Sarah Winston Garage Sale 01 - Tagged for Death

by Sherry Harris

  “Mrs. Hooker,” a voice boomed out behind the mirror. “What are you doing here?”

  With the distortion from the speaker, I wasn’t sure who was talking. “I wanted to see Fran. Acting Commander Walker,” I amended. “Is she available?”

  “Sure. Hang on.”

  The door on the back side of the wall buzzed. I headed up to CJ’s old office.

  The door was open. Fran sat behind the grand walnut desk, chair tilted back. She smiled as she talked on the phone. She spotted me and motioned me in. I sat in the chair opposite her, waiting for her to finish her conversation. The office was stripped of any personal items. I’d tried to warm it up for CJ with a painting of the rugged California coast, the almost requisite photograph of the Thunderbirds—the air force demonstration team—flying in formation, and a shot of a missile launching from Vandenberg Air Force Base. CJ had added a photograph of me on his desk. All of that stuff was probably in CJ’s basement now or in his office in Ellington.

  “Do you mind if I close the door?” I asked when she finished her call.

  “Go ahead,” Fran said.

  After closing the door, I sat back down. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk.

  “I wondered if you’d had any problems with Jessica,” I said. “Anything that might help figure out who killed her.”

  She ran her fingers across the desk like she was playing a piano. “Is this any of your business?”

  “How can you ask that? I found the bones and the body. It’s CJ sitting in jail.”

  Fran plucked at a curl in her short hair. “Jessica was always on time, did her job well, and was well liked,” Fran said. “CJ could have told you that.”

  “Was Jessica having any personal problems?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Was she dating someone from the squadron?”

  “I really don’t know what she was up to in her free time.”

  That surprised me. CJ always knew almost everything that was going on with the troops. If he didn’t know something, I did. Different commanders handled things in very different ways. Fran had just returned from a yearlong deployment right before CJ’s very sudden retirement. She was getting ready to PCS.

  “Nothing was bothering her? Even for just the last week or so before her murder?”

  “She was a stellar airman,” Fran said.

  “Do you know Colonel Brown and his wife, Deena?”

  Fran gave a short nod. “Not well. I’ve run into them in the neighborhood and at base functions.”

  “Deena told me she’d dated someone from the security squadron. Any idea who?” (“Dated” was the nicest term I could come up with.)

  “Where are you going with this stuff, Sarah? Do you have any evidence that Deena Brown’s personal life has any bearing on this case?”

  “No, but—”

  “We are questioning everyone. Everything. I’ve been told to stand down more than once by Agent Bristow. He thinks we’re interfering. No one here wants to see CJ in jail.” She pushed her chair back. “I find it curious that you’re running around asking questions. Don’t think I haven’t heard.”

  “I’m worried about CJ.”

  “Many women in your position wouldn’t feel that way. They’d be happy or thinking about revenge.”

  If Fran knew some of the things I’d thought about doing to CJ, she might think different. She might be worried about having me sit across the desk from her.

  “It makes me wonder what’s going on with you,” Fran said.

  As I left the building, the PA system crackled to life. I froze. What now? “The Star-Spangled Banner” started playing. I let out a sigh of relief. It played every day at four-thirty. I looked around, spotting a flag in front of the security headquarters. Everyone outside stopped, turning to face the nearest flag. If a flag wasn’t available, I would have turned toward the sound of the music.

  The active-duty personnel came to attention, some in the parking lot, some on the sidewalk and steps leading to the building. I placed my hand over my heart. On the playground across the street, little kids quit playing. They climbed off the equipment, stood in a row. Most of them had their hands over their hearts; some sang along. All traffic stopped, too, pulling to the side of the road until the song ended.

  As the last strains faded on the breeze, I headed to my car. I spotted Deena driving toward me. Someone else was in the car with her. She said something and the passenger bent down out of sight. She sped around a corner with a brief wave. I stared at the back of her car and saw the person pop back up. He or she glanced back, but then snapped back around when they saw me watching.

  I banged out the door of the station after another fruitless attempt to see CJ. A group of people, all dressed in business suits, headed up the steps as I started down. Seth was in the middle of them. He looked even better in his power suit than he had that night at the bar or the morning after with his hair tousled.

  I tried to slip around them. Seth glanced at the group and said, “Give me a minute.” They looked at me curiously as they bounded by. I was grateful that I’d at least changed into clean jeans and a clean V-neck before heading over here.

  “Babe.” Seth took my hands and brushed his lips across my cheek. His aftershave froze me for an instant.

  Good God, he still doesn’t know my name.

  “You quit answering my calls,” he said.

  “You quit calling.” I wiggled my hands out from his.

  “I took the hint.” He flashed his white teeth in a smile. “A guy can only take so much rejection.”

  “I’m sure that’s a real problem for ‘Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor.’”

  Seth reddened a bit. “You saw that? I’m embarrassed.”

  “Congratulations on your promotion, District Attorney.”

  “That’s what I was celebrating the night we met.”

  “And here I thought you’d been made head of the used-car lot.”

  “You thought I was a used-car salesman?”

  “Your lines were more used-car salesman than DA.”

  “My lines. What about yours?”

  “What are you doing in Ellington?” I asked. I wanted to veer from any further conversation about the night we’d spent together.

  “Checking up on the case with the local police chief. I’m sure in a town the size of Ellington, you’ve heard about it.”

  I begged my knees not to buckle. I stammered out an “O-oh.” Now I was grateful he didn’t know my name.

  His forehead creased. “What are you doing here? Not in trouble, are you?”

  “No. Just a ticket. They’re real sticklers about jaywalking in Ellington. Watch yourself. I’ve got to run.”

  As I moved past, Seth snagged my hand.

  “Sarah,” he said.

  I guess he did know my name, but not my connection to CJ.

  “Answer next time I call, okay?”

  I nodded. I turned to watch him run up the steps. Pellner held the door open for Seth, but he watched me.

  After dinner Laura called.

  “I’m too tired to come back to work,” I said before she could ask. After leaving base, I’d tried to see CJ, but I had ended up just sitting in the lobby for a frustrating hour.

  “That’s not why I called. Do you think that’s the only reason I call?” Laura gasped then. “It is the only reason I’ve called you lately. I’m sorry. This time I called to check on you.”

  “I’m fine.” I filled her in on the rest of my day. “I tried to see CJ. They wouldn’t let me.”

  “Why are you running around asking questions? After what CJ did to you, just let him rot.”

  This wasn’t Laura’s normal demeanor. Usually, she was more compassionate, but her brother’s wife had run off with another man last year. Her brother was still traumatized. Laura’s indignation level was high. I understood because my life had been turned upside down, too.

  “I’m not sure why. I know he couldn’t have done it. Now he
can’t get out to defend himself.”

  “They always say there’s a thin line between love and hate. I don’t think there’s any line. Just a damn blurry mess. How are you staying busy when you aren’t helping at the thrift shop?” Laura asked.

  “A woman is paying me to organize a garage sale for her.”

  “Perfect. It’s about time, after all the ones you’ve run as a volunteer.”

  “It’s just a one-off. She has some beautiful things. Under different circumstances, I’d be dragging half of it home. It’s Saturday morning. You should come.”

  “Then I’d be the one in trouble.”

  We fell silent for a couple of seconds.

  “Thanks for calling,” I said. “I know how busy you are.”

  “I’m rooting for you,” Laura said.

  I settled on the couch with a magazine. I tried to shove all thoughts of Seth out of my head. It didn’t work as well as I’d have liked. He was a guy who dated Victoria’s Secret models—why would he want to go out with me? I’d agreed to answer the next time he called. I wanted to write it off as being polite, the easiest way out of an awkward situation. However, Seth intrigued me, no doubt about that. I wondered if Pellner heard much of what we’d said, and if he told Seth who I was.

  I shook my magazine and refocused on an article about the best flea markets in New England. Thoughts about my meeting at the security headquarters with Fran intruded. Shaniqua had said Fran wasn’t interested in Jessica’s murder. She certainly didn’t know much about Jessica, but she did have the whole deployment/ moving thing going on.

  Fran wasn’t in charge of the investigation; the Ellington police were. She might be honoring that arrangement and staying out of it. But why would she want to do that when Jessica was on her squadron and had been murdered on her watch? Being an acting commander put you in a strange position—all of the responsibility, with none of the perks. When CJ had been an acting commander at past assignments, he’d been all in.

  It was hard to sit here, knowing CJ was locked up. He’d taken a big risk for me. He was the only one who knew I had a stake in this. I’d honor that obligation. Something was off with Deena. I’d seen Deena’s name on the list of people working at the thrift shop tomorrow. I’d start with her.

  CHAPTER 21

  After spending Wednesday morning at Betty’s house, I headed over to the thrift shop. I ate a Fluffernutter sandwich I’d brought with me as I drove. Laura had once again sponsored me on base. I needed to ask her to get me a thirty-day pass. Then I could get on base without always having to bug someone.

  Things were beginning to take shape in the new building. Deena and one of her closest friends worked in the kitchen area. We stocked everything from dishes to old electric fry pans. Heading straight over to them would be too obvious. I sorted things in the backroom. When I found some kitchen items, I’d take them over.

  About fifteen minutes later, I came across a set of dishes. Perfect. I carried the box over, plunking them down near Deena.

  “Here’s a set of dishes. They’re in good shape. It’s a whole set of eight.”

  Deena looked me over like she was trying to determine if she could take me or not. I was sure she could, but I didn’t know why she’d want to.

  “Stay away from my husband.” Her voice rang across the room. All other talk stopped. I glanced around. Everyone stared.

  “I haven’t been around your husband.” I had been in his office, but her tone indicated to everyone listening that something sordid was going on.

  “You always come off as ‘Little Miss Helpful.’ Wanting to be volunteer of the year.” She took a step forward. “It’s time people knew what you’re willing to volunteer for.” Deena looked around the room. “Watch your husbands, ladies. Sarah’s single and on the hunt.”

  “Enough.” Laura’s voice rang out. “Deena, if you have a problem, take it up in private. Let’s get back to work.”

  That didn’t go as planned. I wanted to slink out. Instead, I headed back to the sorting room, trying to look casual. The burn in my cheeks said otherwise. What was that about, anyway? Laura and a couple of my other friends followed me into the sorting room.

  “Ignore her,” Laura said. “Everyone knows she’s having problems.” The others agreed, patting me on the back.

  “Do you want to go?” Laura asked.

  “No. No way I’m leaving now.”

  “That’s my girl. I’ll stay back here and work with you.”

  After a while, Laura was called to the front, leaving me alone.

  Deena and her friend came back a few minutes later.

  “Why are you even here?” Deena asked. “You aren’t a spouse or a dependent anymore. You certainly aren’t a veteran. You don’t belong here anymore. You can’t even get on base without a sponsor.”

  Each word jabbed my heart. Her friend stood with a hand on her hip, nodding.

  “I’m here because I work hard. I like the women here. They’re friends. I don’t appreciate you implying I’m out to steal someone’s husband. That is the last thing I’m interested in.” I wanted to add “especially yours,” but I held my tongue.

  Laura came running back in. “What’s with you today, Deena? Sarah does twice as much work as most of you. It looks like you’re on your way out. Why don’t you just go?”

  Deena turned on her heel. She jerked her head at her friend and they left.

  “Are you okay?” Laura asked again.

  “You don’t have to fight my battles for me, Laura. There might be some truth to what she said.” Maybe I was clinging to my old life, using the thrift shop as a crutch. Perhaps it was time to move on.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, ignore it.”

  I opened my mouth. Laura shook her head at me. “I need you here. Don’t desert me. Please?”

  The more I thought about it, the more I realized Deena might be right.

  “You look upset. Don’t let those gossips get to you. You handled them well.”

  “I didn’t stop them.”

  “No one can. Forget them.”

  Laura left me alone. I’d come here wondering who it was that Deena had an affair with. Now I wondered a lot more. She could have made the story up about her affair to cover for Ted. If he’d had an affair with Tiffany, he might be who the police should be looking at, not CJ.

  The other thing I realized is when she said she’d had an affair with a gate guard, I’d jumped to the conclusion it was one of the civilian DOD employees. Although they did the lion’s share of guarding the gates, the security forces rotated through, too. A friend of mine had been furious when one of the active-duty guards had asked her daughter for her number. She’d reamed CJ and the young man up one side and down the other. Before I left base, I’d swing by the dorm and see James. He might have heard something.

  At two-thirty, Laura called it a day at the thrift shop. Only a few volunteers were still working. Most of the women had headed home about the time school let out. As we walked to our cars, Laura chatted about a grand opening, getting a cake from the commissary, and hoping someone would contribute drinks.

  James wasn’t at the dorm. Someone told me he was out on patrol. I left a message on his cell phone. He wasn’t supposed to have it on when he was on patrol. I hoped he’d check it when he got a break. I drove over to the parking lot behind the shoppette—the base version of a 7-Eleven. It also had the class six—military parlance for a liquor store. In Massachusetts, they called a liquor store a “package store,” or “packy” for short.

  The gym—free to active-duty troops, retirees, and dependents—shared the parking lot, as did the bowling alley, with its small café. The base library was a short stroll down a walk past a small gazebo.

  I hoped James had broken regulations, listened to my message, and that he would drive through here in the next few minutes. It was part of the routine patrol route. Even if he didn’t get my message, he might come by. I could stop by the security forces headquarters and ask them to find
him for me. I decided it might be better to leave them out of it, especially after my visit with Fran yesterday. If he didn’t show up, I’d drive around looking for him. Fitch was small. My plan, although it sounded impractical, wasn’t impossible.

  A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled in. James climbed out, putting on his beret. Only the security forces wore berets. Everyone else wore flight caps—a blue cap that folded flat, if they were in their blues—or a BDU cap, more like a baseball cap, if they were in their BDUs.

  “James, over here,” I called as he turned to go into the shoppette. He looked surprised to see me.

  We met in the middle of the parking lot.

  “What do you want, ma’am?” James asked.

  “What’s with the ‘ma’am’?”

  “Protocol.” He stood stiffly, a good two feet from me.

  “What is going on?”

  His face softened for a moment. “You’re getting to be persona non grata around here.”

  He came closer, lowering his voice. “There’s talk of not allowing you on base. If the current acting security forces commander didn’t know you so well, and know you were good friends with the wing commander’s wife, you wouldn’t be allowed on.”

  Wow! First Deena and now this.

  “Agent Bristow warned the security force not to give you any special treatment. Major Walker reiterated that warning.”

  “Thanks for letting me know. I hope you’re okay.”

  James turned to leave, but then he swung around to face me again. “I need to tell you something.”

  “What about Agent Bristow? The last thing I want to do is get you in trouble.”

  He looked around the parking lot. An older man in civilian clothing helped his wife out of the car. They headed into the shoppette. A couple of kids on skateboards rolled by. The only other people out were over by the gym, too far to recognize us.