They found a spot partially sheltered by tall pines, and Sera pulled a brown wool blanket from her bag. One flip of her wrists and it lifted into the air, billowing to the ground. Then she pulled out a huge pair of binoculars. “Look what I got at the thrift store. I knew they’d come in handy one day.”
Abby Ruth chuckled. “Good Lord. Those must be circa 1960.”
“Hey, they work. That’s all that matters. And adjusting those massive lenses is like a bonus workout.”
“And I was just thinking we should’ve brought lawn chairs,” Maggie said. “You’re getting good at this sneaking around thing, Sera.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” From inside her bag, she withdrew a cold pasta salad, crudités, and a bottle of Chardonnay.
Abby Ruth eyed the booty. “This a stakeout or a party?”
“No reason it can’t be both.”
Maggie’s stomach roared. “Sera, I love midnight snacks and I love you.”
Felt good to be appreciated. Crazy how driving over two thousand miles from California to Georgia had been what it took to make Sera really feel as if she was part of a family. And as happy as she was to be here in Summer Shoals, that thought—and the thought of what she’d left behind—made her sad.
To cover her mood, she poured wine into three glasses. Real glass glasses. No plastic stuff for her.
They made themselves comfy and settled into munching and drinking. Every so often, a noise would echo up the hill. Each time, they froze, only to be disappointed by a half-tailed cat scampering away with a frozen-dinner tray. Another time the sound was just the swoosh of a landslide of cardboard boxes from a recycling bin into the trash receptacle. That wouldn’t make Hollis very happy.
Maggie leaned back and patted her tummy. “We should have more picnics.”
“Next time, do you think we could go somewhere with a better view?” Abby Ruth said as a whiff of eau de road kill wafted their way.
“And maybe with potty facilities,” Maggie added.
For such tough girls, these two sure were weenies at times. “You can’t tell me you’ve never peed in the woods, either one of you.”
Abby Ruth turned Sera’s way. “You know how they say never to squat on your spurs? Well, I try never to tinkle on my leather.”
Dang it. Now that Maggie had mentioned it, Sera’s bladder was complaining too. She pointed to a stand of trees farther up the hill. “Let’s just run up there.”
“Did you happen to pack toilet paper?” Maggie asked.
Abby Ruth rummaged around in Sera’s bag and pulled out a wad of brown paper. “Looks like these were once cardboard boxes. Sure glad I can hold it.”
“Well,” Maggie said, “you might not have to go, but Sera and I need a lookout.”
“What—you afraid a feral cat’s gonna get a gander at your behind?”
Maggie shot Abby Ruth a half-snarl, half-pleading look.
Abby Ruth pushed to her feet. “Fine.”
They trudged up the hill, and Abby Ruth turned her back on them to keep watch over the landfill with the binoculars. Maggie veered to the right while Sera went left.
Sera situated herself, careful to pull her gauzy skirt over her shoulders and spread her feet wide. “You okay over there, Maggie?”
“That yoga really is something,” Maggie called back. “You wouldn’t believe how well I can squat and balance.”
“Of all the things I didn’t need to hear,” Abby Ruth said.
Everything was quiet except for the sound of frogs and a little splatter now and then. Then lights cut across the hillside, and Sera felt as if someone had turned a spotlight onto her butt.
“Oh, crap,” Abby Ruth said.
“What? What?” Maggie screeched.
“We got company,” Abby Ruth said. “Guy wearing jeans, a baseball cap and a dark hoody. And he’s skinny enough to slide right through that cut in the fence. He made straight for the third dumpster.”
For Sera, it was a matter of a quick stand, tug and flip.
“Dammit, he jumped down and is headed back for the fence,” Abby Ruth said. “Spooked him. We need to pursue.”
From across the way, Maggie called out, “You can’t leave without me. Give me a second.” Her words echoed along the hillside.
Sera raced to catch up with Abby Ruth as she barreled down the hill. No way could they let Abby Ruth be the first to arrive. She’d have the guy at gunpoint, and that thought made Sera sweat bullets. She glanced over her shoulder to check on Maggie. She was still quite a ways back, tugging on her pants as she hop-ran down the hill.
But by the time they made it back to their blanket, an engine turned over and gravel spit against the chain link fence.
“He’s on the move.”
Sera scooped up the remnants of their picnic, and the three of them hotfooted it toward the van. Abby Ruth swung into the driver’s seat as she tended to do when situations became intense. She gunned the engine, and the tires spun. “You should replace these with tires that actually have tread.”
And then they shot out onto the road in hot pursuit. Unfortunately, Sera’s van wasn’t exactly a turbo model. They chug-chugged along even though she’d bet Abby Ruth had the pedal pushed to the floorboard.
When they scaled the last rise before Lavender Hill Road intersected with Old County Line Road, the only thing they caught was the flicker of taillights in the distance.
Chapter 9
A quick cruise through town turned up a big fat nothing.
“We lost them,” Sera said.
“What now, girls?” Abby Ruth turned at the next street and idled at the stop sign.
Maggie said, “We should go back to the landfill and patch up the fence to keep them from breaking in again. I’ve got my duct tape with me.”
“Of course you do,” Abby Ruth said.
It was true. Maggie was the only person in the whole world Sera had ever met who never left home without duct tape. Came in handy pretty often, though.
While Maggie wove duct tape between the mesh, Sera and Abby Ruth discovered the thief had dropped a hibachi grill right outside the fence.
Even Sera was convinced Hollis’ trash problems were the work of someone who didn’t have the money to buy new furnishings. And if the “thief” was recycling to that extent, she couldn’t find fault with it.
“We can’t take Hollis’ money if this so-called case of theft is just some kids trying to outfit their apartment, can we?”
“We need the money,” Maggie said. “But no, I don’t suppose we can.”
All told, they didn’t get back to Summer Haven until after three a.m. And the next morning, Sera learned Abby Ruth Cady was not tolerable without her beauty sleep.
Sera drove out to see Hollis on her own. The dump was closed on Friday, so she pulled up in front of his house.
She banged the knocker on his door, and waited. The sound of his walker clomping across the hardwood floor toward the door seemed take a long time for such a tiny house.
Hollis slowly pulled the door open and walker-hobbled to steady himself. “Hey there, Miss Sera. I sure am hoping you have some news for me today.”
She swallowed because she had all of Hollis’ money tucked into her pocket. “I sure do. Why don’t you sit back down and I’ll tell you what we discovered.”
“It’s some pervert, ain’t it?” The excited growl in the old man’s voice made it clear he was hoping for something dramatic.
Too bad she had to dash his hope. She helped him settle back into a recliner in front of the television. “I don’t think so. We’ve discovered someone has, in fact, been taking trash from the dumpsters.”
“I knew it. Some hoodlum.”
“We almost caught him in the act last night, but he got spooked and ran. He dropped a little grill on his way out. Hollis, it’s just some young guy who probably can’t afford to outfit his apartment. He’s taking things no one else wants anyway.”
“Damned kids,” he muttered. “That st
uff is still the county’s property.”
“Don’t you remember what it was like to be young and broke?”
His tired eyes went wide and filmy. “Lordy be, the first little ol’ place me and the missus rented wasn’t no bigger than a minute. A minute? Make that no bigger than a second. It was actually old lady Matthew’s attic. In winter, it was cold as a penguin’s tail feathers and in summer, hotter’n the devil’s pitchfork.”
The smile on Hollis’ lined face warmed Sera’s insides. She’d brought back a wonderful memory of his wife, who had been gone more than ten years. She reached out and covered Hollis’ thick-knuckled hand. “Sounds like those were good times.”
“Uh-huh. The time when I chased the missus down those stairs and we christened the porch swing, now that was something else.” His eyes snapped bright again, and color spotted each of his cheeks. “I mean…uh…well…”
“Like I said, good times.”
“The best.”
“Then are you okay if we put this case to rest? I have a feeling the thief probably won’t be back after last night.” Sera took a breath, using one of her best pranayama techniques. “I hate to ask this, but would you be willing to let us keep some of the cash from the envelope? I can’t go into details, it would be a big help to Lillian Fairview.”
This time, Hollis covered her hand, gave it a pat. “Sure thing. You brought back some memories I haven’t taken out and remembered in a long time. Made my day.”
Making a man’s day should be worth at least fifteen hundred.
“Why don’t you keep two hundred?”
The hope in Sera’s heart dropped all the way to her toes. “But…but we spent several hours staking out the landfill and…”
“…and now that I’m not worried about being shoved into Dogwood Ridge Assisted Living, I need my money back to hit the bingo hall over in Wheeler County. How about five hundred and we call it even?”
Maggie pulled her little truck up in front of the Shipper Shack on Main Street since Colton wasn’t willing to pay them until they tracked down the forger, and Hollis hadn’t been as generous as they’d hoped. A flight to Palm Beach just wouldn’t be possible unless they dug into their own pockets, but she was determined not to let that happen unless they’d exhausted every single possible alternative. So it was time to find out who’d shipped that darned sculpture to Florida.
With Sera at her side, they entered the new storefront and walked up to the counter. Most people still shipped packages through the post office round these parts, so Maggie wondered if the business had any hope of making it here in Summer Shoals. But the owner, a retired lieutenant colonel from the Air Force, had rolled into town with all the bravado of a former fighter pilot. He’d already been appointed to the Chamber of Commerce board.
“What can I do for you two lovely ladies?” the owner asked. His glasses twitched on his nose when he greeted them, drawing more attention to his expansive forehead, shiny all the way to the bald spot in the back.
Maggie smiled, trying to project honesty. “We need to check on a package shipped out of here on February 20th.”
“If you shipped it, you should be able to go online and trace it with the tracking number.”
Maggie sent Sera a what-now look. Asking for this information was probably illegal or at least an invasion of privacy, but they had to get to the bottom of who had shipped the forgery.
“We’re actually working for the Calipers from Palm Beach, Florida,” Sera said. “They were supposed to receive that shipment. But it never arrived.”
“What do you mean working for them?”
“Perhaps you haven’t heard that Maggie, Abby Ruth and I are what you would call…private investigators.” Sera whipped out a SHHgroup business card and placed it in front of him.
Maggie almost choked. That girl worked fast.
Sera leaned on the counter, which allowed her flowy sweater to part and reveal her low-cut yoga tank underneath. The girl might not be stacked, but she knew how to use what she had to its best advantage. The owner’s gaze immediately went to her chest. Goodness, who would’ve thought that trick would still work at their age?
Then again, hadn’t Maggie done the same thing with her Maid Marian costume at the Halloween party? She smiled to herself. They might be older, but they still had it.
“Do you have some kind of identification?” he asked.
Sera ran a finger from the hollow of her throat to the neckline of her tank. “I have an email from our clients with the details of the sale.”
She flashed him a quick look at her phone, then strategically tucked it into the side of her tank, making a show of enhancing her cleavage as she did so.
He could barely pull his gaze away, but he finally turned to his computer. Pecked at the keys in between sneaking glances at Sera. “Hmm, yeah. It went out on February 20th. It was a Friday shipment. Looks like it was shipped by Colton Ellerbee to the Calipers in Palm Beach, Florida.”
“Do you remember anything about the person shipping the package?” Maggie asked. “It was a large box.”
“Can’t say I do, but that would’ve been when Tassy Harrison was working for me. I’ve only seen Ellerbee around town a few times, but he’s usually wearing one of those berets made from the same stuff as a sports coat.”
“Tweed.”
“That’s it.”
“Even though the package had Colton’s return address on it, we don’t think he’s the one who actually brought the box in. Do you think Tassy might remember who shipped it?”
“Doubtful. After a while, all the boxes seem the same.”
“Do you have a copy of the slip the customer filled out?”
His brow furrowed, as if Sera had finally pushed too far, but when she twirled a lock of hair around one finger and looked up at him from lowered lashes, he blurted out, “I can print one. We scan in all the handwritten forms.”
Sera gave him a come-hither smile. Dang, this girl wasn’t just good. She was a master. “That would be so helpful.”
He hit a couple of keys, then handed a sheet of paper to Sera. “Here you go.”
The handwriting was crisp and neat. Like a first grader practicing perfect letters and penmanship. But the signature was such a scrawling mess, Maggie couldn’t say for sure it wasn’t Colton’s.
When she and Sera strolled out of the Shipper Shack, Maggie said, “Well, we didn’t get what we wanted, but we could still chat with Tassy, right?” Maggie’s stomach rumbled. Not only was it nearing lunchtime, but her tummy remembered that delicious banana nut bread Tassy had brought out to Summer Haven a couple of months ago when she asked Sera to take on the High on the Hog kids’ events committee.
“Sure, we have a committee meeting tomorrow and I can feel her out then.”
“I bet you find out something.” Maggie raised her hand and high-fived her friend. “Because, girl, you should’ve been an actress.”
A sudden cloud passed over Sera’s normally bright eyes. “I guess I missed my calling.”
Maggie and Sera met Abby Ruth at the Atlanta Highway Diner for a quick bite before heading over to Colton’s studio. The short drive across town to his workshop was quiet. Maggie wasn’t sure if everyone was feeling the effects of today’s blue plate special or they were all feeling the same pressure to get this case solved, clear their names, and get the money to fix the car.
As they walked up to the metal-sided building, Abby Ruth said, “Y’all let me take the lead with Colton, y’hear?”
That was fine by Maggie. From one day to the next, it was hard to tell which Colton Ellerbee you’d get—the suave, tweed-wearing one or the red-faced, nutty one. She’d just as soon Abby Ruth deal with him.
Today, even more flotsam lay strewn about the cool concrete floor—random ceiling-fan blades, grungy computer keyboards, and what looked like the guts of an old jukebox. Rather than welding, Colton was bent over a tall worktable. He was twisting wire around the ends of two metal funnels that appeared to be i
n the process of becoming a pair of gigantic breasts on a CD-scaled mermaid.
When he spotted them, Colton picked up a white shop towel and wiped off his hands. “You ladies find out anything yet?”
Ah, so it was calm Colton today.
Abby Ruth thrust the copy of the packing slip toward him. “You’ve been holding out on us, boy. Maggie and Sera just chatted up the guy down at the Shipper Shack. Sure as heck looks like you were the one to ship that sheep to Palm Beach.”
“I did not ship it.” Colton tapped the date on the paper. “I was up in North Carolina teaching at a folk art school on that day. Besides, if you look closely, you’ll see I didn’t sign the form.”
He picked up an ink pen and scrawled his name across the top of a cardboard box full of wire connectors. “See?”
Maggie and Sera both leaned in, nearly bumping foreheads. He was right. The signature on the packing sheet wasn’t his. There, the C in Colton was open and slightly tilted forward. And the L’s in Ellerbee were fat like Mickey Mouse ears rather than the skinny feathers in Colton’s real autograph.
“He’s right,” Sera said. “His have tall skinny loopy L’s which means the writer is idealistic, as opposed to these big fat loops which generally mean the writer is a good talker.”
“I guess you’re back to square one.” Colton frowned and absentmindedly fondled the funnel. “Are you sure you gals know what you’re doing?”
“Yes! We’re not back to square one,” Sera protested. “We know the package was shipped from Summer Shoals. That’s something.”
“Then figure it out who it is, and don’t bother me again until you do.”
Maggie steadied her voice, trying to sound as confident as possible. Channeling her Detective Kate Beckett impersonation, she rattled off, “Someone stole the original from our garage between January 10th, when we packed up the Christmas decorations, and February 20th, when they shipped a forgery from Summer Shoals. One of our neighbors is up to no good.”
In High Cotton Page 8