Sell Low, Sweet Harriet

by Sherry Harris

  “Colonel Cane, how are you?” I asked. I’d always called him colonel. He’d been above CJ when we’d met fifteen years ago. He hadn’t ever once asked me to call him by his first name.

  A little frown passed his face. One I interpreted to say I’m a busy man. Don’t bother me.

  “Sarah. Long time.” He paused and glanced down at his shoes. “Thanks for tracking me down the other day. For keeping things quiet.”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, things had been quiet. Why wasn’t anyone talking about Becky being questioned? How did that get squelched? But Frank was the definition of discreet, so he must have kept picking up Becky low key.

  “You’re welcome. Your secretary isn’t easy to get by. I thought I was going to have to make up some story like I was your girlfriend.” I said it in a jokey way, even though it was so inappropriate. I threw it out there, hoping to see what kind of reaction I’d get to the idea of a girlfriend.

  He looked irritated. “The only girl for me is Becky.” He nodded. “I have to get going.”

  I watched him walk off and then walked back to my Suburban on the matted-down, dirty snow. He didn’t seem to react to the girlfriend comment, at least not like someone who was hiding one. But did I know him well enough to spot a lie? Probably not. I had to respect him for keeping up appearances with Becky while they tried to work out their marital problems. Church yesterday and his comment now. Even though I didn’t like him much, I respected that.

  * * *

  I hustled into the Dunkin’s a few minutes after eight, waited in line, got my coffee, and found Ginger tucked into a booth. She was a neat-looking woman in a Burberry scarf and expensive-looking wool camel-colored jacket. I recognized her from a picture I’d seen in the base paper. She looked like she was in her early forties. Ginger stood when I approached and shook my hand with her dainty, well-manicured, and very icy one.

  “It’s nice to meet you at last,” Ginger said. She gestured for me to sit. “I’ve heard so much about you and am sorry you didn’t live on base by the time my husband and I arrived.”

  She was one of those people who made you feel comfortable right away. I didn’t know whether she was born with it or it was bred into her during her years as an officer’s wife.

  “You too.” I sat across from her and waited to hear what she had to say.

  She plucked at a napkin for a moment before looking back up at me. “I know about the situation with Becky.”

  I wondered which one—Becky being questioned, Becky asking me for help, or Becky’s marital situation. I nodded, hoping I’d be able to figure it out without giving anything away.

  “Fortunately, we’ve managed to keep Becky being questioned quiet.” She smiled. “You know how difficult that can be on base.”

  “It is.” When CJ had been escorted off base two years ago, my phone had started ringing seconds later. The thought still made me a little sick. I wondered how they managed to keep it quiet, because Special Agent Bristow showing up at someone’s door, not to mention hauling them out, would usually cause talk. Lots of it.

  “We spread the word around that Becky was helping Special Agent Bristow. It seemed to quell the usual gossip.” Ginger took a dainty sip of her coffee. “And Becky told me she asked you for help. That you were good at getting to the truth. That’s why I asked to meet with you. To see how I could help Becky.”

  “Tell me what happened at the Spouses’ Club meeting where Alicia spoke so rudely to you.” I’d heard Eleanor’s version. I wanted to see if Ginger’s was the same, to see if Ginger was angry enough to have whacked Alicia on the head. But minutes later when Ginger finished talking, it didn’t seem like it bothered her all that much. And her story matched Eleanor’s. Of course, the incident was a couple of weeks ago now, so any anger could have easily dissipated by now.

  “How’d your husband feel?” I asked.

  “I didn’t even bother to tell him until after Alicia was killed. His plate is overflowing right now. Per usual.”

  If that was true, I could cross him off my list of possible suspects.

  “Do you know Captain Flowers?” I asked. She’s the one married to the Channing Tatum lookalike. The one who Becky said had a terrible temper and who might have been jealous of Alicia.

  “Only through her reputation as a hothead. I’ve met her very charming husband at some of our Spouses’ Club events.”

  “Did he seem interested or pay particular attention to Alicia?” I asked.

  “Not that I noticed. He was a bit of a flirt with everyone. All in a good-fun kind of way.”

  Hmmm, that could stir up trouble. “Can you think of anything else that would help Becky?”

  Ginger shook her head. “I’ve thought this through over and over. Losing Alicia was terrible for all of us. Losing Becky would be too.” She stood. “Figure this out. Please.”

  * * *

  I decided to grab another coffee and donut to take with me to the Bevinses’ house. As I headed toward the door I ran into the woman who had the gender reveal party.

  “Hey, how are you?” I asked.

  “Craving sugar. And steak. It’s so weird.”

  I smiled. “I had fun at your party.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Becky told me she was sorry she couldn’t make it.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “That’s funny because I didn’t invite her.”

  “Oh, I must have misunderstood.” I know I hadn’t. Had Becky been trying to save face? It always hurt to be left out of things. “I’ve been hearing a lot about Ed Flowers, but I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”

  “He’s a doll. We live on the same courtyard as he and his wife.”

  “I heard she’s a hothead.”

  “Where did you hear that? She’s a doll too. She was at my party the other night. Short red hair. Talkative.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember her.” I said my goodbyes and walked out to my car. I had a feeling someone was lying to me, but I couldn’t figure out who it was.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I sat in the driveway of Jeannette’s parents’ house munching a glazed donut and sipping my coffee while I waited for Zoey to arrive. I thought over all I heard at the Dunkin’s. It troubled me. I also wanted to find a way to subtly ask Zoey about the fight between Alicia and Becky. And then what she and Alicia had talked about afterward.

  A car door slammed. I jerked around toward the sound. A large man strode toward my Suburban. I made sure the doors were locked and restarted my car. He bent down and frowned at me through the passenger-side window.

  “What are you doing parked here?” he demanded. His lips hugged together, creating deep, angry wrinkles around his mouth. He was large, with bushy hair that blew in the wind.

  I realized this had to be the real Troy, Jeannette’s brother because he looked like a male version of her. He must have decided to come up here after hearing about the camera hidden in the house. I rolled the passenger window down a crack. “I’m Sarah. Jeannette hired me to do the sale.”

  He relaxed at that. “Ah. I’m on edge with all that’s been going on.”

  That I could relate to. Two more car doors slammed. Jeannette and Zoey got out of their respective cars. I turned off the engine and climbed out to join everyone.

  “Troy, what on earth are you doing here?” Jeannette asked. She gave him a big hug. It was amazing how much alike they looked. Almost like twins.

  “I was worried after we talked last night, and caught an early flight up here,” Troy said. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

  “I have a planning period this morning.” Jeannette glanced at her watch. “But I have to go soon.”

  In the house, after quick introductions, I pulled Zoey into the kitchen.

  “We need to let them have some privacy,” I said. “We can work while they talk.” Zoey and I worked in silence. I confess I was trying to hear what Jeannette and her brother were talking about, but could only hear the murmur of their voices. I
found a stack of vintage dish towels with the days of the week hand-embroidered on them in bright primary colors.

  “Look how cute these are, Zoey,” I said.

  “My grandmother had some that were similar. I wonder what happened to them.” She paused. “I’ll bet my evil cousin took them.”

  She smiled to soften her words, but I had a feeling she wasn’t joking from the tone of her voice. “Dividing things up can be very difficult,” I said.

  The front door slammed. Zoey and I exchanged a glance with our eyebrows popped up. Jeannette came into the kitchen and thumped down on a chair at the table. She leaned heavily on the table.

  “My brother can be impossible,” Jeannette said.

  “So can mine,” I said.

  “I always wanted one,” Zoey said. “An older one with hot friends. Instead I got a younger sister with annoying friends.”

  We all laughed. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. Jeannette was my employer, but we’d gone through so much she felt more like a friend.

  “Anything I can do?” I asked.

  “He’s lost it over all that’s happened up here. He wanted me to cancel the sale and just donate everything.” She shook her head. “Just because he’s loaded doesn’t mean I am. He wanted me to fire you, Sarah. And find someone new. Like you were the cause of all this.” Jeannette shook her head. “He’s lost his ever-lovin’ mind.”

  I thought of all the work I’d done, the loss of income if she fired me. Ugh, and word would get around. People might not think I’m responsible. But I also didn’t want to be the cause of a rift between Jeannette and her brother. “Jeannette, I don’t want to create problems for you. If it’s better, you can pay me for the work I’ve done and we’ll call it good.”

  “That’s lovely of you, Sarah. But I’m happy with your work and all you’ve already accomplished. How many people would even come back after all you’ve been through?” Jeannette sighed. “He knows I’m right or he wouldn’t have run off like a petulant child.”

  * * *

  Jeannette left. Zoey and I worked until two with just a quick break for lunch. By then we’d finished the kitchen and moved to the dining room. It had a suite of matching mahogany furniture including a tea cart, china cabinet, sideboard, and a table with eight matching chairs. There was more china in all the side pieces. Pewter pieces, which weren’t very popular right now, sat on all the side pieces. I still loved pewter and was excited to look through all of it. There was a combination of all three types of pewter in the room: polished, satin, and oxidized. The good thing about pewter is it doesn’t tarnish like silver does. The satin was my favorite, unless it was a real antique oxidized piece.

  “Should we polish the pewter? Some of it looks dirty,” Zoey said. “I saw some silver polish under the sink in the kitchen.”

  “You can’t use silver polish on pewter. The best way to clean the polished and satin kind is to use warm water and a gentle dishwashing liquid with a soft cloth. Some people make a paste out of vinegar, flour, and salt.”

  “Really? I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It works well. You rub it on with the grain, let it sit for twenty minutes, rinse it off, and dry it. You can’t polish the oxidized pewter.” I grabbed a pitcher as an example. It was darker than the other two and looked older, not that it was. “Polishing might take off the dark layer and that hurts its value.”

  “Oh, wow. I thought the darker stuff was just dirty. Should we clean it or just leave it?” Zoey asked.

  “Let’s go ahead and dust it. If that isn’t enough we’ll see if Jeannette wants us to do more.” We worked for a few minutes while I tried to figure out a way to bring up the argument at the Spouses’ Club. “I’m so grateful that Becky recommended you for this job.” There that worked.

  Zoey smiled. “Me too.”

  “I’ve known Becky a long time and she doesn’t praise people lightly.” Not that she had praised Zoey.

  Zoey’s cheeks turned pink. “She’s been such a wonderful mentor to me.”

  “I heard about the argument between her and Alicia. I was shocked to hear how Alicia spoke to Ginger.” Zoey didn’t need to know I barely knew either of them.

  “I gave Alicia a piece of my mind after that meeting. Who did she think she was talking to a general’s wife like that. And then a colonel’s wife.”

  “I wouldn’t have at Alicia’s age.”

  “Exactly. And I’m the kind of friend who stands up for her friends when someone attacks them.”

  “Becky’s lucky to have you on her side.” I waited for a response and was disappointed Zoey didn’t add anything else, but I couldn’t see any way to continue the conversation. I picked up the next piece of pewter and searched online for a price. An hour later I rolled my neck around to try to relax it.

  “Do you ever do pre-sales?” Zoey asked.

  I was starting to wonder why Zoey asked so many questions. I hoped it was just an innate curiosity. “You mean like a friends and family party the night before the sale?”

  Zoey nodded.

  “I’ve done them if a client wants me to. But friends and families usually expect rock-bottom prices, which isn’t good for the client.”

  “Or you,” Zoey said.

  “That’s true. But the client is always right. I give them my opinion and let them decide how they want to handle things. It’s better to have an after sale. Let your friends and family come at the end and haul off what they want. That makes less work for the client and me.”

  By four we’d finished the dining room. “Thanks for all of your hard work, Zoey.”

  “Sales are a lot of work,” Zoey said as she stretched her arms above her head.

  “They are. I always need a nap when I’m done with one.” After Zoey took off, I did a quick trip around the house to make sure everything was locked. Then I set the alarm and headed out too.

  Chapter Thirty

  On my way home I swung by Ellington High School where Eleanor was the school nurse. I signed in at the front office even though school was out for the day. Eleanor’s office was just down the hall and to the left. There were still lots of students around. Some were basketball players, some cheerleaders, and a group of kids were painting a mural on a wall. I could hear an orchestra playing somewhere.

  Eleanor sat at a desk, frowning at some paperwork.

  “Knock, knock,” I said.

  She smiled when she saw it was me. “Come on in.”

  “I’m dropping off the thrift shop keys. I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

  “Some days I stay until the late bus leaves. Did you find who you were looking for?” Eleanor asked.

  “No. And you need to adjust the cameras. They are only taking shots of the tops of heads. No faces to be seen.”

  Eleanor frowned at that. “That’s not good. I know they weren’t that way a few weeks ago because we had a shoplifter and caught them on camera. Face and all.”

  “Let me show you what I found.” I went to the photos on my phone, found the photo I’d taken of the security camera, and held it out for Eleanor to see. She studied the tops of the heads.

  “Not helpful at all, is it?” she said.

  “Not really, but it was worth a try. I was hoping that neat part might look familiar, but I knew it was a long shot.” Plenty of people had neat parts.

  “No worries. I’m glad you realized the cameras were out of whack.” Eleanor thunked her hand to her forehead. “One of the volunteers at the thrift shop mentioned the layer of dust on the security cameras. She must have moved them when she was cleaning them.”

  A teenage boy burst in. “Josh passed out in the gym.”

  Eleanor jumped up. “Gotta run.”

  * * *

  I drove through Dunkin’s on the way home and got a coffee. I decided to stop at a new thrift shop in Ellington that wasn’t far from base. It had opened up a few months ago and raised money to fund historical sites in the area. After all that had been going on, I needed a diver
sion. It only took fifteen minutes to get there, which wasn’t bad considering Great Road could turn into a parking lot between four and seven. It was a cut-through from the 95 to the 495.

  The store wasn’t anything to write home about, but those were usually my favorite kind. I didn’t recognize the woman behind the counter. No one else was in the store, which wasn’t too surprising since they closed in thirty minutes. I bypassed the clothes, because I didn’t need any right now. I headed to their furniture section, one of my favorites. There wasn’t anything in particular I needed other than a respite from all the recent craziness.

  This section of the store was a jumble. It looked like people had just stacked things on top of each other. I did a quick scan to see if there was anything worth wading in for. It didn’t take long for me to spot a set of outdoor furniture back behind a stack of end tables. I hoped they looked as good close up as they did from here. I moved a couple of the end tables and squeezed through a small space.

  The furniture was fake wicker, some kind of plastic-coated wire, but looked darn good. No pieces were broken, which would have been impossible to repair. There were two chairs, a love seat, and a table. I shook each piece and it all seemed sturdy. This would be perfect for Stella’s porch. She was a great friend and my rent was lower than normal for the area. It would make an excellent thank-you gift for all she’d done for me and maybe it would cheer her up. I found a price tag that said the set was sixty dollars. Amazing.

  Voices drifted toward me from the front.

  “I’ll give you ninety-five,” a woman said. Her back was to me. I saw hair swept up in an elegant chignon, a wool, winter white suit, and a peek of red shoe soul that meant the woman was wearing Christian Louboutin shoes. They started around seven hundred dollars and went up from there.