“Stay for dinner?” Lance called to me, waving a colorful wicker fan over the coals in an attempt to encourage the fire.
“Martini?” Kelly asked, raising hers.
I wondered when she’d returned. Under other circumstances, with other people, I would have jumped on the opportunity not to have to fix food for myself. “No thanks,” I said. “I wanted to take a look at the sports equipment that you want to sell. If it’s all right with you, Kelly, I’ll come over in the morning to set it up.” Since Kelly wasn’t an early riser, we weren’t starting the sale until ten. Kelly had decided that way people could go to breakfast, other sales, and still make it here for the planned grand opening.
Kelly downed the martini. “That would be fine.”
“I’ll show you what we have to sell,” Lance said.
I followed him down to their basement. A teenager’s dream. We passed by a home movie theater with big comfy chairs; an arcade full of old pinball machines and foosball, air hockey, and pool tables; and another room with another giant TV, where a group of boys played some game. They worked their controls with the focus of a diamond cutter. Some of them looked like the kids who had been at the hospital with the baseball coach the night Brody was injured. I tried to see if any of them looked like the kid who’d shown up at Ryne’s uncle’s shop. But Lance moved too quickly for that.
Lance took a key out of his pocket, unlocked a door, and threw it open. The room was almost bigger than my apartment and was crammed full of everything from bikes to golf balls.
I must have gasped, because Lance whipped around to look at me. “You want to sell all of this?” I asked. If so, I’d be here all night, pricing.
Lance smiled. “No. Just the stuff over against that wall. And I already priced it.”
“Great,” I said. I felt better knowing all I had to do was arrange it. I picked up one of the helmets. It reminded me of the ones with the thick padding that I’d seen on base this morning. “I’ll bring some baskets and old buckets with me to arrange things in so Kelly won’t be upset.”
“If you can keep Kelly from being upset, that will be a first,” Lance said.
I didn’t know what to say. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
Chapter 31
As soon as I was back in my car, I sent a text to Laura. Where did Brody get his baseball helmet? The one that I sent to you. I’d been thinking about this since this morning at the garage sale.
Laura sent a text back. From the school. Why?
I didn’t want to go into the details of why right now. A friend was looking for one for her son.
I think the school uses AA Sporting Goods in Woburn.
Can you send me a picture of Brody’s helmet? The inside, too?
We tossed it. It wasn’t safe any longer with the dent in the side.
Darn it. How’s he doing?
Good. Still has an occasional headache.
Are you getting settled in?
Sort of. We’re surrounded by boxes.
Good luck. Miss you. I closed the texting app.
* * *
The drive to AA Sporting Goods in Woburn didn’t take as long as it might have. Usually, highways on Friday evenings were a nightmare, as everyone scrambled to leave town for their vacation homes. If they weren’t leaving, they were heading into Boston for a Red Sox game or a night on the town.
I walked into AA a little before their six-thirty closing. I’d looked at their hours online before I left and drove up here. The store was narrow, with shelves exploding with items. Bins burst with balls, bats, and face guards. I’d been a bit worried about my disheveled appearance and noticeable sweaty odor. It didn’t seem to matter here. A lone man stood at a counter near the door. It looked like he hadn’t played any sport in quite some time.
“Help you?” he asked without looking up from a computer he was typing on.
“My nephew plays baseball and needs a new helmet.”
“Second row on the left. We’re closing in five minutes.”
I wandered down the row and looked at all the different types of helmets. None of the ones here looked like Brody’s. I went back to the front of the store. The man now stood behind the counter with keys in his hand.
“Didn’t find what you needed?” he asked.
I tried to describe Brody’s helmet. “I heard that Ellington’s school district bought their equipment from you. That’s where the helmet came from.”
The man was shaking his head before I finished my sentence. “Used to buy their equipment through me.”
“Why’d they stop buying from you?”
“Because I’m not about to compromise the quality of equipment I sell to people.”
“And someone else was?” The thought chilled me.
The guy rattled his keys as he stepped toward the end of the counter. “I didn’t say that.”
He’d implied it, though. “Do you know who they bought from after you?”
The man just stared at me. I pulled a twenty out of my purse and put it on the counter. He just looked at it, so I took out another one. He scooped them both up. I couldn’t believe this ploy actually worked. Although he hadn’t told me anything yet.
“I heard they used an auction company that someone on the board had a connection to.” He came around the counter and held the front door open. “We’re closed.”
* * *
I went home and took a long cold shower. Then I stood in front of my meager little desktop fan, trying to cool off. At least I didn’t have to go somewhere to eat lasagna tonight. In fact, I didn’t have to go anywhere or see anyone. I checked my emotions. Wow. I was okay with that. It had to be progress. Or maybe it was exhaustion or dehydration. I thought about CJ. I realized I was okay being alone. It surprised me. I could finally let go of CJ as my partner in life. I’d always care about him, but I no longer needed him.
I sprawled on the couch and started researching local auction houses. Although no one had said it had to be local. I tried variations of the board members’ names and the word auction. Nothing popped up as an immediate answer. I went to the school board Web site and looked through the budget reports. They didn’t show where things were purchased. But these weren’t the in-depth budgets I’d studied when I went to Nancy’s office. There was a note on the site inviting anyone who was interested to go to the superintendent’s office to see the full budget. I guessed not many people did that. And even though I’d been running around questioning the board members, I really didn’t want to picture any of them as a murderer. Each of them seemed likable in their own way.
I came across some articles about sports helmets. Last year a company had knowingly sold helmets that didn’t meet safety standards to school systems. There were tons of lawsuits pending. It burned me to the core that someone would do this. I thought of Brody and his dented helmet again. I thought about the Red Sox game I’d watched a few days ago, where the batter was hit by a wild pitch. He’d just trotted down the baseline to first base, as if nothing had even happened. Quite a contrast to seeing Brody lying in the hospital. One good helmet and one bad.
The frustrating thing was I couldn’t find any connection between the helmets, an auction house, and the Ellington school district or board. At some point, I drifted off to sleep. A buzzing noise woke me up. I swatted to get the fly away from me but realized it was my phone. I located it between the back of the couch and the cushion. By the time I’d dug it out, I had one missed call. From Nancy Elder. She left a voice mail asking me how I was progressing and reminding me I had only a few more days to meet the deadline she’d imposed.
I sat up and rubbed my temples. It was only seven-thirty. I still didn’t know what had caused the fight between Anil and Melba. Anil was still in jail, so I couldn’t ask him. Melba obviously wasn’t available, either. Maybe Anil’s wife knew. I looked up their address and made a deal with myself. If I could work up the nerve to go over and question a woman I’d never met before, I could go get ice cream at Bedf
ord Farms after.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later I stood on the small stoop of a neat ranch house on the side of Ellington that bordered the base. Two tall evergreen bushes stood sentinel on either side of the porch. Their scent spiced the air. A tired-looking woman in a beautiful red sari answered the door after I knocked repeatedly.
I stuck out my hand. “Mrs. Kapoor, I’m Sarah Winston. Anil asked me to help find out what really happened to Melba.”
Her face lit up. “Yes, he told me. Come in. Call me Prisha. You’ve solved the case?”
She looked so happy, I hated to say no. I followed her into the neat but sparsely furnished room. We sat on opposite sides of the couch. I moved one of the colorful pillows scattered across the back. Her dark eyes watched me as if I had the answers to life. The room was very warm, and it wasn’t just from the discomfort I felt.
“Are your kids here?” I didn’t want them to overhear what could be a difficult conversation.
“No. They are in Mumbai with their grandparents. They go every summer, but we are especially happy they are there now. Since you haven’t answered my question, your answer must be no.”
“It is for now. But during the course of my investigation. . .” I paused. Jeez, that sounded like a line from a B movie. The whole week had seemed like a bad movie. “I heard that Melba and Anil had an altercation at the school and that the police were called. Do you know anything about that?”
Prisha tugged at a corner of her red sari. “Anil was horribly embarrassed about that evening. He is not a man of temper. He’d never kill someone because he was angry.”
I nodded. I hadn’t known Anil long, and I didn’t know him well, but if he was the kind of man I believed him to be, he was a gentle, studious soul.
“Did he tell you what happened?” I asked.
She picked up a bright turquoise pillow and played with the long silk tassel. Her nails were painted hot pink but were chipped. She remained silent.
“If I’m to help Anil, I need to know this. The police might be using the incident against him.”
She set the pillow aside but continued to let the tassel slide through her fingers. “Anil was unhappy with how purchasing was being handled.”
“Purchasing of what?” I asked the question to confirm what I already expected to hear.
“Equipment for the school.”
Bingo. I leaned toward her. “What kind of equipment?”
“Everything from desks to sports equipment.”
“What exactly upset him about it?”
“They were cutting corners by not following the proper purchasing procedures of accepting bids. Anil didn’t realize it until he studied the budget, scouring places to save money without hurting academics. It was buried very cleverly.”
“So he confronted Melba about it?”
“Yes. She denied all of it.” Prisha shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t really know.”
“Maybe digging into it is how she ended up dead.” That would explain why someone was in Melba’s house the night Stella and I drove by. I pictured the person running from the house and down the street. They wanted to find out what evidence she had.
Prisha and I stared at each other for a moment before I stood.
“Thank you for talking to me,” I said.
“You’ll still help my Anil?”
“Yes. Of course. I don’t understand why the police aren’t investigating this.”
“Because he hasn’t told them.”
“Why not?”
“After he visited you, there were threats. Phone calls. E-mails. Come with me.”
I followed Prisha out the back of their house. It was still warm out, but at least there were some puffs of air. We entered their detached garage through a side door. It was a small garage. Most of the space was taken up by a silver van. The air smelled of gas, oil, and damp wood. Prisha flipped on a light and pointed to a dark corner. A mannequin sat there, with a ski pole through its chest.
Chapter 32
I skirted the van and walked over to the mannequin. The ski pole was old, like the other three. Until recently, I’d never realized how chilling an inanimate object could be. Dolls and clowns in scary movies? Yes. Mannequins in real life? No, at least not until one was sitting in my apartment.
“He wanted me to leave town with the kids, but I refused to go.”
“You need to tell the police. They need to see this.”
“What if they think we are the ones doing this? Anil’s uncle owns a dress shop in South Boston. We have access to mannequins.”
“Has Anil at least told his lawyer?”
Prisha shook her head.
“He has to, Prisha. And you should go stay with a friend.” I gestured to the mannequin.
“I feel safe enough. Since Anil’s arrest, there haven’t been any further threats.”
“You can’t let whoever is doing this win. Anil could be convicted of murder.”
“He’s counting on you.”
“He needs to put his faith in his lawyer and the truth. Not me.” Prisha and Anil’s trust in me made me feel like I was wrapped in thick chains.
“I will talk to him,” Prisha said.
* * *
I sat on an empty bench outside of Bedford Farms Ice Cream. The Almond Joy ice cream in my small cup was melting almost faster than I could eat it. Almost. I’d opted for a small, which had two softball-sized dips, instead of my usual kiddie size. The parking lot was full; kids wore baseball uniforms, teens flirted, and parents chatted with each other.
I shared the bench with two squirmy boys and their mom. Melted chocolate ice cream dribbled down chins, coated fingers, and flew around like water out of a water pistol. I was too tired to care if any landed on me. However, I stood when a very pregnant woman waddled over with her cone. She sat, looked at the boys next to her with alarm, and rubbed her stomach.
Great Road ran in front of the store. Cars raced by. I kept an eye out for Seth’s car, because I had called him after leaving Anil’s and asked him to meet me. This was as professional a place as I could think to meet on a Friday night. Anyplace else would involve alcohol or personal spaces. I wanted to avoid both when dealing with Seth.
He pulled in, parked, and loped over to the window to order. I tried to view him neutrally—just another handsome man wearing a white T-shirt over jeans. The sling gave him a vulnerability that probably had every woman’s hormones in a five-mile radius going. Even the pregnant woman beside me seemed to have forgotten her ice cream to enjoy the view. When he walked up to me with a frappe—or, as the rest of the world called it, a shake—in his hand, I felt a lot of eyes on us.
Seth must have noticed it, too. “Let’s go talk over there.” He pointed to the massive chestnut tree on the other side of the parking lot. It was a little calmer over there.
I scraped the last bit of my ice cream out and sucked it off the spoon. As we passed a trash can, I dropped the cup and the spoon in it. The tree provided a little shade but couldn’t stop the humidity. My hair was normally straight, but I could see little bits curling around my face.
“What’s up?” Seth asked.
I’d been vague on the phone, worrying that my theory was way off. “I think there’s a connection between the swap meet, the murder, and the stolen items, and”—this was the big one—“I think someone bought defective helmets for the school.”
Seth frowned. “Why do you think the helmets were defective?”
“The school nurse told me there’d been a lot more complaints about concussions this year. And my friend Laura’s son got a concussion when he was playing baseball. I had his helmet, and it wasn’t nearly as sturdy as others I’ve seen. It had a dent on the side where a ball hit him. It didn’t seem as heavy as others I’ve seen.” I filled him in about the man from the sporting goods store and the possibility that the equipment had been purchased through an auction house.
Seth didn’t laugh in my face or walk away. I took that as a good sign. I
handed him my phone after I uploaded the article I’d found about the helmets, and waited impatiently while he read it.
“Someone came to the gym to steal the defective helmets,” I said when he was done reading. “They must have replaced some of them with better helmets. I would have noticed if all the helmets had gone missing. They covered that by stealing some of the auction items, too. I think your Fagin and the person who attacked me are one and the same.”
“Why go to all that trouble? Why not let them scatter at the swap?”
“My guess is they didn’t want them out there or traced back to whoever bought them in the first place.”
“Do you know who’s behind all of it?”
I went through each of the board members, their access to teens, and their possible motivation for wanting Melba out of the way. Rex and Mac seemed to have the most powerful motivation. Seth nodded as I talked.
“Did you narrow it down?” Seth asked. “Do you think Rex is behind all of this?”
“I’ve thought it was Rex for a long time. He had the best reasons for killing Melba. She didn’t give his kid a grade he thought he should have. They might have had an affair. He wanted her job.”
“But you don’t think that anymore?” Seth took a long pull on his frappe.
“I think it’s Lance. I did some checking into his businesses a few days ago. He’s had some successful ones but also some failures. One of the recent failures was a retail store, which would give him access to mannequins.”
“Anyone can order a mannequin online.”
“True, but why bother? There are other ways to threaten people.” I paused. “I asked his son one day if he or his friends would be interested in helping with garage sales. He said they were always looking for ways to make a buck.”
“Aren’t all teens?”
“Yes, but I think one of the kids who came into Ryne O’Rourke’s antique store, trying to sell things, was a kid I saw at their house. I’ve got a couple of photos.” I found the photo I’d taken at Ryne’s uncle’s shop and the one Ryne had taken. “Maybe you can check with the kids you caught selling stolen merchandise and see if they connect these two back to Lance. And ask Mike to see if Lance has any reason to go up against the Mob.” I paused. “Check out auction houses and his finances, too.” Lance and Kelly certainly appeared to be wealthy, but maybe they weren’t.
I Know What You Bid Last Summer Page 20