Stay Sharpe Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

  Bingo!

  “He said he was an old friend and needed to get something from the upstairs study. A book or something.” She paused as though hearing her own words made her doubt herself. “I—let him in.”

  Deena shook her head slowly as though it was a reasonable statement. Inside, though, her stomach did a flip. “Do you know who this man was?”

  “No. He told me his name, but I don’t remember. It was weeks ago. I didn’t know he was going to steal something.”

  Alarm bells went off. Estelle never mentioned that anything had been stolen. “How long was he here? Did you see where he went in the house or what he did?”

  “No.”

  “What about a description? Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “He was older. His hair was kind of gray. Not tall but not short.”

  “That’s it? Anything specific or unusual?”

  “No, I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  “Did you see him leave? Did he take anything with him?”

  “I was in the kitchen. I never saw him leave.” She tugged at the purse hanging from her shoulder.

  Deena doubted she was getting the whole story. “Look, I’m going to have to tell the police about this. They’ll want to question you.”

  Abby teetered on her wiry legs.

  “It will be fine. As long as you tell the truth, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “What about my job? I’m supposed to work tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll talk to Estelle. Just come to work as usual and all will be fine—for now.”

  “Can you tell her I’m sorry and that I shouldn’t have been so stupid?”

  Deena put on her high school teacher hat. “We all make mistakes. Learn from it. That’s the important thing.”

  Abby got back in her old blue sedan and waved.

  Deena watched her drive away, wondering what it must be like to be in your mid-twenties living paycheck to paycheck. Her heart ached for the girl.

  Still, she had to convince Estelle. The good news was that their plan had worked. The bad news was that Deena hadn’t yet told her about the impending community service.

  Estelle waited in the den. She had apparently filled their husbands in on recent events because the game was muted on the television. “So what did she say?” Estelle asked as soon as Deena popped through the doorway.

  “Get this. She said she let a man in who came by saying he was an old friend of the family. He said he was there to retrieve a book or something.”

  “My word! Did she say who it was?”

  “She couldn’t remember. She described him as an older gentleman with gray hair and medium height.”

  “That’s not too helpful,” Gary said. “I hope you fire her. If she can’t be trusted to keep strangers out of the house when you’re out of town—”

  Deena turned to Estelle. “You can’t, not yet anyway. She might know more than she’s telling us. Plus, she’s the only one who can identify the man.”

  Estelle paced the room like a prowling cat. “Do you think she was telling the truth?”

  Deena let out a sigh. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I had a hard time reading her.”

  “Do you think whoever came in this house killed Leonard? Maybe there are fingerprints?” Estelle’s look turned more hopeful.

  “I can ask Detective Guttman, but he’ll likely say there were too many people handling those items upstairs.”

  Gary stroked his chin. “So, do you think a man who knew you were out of town came over to steal the coin collection—presumably—didn’t find it but mixed up the piles, then went to the auction, stole the coin collection, knocked Leonard to the ground, killing him, and then got away scot-free?”

  “That’s how it looks, Sherlock.” Deena gave him a thumbs up.

  “Hmm. Sounds a little far-fetched to me,” he said, and leaned back in his chair.

  “Which part?” Russell asked.

  “All of it. For one thing, why didn’t the guy take the coins when he was here instead of waiting until he was at the auction?”

  “Good question,” Deena said. “Where was the coin collection when he was here?”

  “I gave Jeb and Patsy the coin box and some jewelry to take with them,” Estelle said. “The stranger wouldn’t have found it because it wasn’t here.”

  “Still,” Gary said, “there’s nothing to say the two incidents are related.”

  “You mean the two crimes,” Deena corrected. “And there’s nothing to say they aren’t.”

  Gary looked back at the TV. “Hey, the third quarter is about to start. Can we get home?”

  “Sure. Just one more thing.” Deena broke the news to Estelle about the call from Guttman and the community service.

  She started to protest.

  “Sounds to me like you’re getting off easy,” Russell said. “There’s a lot of leeches who would already have a lawyer and be suing for damages by now. I think you should take the deal and thank your lucky stars.”

  “Maybe,” she said reluctantly.

  “Hey,” Gary said, “the thrift store is a non-profit, right? Does Sandra let people perform community service there?”

  Deena’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I didn’t even think of that. Brilliant!” She looked at Estelle. “Why don’t you start tomorrow, and we can plan our next move.”

  Estelle twisted her face a bit then sighed. “Okay, at least I won’t have to wear one of those reflective vests on the side of the road.”

  Russell laughed. “Or an orange jumpsuit.”

  Chapter 5

  The crisp November air rustled the trees, blowing colorful leaves across the road as Deena headed into town Monday morning. Still a week before Thanksgiving, she had barely replaced her Halloween wreath, much less properly decorated the house for holidays.

  Hurley, her little black terrier, sat clueless, looking out the back window of the car and barking at pedestrians and other cars. He hated going to the groomer, but he needed his nails trimmed and a bath to get rid of his funky dog smell.

  Deena felt a little guilty when she left him at the groomer’s even though he was in good hands. He looked up at her with his, “What’s going on here?” face when she led him a few doors down from the thrift shop. She promised him he could spend the afternoon with her at the shop to get him to walk in the door.

  After saying goodbye, she hurried to the thrift store and turned the sign around to “Open.” Still thinking about Hurley, she remembered the day Sandra had brought a small black dog from the shelter to spend the day at the shop. Since the profits from the store went to support the animal shelter, Sandra would volunteer to foster animals that were waiting to get their new “forever homes.” Soon after that, Deena adopted Hurley.

  He stole her heart with his big brown eyes and black furry face. She named him Hurley after her favorite character from Lost.

  Mondays at the thrift store were creep fests. After three weeks on duty, she still hadn’t gotten comfortable dealing with the death pile. She pulled the key ring out of the register drawer and headed to the large storage closet, wanting to get it over with before any customers showed up.

  When she opened the door, an acrid scent of moth balls bombarded her senses, causing her nostrils to flare and her eyes to water. Maybe she had used too many last Monday. She cracked open the window in the smaller room hoping some off the smell would dissipate.

  This little ritual was all part of Sandra’s superstition. When she had told Deena about the “Clearance Closet,” Deena had assumed the room housed clothing to be marked down on sale. Not hardly.

  Instead, the small room off the larger storeroom held items that had been recently worn by the newly-deceased. Sandra believed they needed a little time to “clear out the spirit” of the previous owner.

  Deena wrote it off as a bunch of nonsense, but she faithfully followed her friend’s strict instructions. She gathered up the armful of clothes that were labeled with today’s dat
e and carried them out into the shop. They needed a little airing out due to the mothball overkill, so she hung them on a rack in the back. Instead of locking the closet room door, she left it open hoping a cross-breeze would help.

  Her favorite part of the day was unlocking the back door to the alley and checking the donation bin for new treasures. The collection box looked like a large wooden post office box, like the kind you drive up to and insert your mail. Of course, it had a larger opening. Sometimes people would leave bigger pieces of furniture or toys next to the box.

  Deena unlocked the bin and pulled out several bags of goodies. They felt like they contained clothes, but one made a clinking sound when she carried it. The promise of new treasures gave her a rush. She ripped open the bag. Disappointment replaced hope when she found a bunch of stained baby clothes and three clear glass flower vases from the supermarket.

  Luckily, a few customers came by with some promising donations and lifted her spirits.

  She prepared price tags for the newly-undead clothing and heard the bell jingle on the front door. Estelle came into the shop with Russell in tow, carrying an armful of ladies’ dresses.

  “Hey, you two. Whatcha got there?” Deena motioned for Russell to lay the stack across the counter. “Clearing out some of your old clothes?”

  “Nope. These were Carolyn’s,” he said. “I finally convinced Estelle to get rid of them.”

  Estelle ran her hand across the red velvet jacket on top of the stack. “These are some of Mother’s better things. There will be more coming. I figured now was as good a time as any to send them off to new homes.”

  Deena recognized the jacket. “Isn’t this what your mother was wearing when she—died?”

  Estelle nodded. “It was one of her favorites.”

  Uh-oh. This stuff would have to go into the Clearance Closet. That meant Deena would have to tell Estelle about Sandra’s superstition. At least they could get a good laugh out of it.

  “I’m off to Cliff’s,” Russell said and kissed Estelle on the cheek. “We’re installing a new motor in his RV today. You ladies stay out of trouble.” He smiled and left.

  “So do I need to clock in or sign something? I want this community service to be official,” Estelle said.

  “Oh right. I’ll give Sandra a call later and find out what we need to do. For now, let’s make some coffee so I can tell you about something.”

  Estelle sat in one of the folding chairs. “Is it about the case? Did you talk to Detective Guttman?”

  “Yes. I told him about Abby. He’s going to interview her and call me later. But that’s not what I want to tell you.”

  “What is it? Are you naming me employee of the year already?”

  “Actually, it’s about Sandra and her...um...system.”

  “Okay,” Estelle said, drawing out the word.

  “Did I ever tell you about her being superstitious?”

  “No, not that I recall.”

  “Well, she is. Very. One time I opened an umbrella in the shop and she acted like I’d just called on Satan to torch the place.” Deena set a cup of coffee in front of Estelle and took a seat at the table.

  She blew on the steaming brew. “I’m a little superstitious myself. That would have set me off, too.”

  “Then maybe you’ll relate to this better than I do. You see, Sandra believes that things belonging to people who have just died carry a little of their spirit. Actually, I don’t know if spirit is the right word, but you get the point. After they die, the spirit needs time to ‘wear off,’ so to speak.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.”

  Deena had a feeling they weren’t going to share that laugh about Sandra’s idiosyncrasies after all. “Anyway, she has this separate storeroom where she keeps donated clothes that belonged to people who were recently deceased. Like the clothes you brought in.”

  Estelle looked surprised. “But Mother’s been gone almost a year. Wouldn’t they be clear by now?”

  Clear? How odd that she used the same word as Sandra. “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll have to ask Sandra what her statute of limitation is on ghostly spirits.”

  Estelle scrunched up her face.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be indelicate. It’s just that I don’t believe in all this superstitious hogwash.”

  “Well, I’d say, better safe than sorry. Let’s put Mother’s things in that special room just in case.” She stood up and marched toward the counter.

  Deena followed her, picked up the rest of the stack, and led her to the Clearance Closet. They hung the dresses on the rack where Deena had removed Mr. Carlson’s clothes earlier.

  “What about other things? Non-clothing items, that is.” Estelle looked at Deena as though her question was perfectly normal.

  “I’m not sure if the rule applies to hard goods like it does to soft goods. I’ll have to ask.”

  “Good, because I have some more things that aren’t going into the auction that I wanted to donate.”

  Good grief. Why had she opened her mouth? Next thing you know, Estelle would be having an exorcism on Carolyn Fitzhugh’s old panty hose and garbage cans. Deena wondered how she kept getting herself into these prickly situations.

  * * *

  WHO KNEW ESTELLE WOULD be such a retail wunderkind? She talked to customers with ease, gave them her opinion of the clothes they tried on, and mastered the register like a pro.

  “I always wanted to be a cashier,” she told Deena as she turned all the paper money facing the same direction. “Mother wouldn’t let me get a job. Then when I graduated from college and was ready to go out on my own, she had her fall and ended up in a wheelchair. Taking care of her and the staff became my full-time job.”

  “If you want to work the register, knock yourself out. There’s plenty I can do in the back.” Deena picked up a stack of empty clothes hangers.

  “Oh, thank you!” Estelle said as though she’d just been presented with a new pony. “I just wish it made that cha-ching sound when the drawer opened.”

  Deena found Estelle’s enthusiasm endearing. “By the way, I talked to Sandra,” she said. “She said she normally waits about a month to put clothes out after someone has ... passed. Unless—”

  “Unless what?”

  Deena and her big mouth again. “Unless there’s a sign.”

  Estelle closed the cash register drawer and stared at her. “What kind of sign?”

  “I don’t know. She just said sometimes unusual stuff would happen, so she’d leave things in the closet a little longer to simmer. Or something like that,” Deena said, squirming a little. “Anyway, she said it should be fine since your mother has been gone so long.”

  “I hope so.” Estelle looked toward the front window with a distant look on her face.

  Deena hurried to the back, not wanting to drag the conversation out any further. Her cell phone rang. She grabbed it hoping it was Detective Guttman. Instead, it was the dog groomer saying that Hurley was primped and polished and all ready to go.

  “I’m going to run down and get Hurley,” she said.

  Estelle nodded as she wiped down shelves of board games and craft supplies.

  Hurley spun in circles when he saw Deena. An orange bandana decorated his neck. “Was he a good boy?” Deena asked.

  “He was perfect,” the groomer said. “He’s all ready for Thanksgiving.”

  Deena took his leash and led him out the door. “We’ll see you next time.” She felt like a mother whose kid just made the honor roll.

  Hurley pulled her toward the thrift store. It wasn’t like he had been there that often, but dogs just have a way of knowing things.

  Inside, he ran up to Estelle and threw himself on the ground, belly up. Estelle scratched him and cooed.

  He jumped up and ran into the storeroom, obviously remembering that Sandra kept a big box of dog treats in there.

  Before Deena could reach him, he started barking. Loudly. Frantically, even. She worried another mouse would make a
surprise appearance. Could it even be a rat? Why had she left that darned window opened?

  Estelle followed her back to check out the ruckus.

  Hurley had nudged his way into the Clearance Closet, sniffing at everything in sight.

  “What is it, boy?” Deena looked around. Not seeing any hairy critters, she tiptoed over and shut the window.

  “What’s that smell?” Estelle asked as she sniffed the air.

  “Mothballs. I guess I overdid it.”

  “No, that’s not mothballs. Believe me, living in that old house, I know what mothballs smell like. It’s something else. Pine, I think. Yes, pine.”

  Deena took in a few whiffs. Estelle was right. The mothball odor had been replaced by the strong smell of pine trees. “Must have blown in from outside. We are near the Piney Woods, you know.”

  “Blown in? I don’t think so. It smells like someone spilled a whole bottle of pine cleaner in here.” She bent down to look around the floor.

  The bells on the front door jingled, signaling new customers.

  “You get that,” Deena said. “I’ll look for the source of the odor.” She moved the rolling racks, looked under a small table, and pushed around a stack of plastic bags. There were no cleaning products to be found. She left the small room and locked the door behind her.

  Estelle stuck her head around the corner of the storeroom. “Find anything?”

  “Nope. Just a lot of dust.”

  She cocked her head. “That’s odd, don’t you think?”

  Deena shrugged. “I guess. It’s a little unusual.”

  Estelle’s jaw dropped. “Unusual? Maybe it’s a sign!”

  * * *

  LUCKILY, THE STORE got busier, and Estelle didn’t mention anything else about signs or spirits or funny smells. Detective Guttman called Deena about his interview with Estelle’s housekeeper.

  “She gave me the same story she gave you,” he said. “Some stranger claiming to be a family friend wanted to look for a book. So she let him rummage around upstairs unsupervised. Right, and I’m the tooth fairy.”