Garage Sale Diamonds (Garage Sale Mystery)

by Suzi Weinert

  “Perhaps because I miss my family ties?” Anna answered.

  “Perhaps…” Veronika’s voice sounded dubious.

  “The…real estate business…has been very good to me recently,” Anna volunteered, thinking of the nice bonus due soon for arranging the Islamic connection for her Russian arms-dealing friend. “So good that I brought you a special present.” She placed a box in her sister’s hands.

  Veronika eyed her warily. Not typical for Anna to appear considerate, let alone generous. She knew her sister still resented their father willing his estate to his first child, property she knew Anna coveted for herself.

  Veronika opened the box. Inside lay a small, silver ornately-inscribed pistol. Beneath the gun she found a smaller box of bullets. Veronika looked at Anna, eyebrows raised in a question.

  “It’s an antique,” Anna said, stopping herself from adding just like you.

  “Are you concerned for my safety?”

  “Well, you’re isolated out here on the estate and your staff dwindled to nothing in recent years. When I found this unique piece of history, I thought you might value a treasure that’s also practical.”

  “History?”

  “Yes, the dealer says it belonged to Catherine the Great.”

  “Hmmm. She had an intriguing career, so it must have served her well.”

  Anna’s polite laugh had a nervous edge. “You have plenty of room here on the estate for target practice, so become proficient if you like.”

  “Good advice and thank you, Anna, for the present. Will you stay long this time?”

  “No, in fact I have a very busy day ahead—a big project to oversee before five o’clock. I’ll leave in a few minutes, but I had to pick up a few things here at the house. I can’t spend Thanksgiving with you because I’ll be out of town on Thursday.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I have an invitation to join friends tomorrow.”

  “Good. Then I’ll say goodbye for now. Enjoy your gift.”

  As she walked away, the click of her high heels echoed in the hallway of the large house. Then a door closed, followed by silence.

  While she had no vision to confirm this, Veronika felt instinctively uncomfortable about her sister. She sensed the girl dabbled in something dangerous but exhilarating, certainly not real estate. Though she wasn’t close to this blood relative, she felt empathy for anyone living on the edge of peril—a high price to pay for whatever rewards the risky thrill brought.

  Staring at the pistol, Veronika mused. Was this gift to buy forgiveness for her behavior or had Anna a sinister reason for arming her sister? Did she plan a shoot-out with Veronika in which Anna alone would survive to sue for ownership of the estate she envied and desired? Veronika waited for insight but smelled no lilacs.

  But enough of Anna. Veronika picked up the pistol. It fit her hand perfectly. Lightweight and small, it could slip into a purse or a pocket. Perhaps Catherine the Great had tucked it into her bodice for quick access.

  Veronika aimed the gun. Hard to resist pulling the trigger. She hadn’t checked to see if bullets were inside. She didn’t know how to open it to find out. But before the day ended, she would.

  101

  Wednesday, 10:06 AM

  “Oh, Adam, what an experience? How do you feel?” Jennifer asked the next day, eyeing his cast and bandaged arm.

  “Glad to be alive, a fact I owe to my firefighter brothers and this hospital’s doctors. Want to sign my cast?”

  “You bet I do. You say they’re discharging you today?” Jennifer looked surprised.

  Hannah grinned. “Yes, apparently he was super lucky. They think he can heal at home as well as in the hospital, with a few doctor visits thrown in.”

  “You’ve heard the phrase, ‘it only hurts when I laugh?’ He pointed to his ribs. “Well, it’s true.”

  “Take it easy at home to heal faster. I’ll pick up Dad and we’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  Jennifer hurried to the Neuro ward, found Jason ready to go, received last minute instructions from the nurse and they were off.

  In the elevator she told her husband about the fire and who would ride home with them.

  Jason absorbed this news. “My God, it’s always something with this family.” He shook his head and changed the subject. “Let me know how I can help get ready for tomorrow’s event. You’ve turned this holiday into quite a party. Can we handle thirty people?”

  “Guess we’re going to find out.”

  She drove her car from the lot to the front door. The rest climbed in. “First stop Sally’s house?”

  “We have no bedroom furniture there,” Hannah admitted. “Could we stay with you tonight?”

  “Yes, but the other out-of-town kids come tomorrow night, so let’s try to locate some furniture for you today. Maybe from this morning’s Washington Post classified or craigslist? Or maybe you’d prefer shopping at furniture stores.”

  “I don’t think so,” Adam volunteered. “With the farmhouse gone, my plan to subdivide the property and build our house speeds up. While this leg heals, I won’t be on duty for awhile, so I’ll have time to plot that out even sooner. Since we don’t know how to furnish the new house yet, good used furniture makes sense now. Luckily, my laptop was in my car.”

  “If you have your keys, “Jason said, “why don’t we go by the farm now to get your cars? Hannah could drive one and I’ll bring the other. I think we’d all like to see the aftermath.”

  As they pulled up the long, overgrown driveway, Jennifer shivered, feeling an unpleasant déjà vu, because this part of the property looked exactly as it had the night she escaped Ruger Yates. But when they reached the gravel parking area at the top, her apprehension fell away.

  While the barn showed scorch marks from floaters, the house existed no longer, only remains of jagged, charred wood that once had been walls surrounded the water-logged burn debris. Here and there a glimpse inside the basement’s concrete shell showed where portions of damaged upper floor collapsed through.

  They stood in funereal silence, comparing what once had been to what it had become.

  Jason hugged Hannah, who sniffled, “We had such plans…”

  Adam put an arm around her, “…and we still do, Honey. This old house was always a temporary step. Fate just cheated a demolition company out of taking it down.”

  “Will you keep the basement footprint for your new house?” Jennifer asked.

  “Too early to make that decision,” Adam said, “but I doubt it. I think we want to put the past behind and start brand new.”

  Hannah hugged her husband. “Good idea.”

  The sound of tires on gravel drew their attention as a car sped up the driveway. A man got out.

  “Hello,” he said. “You taking a gawk at the fire scene, too? It’s my third time up here. We might even be on TV if the stations come to film while we’re here. A fire like this is news in McLean.”

  The others exchanged looks. Adam weighed the intrusion and its liability implications.

  “Did you know this is private property?” Adam asked.

  Hands on hips, the man shook his head. “Hell, nobody lives here. Place was abandoned before it burned to the ground. It’s a neighborhood spectacle now. Lots of curious people already came and will keep coming. It’s public domain now.”

  “Actually, it isn’t.” Adam explained. “I’m the owner and only people I invite are welcome on my land. The property is posted ‘No Trespassing’ so you’re actually here illegally.”

  Uncomfortable now, the man became defensive. “Unless you’re going to camp right here to wave them off, you better get used to the idea that you’re going to get a lot of rubber-neckers.”

  “I appreciate your letting me know about this.”

  “Yeah, well, if you’re the owner, were you here during the fire?”

  “Thanks for asking but that’s privileged information. Please tell all your friends this is still private property. They can come only if I invite them, but
I’m not inviting anybody now.”

  The man harrumphed. “Well, if you want to be rude about it…”

  “Not rude, sir, just explaining this is private property. Can you find your way back to the road?”

  Rebuffed, the man grudgingly strode to his car and, tires spewing gravel, drove away.

  “In the barn, do you have what I need to block the driveway?” Jason asked.

  “I think so.” Adam turned to Hannah and Jennifer. “Could you two transform a piece of wood into a sign saying ‘Private Property, No Trespassing’?”

  “You bet." Jennifer reached into her purse. "Here's a magic marker.”

  Half an hour later, a chain attached to metal posts stretched across the farm’s driveway entrance at the road. No one could mistake the message on the sign dangling from the chain’s links.

  102

  Wednesday, 9:31 AM

  As Jennifer served them lunch, Hannah asked, “Mom, now that I’m running my own household, I’d like to know how you plan a meal for thirty people.”

  She tented her fingers under her chin. “Let me see…I guess it takes seven steps. First, you need places for people to sit; second: table decorations; third: menu; fourth: buy food; fifth, prepare food; sixth: serve and last: clean-up.”

  “How about number eight?” Jason smiled. “Selecting, buying, uncorking and serving the wines?”

  “You’re right, Jay. By the way, I bought all the wines on your list. The cases are in the garage.”

  “So, what stage are you in now, Mom?” Becca wanted to know.

  “Well, three stages today: some food purchase, some food preparation and some decorating.”

  “How can we help?”

  “Why don’t I write a to-do list so you can choose what you want? One item will be a grocery run to pick up turkeys and last-minute perishables. Another is assembling tables and chairs, which involves some furniture rearranging before setting those tables. That plus a few make-ahead dishes and voila!...this day will evaporate before you know it.”

  After lunch when the others busied themselves with to-do’s, Jennifer said, “Jay, why don’t you lie down a few minutes? The nurse said you should rest and…well, I’d like to talk about something.”

  “Uh-oh, it’s another phrase that strikes fear in my heart. Can my concussion withstand this?” he joked, but with a nervous edge.

  “I hope so.” They went upstairs, where he relaxed on the bed and she sat beside him. “It’s about Tony. I know he’s dead, but his problem isn’t, and I don’t know what to do.” She repeated their neighbor’s startling ICU room confession. “And then Celeste found this hidden in Tony’s closet and showed it to me yesterday. We decided to get it out of his house so his children wouldn’t find it. Good thing we did.” She unveiled the bulletin board. They both stared, speechless.

  Finally Jason spoke. “There’s more to this than you know. Tony shot right at me on the hunting trip, not once but three times. Jen, he tried to kill me. If we hadn’t hit the deer on the way home, I would have had to turn him in. Who knows what he’d try next?”

  “Seriously? My God, Jay. His imagined relationship with me drove him to kill his wife to free him…and to kill you to free me.”

  Jason studied her. “Was it an imagined relationship?”

  She turned quickly, “You mean could he have mistaken my friendliness for something more?”

  To Jason’s questioning look she said testily, “Wait a minute, isn’t this called blaming the victim?”

  “Just trying to understand the situation.”

  “The situation to understand is Tony murdered Kirsten and tried to kill you, twice, once with the gun and then with the truck. What…what should we do with this information?”

  “I guess we tell Adam. He’s the detective.”

  They pondered this a few minutes. Finally, Jennifer shook her head. “I’m thinking about his children. They’re distraught at losing their parents. If they learn their father killed their mother and tried to kill a neighbor, won’t it destroy them, Jay?”

  “But we have proof.”

  “Do we? The only real evidence is this bulletin board. Nobody witnessed what he told me in the ICU. Kirsten’s cremation eliminates the pentobarbital evidence. He’s already dead, so the law can’t punish him any further.”

  “What are you saying, Jen?”

  “I’m saying maybe one option is to reveal nothing.”

  “What?”

  “Was Tony a Jekyll/Hyde person? By day, he was the good vet with an enthusiastic following, a nice neighbor, a good father and a well-liked contributor to his community. By night, he had an aberrant blind spot about an imagined, deluded love affair that didn’t exist.”

  “You’re really into this scenario, aren’t you?”

  Ignoring him, she continued. “If we tell nobody, his orphaned children have decent memories of their parents and the community mourns the loss of a fine vet, which he was. In a way, you might say justice has already been served since his crimes led to his death. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re totally insane. What’s worse, I can actually follow your reasoning, which means I’m insane too. So this would be our secret?”

  “If that’s what we decide. Any other ideas about it, Jay?” He shook his head. “Then shall we vote? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”

  “You use two hands and I use one?” he laughed.

  Jennifer joined in. “So are we conspirators furthering the greater good?”

  “How have I lived with you all these years and remained sane?” he wondered aloud. “It’s a good thing for you that I have a concussion and am not thinking clearly because I vote thumbs up with both hands, too. That means four thumbs for conspiracy.”

  She threw her arms around him and planted kisses on his smiling lips.

  He whispered in her ear. “I like the way you seal a bargain.”

  103

  Wednesday, 3:03 PM

  “Put the rifles over here,” Ahmed instructed as he supervised the Russians delivering weaponry at the warehouse. His phone rang, “Here, Abdul, take over please while I answer.”

  “Hello.”

  “Ahmed, it’s Khadija. I…I thought about our talk and…and I’d like to know more of your plan.”

  “I will come right over.” Assuming a business-like expression, he said to Abdul, “I must borrow your car again. Please oversee the remaining delivery. I will return very soon.”

  Abdul scowled but produced the keys. Ahmed drove directly to Khadija’s house.

  She met him at her front door. “Come, let’s sit in the study.”

  “You want to know more of my plan? Have you spoken of this with anybody else, dear one?” She shook her head. “I’ve thought it all out. I plan to begin the defection process this afternoon. If all goes well and if you chose to go with me, I would return for you tomorrow. I would call before I come to get you. For your own protection, I don’t think I should tell you more unless…unless you want to start this new life with me.” He looked inquiringly into her expressive hazel eyes. Her serious expression dampened his hope she would share his future. “Khadija? Have you made a decision?”

  She spoke with difficulty. “Yes, I have.”

  “What is your decision?”

  “I would like to come with you, Ahmed.”

  “Praise Allah, peace be upon His name,” he cried. “Oh thank you, beloved Khadija, for your brave and loving choice.” In a spontaneous move, he embraced her. But his mind swam with surprise as much as desire when she lifted her lips to gently brush his mouth.

  104

  Wednesday, 1:37 AM

  Ahmed parked at the McLean police station on Balls Hill Road. The fewer people who saw what he did now the better. He searched for prying eyes before going inside, for the Great Leader’s tentacles entwined everywhere. Might he have placed a sleeper in the Fairfax County Police force? Ahmed must stay alert. Every step involved terrible risk.

  Without ID papers or a driver
s license he knew he couldn’t drive into Homeland Security’s compound, though that was his destination. His entire future depended upon making the right choices now. He needed another way in.

  “Hello,” he said into the lobby phone indicated by the man behind the glass window. “I would like to speak to the highest ranking officer here today. This is urgent. Can you help me?”

  “Your name?” asked the uniform. Ahmed told him. “What’s the problem so I know how to direct your inquiry?”

  Ahmed cleared his throat, buying time to think of the answer. “It is a personal matter. The timing is urgent. I must talk now with the officer I mentioned.”

  “Just a minute,” the uniform said.

  Ahmed watched him speak into another phone. He knew the uniform noted his accent and Middle-Eastern features. He understood too well their reason to proceed with caution.

  The policeman in the window gestured impatiently as he spoke words unheard in the lobby. A moment later a policeman came through the door and said, “What can I do for you, sir?”

  This man was young, not an experienced, silver-haired veteran who’d heard it all. “This is a serious matter I cannot discuss in the lobby. Can we please talk in a private place?”

  The policeman shot a guarded look toward his associate behind the glass window. “There’s nobody here right now, so this is a private place, Sir.”

  Ahmed’s disappointment showed. “Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here. I thought you would help me.” He stood to leave.

  “I want to help you, but first I need to know your problem.”

  This seemed reasonable. Ahmed sat again. “I need to speak immediately with Homeland Security. I know details of a terrorist attack planned very soon. I risked my life to come here. If other operatives see me here, I am a dead man. Please get me out of this lobby fish bowl.”

  The policeman read a mix of determination and fear on Ahmed’s face. Probably a crank, but you never knew. The word “terrorist” meant he’d have to hear him out.

  “Come with me.” The policeman led the way through the door to an interrogation room, flipping on the light as they entered. “We can talk here. Have a seat.” They faced each other across a small table. “I am Officer Eatmon. What is your name?”