Altered to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve never liked the Brodarts.” She nodded toward the man that left. “That was Matthew Brodart.”

  “He said he was bidding for Hank.”

  “An even better reason to make sure he didn’t get it. If I was you, I’d get a new lock for that unit. Hank isn’t the type who likes to lose.”

  “Can I go through the items now?”

  “Sure, it’s all yours. We give everyone forty-eight hours to completely clear it out. I have some people interested in renting that unit.”

  I went back to unit twenty-five. The hallway was well lit, but the light inside the unit was dim. I pulled out the box of photographs and sat on the cold cement floor to go through them. Carefully, I moved them around in the bin. A photograph of four men caught my eye. I took it out. One of the guys looked like a young Edward Brodart, and two of the other men were familiar to me.

  Edward was wearing bell bottom jeans and a tight cut shirt. A Mustang was behind them, parked in a field. I turned the picture, squinting at it. There was nothing to distinguish the area as a place in Eden or elsewhere. Maybe my grandmother would know one of the other men in the picture. I plucked those pictures and placed them in my handbag.

  Placing the box on my lap, I used my cell phone screen for extra light and looked through the pictures. There were a couple more photos of the four men and later only three of them. Could have been high school friends of Edwards. Was this Edward’s locker or one of the other men in the photo?

  I stood and started going through the other boxes, trying to find out who had rented the unit. One box was filled with old clothes. The other had a desk calendar and a high school yearbook. I removed the yearbook. It was from Eden High School, but there were no autographs on the front cover or a name embossed. It could be any of the students from 1977. I paged through the book for any familiar names, faces, and any notes that might have been written on the pages. Edward and Georgia were in the yearbook.

  I dug deeper into the box. My fingers brushed against some fabric. It was a football jersey. Pushing other items to the side, I brought it out. The name on the back was Harbaugh. This was Ollie’s unit.

  With shaking hands, I punched in Wyatt’s number. It went to voicemail. “I bought a storage unit that was being auctioned today. I think it belonged to your dad.” I told him about the jersey. “I’ll hang out here for a bit so you can look at everything.”

  I hoped Wyatt either arrived soon or called me back to arrange a time. The quietness was kind of spooky.

  There were no signatures or notes in the yearbook. Either nobody had anything to say to Ollie Harbaugh, or he wasn’t interested in knowing what his classmates had to say. Why get the yearbook? What did it matter? The real question was who had owned the unit? If Ollie was the person dug up, then who’d been paying for the unit for the last thirty years?

  But if Ollie wasn’t the body, then why had he stopped paying on the unit? Was there a secret in here he no longer cared about anyone finding out, or had he come back to town and removed what he needed—the diary?

  My phone rang. Karen’s number flashed on my screen. “Who previously owned the unit?” I asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Could you find out for me?”

  “No, I’m not your secretary and that’s private information. You don’t need to know.”

  I almost said I did but decided to keep it to myself. The last person, okay next to the last person, I wanted asking me questions was Karen. I remained silent.

  “I have an interview so I’ll be locking the front door. You can leave through the rear door.”

  I glanced down the long hallway. “Rear door?”

  “Toward the end of the building on the left-hand side. The door has a lock keypad so renters can come in after hours when the main door is closed.”

  Perfect. I could get Wyatt in here without Karen knowing. She’d have a lot of questions for me if she saw me bringing him. “Can I get the code? I’m going to have Ted help me move out some of the larger items.”

  “Can’t. It goes against the policies. Only renters are provided the code. Auction buyers have forty-eight hours to remove the items during normal business hours.”

  “You’re leaving me here.”

  “Exactly. You’re in the building already so you can get out. If you weren’t in, you wouldn’t be able to get inside unless you broke in.”

  “Or knew the code.”

  Karen grew silent. “Did my grandmother give you the code?”

  “No.” I should ask her. I bet Ruthann wouldn’t have a problem with me coming after hours to finish collecting the goods. “You don’t change the code?”

  Karen heaved out a sigh. “Not as often as I’d like her to. My grandmother has it reset at the beginning of the year. I keep telling her she should do it every month.”

  “Why doesn’t she?”

  “Habit and not wanting to hurt her longtime customers. Some of them are elderly and they have memory problems. She doesn’t want to add another stress by having a different code. And, I think she’s worried she’d forget the codes if she changed them every month.”

  “Want me to turn off the lights when I leave?”

  “No, we leave them on for safety reasons.”

  The conversation ended. I resumed searching the boxes. Something twinkled from beneath a plaid shirt. I moved the shirt out of the way and underneath was a silver photo frame. I tugged it out. A young Gussie had her head tipped back, laughing as she watched the antics of her two toddler-aged sons in a baby pool. Ollie sat beside her, a possessive arm draped around her shoulders. Her blonde hair cascaded over his arm. Gussie looked radiant and utterly happy.

  Footsteps sounded on the concrete hallway. The lights flickered off. A flashlight swept back and forth. I glanced up. The lightbulb was still on. The building still had power. A unit owner didn’t know Karen’s rule about the lights.

  “Please leave the light on,” I said. “Rules of the storage facility.”

  There was no response. The light remained off. The beam of light drew closer to me. Why hadn’t the person responded? Was Wyatt messing with me?

  “Wyatt, stop horsing around, or I’m telling…” I trailed off. Karen left. The front door was locked. There was no way for him to get inside without me letting him in. With shaking hands, I texted him. Where are you?

  I eased toward the door and peered out, shining my light toward the silent person. The flashlight clicked off and the form moved into the shadows. My hands started to sweat. I looked around the unit. Nothing solid to use for protection and I already let whoever was out there know I was here.

  Maybe it’s nothing, I pep-talked myself. Has nothing to do with you.

  But it might have to do with the unit.

  The footsteps echoed toward me. The beam of light swishing back and forth. I was getting out of Dodge.

  I rushed back to the box, placing the framed photo in the box that held the yearbook and jersey. I slung the strap of my purse over my shoulder and picked up the box. Bracing the box against my hip, I slowly closed the door of the unit. It creaked as I pulled it down.

  The footsteps rushed toward me.

  I ran for the back door, clutching the potential evidence against my chest. There was a small window in the door, allowing in a lot of natural sunlight. I spun around to see who was following me. The man tucked his chin to his chest and pivoted away, his arm blocking his face.

  Someone tapped on the window. I turned my head. It was Wyatt.

  The footsteps retreated down the hall. Whoever it was only interested in dealing with me alone.

  Nine

  “Goodness woman, if my mom was to see all these messages, she’d think we were stepping out together.” Wyatt took the box from me and headed toward my car.

  “You have to tell Ted,” I
said between long draws of breath. It hadn’t been a long run to the door, but my gnawing fear had pumped up my adrenaline, making me feel out of breath.

  “Tell him? Hey, I like you and all but you’re not my—”

  “Not about us. Though there is no us, about your dad.” I aimed my key fob at my trunk. It blipped and the trunk rose.

  “That I think he’s either the body or the one who put it there?” Wyatt put the box in my trunk.

  “Yes. It’ll give Ted a frame of reference to work from. Right now, the body could be anyone. It would help speed up the case, and relieve your concerns.”

  Wyatt scratched his head. “That is true.”

  “And what I found in the unit is making me worried someone could be danger.”

  “Why?”

  “This is your dad’s stuff.” I took out the jersey and the framed photo. “The jersey has your dad’s name on it and there’s a picture of you, Wayne, Gussie, and your dad.”

  “Can I see it?”

  I transferred the items to Wyatt. He draped the jersey over his shoulder and tucked the yearbook under his arm. The picture frame he held carefully, staring at the image. His mouth tugged into a frown. Sadness filled his gaze.

  “Someone had been paying to have your dad’s belongings stored for years.”

  “This is us,” Wyatt said softly. “I don’t have any memories of us. He loved my mom. This picture shows he loved her.”

  My heart went out to him. Growing up, I had heard the gossip about Gussie being used and tossed aside when something better came along for Ollie. I’d never considered how hard that must’ve been for Wayne and Wyatt to hear all their life. Bad enough for your father to leave your family, but to hear he never loved any of you was gut-wrenching. “Yes. It looks like he loved you all very much.”

  “He doesn’t look like the kind of person who’d hurt someone.” Wyatt brushed his thumb over the image of his father. “Maybe everything in there doesn’t belong to him, just these items. Someone was holding them for him.”

  The jersey and picture were tied to Ollie Harbaugh, but how could I be positive that the yearbook and other items were his? “Or stole the items.” I told Wyatt about the man who hide his face from me. “Maybe it was nothing.”

  Wyatt’s gaze remained on the photograph. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. I’ll get everything out now and put it in your trunk.”

  “Will you tell Ted about what you found?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  I called Ruth who happily supplied me with the code which I shared with Wyatt. Cheryl sent me a message saying she needed help at the store. There were a lot of customers and none of the snow prep was complete. I drove as quick as possible to Scrap This. Cheryl’s car was the only one in the employee lot behind the store. My poor grandmother had spent all day working at the store because I was hunting down information. Since this all started because of my project for the historical society, it was kind of scrapbook related.

  I hurried through the back door, making sure to lock it and went into the store area. There were two customers browsing. Cheryl was manning the register.

  “I’m back, Grandma. Sorry for all the delays.” The words rushed out of me. I was jittery.

  She tilted her head, watching me. “When Ruthann requests your presence, it’s not wise to say no.”

  “Then Gussie called about a house to look at. Said it was a must see because it’ll fly off the market. It’s just been rush, rush, rushing from here to there all day,” I said. “I can’t seem to shake that pace off.”

  Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. I was doing a horrible job at showing nothing was going on. Maybe I should act like I was up to something.

  One of the shoppers straightened. She was listening to every word. Maybe a new client for Gussie. “Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work for us. It was such a great deal.”

  The woman headed for me. “Where was this house? My husband and I have been trying to find a home here and everything has been a little out of our price range.”

  “It’s a few minutes from Pancake Storage. Right off the main route. I can give you Gussie’s number. She’d be happy to show it to you.” I jotted down Gussie’s information on a slip of paper and handed it to the woman.

  She thanked me, purchased her items, and rushed out of the store, tapping Gussie’s number onto her cell screen.

  “Pancake Storage?” Cheryl’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting how you related the house to that place in Eden.”

  Scrap it all. I let that slip out. “That was another errand. Ruthann told me it was auction day for the units that had been abandoned and how a lot of photos get thrown out. I figured I’d go, since I was in the area, and see if any of them had anything of interest.”

  “And did they?”

  “Yes.” I was about to tell my grandmother about the photos I found when a large group walked into the store.

  “A snow storm is coming this weekend,” a woman said. “We want to stock up on scrapbooking supplies in case we’re snowed in.”

  “The best time to craft is when we can’t go anywhere.”

  “Faith, make sure there’s nothing by the back door. After the blizzard, the melting snow leaked under the door and got into the storage room. I don’t want to lose any inventory. Also make sure the dumpster doesn’t block the snow plows like last time.”

  “Sure thing, grandma.” On my way to do the snow prep, I grabbed the box Sierra had brought in. After I placed the box in my trunk, and checked to see the storage room and dumpsters were snow ready, I helped the customers shop.

  “I have some scrapbookers coming to the store tomorrow morning to make some pages for the town history albums so all you have to do is add in pictures,” Cheryl said after she rung up the last customer. “They’ll use neutral colors for photo mats and leave blank spaces for you to journal. I’m hoping that keeps the work on schedule for you and gives you enough time for your other tasks.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” Warmth flooded through my heart. Hope and Cheryl weren’t overly thrilled with my sleuthing as it usually put my safety at risk, but they were also concerned about someone staking claim on one of the most important historical buildings in Eden. We had to find out the truth. Soon.

  “I’ll be at Scrap This bright and early tomorrow,” I said. “I’m not planning on making any stops before coming to work.”

  “If you get a tip you need to follow up on, give Darlene a call and she’ll open. We gave her a key.”

  “I bet Darlene was happy.”

  “Happier than I’ve seen her in a long time,” Cheryl said. “I was thinking tonight would be perfect for a grandma-granddaughter night. I can stop over with some homemade pizza and we can craft or watch a movie.”

  I heard the happiness and delight in her voice. Cheryl loved spending time with me. Both my grandmothers did, and I loved being with them. It was why there was a tiny squeeze in my chest. My next words had the possibility of hurting my grandmother. I didn’t want to bruise her heart, nor did I want her over when Wyatt dropped off the items from the unit and Everton attic. I was afraid she’d find out we were checking into Ollie’s ties to the body. She’d worry about me—and tell Gussie.

  One day, your grandma won’t be here, a little voice reminded me. You know she’s been lonely since Hope moved out. My grandmother was seventy-five years old and had always lived with someone. She moved from her parents’ house, to one with her husband. And when my grandpas died within six weeks of each other, and I joined the Army to basically run away from home and not deal with their losses, Cheryl and Hope moved in together. They rented out one of the townhouses and kept the other, my parents’ home, for me.

  For the first time in her life, Cheryl was alone. Hope was married and living with her new husband. My thoughts warred with each other. How could I turn my back on her? How could I break Wyatt’s trus
t? If Cheryl found out what we were up to, she’d tell Gussie.

  “You’re able to say no, Faith, if you have plans,” Cheryl said, trying so hard to keep sadness out of her voice.

  “No real plans. I have a mess at my place.” I said the first excuse that popped into my brain. I’d text Wyatt and see if he could delay his visit by an hour. If there wasn’t a crop going on, or a home high school football game, my grandmother was in bed by nine thirty at the latest.

  Cheryl laughed. “Darling, I’ve seen your house a mess before. You go ahead and go home and spruce it up. I’ll close up.”

  “Thanks, Grandma.” I turned away so my grandmother didn’t see the redness creeping into my cheeks. She’d know I was fibbing. I paused in the storage area to text Wyatt then got into my car.

  As I pulled onto the main road, the boxes thumped against the back of the trunk. Great. They slid all the way to the back, and once again I’d find myself climbing into the Malibu to get them out. I really needed to put some crates in my trunk and tie some rope onto the handles to tug the crates forward if they repositioned themselves to the back. Or I should buy a car with a shorter trunk. Nah. I loved my big trunk. Plenty of space to take scrapping stuff on the road.

  It was a short drive to my house. I checked my cell, hoping for a message from Ted. Either Wyatt hadn’t talked with him yet, or Ted was figuring out a way to keep me out of it even though I had some of his potential evidence.

  There was a heaviness in my stomach. Ted’s evidence. Would bringing the items that likely belonged to Ollie cause a complication for Ted? I should’ve thought this through.

  Since I was already home, I’d bring the items in and secure them in the house. Someone had already tried to get into my car once. I scrambled out of my car, wanting to get this task done before Cheryl arrived home. I’d rather she didn’t know the trouble I might have found my way into.

  I stepped onto the bumper and leaned forward. My fingertips grazed the box. I leaned forward. Still couldn’t grasp the box. I sighed. I was going in. I wiggled into the trunk and pushed the boxes to the front. One of them hit the side. The car jostled and the trunk slammed shut. With me in it.