As I hang up with Ty, a woman in her thirties descends the stairs with Charmaine. “She’s the last customer up there,” Charmaine reports. “She wants to buy that little dresser in the second bedroom.”
“It’ll be perfect for the baby’s room,” the woman says, putting a protective hand on her belly, although she doesn’t have a noticeable bump. She’s just a little thick through the middle. She hands me two twenties for the twenty-five dollar item. “But can someone carry it out to my SUV? I’m parked right in front of the house.”
“No problem,” Charmaine and Donna say in unison.
“Do you need more help?” I shout after them, but Charmaine dismisses me by flexing her biceps. “They’re strong,” I say to the woman as I make her change. And then I add, “When is your baby due?” I’m not sure why I ask. Maybe to torment myself. I sometimes visualize items from my estate sales in the room Sean and I have set aside for our baby who’s not even on the distant horizon.
“April,” my customer says. “But I’m already doing the nesting thing.” She takes her change. “Thanks. I’ll just head out and open my car for them.”
Donna and Charmaine soon descend and cross the foyer carrying the dresser between them. They pause before me so Donna can get a better grip.
“It’ll be lighter for you if we take out the two drawers,” I say. “I’ll carry them.”
So we remove the drawers. After I stuff the cash proceeds from the sale into my fanny pack, I follow Donna and Charmaine down the front walk, peeping over the load in my arms. There’s an SUV parked at the curb with its back hatch open. That must be our destination although I don’t see our customer. She’s in the driver’s seat, I guess.
Charmaine walks backward toward the curb. “Be careful,” Donna warns. “The paving stones in this walk are uneven.”
Charmaine makes it to the street, and they both set down the dresser to consider the best way to fit it into the back of the SUV.
I take one more step with the stack of drawers in my arms when I hear a screech of tires and a roar of acceleration.
Before I can react, I hear a crack and a shrill scream.
I drop the drawers.
Charmaine’s body flies into the air and lands on the pavement with a sickening thump.
I lunge forward. Screaming, movement, and colors surround me.
All I see is Charmaine sprawled in the street like a limp rag doll.
Chapter 11
THE DRESSER IS A PILE of boards.
By the time I reach Charmaine’s side, a middle aged woman kneels beside her. She points to another neighbor with authority. “Call 9-1-1. Tell them we need an ambulance.” She takes Charmaine’s pulse and speaks to her soothingly. “I’m a nurse. Don’t try to move. We’re going to help you.”
Charmaine’s eyelids flutter and she moans. She’s alive.
Donna grabs me for support, her screaming finally abated. “We were trying to figure the best angle to put the dresser in the back of the lady’s SUV. Did you see that car? It came screeching down the street and plowed right into us.”
“Didn’t even stop,” a passing dog-walker confirms.
I hug Donna. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “Just shook up. Charmaine got thrown into the air.” Donna covers her face. I know how she feels. I want to erase that horrible sight from my mind, but I know it’s burned there.
“I think her leg is broken,” the nurse says. “And she might have a concussion if her head hit the pavement.”
The crowd around us grows, and the authoritative nurse urges them to step back. She covers Charmaine with a blanket someone has brought, and Ty’s sister moans. Ty! I have to call him. But I’m distracted by the howl of sirens. I’ll wait until I know more.
The EMTs quickly take charge, taking Charmaine’s vital signs, bracing her neck, and sliding her onto a stretcher. A patrol cop roams amid the crowd of onlookers asking questions.
I tell him what little I know. I didn’t see the car because of the way I was holding the drawers. The accident exists as a soundtrack in my mind.
“Where’s the SUV you were loading?” the cop asks.
I look around. The curb in front of the McMurtry house is empty. I point uncertainly. “It was parked right here. Maybe she pulled up once the ambulance came.”
But there is no SUV anywhere on the block. I gesture to Donna to join us. “Where’s our customer’s SUV?”
Donna’s head turns from side to side like a bobble-head doll. Her face contorts in confusion. “She left? She left without talking to anyone?”
“We can’t find her,” the cop says. “One of the neighbors said he saw the hatch door close automatically, and then the vehicle drove off while everyone was gathered around the victim.”
He asks us both about the SUV’s color, make and model, but Donna and I are useless with cars. Black, blue, gray? Toyota, Honda, Jeep?
“All I know is the inside was beige and very clean,” Donna says. “I remember noticing that as we were getting ready to load.” She shakes her head. “Man, people are cold. No one wants to get involved to help another person.”
The cop turns to me. “You know your customer’s name?”
“No, I never met her before. And she paid for the dresser in cash.”
Donna scowls. “She’ll probably call tomorrow asking for a refund since she didn’t get her dresser.”
The cop hands me his card. “Call us if you hear from her.”
I shove the card in my pocket as I see Charmaine being loaded into the ambulance. “I’ll ride to the hospital with her,” I tell the ambulance driver.
Charmaine’s eyes open and she squeezes my hand. “Lo,” she whispers. “Gotta get Lo.”
Of course. Lo has to be picked up from daycare by six. “Don’t worry. I’ll get him and take care of him until Ty gets home.”
Donna pushes me aside. “I’ll ride to the hospital. You get Lo.”
More cops arrive on the scene as Donna rides off in the ambulance. I head back into the McMurtry house to lock up and call Ty. What a terrible end to his glorious day. Just an hour ago he was riding high with his auction success. Now, I have to tell him his sister’s been hit by a car.
Taking a deep breath, I call to deliver the bad news. Ty doesn’t answer. Probably concentrating on getting the right exit into Manhattan. Should I text? I hate to deliver a bombshell like this with a few typed sentences. I decide to wait a bit and call later. After all, there’s nothing Ty can do. I call Grandma Betty instead. I’ll need her help in picking up Lo from daycare since I’m not authorized.
What follows is a long and agitated call with many requests for divine intervention and the healing power of Jesus. Eventually, we come around to logistics, and I make a plan to pick up Betty and drive together to the daycare center, where Betty is authorized to sign Lo out.
When we walk into Lo’s classroom at Palmer Pals, the little fellow is delighted to see us both, alternately squealing “Audee!” and “Gamma!” uncertain whom to hug first. But when we have him in the car, Lo begins to whimper. “Where’s Momma? I want Momma.”
Betty and I exchange a worried glance. “He’s not used to being alone with me anymore,” Betty says. “I love that little man, Audrey. But now that he’s three, he’s always on the move. I got worried he’d hurt himself because I’m not fast enough to chase after him, so Charmaine and I agreed I wouldn’t watch him on my own anymore.”
I know for a fact that Ty played a role in that decision. He juggles his love and sense of responsibility toward his maternal grandmother, who raised him after his mother died, and his half-sister, with whom he’s only recently reconciled. Betty is not Lo’s blood great-grandmother (although she doesn’t recognize that distinction), and Ty has warned Charmaine not to rely on the old woman now that Lo has grown from napping infant to fast-charging toddler.
“Don’t worry, Betty. Lo can stay with Sean and me tonight until Ty gets home, and we figure out a plan. I just needed you to spring
him from the daycare center. They wouldn’t have handed him over to me.” At a stop light, I twist around to look at Lo. “Mommy had to see the doctor and she asked if you could come and stay at my house for a while, Lo. Won’t that be fun? You can play with my dog, Ethel.”
Lo’s eyes widen in terror and he howls. “No dog! Dogs are scary! I want my momma.”
Betty winces. “Charmaine’s neighbor has a big Doberman that terrifies that child.”
Oh, great—I managed to say exactly the wrong thing. Looks like it’s time for a bribe. “What’s his favorite food?”
“I was just thinking that a chicken nugget Happy Meal might cheer him up,” Betty says, pointing to Golden Arches on the opposite side of the highway. Casting nutrition to the wind, I make a U-turn and head for the drive-thru.
Soon, Lo is blissed out on salt, grease, sugar and a chintzy toy. Donna texts me with an update from the hospital: Charmaine needs a pin in her tibia and is headed into surgery. I take Betty home and assign her the task of calling Ty. He always accepts her calls.
Once I’m at my house, I set Lo loose in the backyard while I call Sean to update him. He promises to check in with the traffic division to see if they’ve caught the hit-and-run driver.
For the next hour, Lo and I kick around a soccer ball Sean’s nephews have left behind. Poor Ethel watches longingly through the screen door until Lo’s curiosity gets the better of him, and I’m able to engineer a meet-and-greet.
For once in her life, Ethel follows my command to sit, and Lo cautiously touches the fur on her back.
“Now, hold out your hand like this and let her sniff it,” I direct. “That’s how dogs get to know people—by using their noses.”
Gingerly, Lo extends his hand palm down, but when Ethel’s wet nose touches his skin, the child squeals and shrinks into my arms.
I give him a hug, but I won’t let him run away. If he’s going to stay at our house, he’s going to have to get used to the dog. And Ethel has lots of experience enduring the hugs and eye-pokes of our nieces and nephews. I know she won’t hurt Lo.
Again, Lo extends his hand as I talk to him quietly about dogs and what they like and don’t like. This time, he giggles when Ethel’s wet nose touches his hand, then laughs when her pink tongue emerges.
“See, she gave you a kiss,” I say. I’m feeling like I’ve got this Aunty Audee thing pretty well nailed now.
“But I don’t like her teeth.” Lo frowns as he studies those long, white incisors.
I always hated when my grandparents tried to reassure me by telling me not to worry but not explaining why. Let’s see if I can do a better job. “It’s true that dogs can bite. That’s what they do when they’re afraid. So you should never go up to a dog you don’t know unless the owner is there and says it’s okay. But see how Ethel’s tail is wagging? That means she’s happy and wants to be your friend.”
“Why does she want to be my friend?” Lo asks.
“Because she can tell that you’re my friend, so if I like you, she likes you.” I kiss his cheek. “We’re friends, right?”
“Yes!” Lo hugs me, then he turns back to the dog. “Effel, you can be my friend.”
Ethel accepts the offer by pushing the soccer ball with her nose. “Looks like she wants to play soccer with you, Lo. Can you kick the ball for her?”
And that’s all it takes. Boy and dog are off for a romp around the yard, while I take a break in a patio chair. A ton of messages have accumulated since last I checked my phone.
Ty has texted that he’s on his way and expects to be here around nine. I let him know that Lo is safe and happy.
There’s also a message from Noreen.
Any chance you want to go out for drinks tonight? My in-laws are visiting and I could use a break.
Rats! Any other day, I’d love to. But a Girls Night Out is not in the cards today. I text back.
I wish I could. Ty’s sister got hit by a car outside our sale today. She was working for me for the day. She’s in the hospital and I’m watching her son right now.
Noreen immediately responds.
Oh my god—that’s terrible. Is she ok?
Broken leg and possible concussion. We’re waiting to hear more. Sorry about the stressful in-law visit. Touch base tomorrow.
By the time I’m done with my messages, both Lo and the dog are exhausted. We go inside, and I read Lo some stories. He whimpers for his mom a little, but finally collapses into sleep. It’s nearly nine by the time I finish my snack and well-deserved glass of wine. Within minutes, Sean, Donna and Ty all turn up, coming from different locations.
“They put a pin in Charmaine’s leg,” Donna reports from her hours at the hospital. “And she definitely has a concussion, so they’re keeping her overnight for observation. The doctor says she can probably come home by Sunday, but she has to take it easy.”
“I need to see her.” Ty is wild-eyed. “This is all my fault.”
Donna lays a soothing hand on his arm. “She was sleeping when I left. Go see her in the morning.”
“It’s not your fault some lunatic sped down the McMurtry’s street,” I say. “It was probably some hot-rodding teenager.”
“She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.” Ty thumbs his chest. “I shoulda been the one out there on the street loading that dresser, not her.”
“It was just a freak accident—” I begin.
“Maybe.” Sean’s face is grim as he utters that one word. We all turn to face him.
“The traffic accident specialists have been at the scene for hours,” he explains. “The skid marks on the pavement indicate the car accelerated rapidly from a dead stop. They interviewed the witnesses. One saw a black sportscar parked down the block. Another confirmed she was hit by a black sportscar.”
Ty jumps up. “You sayin’ someone hit Charmaine on purpose? Mowed her down?”
“Seems unlikely it was some hotrodder speeding through the neighborhood and losing control,” Sean explains. “The skid mark pattern indicates the car was waiting halfway down the block where the neighbor saw it, then accelerated to sixty by the time it got in front of the McMurtry house.”
Sean studies Ty knowing he’s on thin ice. “Charmaine know anyone with a black sports car? Maybe a guy she’s dating...or something.”
Ty bristles. “My sister is a hard-working woman and a good mother. She doesn’t hang around with gangbangers.”
I don’t blame Ty for his reaction. Sean’s words make it sound like he’s blaming the victim. Charmaine’s teens and early twenties were almost as rocky as Ty’s, and her brother has been known to criticize her choices in the past. But he’s also fiercely protective of her and Lo. And Ty is right—Charmaine is a great mother. Lo’s birth has set her on the straight and narrow.
Sean raises his hands for calm. “I didn’t mean gangbangers. Any woman could be caught up in an abusive relationship.” Sean doesn’t need to glance at Donna for all of us to know what he means.
When Ty answers, his voice is calmer. “I don’t think Charmaine is seeing anyone right now. She hangs with me and Grams and her girlfriends. That’s all.”
Sean accepts this. Then he takes a deep breath and pushes into even more dangerous terrain. “Your father. Any chance he has enemies who’d hurt Charmaine to pressure him?”
Ty’s eyes widen like the hero of a horror movie who’s just encountered the monster. “Oh, no.” He pounds his fist on the table. “Damn!”
Sean makes a “pipe-down” movement with his hands. “Now, we can’t be sure that’s what happened. But it couldn’t hurt to check it out. Do you have your father’s contact information?”
Ty’s eyes narrow. “I’ll handle this.”
“No!” Sean and I chorus in unison.
I cross the room to sit beside him. “Ty, please—don’t overreact. Sean is simply tossing out theories. Your father may have had nothing to do with this. Let Sean go and talk to him just to rule him out.”
Ty’s breathing is
ragged. He stares at the floor between his snazzy “go to art auction” shoes. He’s come so far. I don’t want some wild burst of emotion to take him down.
“He’s been hangin’ around Charmaine.” Ty speaks in a low voice, simmering with a special anger that only his father can summon. “Givin’ her money. ‘Here’s twenty—buy Lo new shoes, here’s fifty—buy him a winter coat’.”
“That’s what grandparents do, Ty. That’s not suspicious.” I’m trying to be reassuring—Ty’s father has been out of prison for a year now and hasn’t gotten into any trouble. Maybe the wild, reckless man of Ty’s childhood has mellowed with age.
But my comment backfires.
Ty leaps up, eyes blazing. “It is when you don’t have a job! Where he gettin’ that cash?”
“Charmaine told me he was working,” I protest weakly.
“In a candy store. What kinda job is that?” Ty paces around the room. “I’m goin’ to his place and find out what he’s really into.”
“I’ll go with you.” The words pop spontaneously from my mouth. If I’m there, Ty can’t do anything stupid.
Sean glares at me. “You are not going anywhere. I’ll go with Ty.”
Ty shakes his head. “My father won’t tell you anything. He knows you’re married to my boss.” He flexes his fingers. “I know how to get him to talk.”
That’s what worries me. And now Sean bristles. “I know how to question—”
I step between them. “How about if we all go. Ty can do the talking. We can watch from the car, just in case there’s...trouble.”
We stand in silence for a long moment.
Then the two most stubborn men I know agree.
“I’ll go with Sean,” Ty says. “You stay out of it, Audge.”
Chapter 12
DAY TWO OF THE MCMURTRY sale passes uneventfully.
The police are gone, the broken dresser swept away. You’d never know someone was nearly killed out front yesterday.
Donna and I are managing well enough on our own despite being emotionally and physically exhausted by the hit-and-run. All the most serious shoppers came yesterday, so today we’re dealing with the bargainers. Ty has promised to return in time for the final clean-up, but right now he and Lo are visiting Charmaine in the hospital. She’s still sore all over but will probably be released tomorrow morning.
Rock Bottom Treasure (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 7) Page 9