Sarah Winston Garage Sale 01 - Tagged for Death

by Sherry Harris

  I wished Carol were off work. She might have heard something about the Browns. If I remembered right, Brad and Ted golfed together sometimes. Just because the Browns were getting counseling, it didn’t mean Ted had had an affair. Like I told MaryJo, deployments took a toll. Women whose husbands had been in Vietnam or Desert Storm would always say how lucky women today were because they could keep in touch over the Internet. It didn’t lessen the loneliness or worry. Sometimes it was even worse, then, when you didn’t hear from a loved one. Some women said their husbands called so often, they didn’t have anything to tell them, which made them feel even guiltier.

  After I finished my ice cream, I went back to work in Carol’s garage. I had the place to myself again. Carol must have been home at some point during the day because I found a new pile of stuff to price for the garage sale. It included games, puzzles, and stuffed animals, which hadn’t been there earlier. The kids must have decided to get rid of some things.

  When Carol brought the kids home, I got them all involved in pricing. It took some work convincing them that their beloved objects weren’t worth a hundred dollars apiece. When we talked about how much they could make with a reasonable price, they all disappeared, returning with more stuff from their rooms. When Brad got home, he volunteered to take the kids out to dinner. Carol opened a bottle of wine, brought out sandwiches and a bag of chips, and we went back to work in the garage.

  We talked and laughed as we priced. We even danced a little when Carol cranked up some tunes. At some point, Brad and the kids returned home. Brad stuck his head into the garage, saying he’d get the kids to bed.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to help us?” I asked him.

  “I’m good,” he said, heading back into the house.

  When we were finally exhausted, we went to Carol’s family room, dropping into comfy chairs.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow to finish setting up.”

  Carol got another glass of wine. “Want one? You only had one glass.” She held up the bottle. “You can spend the night here. It’d be fun.”

  “No thanks. I’d rather sleep in my own bed. I’ll just get some water.” When I returned with my water, I sat back down and looked around the cozy, messy room. “You’re lucky to have Brad, a man who supports you. Adores you. I thought CJ and I had the same thing until Tiffany.” Carol and Brad had such a wonderful relationship. Brad teased Carol to no end, but he was always kissing on her.

  Carol took a sip of wine. “I am lucky—not that we haven’t had some rough spots.”

  “It never shows.”

  “After the twins were born, we PCSed right away. Then he was deployed. I wasn’t sure we’d make it through all that.”

  That had been eight years ago. “I remember. You barely had time to talk on the phone.”

  “Since working through all that, things have been great. Not that we haven’t had our share of day-to-day annoyances. We’ve learned to talk issues out. I hope things will be great for you again soon.” Carol gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. “Why are you running around trying to figure out what happened to Tiffany? Do you still care about CJ?”

  Telling Carol about the bloody shirts might make me feel better. We’d known each other almost as long as I’d known CJ. We met one night when we were all at a British pub near the pier in Monterey. I’d been drinking root beer at the time because I was still underage. We’d clicked. Once we both ended up here, we picked up right where we left off. “I owe him.”

  “You owe him?” Carol looked like she was going to come out of her chair. “After what he did to you?” Carol asked. “I realize you can’t just turn feelings off in a minute. I can’t understand why you or anyone would think you owe something to a cheating husband.”

  “Trust me on this one.”

  Carol gave me a long, hard look before nodding.

  It was after ten when I left. I slipped my coat on. The neighborhood was fine during the day, but I preferred buildings and people as neighbors instead of coyotes, wild turkeys, and deer. The dark night made me shiver.

  I turned left off the cul-de-sac onto a narrow, winding road that led to Great Road. The road was lined with towering trees, making a dark night, darker. Low stone walls divided one property from the next. A car flew up behind me, sitting on my tail. It passed on a curve, taking part of my lane. I wrenched the wheel as the passenger side of my car came within an inch of a giant oak. Its bark was scraped bare in one spot from other cars brushing too close. Idiot. The other car’s brake lights flashed on. He stopped. I slammed on my brakes. I stopped inches from its bumper, squeezing my steering wheel, thankful I’d managed to stop.

  The car sat. Its brake lights remained on. I shifted into reverse. I looked over my shoulder and started to back up. I was undecided if I should try to go around them or head back to Carol’s house. Behind me through the trees, I could see red and blue flashing lights toward me. Those lights ought to get the car in front of me moving. I faced forward to put my car back in drive. The car in front of me was gone. I pulled beyond the tree, steering my car as close as I could to a stone wall to get out of the emergency vehicle’s way. The police car didn’t go around me; it tucked in behind. What now?

  I wasn’t surprised when Pellner showed up by my car window, ticket pad in hand. I rolled the window down. I hoped he hadn’t figured out I went back to his house this morning. Hopefully, he only knew that I’d been out front.

  “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

  He snorted. “That’s something coming from your mouth. Asking so sweetly if you did something wrong.”

  “I don’t think I was speeding. Maybe your radar picked up the car in front of me.”

  He frowned. “What car? Do you have a description?”

  “No. A car flew up behind me. It passed and jammed on its brakes. I almost hit it.”

  “How many people were in it?”

  “I didn’t notice. I was concentrating on not hitting it.”

  Pellner frowned again.

  “It was right there.” I gestured toward the road in front of me.

  He started writing on his ticket pad.

  “What’s the ticket for?”

  “Obscured license plate. I can’t read the numbers.”

  “I think you’re wrong. I washed it last week.”

  “I’ll double-check.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  He pointed at me. “Stay there.”

  He went to the back of the car. I watched him in my rearview mirror. He bent over out of sight for a couple of minutes. When he came back to the window, he had a handkerchief and was wiping mud off his hands. He finished writing out the ticket. I reached for it. Pellner grabbed the front of my coat, dragging my upper body through the window. Our faces were almost touching. His coffee breath brushed my cheek. I was inches from his dimple. Yep, still menacing.

  “Don’t ever go near my family again.” Then he stopped and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?”

  “I had one glass of wine over a long evening. I’m not drunk.”

  “I’ll write you up for refusing to take a Breathalyzer test.”

  “I’m not refusing.”

  Before I could say anything else, he had me out of the car, cuffed, and in the back of his. I sat alone in the back while Pellner leaned against the hood, talking into the mike on his shoulder. I couldn’t hear what he said, and maybe I didn’t want to.

  After a tow truck showed up to impound my car, Pellner took the long way to the station. He’d fly up to a stop sign, slam on the brakes, scan the road, and tear off again. With my hands cuffed behind my back, keeping my balance was impossible on the slippery plastic seat. I bobbed around like a bottle tossed into high seas.

  “Pellner, you can stop with the gunshot phone calls. It’s not scaring me,” I said. “If you don’t, I will tell CJ.”

  Pellner slammed on the brakes again before turning around to look at me. We stared at each other.

  “Eithe
r you are drunker than I thought or crazy. I have better things to do than call you.” He shook his head. “Don’t threaten me with your little ‘I’ll tell.’ I’ve got plenty to tell the chief when it comes to you.”

  He looked surprised, not guilty. Somehow I believed him when he said he wasn’t making the calls. One suspect down; a gazillion to go. He took off with a jerk. I fell over on my side and stayed down. With the game over, Pellner finally took me to the station.

  He dragged me up the stairs—the front stairs. Fortunately, at this time of night, very few people were around to see my perp walk. As he pulled me through the lobby, CJ came out of a door. He was smiling and dressed in his civvies, wearing the brown leather bomber jacket I’d always thought he looked sexy in.

  He stopped when he spotted us.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

  Pellner listed my sins: obscured license plate, alcohol on my breath, and my refusal to take a Breathalyzer test. “Chief, I’m sorry. I know she’s your wife. Ex-wife. I didn’t feel like I should treat her any different than anyone else.”

  “You did the right thing, Scott.” When CJ turned to me, Pellner mouthed the word “Lowell.”

  My face warmed.

  “Sarah, what were you thinking, drinking and driving? Your face is flushed like it gets when you drink.”

  “I’m not drunk. It’s a misunderstanding. I’ll take the test.” I said it all with my teeth almost grinding. I sounded like one of those very preppy New Englanders who barely opened their mouths to speak. I was furious with Pellner, CJ, and myself. I shouldn’t have put myself in this situation, either, by going to Pellner’s house this morning or having wine and then driving. Pellner shouldn’t have lied, and CJ . . . CJ should have seen through Pellner or trusted me. Although, I guess I should be grateful CJ was here or I probably would have been in a cell for the night.

  “I had her vehicle towed here, instead of to the impound lot,” Pellner said.

  CJ glanced at his watch again. He’d been checking it every few seconds.

  “Thanks, Scott. That was really nice of you.” CJ looked at me like I should be thanking Pellner, too. That wasn’t about to happen. CJ waited while I blew into the Breathalyzer and passed the test.

  “Chief, go on and get out of here. I know Lexi is waiting for you,” Pellner said. “I’ll wrap this up and have her out of here in no time.”

  CJ looked relieved. He opened his mouth to say something to me. I held up a hand. “Not now.” I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I didn’t want him to know that his having a date hurt me. A date named “Lexi,” at that. It sounded like a stripper name.

  As he hurried off, Pellner smiled at me. “I set him up with Lexi a couple of weeks ago. He seemed lonely. Needed someone sweet and uncomplicated in his life. They’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

  I ignored him. He left. I had to pay for the tow before I could get my car back. The paperwork took a lot longer than it should have. The officer doing it made a lot of trips to the bathroom, took an unusual number of calls, and had other paperwork that was a priority. I sat calmly, knowing any other reaction would just make him happy.

  After paying, I headed to my car, hoping I had something in the back of the Suburban to clean the license plate. I didn’t want to get another ticket on the way home, but it was clean. CJ must have cleaned it, even though he had a date waiting for him. I didn’t know what to think of that.

  After the short drive home, I pulled up in front of my apartment. Pellner burst out the front door of my building. He glanced my way as he ran to his car. I’m not sure he even noticed me. He jumped in his squad car. The tires spun before catching and squealed as he raced down the street.

  CHAPTER 11

  It could have been worse. That’s what I told myself as I walked through my apartment. Yes, it was a mess, but nothing was broken or destroyed. Pellner had walked a thin line. Cushions tossed, clothes dumped, shampoo and conditioner splattered around the bathroom, and the kitchen looked like the worst cafeteria food fight in history.

  A knock on the door had me yanking it open and almost off the hinges.

  Stella looked surprised. “I heard a lot of stomping around. I thought I saw Scott outside. Are you okay?”

  She looked over my shoulder at the mess. “Pellner or redecorating?”

  “Pellner,” I said. “He had his reasons.”

  “I’ll help you clean up.”

  “I’ll get some wine,” I said.

  Stella didn’t ask me what his reasons were, but she volunteered to take the bathroom while I worked on the bedroom. She was an efficient cleaner. We cleaned the kitchen together. Stella hummed ’N Sync’s song “Bye Bye Bye.”

  When we were done, Stella looked at me. “Scott’s getting out of hand. You need to report him.”

  “If something else happens, I will. It’s complicated. CJ totally bought Pellner’s story at the station. I’m not sure reporting Pellner would do any good. CJ’s really loyal to his guys.”

  Stella headed to the door. “I could talk to my aunt.”

  “The town manager? No thanks.”

  “Good Lord, not the town manager. She wouldn’t do a thing. She’s too worried about her political career to take sides on anything. My aunt who’s a cage fighter—she could straighten Scott out.”

  “A cage fighter?” I asked.

  “You know, mixed martial arts. Two women going at it in a cage.”

  My family didn’t have any cage-fighting aunts. It did have a lot of catfighting. I studied Stella’s face, looking for any signs she was joking. Her dark eyes looked sincere and her lips weren’t turning up. “Thanks, but no.”

  “She could teach you some moves.”

  “That, I’ll think about.” I closed the door, wondering about Stella. Opera-singing music teacher who’d had trouble with the police and an aunt who is a cage fighter.

  On Friday morning, I headed to base to track down Deena Brown. She was an exercise fanatic. She’d drop her kids off at school and walk over to the gym. I wanted to catch her on her way there. Laura and I had planned what we called a “Friday Fun Day” at the thrift shop. It was an attempt to make cleaning the back room sound appealing. Laura had probably already sponsored me on base. I’d just show up early, hoping one of our kids was working the desk and would let me on.

  I waylaid Deena at the park, just north of the elementary school and across from the gym. Her jet-black hair contrasted with teeth that would make Mr. Clean’s T-shirt look beige.

  “Sarah, what are you doing here? I heard you stopped by my house yesterday.”

  I decided I’d be honest with her, instead of trying to pry information out of her in a backhanded way. “I saw MaryJo yesterday.”

  “I heard. How are you doing?”

  “Okay, other than really wishing I wouldn’t have cried in front of her.”

  “Is that why you wanted to talk? Is MaryJo blabbing about me and Ted?”

  “It is. She is.”

  “Let’s go sit over there, then.” We walked to a bench Deena had pointed to, a little off the beaten path.

  “I’m sorry to hear you guys are having problems,” I said. “If anyone can understand marital problems, it’s me.”

  “I know.” She played with the zipper on her hoodie. “I don’t want to end up like you. Alone. It’s why we’re going to counseling.”

  That stung, but I pushed the feeling aside. I stared at my hands. This wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe I should just go. Then I thought about CJ and it wasn’t only about him. It could come out that I had the bloody shirts first. The story of how I found them sounded unbelievable, even to me.

  “Just ask me whatever it is you tracked me down to ask. At least I can give you the straight version instead of MaryJo’s.”

  I looked up into Deena’s brown eyes. “Did Ted have an affair with Tiffany Lopez?”

  Deena stood up, shaking her head. “Just because CJ did doesn’t mean everyone
did.”

  I stood, too. “I just heard that Tiffany was going after colonels. I’m sorry. I’ll butt out. I didn’t mention any of this to MaryJo. I told her it was probably all the deployments. They can wear on families.”

  Deena glanced off toward the gym. “It was me. I had an affair. It happened during Ted’s last deployment. Hate me if you want.”

  I’m sure my mouth dropped open. I quickly closed it and pasted on what I hoped was a neutral expression.

  “It was one of the gate guards,” Deena said.

  Visions of some of the gate guards slipped through my head like a movie on fast forward. A lot of the gate guards were civilian DOD employees. With deployment rotations at an alarming rate, there weren’t enough troops to cover all the gates. Rent-a-cops weren’t always in the best shape. I could outrun some of them, but their guns were a great equalizer.

  One or two of them were cute, especially the one with his “How you doin’” and his dark, sparkly eyes. Another one looked like Brad Pitt and had a cute Boston accent. Some women called each other when one of those two were at the gate. They would drive off and back on, just for an opportunity to chat with them. Now it was my turn to shake my head. “I’m way beyond judging anyone. I hope you two can work things out. Alone isn’t fun.”

  I headed over to the thrift shop to get a jump start on the Friday Fun Day. Carol and I had organized almost everything for her sale. I could stop over at her house later. Sitting at home held no appeal. It was probably time to think more seriously about getting a job.

  I parked at the side of the building. Bits of police tape fluttered from the Dumpster. I hurried past, unlocking the door, darting into the storage room. The narrow room was bursting at the seams. Boxes, bags, and loose items covered the floor. Piles of clothes were mounded on top. Like in Carol’s garage, only a tiny pathway was clear from the back door to the hall. Rods lining the walls sagged from the weight of clothes ready to be priced. As I hefted a bag of clothes, I tripped over something. The sound of metal clattering against concrete made me set the bag down to see what I’d done. I’d upended a golf bag. Golf clubs and scorecards sprawled across the floor.