by Sharon Dunn
What Readers Are Saying about
Death of a garage Sale Newbie:
“Fun and perceptive, intriguing and entertaining—Death of a Garage Sale Newbie is a mystery that demanded my attention from page one. Interesting characters with a passion for the “good deal” won my heart, and I loved tagging along on the hunt for the next great find and the next clue. Sharon Dunn is one of my all-time favorite authors, and I wasn’t disappointed!”
Tricia Goyer, award-winning author of Generation NeXt Parenting and Night Song
“What a fun read! In Death of a Garage Sale Newbie, Sharon Dunn has concocted a lively mystery peopled with characters I’d love to spend time with.”
Carol Cox, author of Ticket to Tomorrow and Fair Game
“Death of a Garage Sale Newbie is Sharon Dunn’s latest triple-play homerun. She swirls together whimsy, faith, and mayhem into a delightful read. Thank you, Sharon!”
Lyn Cote, author of The Women of Ivy Manor
“I love the members of the Bargain Hunters Network. Hats off to Sharon Dunn for a fun and intriguing read!”
Marlo Schalesky, author of Veil of Fire
“Death of a Garage Sale Newbie is more fun than a table full of underpriced gadgets at a yard sale! It’s a clever mystery filled with engaging characters.”
Mindy Starns Clark, author of the Smart Chick Mysteries
“How much trouble can four garage-saling, bargain-hunting friends get into? Plenty! Murder, danger, and excitement…but also some unexpected revelations about the power of love, friendship, and faith.”
Lorena McCourtney, author of the ivy Malone Mysteries
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
About the Author
Copyright
To my mother, who saw the blue lights
and ran toward them.
For I have learned to be content
whatever the circumstances.
I know what it is to be in need,
and I know what it is to have plenty.
I have learned the secret to being content
in any and every situation,
whether well fed or hungry,
whether living in plenty or in want.
PHILIPPIANS 4:11-12
The first ring of the phone vibrated in an empty house. Morning shone through open curtains. Breakfast dishes—two plates, two coffee mugs—hung drying in the rack. The second ring went unnoticed, but the third ring caused a gray cat with white toes to jump from her usual post on the counter by the microwave to the floor. The cat rolled on its back in a beam of sunlight, flexing its paws to the ceiling.
After the fourth ring, the answering machine clicked on and a crisp, mature female voice said: “Hello, you’ve reached Ginger and Earl’s place. Obviously, we’re not here right now. Although Earl might be working on some contraption in his garage.”
In the background a male voice said, “They’re not contraptions. They’re inventions.”
The female voice cleared her throat. “In any case, he can’t come to the phone. Please leave a message.”
The machine beeped, and a voice that rippled like sheets fluttering on a clothesline said, “Ginger, Mary Margret here. I was hoping to catch you before you left. You’d be so proud of me. I’ve already hit four garage sales, and it’s not even eight o’clock. I got the cutest little fishing pole for Jonathan and…well, you’ll see. I can’t wait to show you and the girls my finds. I have to pop over to some property to meet another agent from the office; then I can hit a few more sales. I’m so excited. I’ll see you and Suzanne and Kindra at noon, my place. You have the key, so you can just go inside if I’m not there yet.” She laughed. “I have a gift for you sitting on the counter.”
Three hours and twenty-seven minutes passed. The cat sauntered across the countertop, stopping to stick her nose in the butter dish before resuming her post. This was the feline’s secret. When her people were home, she had to trade the smooth hardness of the countertop for the lumpy cat bed the old woman had sewn.
The phone rang again. On the first ring, the cat stood up and arched her back, spreading her toes to get the sleepiness out of them. On the second, she posed at the edge of the counter, and on the third ring, she leapt to the floor and stood at the door, expecting someone to open it. The phone rang a fourth time, and Ginger spoke her message again.
The cat tilted her head in the direction of the speaker as the machine beeped and the same rippling voice spoke—only more frantic this time.
“Ginger, Ginger are you there?” Heavy sigh. “You’re probably still out garage saling. I think I’ve discovered something, something terribly bad, illegal from the past. I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight; I’m afraid. Please, if you do stop by your place after you’re done garage saling, well I—I’m so shook up, I can’t remember your cell number. I’ve gone and erased what I had programmed in.” She lowered her voice. “I’m really afraid.”
The answering machine clicked off with a vibrating buzz.
Ginger Salinkski gripped her box of garage sale treasures a little tighter. She slowed her pace up the stairs to Mary Margret’s house. The door hung slightly open. Odd. Her friend was one of those tidy people who closed doors even if she was just running out to the mailbox.
“Hello…Mary Margret?” She shifted the bulky box in her arms and pushed the door open the rest of the way with her foot.
Sunlight flooded through the kitchen and splashed across a counter that separated the kitchen from the small living room.
A broken drinking glass glistened on the linoleum.
Ginger bent over and placed her box on the floor. Her hand fluttered to her neck. Alarm corseted her rib cage. So Mary Margret, the compulsive cleaner, had left a broken glass on the floor. No big deal.
The kitchen clock said it was exactly noon. The other bargain hunters, Suzanne Thomas and Kindra Hall, would be here any minute. Mary Margret should have been sitting with a tray of cookies and iced tea waiting for them. They always met at her house because it was centrally located to the good garage sale territories in Three Horses.
Ginger stepped toward the counter, pushing aside a gift basket that blocked her view to the living room. Folded clothes had been knocked off the coffee table to the floor.
Something was not right.
Mary Margret wouldn’t leave clothes out. She certainly wouldn’t leave them on the floor. Ginger gathered up the clothes, tossed them in the laundry basket, and trotted down the hall. “Mary Margret? It’s me, Ginger.”
Her friend was eight years older than her, but in good health. She pushed open the bedroom door and held her breath, expecting to see Mary on the floor unconscious or gasping for breath—or worse.
Her heartbeat increased. Broken glass and knocked-over clothes suggested some sort of struggle or a person in a hurry. But there was no blood, no reason to think…
She slammed her pa
lm against her chest. Why couldn’t she get a deep breath?
She ran to the attached garage. Mary’s little blue Jetta was gone. She raced back to the kitchen. If her friend had run an unexpected errand, she would have left a note. Mary Margret always left a note.
She scanned the refrigerator and the bulletin board. No note. No note anywhere. When she raced outside to check for the blue Jetta, Kindra and Suzanne were coming up the sidewalk, holding their boxes of treasures. Suzanne’s box rested on her bulging stomach. Kindra had a way of lilting up and down as she walked.
Their smiles, the sight of them, calmed her. She’d been alone, and she had allowed her imagination to run wild like a contestant on The Price Is Right. This was supposed to be a happy afternoon. Any moment now, Mary Margret would pull up and explain where she had gone off to in such a hurry.
Ginger took a deep breath and managed to smile back. Her friends were here. Together, they would decide what to do about the missing fourth member of the Bargain Hunters Network.
Half an hour later, no amount of deep breathing could loosen the tension in Ginger’s chest. The consensus had been to share the treasures and to wait for Mary Margret.
Ginger focused on the polka-dot skirt Kindra held up. “It’s nice, kiddo.” She massaged the tight spot in the middle of her chest. “You can wear it to classes in the fall.”
The sight of the broken glass in the garbage had made the hairs on the back of Ginger’s neck come to attention. Suzanne and Kindra weren’t as worried as she was. Why couldn’t she just follow their lead and relax? Because they hadn’t spent five minutes calling Mary Margret’s name in the empty house. Because they hadn’t seen the messed-up laundry. Because they hadn’t looked for the note that wasn’t there.
Kindra’s blond ponytail bobbed as she bounced three times. The kid’s cheerleader syndrome was acting up again. She could not do anything important without bouncing three times first.
Kindra twirled with the skirt held up to her waist. “And I can wear it for work at the restaurant this summer. Isn’t it just breezy and fresh? It’s a LizSport. Fifty cents, ladies, fifty cents! And I don’t think it’s even been worn.”
“I like it.” Suzanne lowered herself onto the couch beside her box of garage sale finds. She rested one hand on her huge belly. Sweat glistened on her forehead. “I can’t wait until I can wear cute stuff like that. I’ve worn this jumper through four pregnancies. I’m so sick of it I think I’ll have a ceremonial burning after this one is born. Is that how you felt about your four pregnancies, Ginger? Ginger?”
Ginger shook her head. “Mary would have left a note if she had run out for some reason.”
Kindra followed Ginger into the kitchen. “Maybe she saw a last-minute sale she couldn’t pass up on the way home.”
“The garage sale section of the newspaper is right here. So is her city map.” After checking a city map, Mary had put numbers beside the garage sales to show the order she would hit each sale so she wouldn’t backtrack and lose valuable time. Ginger fingered the map. God bless her, just like I taught her. “Did any of you see her while you were on your circuit?”
Both women shook their heads. “I worked the south side of town.” Suzanne readjusted herself on the couch.
“Me, too,” said Kindra.
Ginger glanced down at the torn newspaper listing the garage sales. Mary Margret had worked the north side.
“What say we give her another fifteen minutes?” Kindra adjusted her shirt collar. The diminutive nineteen-year-old looked smart in her navy shorts and sleeveless cotton blouse.
Ginger planted her hands on the countertop. “You’re right. I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation.” Short of Mary Margret being abducted by a UFO, she couldn’t think of what that explanation would be. “Let’s share what we bought. I promise I’ll pay attention.”
Think happy thoughts. Don’t let your mind scurry to those anxious places.
“Suzanne, it’s your turn to share.” Kindra folded her skirt and wandered back into the living room.
Suzanne half bent and half rolled toward her own box. “I’ve got to show you this cute little toy I picked up for Allie. Got it in that subdivision off of Fourth Street. The lady wanted two dollars, but I talked her down to one.”
Kindra sat in the leather easy chair kitty-corner from Suzanne. “I love that subdivision. There’s like a bunch of skinny women who are shopaholics. Their husbands must make them garage sale stuff when the closets get too full. I find clothing with tags still on them.”
Suzanne nodded. “I pick up lots of almost-new things for the kids there all the time.” She pulled out a plastic multicolored box with stars, ovals, and circles cut into it. “It plays music and comes with little rubber toys you can put through the holes and…”
Suzanne’s words faded as Ginger’s thoughts spider-webbed in a thousand worried directions. Where on earth could Mary Margret have gone? She hadn’t dashed out to help a neighbor. Her car was not in the garage or on the street. She’d gone somewhere in her car…or been taken.
A crashing noise jerked Ginger out of her worry-fest.
Suzanne had tossed the toy back in her box. “Oh, forget it. Ginger, you’re not listening to me.”
Ginger gripped the countertop. She’d done it again. “Ladies, I’m sorry. I know we’re supposed to be having fun, but something is wrong here.” Her eyes traveled to the gift basket Mary Margret had left on the counter. The little envelope read To Ginger. She removed the card from the envelope and read:
Ginger, everything in this basket I got on clearance or at garage sales. Just like you taught me. And it is everything you love. Thank you for all your help in teaching me to balance my budget. MM.
Ginger touched her friend’s precisely formed letters. They’d been acquaintances at church for years. But a year ago, they’d met at the clearance rack in JCPenney. Mary was newly widowed and learning the meaning of the term budget. Ginger’s picture was in the dictionary beside the word budget. She and Earl had raised four kids on his phone company salary and done just fine, thank you very much. You meet the nicest people at clearance racks.
Mary had lined the basket in pink gingham. There were candles, tea, soap, bundles of fabric wrapped in ribbons, and seed packets. The scratched fishing pole, with its oversized reel that featured Mickey Mouse dancing, looked out of place. Ginger didn’t fish and it was old and icky, not new like the other stuff. Maybe Mary had intended it for Earl as an afterthought.
“Earth to Ginger.” Kindra’s voice caused Ginger to jerk her hand away from the basket.
“Join us on this planet,” Suzanne said. “You usually jump up and down when I show you stuff still in the box it came in. You didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.” Placing a fist on her hip, she scooted to the edge of the couch and narrowed her eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”
Ginger tugged at one of her brassy brown curls. She was closer to Mary than the other two were. That’s why she was feeling this way. “Mary Margret would call if she was going to be late.” She let go of the strand of hair. It sprang back to her head, resuming its sausage shape. “Have you ever known her not to leave a note about where she would be?”
Both women shook their heads.
“When I came in here, the door was unlocked. You saw me clean up the broken glass on the kitchen floor, and I refolded and put away the laundry that had fallen off the coffee table. You know what a neatnik Mary Margret is. If she had gone anywhere, she would have cleaned up first unless she had to leave in a hurry.”
Both women nodded.
Suzanne performed her version of leaning forward to show interest, which involved bending her neck about ten degrees. “And her car is gone?”
Ginger nodded. Now they were tracking with her.
“I know.” Kindra sprang to her feet and bounced three times. “What is the one thing that makes you change your habits and behave unpredictably?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Being in love. Mary Margret met a really hot guy,
and she’s taken off on a whirlwind romance.”
Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Kindra dear, after age thirty, the word hot only comes into your vocabulary when you’re talking about oven temperatures.”
Sometimes Ginger had a hard time believing Kindra was a physics major. “Mary hasn’t dated since her husband died. Her whole life is church, work, and learning how to spot a bargain. Besides, how many men do you see on the garage sale circuit, let alone hot ones?”
Kindra tossed her skirt into her box of garage sale treasures. “It was just a theory.” The younger woman’s shoulders drooped.
Ginger edged past the kitchen counter and wrapped an arm around Kindra, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Theories are good, kiddo. They get you to thinking and coming up with ideas, right, Suzanne?”
“Maybe she got into a fender bender or something.” Suzanne wiped sweat trickling past her temple. “We are obviously not going to have any fun today until we find Mary Margret.”
“I don’t have to work until tonight.” Kindra pulled her scrunchie out of her hair and combed through the long blond strands with her fingers. “I can stay here in case she comes back.”
“I’ll stop at the real estate office where she works on the way home.” The tightness in Ginger’s chest subsided. Doing something to solve a problem always took care of her tension. Now the others understood the urgency she felt.
“I can swing by the church.” Suzanne planted her palms behind her and pushed as if to get up.
Ginger and Kindra darted to the couch and held out hands for Suzanne to grasp. The pregnant woman only wobbled slightly when she straightened her knees. They stood holding hands.
Ginger uttered, “Lord, help us to find our friend. We’re worried.”
The other two women said “amen.”
Kindra lifted Suzanne’s box of garage sale stuff and placed it in her hands. “I’m sure she’ll show up within the hour. Maybe we can all get together tomorrow after church to share what we bought.”