Next day, Celeste found a job waitressing and, on a bare-bones budget, began canvassing nearby garage sales, Goodwill and Salvation Army stores to assemble a passable wardrobe, a handful of simple belongings of her own and trinkets for Amanda. She mowed Amanda’s lawn, helped her clean house and cooked some meals to earn her keep, but she knew this was only a first step on her path somewhere else. Three weeks later, a restaurant co-worker drove her to the McLean area garage sales where she met Ralph.
“That statue ah took,” Celeste explained to Ralph, “it’s... it’s for Amanda, to thank her. Ah couldn’t afford to buy it.”
“Don’t worry,” Ralph soothed, “I understand perfectly.”
A week later, over Amanda’s warned, “Don’t forget, you can come back, dear, if things don’t work out,” Celeste moved in with Ralph and Fred.
Now she cooked and kept house for the two brothers at their Arlington place. Fred stared at her all the time, which seemed creepy, but Ralph assured her Fred was harmless.
Ralph found her pleasant to have around, liked her efforts to please him and enjoyed the pleasures they shared together. He found Celeste often naïve, given her youth and provincial mountain background, yet conveniently infatuated with him and eager to earn his attention. Watching her carefully, Ralph knew she’d be a natural in his business and an important addition to his team. It was time to begin her training.
CHAPTER 14
With breakfast over on Sunday morning two weeks later, Ralph and Celeste snuggled together on his living room couch, poring over the classified sections of the two major local newspapers.
“Fred’s at the grocery buying the stuff on your list.” Ralph looked at his watch. “When we finish going over the ads, are you coming with me to sales again today?”
“Oh, Ralphie, of course ah will.” She sipped her coffee. “You know, at first ah wondered why you even cared about these silly old sales at houses where people are movin’ away, because when they leave, their place is empty, nothin’ for you to take! But you taught me that when one rich fella moves out of that big house, another rich one moves right back in an’ now we have a little old map of that new fella’s house!”
“You’ve paid attention, Celeste! Anonymity is our goal.” Ralph smiled, proud to have added that big word to her vocabulary. “That’s the drawback of businesses with easy access into people’s houses, like carpet layers, window washers, house cleaners and locksmiths. If you work for them, they have your employee records for a quick trace if a house is heisted after you were there. We want to get our information invisibly, so we do careful homework.” He pointed to the stack of floor plans on the coffee table in front of them.
“But Ralphie, how’d you figure all this out? Ah mean, ah used to think all those tag sales were pretty much the same.”
“Forget what the sale’s called: garage, yard, moving, estate, tag! Only one thing matters to us: getting inside the house. Because that’s where we nab any small stuff we see and we memorize the layout for our sketch. If we can charm our way inside, we size-up the pay-off for a later heist. If we plan a return, we also pay attention outside: a dog, a fence, an alarm system, convenient windows for the break-in, an escape route and where Fred parks the car. Outdoor information can be just as important as indoor information.”
Celeste wiggled with anticipation. “Okay, what about estate sales?”
“They are perfect for us,” Ralph said. “You’re supposed to walk around inside the house since items are sold in place. They expect you to collect purchases as you go and take them to the cashier. But some estate sales are run by amateurs and some by pros, and there’s a world of difference.”
“Knowin’ what we know, you’d think evahbody would hire the pros.”
“Yeah, but they don’t. People think they’re smart to save money by doing themselves what looks like an easy job, but two things work against them: they don’t have experience and they’re vulnerable.”
“So not havin’ experience means not arrangin’ their stuff like a store, not knowin’ to price it right and not havin’ people to watch out for sticky fingers. Ah think ah got that part figured out, but what’s this… ‘velderible’?” she asked.
“Vulnerable,” Ralph corrected, “you know, distracted and easy to con. Hey, moving is tough! A thousand problems pull at their minds. Their emotions are shot. What’s it gonna be like where they’re going, are they taking the right stuff, are they selling the right stuff, how can they leave the house empty if everything doesn’t sell? Or maybe a parent died and they’re dividing up family possessions—what to keep, what to get rid of—yeah, it can be tough for them, but good for us.”
“Oh, Ralphie, you’re right about when someone in the family dies,”Celeste commiserated. “That’s just what happened when mah Granny Burkhart died. Mama like to thought she’d die herself, picking through Granny’s belongings and fighting her sisters for them. Ah don’t like my mama at all, but even ah felt sorry for her that day.”
Ralph nodded. “So these sellers are vulnerable and inexperienced, which plays straight into our hands… Yes, sir. And believe it or not, sometimes they just want to talk. They reveal lots about themselves or about the house—like showing you a hidden wall safe or a false-bottom drawer for hiding jewelry in a built-in closet—proud of what their spouse or relative designed. But that information tells us right where to look! One woman told me her house didn’t really have an alarm system at all; before her husband died he just put the sign in the front yard to scare away thieves.” He laughed, “Imagine telling me that!”
Celeste clapped her hands like a five-year-old.
“But there’s more. The professionals bring the same staff to every sale they give. They’d recognize us if we’re around too often, which we can’t risk.”
Excited now, Celeste repeated learned lessons. “When an owner gives the estate sale himself, it’s a one-time shot. You hit the house a coupla’ weeks later when the fella who gave the sale has moved away an’ the new owner you just robbed has never seen you before. It’s perfect!”
Ralph’s eyes narrowed. “But every rule has an exception. In spite of the risk, sometimes it pays to hit the pro’s sale anyway.” He noted Celeste’s puzzled look. “The richer the seller, the likelier he is to hire menial work done for him. He’s used to paying others to accomplish things and he doesn’t want to be bothered with this trivia. See, the rich guy already took what he values. What ’s left in his house is a nuisance for him, but a windfall to the estate sale pros. They organize that remaining stuff, price it, sell it and leave the empty mansion ‘broom clean.’ The rich guy did no work himself, his house is empty and ready to sell and he even gets money back because the pros take only a percentage of what’s sold and the owner gets the rest!”
Celeste looked confused. “But with their ‘watchers’ an’ all, what about us?”
“Mapping a rich guy’s mansion prepares us for the new owner who rides in on his heels. This area has about ten professional estate sale companies, so we wouldn’t necessarily visit the same ones every time, but just in case, we wear disguises.”
Celeste brightened. “And that’s why you write in your book what we wear each place we go.”
“Exactly, to be sure we don’t use the same disguise twice for the same company. So,” Ralph summarized, “whatever the kind of sale, whoever runs it, we charm our way into the house. And Celeste, you’re a natural at that.”
“You mean like this?” Celeste jumped to her feet, striking freeze-frame poses as she danced around the room and sang out in a deliberately high falsetto little-girl voice: “May ah please use your bathroom?” she clutched her crotch, pretending extremis.
“Ah’m not feeling at all well, have you a place where I might could lie down for just a minute?” she touched the back of her hand to her forehead as if about to faint.
“Ah used to live in this house long ago an’ wonder if ah might just take one last little peek at mah old homestead,” her prayerf
ul hands and beseeching expression melting any heart.
“What a beautiful garden! Could ah please wander back there to admire your spectacular flowers an’ maybe get some landscapin’ ideas?” her eyes scanned an imaginary garden.
“Ah see you have several teacups for sale here. Are you a collector, too? Do you have a lot of them? You do? Oh, could ah just look at them? Like, as if ah’m at a museum? As a courtesy, one collector to another?” She raised an imaginary teacup to her lips.
“Oh no, ah just realized my mom said to call her at noon an’ she’ll be so mad if ah don’t. Could ah please, oh pretty-please, use your phone inside for just a quick second?”
Ralph cheered enthusiastically and clapped his hands at her clever, impulsive rendition of their actual tactics. Laughing hard, they both fell back on the couch. This was quite a girl and high time to give deserved praise to his protégé, Ralph decided
“You did great at that place in Woodlea Hills.” He put his arm around her. “They were so harassed at that damn sale they didn’t realize I was in the house nearly thirty minutes while your fainting act grabbed everyone’s attention. And as usual, the cash and jewelry sat right there in the master bedroom closet. I lifted the old lady’s jewels clean out of her top drawer and the guy’s wallet stuck out on the hat shelf above his clothes hangers. Then I clipped those two little cameras from the den on the way out. Did you see how small these new digitals are now? And then I pocketed those little statues for you from the dining room on the way out.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Ralphie! Ah just love them,” she squeezed his hand. “Ah know they’re called Hummel’s because ah saw some over at Tysons Mall and the clerk told me the name.”
“You see how I reward you for getting me into a house?”
She hugged him as she thought about another question. “When you took the cash from his wallet, Ralphie, did you get his credit cards, too?”
“Of course, and sold them to our fence so if anybody gets caught, he’s the one with trouble! Peddling credit cards backfires if you don’t know what you’re doing. I know my business and that fence knows his. But $492 in greenbacks from the wallet wasn’t bad either.”
“Ah guess that was pretty good payback for thirty minutes of work.” Celeste agreed.
“True,” he said, “but I didn’t have much time or hiding space even in my cargo pants that morning. Take that $300 older camera and equipment you hiked from that other sale. My fence said a collector wants that exact model. Your purse works better for those quick grabs. And speaking of grabs... ” He pulled her to him and kissed her gently.
Engrossed in each other, they failed to notice Fred’s quiet return from the store or that he stood momentsarily transfixed, staring at them through the open kitchen door, his mouth hanging open in surprise and his eyes wide with consternation.
CHAPTER 15
Back in his office, Adam studied the two snapshots taken at the morning sales. Not bad, working new clues on a stalled case and meeting a cute girl at the same time. He thought about Hannah… beautiful and personable Hannah, good to look at and fun to be around and...
Straightening in his chair, Adam pushed away this intruding distraction, slid the photos aside and ran the five license plates through DMV on his computer. Always uncomfortable about coincidences, he wanted logical explanations. Even if a connection existed between the sales and the burglaries, Mrs. Shannon’s “Regulars” might not be involved at all. It was a long-shot, but that was detective work for you: tracking down every possibility to uncover the one that clicked.
He chuckled at the nick-names she’d given her Regulars. She was something else! To his annoyance, he now found himself using them as if they were their real monikers.
Running these vehicle license numbers would net him the vehicle’s registration number and whether the car was stolen, as well as the owner’s name and address. Using these names, he then looked up their drivers’ licenses, learned their date of birth, whether their license was current or suspended and a review of their driving record. He would then run each name through the FBI’s National Crime Information Center, which chronicled vast criminal data from stolen cars to missing children, including outstanding arrest warrants.
First he typed Englishman’s plate into the Virginia DMV system: Nigel Ridley on Audmar Drive in McLean, vehicle 2009 Ford Taurus, not stolen and a few minor traffic violations.
Next Adam entered Stevedore’s tag: Robert Belford on Lost Acre Lane in Great Falls, vehicle a 2010 Dodge Caravan and no significant traffic citations.
The Yugoslavian’s info produced his name as Vladimere Karwoski, address on Abbotsford Drive in Vienna, vehicle a 2008 Ford pickup truck with a previous suspended license for DUI, reinstated the previous year.
Duchess came next: Matilda Verling on Arnon Chapel Road in Great Falls, driving a 2010 Lincoln and with no adverse record.
Last was Swordsman: Ralph Forbes on Woodruff in Arlington, driving a 2004 Honda van with another clean driving record.
Printing it all out, Adam paper-clipped the Forbes and Verling information to the photos Mrs. Shannon snapped at the sale. She seemed pretty sharp for an old broad.
Though none of these might be suspects at all, at the sales he took a good look at her Regulars. First impressions were tricky, but experience taught detectives to hone and explore their intuition, while backing it with solid evidence. The knack was pursuing the hunch while remaining open to other facts pointing in new directions. No blinders.
None of the names pulled up rap sheets on the National Crime Information Center, but for some reason, he liked Forbes for these crimes. Mrs. Shannon’s uneasiness about the man underscored Adam’s own impression since she’d described the others as “colorful,” but Forbes as “strange.” He’d start with Forbes.
Studying the man’s Arlington address, he pulled out a book map and pinpointed the location. Next, he dialed the Arlington County Clerk, explained who he was and inquired about the owner of record of that property: an Orville Thompson with a California address and phone number.
Adam began punching in his number but stopped midway. Some crimes had invisible tentacles involving layers of additional people. What if the landlord were in on the scam? Alerting him to police interest blew any chance of surprise. Adam also knew people tended to trust a female voice on the phone. He strolled down the hall to his favorite secretary, Adrienne, described his dilemma, and asked for her help getting the information.
Adrienne agreed. Smiling broadly at him, she dialed the number he handed her and heard a man’s voice say, “Hello.”
“Mr. Thompson?” she inquired.
“Yes.”
“I’m a secretary here in Virginia updating property ownership information and I just need to verify a few things. Do you still own a house located at 5562 Woodruff in Arlington County? ”
“Why, yes I do. Is anything wrong? ”
“No, Sir, I’m just collecting information to update our current records. Is that still a rental property?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Do you know the name of your current tenant?”
“Actually, a real estate company handles all that since I’m out here on the west coast. My parents lived there for 40 years before they died and I’m hanging onto the property until the housing market improves. Are prices there coming back up?”
“Up then down then up again, always a roller coaster,” she said. “Would you mind giving us the rental company’s name and phone number?”
“Sure, glad to do it. Wait just a minute while I find it.” He did. She thanked Mr. Thompson, hung up the phone and showed Adam the information.
They grinned at their plot’s success! “The realty company probably isn’t in on this either, but subpoenaing their info would cause suspicion. Would you mind making one more call?”
“Actually, you’re in luck,” Adrienne volunteered, giving Iverson her most dazzling smile, “because I happen to know someone who works there, so you might
not need that subpoena if I get lucky.” She dialed the local rent-management company and was put through to her friend, who described Ralph Forbes as a renter at that address for ten months of a one-year lease. A model tenant with no complaints and on-time rent payments.
“Did he fill out any forms for you?”
“Sure did. All our renters do so we can run a credit check to protect our landlords.”
“Could you e-mail or FAX me that information?”
After a hesitation, Adrienne’s friend said, “No, but I’ll read it to you.”
Wishing their business relationship could blossom into a personal one, Adrienne basked in Adam’s attention as he lavished deserved praise for her nerve, innovation and buddy-in-the-right-place connection. Then he grabbed the information she’d copied and strolled half way down the hall before her expectant smile faded.
Reading as he walked, Adam noticed Forbes listed his occupation as “student,” hence no employer. His previous residence was Paramus, New Jersey. Also the location of his bank reference. Person and relationship to notify in case of emergency was “Fred Forbes, brother” at the Woodruff Street address in Arlington. NCIC showed nothing for Forbes, but local police sometimes had another take. Adam dialed the Paramus police department and identified himself.
“I’m looking for information about a 23-year-old Ralph E. Forbes, listing previous address as 2124 Bonfort Street in Paramus. Do you have anything local on this guy?”
“Here’s Ralph E. Forbes at that address, but per his birth date, he’s 55… maybe the father?”
“Could be. Nothing on the younger one?”
“Ah, this older one has some blips: mostly misdemeanors and a couple of short jail stints for DUI. Oh wait, here comes the one you want, Ralph E. Forbes, Jr., a sealed juvenile file from six years ago. That’s about right if he’s 23 now, he was 17 then. And here’s something: shoplifting arrest in l999 and burglary in 2000, but charges dropped.”
Garage Sale Stalker (Garage Sale Mysteries) Page 9