Stella’s green eyes got larger. “Wouldn’t Seth or CJ mention it to you?”
“I don’t know.” I stared into my coffee cup, wishing it would have some answer for me. There were so many things that both of them kept from me.
“I can’t imagine that Seth would spend time with you or call you if you’re a person of interest in a murder case.”
“He didn’t sound any different this morning.”
“There you go. You’re worrying for nothing.”
“You’re right. You must be right.”
* * *
Preparations for the February Blues garage sale were the perfect counterbalance to everything going on in my life. I met Laura at the community center not long after I left Stella. Working was so much more fun than sitting around worrying about being a suspect in two murders.
“I’ll use masking tape to mark off where each table will be,” I told Laura.
“I’ve got a truck full of stuff from the thrift shop sitting outside for the sale. I’ll start hauling in the lighter-weight items.” As the base commander’s wife, Laura ended up working at the thrift shop, since volunteers could be hard to come by. I volunteered when I could, even though I no longer had any official standing on the base. One of the advantages of organizing the sale was I put my table in a prime location—to the right as people came in and next to what would be the large space for the thrift shop, which would be a big draw. I supposed people would grumble, but I could probably stick myself in a back corner, and people would somehow think that was an advantage.
“Want to see if we’re strong enough to get a couch off the back of the truck?” Laura asked after we’d worked for a couple of hours.
I flexed my arm to show her my muscles. It wasn’t from working out, but from years of hauling stuff around for garage sales. “Let’s give it a try.”
We donned our coats and headed out. I blinked in the bright sun, amazed that almost all traces of last night’s storm were gone. Laura got on the bed of the truck and pushed as I pulled on the couch. I balanced it on the edge of the pickup while she hopped down. She ran around to the other side, and we lifted. It dropped like a rock on her side, and I barely managed to jump out of the way before my side crashed down.
“Whoa. That thing weighs a ton,” I said.
“It’s a Hide-A-Bed.”
“We’re going to need more help.”
“Let’s go have lunch at the bowling alley and see if we can find somebody to help us move this monster. The couch is out of the way, and it’s sunny, so it should be fine if we leave for a bit.”
“You’re the boss,” I said.
Laura smacked my arm.
* * *
We walked into the café at the bowling alley. The crack of pins being knocked down rang out, even though it was 11:30 a.m. on a weekday. But it could be the Spouses’ Club league or one of the retiree leagues. I used to bowl with the Spouses’ Club but hadn’t been able to since the divorce. We both ordered burgers and decided to share fries. Ordering food made me wonder when DiNapoli’s would open again and how Stefano was doing.
We found a table near a TV and waited for our food.
“What have you been up to?” Laura asked me.
“I got arrested last night.”
Laura’s jaw dropped, but pretty soon I had her laughing so hard, other people stared. They called the number for our order. I leaped up.
“I’ll get it,” I said.
When I came back, Laura was still grinning. She chatted about the base book club, her boys, who both played hockey, and the upcoming possibility of her husband getting promoted to general.
Tables filled as we ate, and I noticed a couple of guys who were both with the security forces. They’d worked for CJ before he retired. I pointed to their table. “Maybe they can help us with the couch,” I told Laura. She nodded.
I walked over to them, and they agreed to meet us at the community center as soon as they finished eating.
Laura and I were walking back to her car when my phone chimed, telling me I had another PopIt. “Laura, I know this is going to sound silly, but I want you to look at this PopIt with me.”
“Why do you even have PopIt?”
“I use it a lot for my business. But I’ve gotten a couple of creepy photos lately. No one is ever around to see them.”
“Really? Creepy photos? Let’s look.”
I clicked on the app. A picture of Lindsay making a sad face at the food in the school cafeteria popped up and disappeared.
Laura shook her head. “That’s weird but not creepy.”
I laughed. “Lindsay’s pictures make me smile. Let’s take one to send back to her.” We posed with our tongues sticking out. “That will make her laugh.”
My phone chimed again. I pushed the button. A picture of the couch by the community center popped up. A crudely written sign on the couch said DIE, SARAH WINSTON. Beside the sign was a little cat that looked like Stella’s cat Tux.
“Laura, look.” I held my phone out, but the picture was already gone. This time I’d noticed the user name. It was DieSarah.
Chapter 24
“What is it? You’re as pale as that cloud up there,” Laura said.
“We’ve got to get back to the community center. I’ll tell you on the way.”
We hurried back to Laura’s car, and she drove over the twenty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit by a daring five miles. The base wasn’t like the rest of the world. Here you really might be pulled over for exceeding the speed limit by five miles an hour—even by one on some occasions. The military meant business when they posted a sign. Maybe having security around wasn’t such a bad idea. I filled her in as she drove up Travis Road, the main road that cut from one side of the base to the other.
“Call security,” Laura urged. “We don’t know what we’ll find up there.”
I called the nonemergency number, which I knew by heart from the days when CJ was the squadron commander. Even as I explained what had happened, I knew how strange it sounded.
“We’ll send a car right away, Mrs. Hooker,” the airman who answered the phone said.
Even though I identified myself as Sarah Winston, people from the base often forgot I’d gone back to my maiden name. Laura and I beat the security forces to the community center. We pulled up near the couch. The sign and the cat were both gone. A squad car screeched up beside us. I was happy to see that James was the first one here.
“Stay in the car while I look around,” he told us.
We nodded gratefully. A couple of other cars pulled up, one belonging to the two guys from the bowling alley who’d said they would help us move the couch. The troops started to scatter.
I rolled the window down. “Please look for a small black and white cat,” I called after them. I couldn’t bear to think that Tux or his twin was roaming loose.
From past experience I figured the photographer was long gone. Focusing on the cat was a lot easier than focusing on the reality of getting another picture. First, a photo of me finding Margaret, then the creepy photos commenting on my clothing, then the one of me heading into my apartment, and now this. A direct threat. Did someone really want me to die? Who? Why? A thousand other questions tumbled around in my head like laundry in a dryer while I sat there. I shot off a text to Stella asking if she was still home and if Tux was there. She wrote right back answering yes to both. Whew. Laura called her husband to let him know what was going on. A few minutes later James came back and motioned for Laura and me to get out of the car.
“Do you have any idea where the picture was taken from?” he asked.
I looked at the couch and then turned my back to it. I faced the TLF, the temporary lodging facility, a hotel of sorts for military people, which was surrounded by woods. I pointed to a spot near a Dumpster that seemed like it would be at the right angle to photograph the couch. And there were plenty of trees, along with the Dumpster, to hide behind and easy access to parking to get away. Talk about déjà v
u. “I got a picture . . . the day I found Margaret More. It was taken by someone hiding in the woods, too.” What the heck was going on? I was not sure why, but I didn’t want to tell James about the other photos.
James’s eyes lit in recognition.
“The police said there were some cigarette butts near a tree. Maybe someone should check for some here.” I pointed again toward the spot the photo seemed to have been taken.
James spoke into the radio on his shoulder. A guy and girl hurried from the community center to the woods. At least with James on the case, I might have a chance of finding out what was going on.
“Let’s go take a look inside the community center,” James said. “We’ve already been through it, but you ladies might have a better idea if anything is out of place.”
“Can you help us carry the couch in?” Laura asked. “We can’t do it alone.”
James picked up one end, and Laura and I took the other. With a bit of huffing and puffing, we managed to get it inside the room. The community center was empty, and there weren’t any threatening signs lying around.
“I probably should go tell someone in the Ellington Police Department about what happened,” I said.
“I can do it for you if you’d like,” James said.
“Thank you. That would be great.” If James told them, I could avoid any lectures or questions that might arise from this latest incident. It would give me time to think the whole thing through.
James’s radio crackled, and we all heard someone say, “Found something.” We followed James out, and Laura locked up. Several of the security policemen were standing by one of the trees, looking down.
“Stay here,” James told us before trotting over to join the others.
He talked to them for a couple of minutes, and I saw one of the guys bag something. James trotted back over. “You two can take off.”
“What was it?” Laura asked.
“Sorry, ma’am. I can’t tell you,” James said.
Laura gave him a steely look, but James held her gaze. She turned to me. “I’m going. Call me later. We’ll finish our prep work tomorrow.”
I nodded and waited until she was out of sight. “What was it, James? Please tell me. I’m scared.”
“A couple of cigarette butts. Nothing else.”
“So whoever is doing this is pretty dumb.”
“And has access to the base,” James said.
“That doesn’t narrow the field by much.” The base employed hundreds of people. Lots of retired military people lived in the area and used the base facilities. Then there were delivery people and guests. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Don’t rat me out,” he said with a grim smile.
“Never.”
* * *
At 1:30 p.m. I walked over to DiNapoli’s, which, happily, had reopened. I walked in, and the place was still pretty full. Ryan waved to me from the back as he bused a table. Rosalie looked up from taking an order.
“Hold on a minute,” she told the person. “Lois, can you finish taking this order?” Rosalie came around the counter and hugged me. “I’m sorry we got you in trouble last night.”
I shook my head. “I should have paid more attention. All cars look alike to me. How’s Stefano doing?”
“Much better. Thanks.” She went back around the counter. “Angelo made a new soup. Italian sausage, potatoes, white beans, kale. It’s delicious.”
“Sounds perfect.”
I sat at a table, and Ryan brought over a basket of garlic bread. “It’s great with the soup.”
“Thanks, Ryan. Did you ever find a gift for your girlfriend?”
“No. I’m still looking, when I have time. I’ve been doing a lot of extra handyman jobs lately.”
“The base is having a community sale on Friday. Maybe you could find her something there. Do you have a way to get on?”
“I do. One of my buddies works on base.” A group behind me left their table. Ryan grinned at me. “No rest for the wicked.”
Angelo brought over my bowl of soup. He sat in the chair across from me and gestured toward the soup. “Tell me what you think.”
I reached for the pepper.
“Really? You’re going to add extra seasoning before you even taste it? I put just the right amount of pepper in it. You add more, it will upset the balance of the flavors.”
I withdrew my hand. Angelo was rarely wrong when it came to food. I dipped my spoon in the soup. Chunky pieces of sausage and potatoes, spiked with pepper, steamed on the spoon. I blew on it before taking a bite. “Mmm. You’re right. It’s perfect.”
Angelo nodded in an “Of course” motion.
“Kale seems kind of trendy for you, though.”
“Humph. My mother used kale in this recipe long before it became trendy. She grew it in her own garden. I had to pick and clean it. It ain’t easy to clean. Everyone looked down on us for having kale instead of iceberg lettuce.” He waved his hands around. “Now everyone wants to eat kale. Until the next big thing comes along.”
“Did you hear about Juanita?” I asked him.
“It’s a sad business.”
“Do you know if Margaret and Juanita knew each other?”
Angelo turned in his chair. “Rosalie, you got a minute, honey?”
Rosalie was wiping down counters but put the cloth down and joined us. I repeated my question.
“Margaret came in a few months ago, talking about needing a new cleaning lady. I mentioned Juanita because I’d seen her ad on your garage sale site.”
I almost dropped my spoon in my soup. “Do you know if she used her?”
“No idea,” Rosalie said.
“I saw CJ on TV this morning, saying they had a person of interest. Do you know who he was talking about?” I asked.
“With Stefano sick and getting caught up here, I haven’t heard a thing,” Rosalie said. Angelo nodded his agreement. “What have you heard?” she asked.
That was disappointing. “Nothing. It’s just since I found Margaret, I’m worried he was talking about me.”
Angelo frowned. “He’d better not be. You need me to call Vincenzo? I’ll call him right now.”
I smiled in spite of my worry. “No. It’s okay.”
“Eat your soup, before it gets cold,” Rosalie said.
They left me alone with my thoughts. I used the bread Ryan had brought me to mop up the last bits of soup in my bowl. It wasn’t like I could call Margaret’s relatives and ask if they knew who her cleaning lady was. I didn’t have access to her accounts or books. CJ might, but he wouldn’t be answering any of my questions. Seth had said he’d call me later. Maybe he’d know. But I should probably notify the EPD about this development. The more they looked at someone else, the less they’d look at me. In the meantime I’d look through old posts and notifications on my Web site to see if I could find a connection there.
As I walked home, I realized maybe I could ask Nancy Elder if she knew anything. I’d go under the pretense of talking about the second annual New England’s Largest Yard Sale, which we were planning for next fall. Since Nancy was engaged to one of Margaret’s sons and she was the town manager, she just might have some information and not even know it.
Chapter 25
Minutes later I stood in front of Nancy’s desk in the town hall. Her office was cramped and old, with a rusty pipe in one corner, but it had fabulous light pouring in through a large window. You’d think the town manager would have a nicer space. She’d brought in her own area rug, beiges and greens, along with a couple of chairs for her visitors to sit in. I took one of them, careful not to get my wet boots near the cream-colored upholstery.
“I wondered if you had gotten all the permits for the community yard sale next fall,” I said.
“Yes. I e-mailed them to you last week.” Her tone indicated she didn’t think I was on top of things.
“Hmmm. It must be buried somewhere. The virtual garage sale sometimes overwhelms my inbox.” I’d actual
ly seen the e-mail but, fortunately, hadn’t responded. “Great. Then I can start putting out the word to the vendors.”
“This early?”
“Yes. These people plan ahead. There are lots of festivals in the fall, so I want to make sure they don’t forget ours. Plus, that way I can start laying out a map of whose booth will go where.”
Nancy nodded. Her short hair swung around her ears. She’d draped her suit jacket across the back of her desk chair, and her shirt was a no-nonsense white.
“How’s Margaret’s family doing?” I asked.
“They’re mad as heck someone took her life.” She picked up a pen and twirled it around with a slight smile. “And there’s a lot of jockeying to see who will be the next top dog.”
“Filling her shoes won’t be easy.”
Nancy grimaced. “That’s for sure.”
“Do you happen to know who her cleaning lady was? She mentioned her one time, and I have a friend who’s looking.”
“She changed cleaning ladies like other people change shoes. No one was ever quite up to snuff with her.”
“Oh, I thought she had someone she loved.”
“She did for years, but Frieda Chida quit abruptly last spring. No notice. She just quit coming.”
Frieda had told me she’d been fired. I wondered which story was the truth, but figured I didn’t have any way to find out, since Margaret was dead and Frieda was none too fond of me. “I’ve heard some really good things about Juanita,” I said.
“And I’m guessing a lot of complaints. But still, her death is such a pity.”
“From what I’ve heard, it’s like Juanita was the little girl with the curl of cleaning ladies. When she was good, she was very, very good. But when she was bad, she was horrid. Did you ever use Juanita?”
“I did.” Nancy leaned back in her chair. “I’ve heard the rumors. Pellner was around, asking questions. But I never had a problem. Not one.”
* * *
Back home I opened my laptop and sent a private message to Frieda, asking her to call me. I didn’t know her well enough to ask her a bunch of questions, and I was guessing she wouldn’t answer me, anyway. But if I had her come over and clean, then she might be more inclined to talk. As I waited, I finally thought about the picture of the couch, and suddenly Angelo’s soup was roiling in my stomach. I didn’t have to wait long before my phone rang.
All Murders Final! Page 14