Stay Sharpe Box Set

by Lisa B. Thomas

Russell flexed his arm like Hercules. “The guns are still loaded.”

  Deena laughed. “Well, you won’t believe what I found out.” Estelle and Russell were all ears as she told them about the interview with Billy Ratliff.

  Russell seemed particularly interested in the part about the motorcycle accident. “Were there any burns on his legs? Were the scratches on his arm normal or did it look like road rash? Did he say if he was wearing leathers at the time?”

  “Hold on now, bro. Who’s the investigator here?”

  “You are, but these are just common abrasions you get when you fall off a motorbike.”

  Estelle crinkled her nose. “How would you know so much about motorcycle accidents? You told me you hadn’t ridden one in years.”

  Russell turned his pleading eyes to Deena.

  She stepped in to rescue him. “I’ll keep that in mind when we talk to him again. For now, we are letting him simmer. We’re checking some other leads. We went to the pawn shop to have a little chat with Marty Fisk.” She described his story about the argument over the coins.

  “Who were the two local men involved?” Estelle asked.

  Deena wished then that she had taken notes. “Let me see.” She stared up at the ceiling as though the names would float down to her from heaven. “Fisk said they used to have some sort of coin collecting club and these two guys were in it.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” A smile crept across Estelle’s face. “I hadn’t thought of that in years. I remember my father and the other men gathered in the study. They would smoke cigars and talk about their coins. Father would let me stay a while, but I usually got bored and would run off to play. Mother would yell at me not to get my clothes dirty. I remember—”

  “Dirty clothes. That’s it. One of the men owns the laundry mat. Oh, and the body shop.”

  “Hmm,” Estelle said. “That doesn’t sound familiar, although it has been a long time.”

  “There’s a Ronnie Clark who owns a body shop in town. His mechanic helps Cliff and me out sometimes with our mot—I mean, trucks.”

  Estelle closed the book they had been reading and dropped it on the table with a bang.

  Deena had a feeling the motorcycle conversation would be continued later at home.

  The banging noise jogged her memory. “The other man was retired. I think Fisk said he used to be a banker or a doctor or something.”

  Estelle turned back to her. “My father knew quite a few of both. Did he say anything more specific?”

  “I remember his name made me think of JFK.”

  “JFK?” Russell looked surprised. “Was it Oswald or Ruby?”

  “No. Kevin Costner.”

  Russell cocked his head. “His name is Kevin Costner, like the actor?”

  “No, his name is the same as the guy Kevin Costner played in the JFK movie.”

  “You mean Jim Garrison, the DA from New Orleans?”

  “Garrison. That’s it!”

  “The way your mind works...”

  Estelle held up her hand. “I know a Wyatt Garrison. He used to be my father’s banker years ago. Was that the name he mentioned?”

  “Honestly, I only remember the last name, but that’s probably right.”

  Estelle’s face drained of color.

  “What is it, babe?” Russell asked. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded slightly. “I just thought about what Abby said...about the stranger.”

  “What?” Deena asked. Estelle looked as though she’d just seen a ghost. And in Estelle’s case, the possibility was real.

  “Wyatt Garrison is one of our oldest family friends.”

  Deena gasped. “You don’t think he was the one who came to the house claiming to look for a book, do you?”

  She shook her head. “Impossible. We’ve known the Garrisons for years. He was like family. In fact, I used to call him Uncle Wyatt. He taught me how to play chess.”

  “Then why have I never heard of this ‘Uncle Wyatt’?” Russell asked.

  Estelle clenched her hands together. “After Father passed, he and Mother had a falling-out. I’m not sure what it was about. Knowing Mother, it was probably something silly. We haven’t been in contact with him for years.” She stopped and looked down, whispering, “Bless her heart.”

  “Don’t you think we should say something to Detective Guttman?” Deena asked.

  “No. Absolutely not. If he should check into anyone, it should be that other man. The body shop owner.” She looked up at Russell and glared, apparently remembering the motorcycle comment. She got up and went straight to the storeroom.

  Deena looked at Russell, who appeared equally confused.

  Had this discussion sent Estelle over the edge?

  “We better check on her,” Russell said.

  Deena followed him to the back with Hurley once again on her heels.

  Estelle, frozen as though caught between reality and fantasy, stood in the doorway of the Clearance Closet. Deena followed her gaze into the room and saw what looked like a scene from a movie. The orange glow of the setting sun beamed through the window as feathers floated and danced around the room, slowly making their way to the floor.

  “What on earth?” Deena couldn’t imagine what had happened.

  As the three of them watched the surreal sight, Estelle finally spoke. “It’s a sign.”

  Chapter 7

  Those who live in big cities seem to believe that everyone in small towns knows everyone else. That’s a myth. Besides the fact that you can never really know another person, small town people have their cliques just like big city folks. What is true, however, is that small town people tend to be more suspicious of strangers. That certainly was the case in Maycroft.

  As Deena drove home, she couldn’t stop thinking about Wyatt Garrison. After Estelle’s initial freak-out, she totally dismissed the possibility that he could be involved in the case. Estelle even made Deena promise not to disclose to Guttman the fact that he had a relationship to the family. Deena didn’t like it, but she really had no choice.

  And what about those feathers? Tomorrow she would investigate the source first thing. Rather than entertain Estelle’s notion that they were a sign, Deena had just closed the Clearance Closet door declaring that it had been a long day and that they all needed to go home.

  Deena glanced at Hurley in the seat next to her. He still had a few of the small flurries stuck to his face from when he tried to catch them in his mouth like snowflakes.

  As she turned into her suburb of Butterfly Gardens, she realized she had forgotten to ask Estelle about the second coin collection. Should she give her a call? Glancing at the clock, she realized the banks were already closed. Estelle couldn’t take the collection to the bank and put it in a safe deposit box tonight anyway. For that matter, it might already be there. It could wait until tomorrow. They’d had enough drama for one day.

  Speaking of drama, Deena saw Christy Ann with her oldest boy walking up the street pulling a wagon. What could she be selling this time? If nothing else, growing up in the suburbs trained kids how to be little entrepreneurs. Every time you turned around they were selling some overpriced candle or cookie dough to support their team or club or church or what have you.

  Deena pulled into the driveway and let Hurley out of the car. He ran up to little Davey and rolled over for belly scratches. Davey squealed with delight.

  “Hey, Deena. You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

  Ahh, Christy Ann. You could always count on her to make even the simplest pleasantry sound snarky.

  “Yes, it has been. What’s your excuse?”

  She laughed as though Deena were surely kidding.

  Christy Ann, a typical suburban, stay-at-home mom, could always be trusted to give Deena a run for her money. Who knows what went on behind closed doors, but in front of them, Christy Ann always looked refreshed and put together like someone on the cover of one of those parenting magazines they have at the dentist office.

  “You�
��re such a delight, Deena. Isn’t she, Davey?”

  Deena ruffled. Sounded like code for “we can’t stand her but we’re smiling anyway.” Deena glanced in the wagon. Cookies. Boxes and boxes of cookies.

  “Looks like another fundraiser,” Deena said. “What is it this time? Buying kittens for sick children or sending toddlers to space camp?”

  Christy Ann literally tisked at Deena. “It’s for the youth soccer league. Don’t you remember me telling you that Davey made All-Stars?”

  “All-Stars? How old is he? I thought he just barely learned to walk.”

  She shook her head. “I know it’s hard for people who are childless to understand, but Davey is five and he’s a gifted athlete.”

  Childless. She might as well have called her a barren waste of space. As much as Deena loved her friendly banter with her favorite neighbor, exhaustion was beating on her door. She wanted to get inside. “Just tell me how much they are and how many I need to buy,” she said, reaching for her wallet.

  “Actually, if you buy a case, I can give you a discount. Only five dollars a box.”

  “What am I going to do with a case of cookies? I’m on a diet.”

  “Ooh, that’s good to hear. Well, you could always freeze them. You can thaw them out and take them to a party and pretend you baked them.”

  That was a low blow. Christy Ann knew her too well.

  “I’ll have you know that Gary’s mother taught me how to make Hello Dollies using her super-secret cookie recipe.”

  “And how many batches of those have you whipped up?”

  “Touché. Give me a case. Maybe I can sell some to the customers at the thrift store.”

  Christy Ann tilted her head like Hurley when he didn’t quite understand something. “I didn’t know you were having to shop at the thrift store, although I should have guessed. You and Gary aren’t having financial troubles, are you?”

  “No, not that it’s any of your business. I’m filling in for my friend Sandra who just had a baby. That’s what us ‘childless’ people do.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Deena handed her the cash and took the large case of cookies. “Good luck with soccer, Davey. Hope you win the biggest trophy they make.” She opened the back door of her SUV and tossed in the box. Under her breath, she added, “So I can clobber your mother with it.”

  Chapter 8

  Estelle was one of those perky morning people Deena couldn’t stand. Even as a teacher, Deena had always had a hard time trying to appear chipper and raring to go with her first period class. It helped that Estelle showed up with Deena’s favorite mocha caramel latte.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Estelle asked. “Do we have new inventory to price and put out? I just love using the pricing gun.”

  “Easy there,” Deena said. “Let me get my sea legs first.” She plopped down in a chair and put her feet up on a box.

  “I’m just excited to be here. It’s so much fun to work in a store. Do I need to get money out of the safe to put in the register?”

  Deena took a gulp of coffee. “What do you think this is, a bank? There’s no safe. I took the money bag home with me last night. It’s in my black satchel.” She looked over at the table where she had set her purse. No bag.

  “Oops. Must have left it in the back of my car.”

  “I’ll get it,” Estelle said and reached in Deena’s purse for the keys.

  If she was going to be this energetic, Deena might have to find her another place to do the rest of her community service.

  Estelle came back in carrying the bag and a box of cookies. “You bought a whole case of cookies? I thought you were on a diet.”

  “I am.” She explained how Christy Ann had ambushed her.

  “Let me bring a few of them in from the car. We’ll set up a little display on the front counter. I’ll make a sign.” And off she went.

  Good. That should keep her busy at least a few minutes. The coffee cleared some of the fog in Deena’s head. She looked around at the bags and boxes of clothes that seemed to have multiplied since yesterday. Estelle must have gotten some more drop-offs when Deena was out of the shop with Guttman.

  That reminded her of his warning about the second coin collection. When Estelle returned to get some paper to make her sign, Deena motioned for her to have a seat. “I need to ask you about something Marty Fisk said about your father. He mentioned that the other coin collection you have is even more valuable than the one that was stolen. Did you know that?”

  “I never thought about it. I just know that they were very special to my father. That’s why I’m keeping them for now.”

  Alarm bells rang in Deena’s head. “Where did you say you keep it?”

  “It’s in the safe. I keep all my valuables in the safe now.”

  “Do you know how much it’s worth?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Deena turned down the thermostat. Between hot flashes and hot coffee, sweat dripped from her hairline. “Well, according to Fisk, they are worth a lot of money. In his words, ‘They might be worth killing for’.”

  A tremor made its way through Estelle’s body. “Oh dear. Do you think I’m in danger? What should I do?”

  “Detective Guttman suggested you put the coins in a safe deposit box at the bank.”

  “Okay. That will keep the coins safe, but what about me?”

  “Let’s see where Guttman is on his investigation. I’ll call him and see if he can come here to meet with us.” She patted Estelle’s arm. “Now, finish up with the cookie display so you can fire up the pricing gun. We have a lot of work to do.”

  * * *

  FOR SOME REASON, MORE merchandise was coming into the store than going out. One customer had come in looking for tablecloths and a few others were shopping for Thanksgiving décor. Several people dropped off donations.

  When the bell jingled on the front door, Deena walked out of the storeroom to see Detective Guttman staring at a used motorcycle helmet.

  “Howdy, Detective,” Deena said. “Don’t tell me you ride?”

  “Sure I do. And I don’t think this old helmet is up to code. Make sure to tell whoever buys it not to wear it for protection.”

  “Will do.” She picked up the helmet and called for Estelle to join them.

  “I just got off the phone with Russell,” she said. “He’s going to take the coins to the bank for me. Detective, do you think someone might come to my house looking for the second collection?”

  “I’m no fortune teller, but there’s always that possibility.”

  She looked at him with wide eyes. “What should we do?”

  “Make sure you lock your doors and keep your security system on, especially at night. You do have one, right?”

  “Yes. Russell had one installed right after we got married.”

  “I can make sure the department patrols your neighborhood. It’s unlikely that the thief will strike twice, but you can never be too cautious.”

  Estelle’s face dropped even farther.

  “How about some cookies, Linus?” Deena asked, trying to shut him up. “Just five dollars a box.” She started piling boxes in his arms as he protested.

  “Now Deena, you know us cops prefer doughnuts.” He stacked the boxes back on the counter. “I guess I can take one, though.” He took the money out of his wallet and slapped the cash on the counter. He looked back at Estelle. “By the way, have you gotten anything else out of that housekeeper of yours?”

  Estelle had zoned out.

  Deena snapped her fingers in front of Estelle’s face like a hypnotist reviving his victim. “Estelle. Detective Guttman asked you a question.”

  “Oh, um, no. She’s still saying a stranger came to the house. Do you think she’s lying?”

  “Maybe. Be sure to drop it to her that the other coins are now at the bank, just to be on the safe side. This is a small town. Word will get around.”

  “I could mention it to Penelope Burrows,” Dee
na said. “Then everyone will know. What about the two men from the coin club that Fisk mentioned? Have you talked to them?”

  “Not yet. There’s a security guard I want to talk to first. According to the auctioneer, he was patrolling the parking lot. He told the police he didn’t see anything suspicious, but I want to see if I can shake his memory a little.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Deena, I don’t want to be here alone.” The color began returning to Estelle’s face. “Please stay here with me.”

  “You’re right,” Deena said softly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Guttman cut his eyes at her. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. I already got a chewing out from the Chief about taking you with me to see Marty Fisk. Apparently, Marty Fisk still holds a grudge against you.”

  “That really isn’t surprising since I did reveal that he was cheating on his wife.”

  “I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to include you in the investigation of this case or any other if I want to keep my badge. And yes, I want to keep my badge.”

  “Hmm. Maybe if I talk to Fisk, I can change his mind.”

  Guttman looked as though he might blow. “Mrs. Sharpe, this is my job we’re talking about.”

  Deena crossed her arms. “Detective Guttman, this is my family’s safety we’re talking about.” She glanced back at Estelle and shook her head. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”

  Estelle just stared at the floor.

  Guttman let out a guttural sound. “Well, you ladies stay out of trouble, you hear?” He turned and left the shop.

  “Not hardly.” Estelle snapped back to life. Deena followed her as she marched straight to the storeroom and picked up the shop keys. She unlocked the closet door and opened it slowly. The feathers once again floated in the air.

  “What are you doing?” Deena asked.

  “Seeing if I get another sign.”

  Where had all those darn feathers come from? Deena pushed around some of the clothes on the rack. She found the culprit. Apparently, something had chewed a large hole into a down-filled jacket. “Look,” she said, showing the coat to Estelle. “It must have been a mouse. When you opened the door, the air stirred up the fallen feathers.”