Garage Sale Diamonds (Garage Sale Mystery)

by Suzi Weinert

  Ahmed told him. “My name means nothing to you nor will it to Homeland Security, but my knowledge has crucial value for them. In your newspaper, I read that county and federal governments share information in emergency situations. You are county and Homeland Security is federal but you can contact them to talk to me. This is correct? They must talk to me tonight to stop this horror from happening only days away. It is, as you say, Flash Red.”

  Officer Eatmon looked confused a moment then brightened. “You mean Code Red?”

  “That is it, Code Red.” Ahmed looked relieved. “You understand, then.”

  Eatmon searched the man’s face. No question that he believed what he said, but that didn’t make it true. “Excuse me a minute.” The officer left, closing the door behind him. In the next room he picked up a phone, consulted his Rolodex and dialed a number. “Hello, is this Steve Wolf?... Ken Eatmon here, Steve. How do you like working over at the new spook building?... Yeah, pretty much the same here at the station since you left, but here’s something that might interest you. I got a guy here says he knows all about a terrorist attack in a few days. He looks scared enough and says he’s dead if the terrorists find him. He asked to talk to the highest-ranking person at the station, which happens to be me right now. I could have called the official Homeland number on our list but thought I’d run it past you first…. No, he looks Middle-Eastern but clean-shaven, regular haircut, good English but foreign accent…. I’d say thirty to thirty-five but I can ask his age if you want…. Yeah, he’s a hundred percent believable or I wouldn’t call…. No, he says it’s urgent. Code Red, he says…. Do I bring him there or you come here?...You want the conference room? Okay, see you in ten.”

  Officer Eatmon returned to Ahmed. “They’re sending some people from Homeland Security in ten minutes. You want coffee, a soda or water while you’re waiting? Water? Okay, we’ll wait for them in a bigger room. Follow me.”

  105

  Wednesday, 2:13 PM

  Steve Wolf arrived with three associates. Introductions over, he asked, “May I call you Ahmed?”

  He nodded.

  “How can we help you?”

  “I wish to trade detailed information about terrorist attacks coming very soon in northern Virginia and elsewhere in exchange for safety in your witness protection program—safety for me and my fiancé, an American in McLean.”

  “The witness protection program?”

  “My fiancé and I wish to start a new life as Americans somewhere in the United States.”

  “But you said she is an American.”

  Ahmed smiled. “You are correct. I should have said I wish to start a new life as an American with my American fiancé somewhere in the United States. Can you provide this for the two of us?”

  Steve and the men with him exchanged looks. Now that he’d delivered himself to their control, they each mentally reviewed their options: arrest him, interrogate him, imprison him; maybe even turn him, creating a mole to feed vital information until his own people discovered his duplicity and killed him. Meantime, they’d use a different strategy.

  “Let’s say we agree to this. How do we know your information is true?”

  “You have already arrested seven of my men, two at a bank, two at a McLean woman’s house and three in a field with a boy. If you accept my plan, you will soon arrest more whose names and locations I provide, thus wiping out my entire cell. In the process, you prevent a terrible calamity.”

  “How many more are there?”

  “Eleven besides me in this area; more elsewhere.”

  “And if we don’t agree?”

  “My lawyers will hand-deliver my letter to a certain famous reporter at The Washington Post. It says I am going to warn Homeland Security about the disaster. If I do not contact him within thirty-six hours, my lawyer delivers the letter. The attack you don’t know about will take place in your back yard, showing the public your organization’s incompetence. If you agree to my trade, your signed document assuring me witness protection will stay in his vault until I contact him in one month that my new life is in position. I will contact him each month thereafter to ensure you don’t change your mind.”

  “And you need this protection because…”

  “The Great Leader will post a fatwa for my life the moment he learns I meet you today. Even without his direction, my own cellmates would turn on me like jackals. In my country, what I do now is unthinkable.”

  “This is a serious, life-altering change for you. How did you decide to break from them?”

  “My fiancé showed me that murdering defenseless people doesn’t glorify God; it shames him.”

  “And how did you decide to come to us?”

  “Because my wife-to-be and I believe my god wants us to live long, peaceful, productive lives. We want children and a safe life for them. That future is impossible without the trade I propose.”

  “You want to defect?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you told anyone else your plan?”

  “No, we wanted to avoid danger for her family when we’re gone. The Great Leader will learn what happened but not how. With no one left to tell, he won’t know who to punish.”

  Steve stood up. “Will you excuse us for a moment?” Ahmed nodded.

  When they returned, Steve faced Ahmed and nodded. “We like what you’ve told us. We want to know more. Let’s talk further at our building.”

  Ahmed lifted a warning hand. “You must know more before we go. If I fail to appear somewhere in two hours, the others will know something is wrong. If I fail to appear at all, they will consult the Great Leader, who could accelerate or alter our current plans. I guarantee my information only if I continue to lead my cell. Timing is critical. You must hide my defection with an accident in which I appear to die. This must happen tomorrow, on your Thanksgiving Day. Can you do this? If not, we have no more reason to talk. I have been trained to withstand brutal interrogation.”

  Steve and the others looked uncomfortable. Reading their faces, Ahmed added, “Look, I came to cooperate. I bring you a well-designed plan, in which you stop multi-terrorist acts, arrest the men involved and fake my death to avoid the Great Leader’s reprisals. I hand you this ready-made plan. You need only to say yes.”

  “Yes,” Steve said suddenly. As they prepared to leave, he turned to Ahmed. “Just out of curiosity, how did you come up with the ideas of faking your death and stashing documents with a lawyer for insurance?”

  Ahmed smiled. “I saw it on American TV.”

  106

  Wednesday, 4:53 PM

  Ahmed pulled up to the warehouse, found Abdul and returned his keys. “Thank you. Are all the weapons on the list accounted for?” he nodded. “Then today’s work is finished. Well done.”

  Anna walked up to Ahmed, extending her hand. “Good to do business with you. Until next time.”

  As she left, all male eyes followed her well-formed body as she clicked across the warehouse on her stiletto heels, climbed into her sports car and zoomed away.

  Abdul and Ahmed locked the warehouse and returned to the motel. They’d kept their relationship at a business level, so Abdul felt surprise when Ahmed asked, “Would you like to say goodbye to your family tonight?”

  “I’ll do that tomorrow.”

  “Then I will use your car to bring in the meals tonight and afterward for a brief errand.”

  Feeling trapped into this, Abdul didn’t respond. They drove to the motel in silence.

  On the drive into Vienna to buy the eleven dinners, Ahmed phoned Khadija. ”May I join your family for dinner tonight? I have news.” Breathless, she agreed.

  After delivering meals to the motel, Ahmed drove to the house. Zayneb greeted him warmly.

  As they ate, Safia asked, “Do you know when my Baba comes back from his trip?”

  “No, I don’t.” Instead he asked, “Do you have holiday vacation now?” The child nodded.

  “And you, Khadija?” They smiled at their secret: h
er work vacation wouldn’t matter, for tomorrow they’d be on the way to their future.

  “Yes, vacation for me also,” she said.

  As Heba replenished the vegetables, Ahmed said to her, “This food is very good.” Again, she gave a brief nod and flicker of a smile as she modestly averted her face. What was it about this woman that puzzled him? If he could look squarely into her face…but he saw no polite way to do so. Distracted with this thought as Khadija passed him the sauce, he let the bowl slip from his hand and the contents splashed across the front of his shirt. He pushed back his chair, gathered up what he could in his napkin and blotted the rest with napkins handed him by the others. On her feet, Khadija said, “Come into the kitchen. Take off your shirt so we can wash out the spot in the sink and put it in the dryer. You’ll have it back like new very soon.” He followed her.

  Had they been alone in the kitchen, they might have embraced, but Heba stood at the sink. One look at Ahmed’s shirt and she understood the problem, took the shirt he handed her and began to wash the stain. As she did, the other two stepped across the kitchen, where Ahmed whispered to Khadija, “We’re all set for tomorrow evening at six. Drive your car to the community center near the library in McLean. Bring only two suitcases and…” His words cut short by a gasp behind him.

  He and Khadija spun around to see what had happened. Heba stood in shock, her eyes wide, her mouth forming an “O,” her finger pointing at Ahmed. They hurried over to her.

  “What is it, Heba?” Khadija asked with concern.

  “You…” Heba spoke the first word any of them had ever heard her say; indeed, it was the first word anyone had heard her speak since her cousins sold their eight-year-old relative.

  Khadija and Ahmed exchanged startled looks.

  Heba pointed to herself and said, “Amina. I…am…Amina.”

  Ahmed frowned in confusion. He stepped closer, looking straight into Heba’s face. Green eyes stared back at him.

  “Amina?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Can this be true? It is you, my sister?”

  They clutched each other like the two children they’d been, twins lost to each other all these years. Amina wept with happiness while Ahmed swiped away his own tears of relief.

  Hearing the commotion, Zayneb and Safia hurried to the kitchen.

  Oblivious to the others in the room, Ahmed spoke only to Amina. “But how did you know?”

  “The red mark on your shoulder, the one our Baba said Allah drew to show your importance to him. I could never forget it because I longed for one also to show my importance to Allah. I added this to some things I overheard and…I just knew.”

  Zayneb took Amina’s hands in hers. “You can speak. How is this possible?”

  “When Ahmed arrived a week ago the voice sounds began to return. I practiced saying words in my room and…now I can speak again.” Her face beamed.

  “It’s a miracle,” Zayneb said to Khadija.

  “Only one of many miracles today,” Khadija replied, her eyes sparkling.

  DAY SEVEN

  Thursday

  107

  Thursday, 6:01 AM

  Jennifer pressed the clock alarm “off” button, jumped from bed and hurried downstairs in her pajamas. She started the coffee maker, assembled stuffing ingredients and pulled out the two big turkeys. They must be in the ovens by seven to roast in time for the meal.

  Jason sauntered in a few minutes later to unwrap and rinse the turkeys before settling them into roasting pans to await stuffing. “How did you sleep, Hon?”

  “Very well. I was really tired last night. How’s your concussion this morning?”

  “Completely normal.”

  “You’re sure?” She looked at him with concern. He nodded. “That’s wonderful news because we have lots to do today.”

  “Just give me commands and I’ll be your devoted servant. That’s DS for short.”

  She laughed. “How about bringing in the morning paper then, DS?”

  When he returned, they slid the stuffed turkeys into heated ovens at 6:59. “Right on schedule,” Jason said; “steady as she goes.”

  Jennifer turned suddenly, seeing him with new eyes. That phrase seemed a perfect metaphor: his level-headedness kept the ocean-liner-of-their-lives on course, no matter the storm. He’d become an accomplished cruise-ship captain, inventing hands-on how to foil what came along during their forty-one years together. Moreover, his balanced approach to threatening waves allowed her latitude for more whimsical pursuits. He even gripped the wheel bravely when rogue waves smashed them broadside, like Ruger Yates a year ago, and now, this diamond fiasco.

  She crossed the room, put her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. “I love you very much,” she whispered.

  “Whatever brought that on, have some more.” He winked and squeezed her hand.

  “Jay, an idea came to me in the night.”

  “Geez, here we go again. Remember I’m in recovery, just home from the hospital. Be gentle.”

  “Not an idea so much as an intuition,” she added.

  He hung his head as if waiting for the next blow. “I’m afraid to ask,” he mumbled to himself, then raised his head and smiled. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “I don’t think our family should mention the diamonds to our guests at today’s party. I can’t give you a logical explanation and I know it’s on all our minds, but it’s a strong feeling. If you agree, should we tell them so we’re all on the same page before company comes?”

  “I see no reason but don’t object. If it makes you more comfortable, that’s what we’ll do. By the way, when do the guests arrive?”

  “I told them 12:30 to get acquainted before the meal at one o’clock. Of course, the kids and Grands will drift in throughout the morning. You shouldn’t exert too much the next few days, so when some of those strong, young men arrive, ask them to help you bring in the tables and chairs.”

  Becca shuffled into the kitchen. “Did I hear the phrase ‘strong, young men’? I’m a girl in my prime tuned for compatibles.”

  “Morning, Becca. I meant to ask you: How were the Donnegan kids when you took over the dinner we sent last night?” Jennifer asked.

  “Sad but pragmatic. Besides planning the funeral, they met with their lawyer yesterday about the estate and need to decide what to do with the house.”

  “Did you invite them to our Thanksgiving?”

  “Yes, but they said no. Understandably, they’re not feeling too thankful…and not up to dealing with a happy crowd.”

  Hannah strolled into the kitchen and they heard the rhythmic thump of crutches descending the stairs behind her. “Hello all,” she said. “Adam had a bad night. Guess the painkillers wore off. We’ll grab a quick breakfast, then dash over to Sally’s so I can get the bedroom settled before we move in there tonight. Adam can rest there while I return to help out here. Then I’ll get him about noon and we’ll return in time for the party.”

  Adam crutched in, settled onto a chair, rested his bandaged arm on the table and greeted them. “Sorry I wasn’t much help yesterday with the furniture, but luckily the seller loaded it on his end and Greg, er, Dad was at my mother’s house when we arrived, so my two dads made it happen.”

  Jason sighed. “Took two trips but it all fit into the van. Teamwork triumphs again.”

  “A real craigslist bargain,” Hannah added. “Two dressers, two night tables and a king-size bed with like-new mattress and springs, all for $400.”

  Jennifer put out breakfast choices buffet-style. They helped themselves.

  “I’ll be back in about an hour to help out here. Our sheets from last night are in the washer. Transfer them to the dryer, Mom, and I’ll make the bed when I return…to get it ready for new guests tonight,” Hannah called over her shoulder as she and Adam left.

  “Where do we start, Mom?” Becca asked.

  “The dining room table for twelve is already in position. We’ll decorate it first as a model for the other three.” They piled t
he tablecloths, napkins, centerpieces and utensils for the other three tables on a rocker in the sunroom. “We’ll put a buffet line of food across these two credenzas with two stacks of fifteen plates each at one end; then the wine bar goes there and desserts over here. Each place at the table needs a water and wine glass except the children get tumblers instead of goblets. Each spot needs a place card to mix guests and family. I’ll write names on the cards and you can decide who’s compatible. If I’m distracted later this morning when someone else offers to help, you can show them the ropes.”

  “Mom, its 8:30 and you’re still wearing your pajamas.”

  Jennifer laughed. “Just hope I’m not still wearing them when the company arrives.”

  108

  Thursday, 12:29 PM

  Jennifer answered the door to a slew of arriving guests. “Hello, Sally and Greg. Welcome. Come right in. Celeste will put your coats in the study. Tina MacKenzie, it’s so long since we’ve seen you. Becca,” Jennifer called, “Tina’s here. Veronika, thanks for sharing this holiday meal with us. We hope our boisterous family doesn’t overwhelm you. Celeste, please take her coat.”

  Becca hurried to the foyer to greet her friend and introduce her to Nathan.

  Several asked Jennifer, “Did you see the police cruiser? Do you know why it’s parked in the cul-de-sac?”

  “Later. I’ll explain after everyone’s here.”

  Fred circulated among the guests offering wine and sodas while Jason and adult family members mingled and chatted. Nearby, Grands ran about squealing with excitement as they played.

  In the kitchen, Jennifer coordinated last-minute details, asking her girls and Celeste to help put food on the buffet. “Tina, will you be Salad Girl?” From previous meals here, Tina knew Salad Girl combined and tossed the ingredients. Celeste spooned stuffing from the turkeys into serving dishes and Jason carved the birds with an electric knife.

  With all ready at one o’clock, Jennifer handed the dinner bell to the nearest Grand, who rang it throughout the main floor and in the back yard. Guests moved toward the tables, found their places and passed through the buffet line. Burdened with his cast, Adam let Hannah prepare his plate while parents selected acceptable morsels for finicky small children.