A Good Day to Buy

by Sherry Harris

  “Yes,” Ruth said. “But I’m guessing it’s not why you came.”

  “Or why they told us not to talk to you,” Frank added. “You look pretty harmless considering the stern warning.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Can you tell me what happened to you that night?”

  Frank leaned forward. “I was out on patrol like any other night and spotted a car over by the construction site.”

  “What kind of car?” I asked.

  “A blue Prius.”

  I nodded. “It’s what my brother was driving.”

  “I got out to see if anyone was in it, and next thing I remember was waking up hog-tied in the trunk of my very own patrol car.” He shook his head with disgust. “Can’t believe they got the jump on me.”

  I was disappointed. I’d hoped he’d seen or heard something that might tell me where Luke was. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “You don’t want to know the rest?”

  I perked back up. “There’s more?”

  “Sure is. I could have told you that much at the door.”

  “Doesn’t seem like the police would care if you heard that,” Ruth added.

  “What else happened?” I asked.

  Frank leaned forward. Carol and Brad might have thought Frank was traumatized by the whole experience, but to me, he seemed energized.

  “I heard a couple of men talking about someone named Ethan. How things hadn’t gone well with him. ’Course, at the time, it didn’t mean a thing to me. Until I heard later in the day about Ethan being killed over on the base.”

  “Was it only two men talking?”

  Frank sat back and was silent for a moment. “I believe so.”

  “Did they say anything else?”

  “Something about Ethan had been cooperating until a problem with a cart. But they’d figured out a way to deal with that.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” I said. I tried to think if I’d ever seen Ethan pushing a cart around Ellington, but usually he only carried a paper bag. Maybe he’d hidden something in some cart that would lead to whoever was behind all of this.

  “Well, everything was kind of muffled with me being in the trunk.”

  Then it hit me. “Could they have said Bart instead of cart?”

  “It’s possible. And it might make more sense of what I heard next.”

  “Which was?”

  “As soon as they got their hands on the cart, their problems would be over.”

  Chapter 23

  I sat back, stunned. This was what CJ and Brad hadn’t wanted me to find out.

  “Drink some of your tea, dear. It will help with whatever ails you,” Ruth said.

  I took a sip and then another. It didn’t mean whoever had Luke had killed him. I had to hold on to the belief these people weren’t killers. They’d taken me home more or less unharmed. I had to hold it together because I had more questions.

  “You know Brad Carson fairly well?” I asked.

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “It seems like he’s been under a lot of stress. His wife is one of my best friends, and I’ve been worried about them.”

  “Brad reminds me of me when I first got out of the service and worked as a civilian.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “You think you have to prove yourself and quickly. A man like Brad finds it hard to say no to any project. I’ve told him to slow down or he’d burn out faster than a dud firecracker.”

  I hoped he was right. That Brad was just overworking and there wasn’t something more sinister going on. “Did you know Velma and Verne Spencer?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Ruth said. “Well, I knew Velma. We were in the garden club together.”

  “I heard her behavior changed about six months ago.”

  Ruth nodded. “It’s true.”

  Sometimes talking to New Englanders was like pulling ticks off a dog, slow and painful. “Do you have any idea why? Her son said he noticed it too.”

  “Piffle,” Ruth said. “He’s the cause of it.”

  I scooted to the edge of my chair. “Really? How so?”

  “I’m not sure. Velma’s a very private woman. One day, we were out planting pansies on the town common. She mentioned Tim being up to his old tricks and she wasn’t sure moving close to him was the best idea.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “When I asked her, she clammed up.”

  I stood. “Thank you for your time and the tea.”

  Ruth and Frank stood too. They glanced at each other, then focused on me.

  “Is there any chance you could come with us to our breakfast club some Wednesday morning?”

  I looked at them.

  “They are going to be jealous when they heard we met you,” Frank said.

  “They are?” I asked.

  “Oh, and especially when we tell them we might have helped the town hero solve the latest Ellington mystery.”

  I wanted to smack my head. “I’ll try.”

  * * *

  As I left Ruth and Frank, Laura sent me a text asking me to meet her for lunch at the bowling alley on base. I did my usual getting-onto-base rigmarole, which included stopping at the visitors’ center; showing my driver’s license, registration, proof of insurance; and getting a pass to display on my dashboard. The two security airmen working the desk were too busy to chat, but both waved to me.

  I drove sedately down Travis, the main thoroughfare, maintaining a precise twenty-five miles per hour to avoid getting pulled over. Base cops were sticklers about speeding. Lots of people were using their lunch breaks to stroll on this lovely spring day. Birds chirped, clouds were few, and the scent of warming earth filled the air. Spring in Massachusetts was hard to beat.

  Laura was standing at the counter ordering when I walked into the restaurant at the bowling alley. She was slender and athletic. Her usual close-cropped dark hair had grown out a little. Laura was often mistaken for Halle Berry, which she pooh-poohed, but she did resemble her. We both ordered greasy burgers and fries, which were always better than the anemic salads they offered. We settled at a rickety metal table for two by a window overlooking the parking lot. The sounds of pins crashing, bowling balls hitting wood, and people laughing provided background noise as we ate.

  “We got our orders,” Laura said.

  “Oh no.” Getting orders meant Laura’s husband had a new assignment and they would be moving. “Where? When? I don’t want you to go.”

  “The report date is fifteen July. Joint Base Lewis-McChord near Tacoma, Washington.”

  “At least it’s not the Pentagon.” Lots of military members wanted to avoid what they called the Puzzle Palace. As a colonel or lieutenant colonel on a base, they might be in charge of a huge program and have lots of responsibility—like Laura’s husband, as the wing commander of Fitch. An assignment at the Pentagon meant long hours, long commutes so the family was in a good neighborhood with good schools, and a job that could end up being kowtowing to a three-star general’s whims.

  “We’re both grateful for that, but our families are all on the East Coast.”

  “How are the boys taking it?” Middle school and high school moves were hardest for kids.

  “As soon as they found out there were good hockey teams out there, they were fine. Well, at least okay. They’re used to moving and knew it was going to happen.”

  I was grateful I didn’t have someone telling me when and where to move anymore. Ellington felt like home now, and thinking of leaving it behind along with all my friends here was awful. I tried not to look smug. “I have a friend in Seattle. Her husband was Air Force too.”

  “Who is it? Maybe we’ve crossed paths.”

  “Emily Diamond. She’s a gemologist.”

  “I don’t think I know her.”

  “I’ll send you each other’s email addresses. At least you’ll know someone in the area then.” I would miss Laura. She was always ready for an adventure and always knew what was going on.
“I hate being the one left behind.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s always hard to leave, but then you get caught up in the packing, moving, driving across country, and unpacking and it keeps you busy. I’ll miss you, and I’d love Emily’s contact information.”

  We chatted about the base thrift shop and how it had thrived under Laura’s leadership. It wasn’t an official duty of the wife of the wing commander, but it was expected.

  “Have you heard who the new wing commander is?”

  “Not officially.” Laura stopped and stared out the window at a teenage boy walking across the parking lot to the Shoppette.

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  “Phil Crawford.”

  I looked out at Phil. He had shaggy blond hair and a husky build. “The name’s familiar.”

  “He got kicked off base last year for dealing drugs.”

  “Ah, that kid.” I’d heard some girls talking about him last year in one of my not-so-finest moments. “Why’s he back on base?” I watched him walk into the Shoppette.

  “He got kicked off for a year. His family is still stationed here so he’s back.”

  “He lived with his aunt in Bedford, right?”

  “Yes. And he should be in school. Excuse me.” Laura threw down her napkin and left.

  I watched her hustle across the parking lot and enter the Shoppette. I finished my fries while she was gone.

  She came back a few minutes later. “He said he’s sick and he was getting some Sprite.” Laura rolled her eyes. “He didn’t look sick or sound sick.”

  “James told me there’d been some problems with kids getting in trouble by the old thrift shop. Is Phil part of it?”

  “I’m not sure. As far as I know, everyone’s been trying to keep a close eye on him. No one wants those kind of problems on base.”

  Phil came back out of the Shoppette with a plastic bag in his hand and headed toward the base housing area. He had the kind of swagger girls loved. It made me think of Lindsay, my helper at the garage sales. I tried to think if she’d mentioned any boys lately and hoped she was staying far away from him.

  “Any news on your brother?” Laura asked. “I heard he might be involved in Ethan’s death.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe it. But I haven’t heard from him and I’m worried.” I filled Laura in on what had happened the other night.

  “And you woke up in your bedroom.” Laura shivered. “I’m not sure which is scarier. But I’m really sorry Luke is missing.” We both ate a few bites of our burgers. “So aren’t you going to ask me about the investigation into Ethan’s death?” Laura asked.

  “I wasn’t, actually.” Okay, I was hoping Laura would bring it up. “But if you know something, I wouldn’t mind hearing it.” After my incident with James, I didn’t want to put any of my other friends in an awkward position.

  “There’s a rumor Ethan was a heroin addict.”

  “Did you hear it through the wives’ network?” I asked.

  Laura shook her head. “No. This time it was the two teenage boys’ network.”

  “They might be wrong. Ethan had type-one diabetes. There were syringes and insulin with his things.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time the boys were wrong.”

  “Have you talked to Carol or Brad lately?”

  “No. Why?” Laura leaned forward.

  “He’s seemed really stressed lately. It worries me.”

  “Have you heard anything?”

  I balled up my napkin. “Just that his job is stressful and he’s taking on too many other things.”

  Laura studied me. “You’ve got a lot going on. Maybe you’re so used to looking deeply at something that you can’t accept. In this instance, it is what it is. There’s nothing else.”

  “You’re right. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.” A little stress seeped out of me. I’d been worried about so many things lately. I was borrowing trouble, as my grandma used to say.

  “Do you have time to stop by the thrift shop?”

  I glanced at my phone. “No. I have to go over to Gennie ‘The Jawbreaker’s’ house. We have a big sale on Saturday.” Ugh. Another workout.

  “What? You moaned. Isn’t it going well?”

  “The sale is going fine. Gennie decided she needed to teach me to fight. I have more bruises and sore spots than I can count.”

  Laura finished her burger. “Ha. Good luck.”

  “I’ll need it.”

  “Can you still help out on Friday night?” Laura asked.

  “I live to spend my Friday nights at the thrift shop. That’s how exciting my life is.” After a quick hug I headed over to Gennie’s house.

  Chapter 24

  There was a note on Gennie’s door saying she was in Dorchester working with her contractor on the building she was renovating. Woo-hoo! That was good luck, and tomorrow my friend the antique dealer was coming over to appraise some items, which meant no workout then either. My body might survive this week after all. Fortunately, I had a key to Gennie’s house. I spent two hours at Gennie’s house and then drove over to the Spencers’.

  I called CJ as I headed over but only got his voice mail. I wanted someone to know where I was because being alone at the Spencers’ still gave me the chills. He wouldn’t be too happy about it, but it was work and I needed it.

  When we’d first decided to get back together, I’d told CJ I wanted to take things slow. I think I wanted to be wooed again and do some wooing myself. But maybe once you’d been married for almost twenty years, it was impossible. We’d soon fallen into a routine of CJ spending most nights in my apartment. I liked it, usually, but I think a bit more wooing—cards, flowers, an unexpected gift or date—would have been good for both of us.

  * * *

  It was after four when I stood in the Spencers’ kitchen with Tim.

  “I can’t stay long. It seems like Mom’s coming around.” He looked down at the old linoleum floor. “Of course, that last time, I thought that she had a seizure.”

  “Please don’t feel like you have to stay. I’m used to working alone.”

  “I wanted to ask you about someone.”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s just, he’s a friend of yours.”

  I was mystified. “Ask away.”

  “Brad Carson. How well do you know him?”

  “Really well. I’ve known him for almost twenty years. Why?”

  “It’s just . . . he’s been hanging around my mom’s room a lot. It just seems odd to me.”

  It seemed odd to me too.

  “And he was there both days that she had seizures.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Did he think Brad had something to do with Mrs. Spencer’s seizures or what had happened at their house? That was impossible.

  “He said he was at the garage sale the day my dad died, and then he keeps showing up at the hospital.”

  “I know he was at the garage sale and I also talked to him in your mom’s room the other day.” I wasn’t sure what Tim was insinuating. But it bothered me that I was concered about Brad’s behavior too.

  “Have you reported this to anyone?” I asked.

  “No. I mean, it’s probably just a coincidence. I know he works at the VA. He probably knew my parents. And maybe he’s just one of those guys that goes above and beyond his normal duties.”

  “He told me that’s where he knew them from.” But Brad didn’t work with patients so I wondered again about their connection. I worked up a smile. “You’re right. It must be a coincidence. Brad wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Thanks. That makes me feel better. I’ll head back to the hospital.” He stopped at the door. “And thanks for all of your support.”

  After Tim left I went back to work and tried to ignore all the little thoughts pricking at my brain about Brad and his recent behavior. I found two sets of china pushed back on a top shelf of a cupboard, one Lenox and one Noritake. The Noritake looked like a pattern from
the early seventies and would be hard even to give away. The Lenox was an older pattern, but even it would be difficult to sell at a fair value. So many baby boomers were downsizing, there was a glut of china and silver available, which meant people were only getting pennies on the dollar. And the sites that bought china for replacements didn’t pay any better. To make matters worse, millennials didn’t seem interested in china.

  I hadn’t seen either of these sets when I’d gone through the house with the Spencers. Mrs. Spencer must have shoved other, more useless things in front of the china to hide them. Both might have more sentimental meaning to Mrs. Spencer than I was aware of. I put the Lenox back in the cupboard and made a note to ask Tim about the Noritake. For now, my best bet was to get rid of things I knew had no value. It wasn’t really my job, but I felt like Tim needed the help. Thinking about Tim made me wonder about Ruth mentioning that he’d been in some kind of trouble. I’d have to do some research later.

  When CJ called at five, I was knee deep in a pile of plastic grocery bags I’d found stuffed under the sink.

  “What’s for dinner?” he asked.

  This proved my whole point about the wooing. He now expected me to feed him, even though I’d had a long day of work too and I had a couple hours still ahead of me. I stuffed some of the plastic bags into another one. What was with these things? They multiplied like those Tribbles in a Star Trek episode. You have a couple because you might need them, then boom, they’re everywhere.

  “Sarah? Are you there?”

  “Yes.” I was chanting, If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all, to myself.

  “Soooo,” he said.

  “We can either stay in and argue or go out.” It was my way of giving him a chance to make the right decision.

  “I was kidding. I planned to take you out.”

  I wasn’t sure he had been, but maybe we could hash through some of what was bothering me. “Great.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  I looked down at my outfit, jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “How about DiNapoli’s?”