had some way to prove where she was the night Alicia died, because Becky was convincing. Even though I knew deep in my soul every word was a lie. “Why would she kill Alicia?” That’s what I couldn’t understand—why Becky would kill Alicia. Because even though she was trying to pin it on Delaney, it didn’t fit. What had Alicia done that was so horrible that Becky’s solution was to kill her?
“She was jealous of Alicia. Ginger fawned over her because she was a good bowler. Can you imagine that?”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t sound like a good enough reason to kill someone.” But what did I know about why people killed someone?
“Of course not. But think about it. Alicia’s new here, young. She gets all this praise and recognition because her brother prints the cookbook for free. All she did was make one freaking phone call.” Becky’s voice rose. “No matter that she wasn’t the one who did all the hard work of collecting the recipes, testing them, typing them all up. That she put in years of hard work to promote her husband’s career.” Becky made a laugh-sob noise. “She sacrificed. Lost who she was. Then he doesn’t even get the promotion they both worked for. No star for him. And no one gives a damn. No one.”
I didn’t know that Colonel Cane hadn’t gotten promoted to general. Anytime someone didn’t get promoted it stung. It felt like a personal affront to their family. I’d seen it many times.
“Then when you try to talk to her about it, she tells you to move on, that there’s a new generation of mil spouse. Mil spouse. She doesn’t even have the decency to say military spouse.”
Becky’s fists clenched.
So that’s what her fight with Alicia was about. Not being respected. It must have infuriated Becky, who was used to being in charge, to people doing what she said.
“Delaney is young,” I said. “As is her husband. He’s not close to getting a star. Not even a major yet. They are just starting their military lives.”
Becky grabbed her purse and started to stand.
“Sit,” I snapped at her, surprised when she did. “You killed her, Becky. You were talking about yourself. I’m calling Scott Pellner. You call your husband and a lawyer.”
“No. You’re wrong. I was using my own life as an example,” she pleaded.
I shook my head. “Give up. It will be better for you.”
“You have no proof. It’s just she said, she said. I’ll say you’re lying.”
“They’ll get the lab results back soon. They know about the smoothies and how you ‘spilled’ Alicia’s drink and then went back into the kitchen to get her another one.” I thought about the phone call from Judy. “Your husband loves you, so the excuse you used for being out that night doesn’t work.”
“Like I said. It’s your word against mine.”
“No, it’s not.” A woman spoke from behind me. It was Harriet. I’d texted her on my way over here, but didn’t know if she’d make it with the traffic and short notice.
“I heard every word.” She looked at Becky. “Call the lawyer. It sounds like you are going to need a good one.”
* * *
In the end, it was quiet. No one else at the Dunkin’s even knew that Becky was turning herself in for committing a murder. It took over an hour before Becky’s husband showed up with a lawyer. It seemed like much longer as we sat across from each other with nothing to say, the grim truth our only other companion. Pellner along with Frank Bristow waited outside. Harriet left once they arrived. Becky turned herself in to them—lawyer on one side and her husband on the other. Although, I didn’t think it would help Becky that much. Her husband had tears streaming down his face. He really did love her.
I stewed at Becky’s attempt to use me to accuse someone else of the murder. It had almost worked. Almost. I had let my pride at being good at solving things get in the way of my common sense. At least I’d used what bit of smarts I had to put together the case against Becky and to trick her into tripping up.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Stella stopped by my apartment Wednesday morning after Seth and I had breakfast and he left for work.
“You look happy,” Stella said.
“I am.” Seth and I had talked late into the night about Becky.
“Then I hope I don’t wipe that big old smile off your face.”
“Why would you?”
“Have you read the paper?” she asked, holding up the local paper.
“Not yet. I’ve been busy.” I smiled at her.
“Look at the ad on page five.”
Stella handed me the paper. I opened to page five. There was a quarter-page ad for Zoey’s Tag Sales. I looked up at Stella. “Unbelievable.”
“Do you know her?” Stella asked.
“I trained her. She’s been helping me over at my latest project.” I shook my head. “She asked me tons of questions.”
“Aren’t you mad?” Stella asked. “You sound so calm.”
“Part of me is. But I had a sneaking suspicion that her questions had a purpose to them.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not going to let her get to me. People know me in town. I have a good reputation.”
“You might want to read the rest of the ad.”
It read: Don’t trust your business to someone who wants to buy what wasn’t sold or offers to haul it o
ff for nothing. It’s a scam to steal from you. I won’t put my friends above your profits. Call me for pricing. Trust me, it will beat the competition.
“She twisted things I told her.” Ack. First Becky and now Zoey.
Stella tilted her head toward the apartment next door. “Mike’s still there. You could talk to him about this.”
I was shaking my head before she even finished. “I’m not afraid of a competitor. I’ve got this.” In the grand scheme of things, in light of what had happened to Alicia and Jeannette, this wasn’t so bad.
“You are a better woman than I am,” Stella said.
“Always have been,” I said with a laugh. Stella grabbed one of the throw pillows off the couch and threw it at me. I caught it and tossed it back. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Anytime,” Stella said as she left.
* * *
I spoke to both Pellner and Frank during the day while Harriet and I worked at Jeannette’s parents’ house. Jeannette had called to thank me for finding the hidden box.
“Any word on what’s going on with Sam and Sam’s partner?” I asked Pellner.
“Sam and his partner have both been charged on a number of counts ranging from assault, to trespassing, to burglary.”
“And they haven’t made bail?” I asked.
“Not yet. They are both so busy pointing fingers at each other I don’t think they’ve made arrangements yet.”
“But they could make bail.”
“It’s possible, but let’s hope they don’t. I’ve heard that the DA is going at them hard.”
That made me smile. Although, from what I knew of Seth, he dealt with every case like it affected him personally.
* * *
I called Frank. “Are the lab results on Alicia back yet?”
“Nothing yet. But Becky told us she used acetaminophen.”
Sell Low, Sweet Harriet Page 20
