The remainder of Saturday was as hectic and crazy as Laura had anticipated, but she loved every minute and was thrilled at the sales of the fundraising items. With any luck, she might end up with another $500-600 to add to the pot for the police station by Easter.
When the work day was over, she returned to the mystery of Brittany Johanssen. With Connor on call this evening, there would be no date night planned. She spent her evening, instead, researching every name, city, and school on the list of missing prom queens that Connor had provided. Anything and everything she found was added to the mystery board upstairs. Big as it was, it was now getting crowded with information. Maybe she needed a second board for the rest of the missing girls, which would be the fourth board she was hiding upstairs in her apartment.
Per Connor’s instructions, Laura took a few minutes to step out in the carport and take the beautiful red dress under the police tarp inside to hang in the back room of the shop. She found a clear, dry cleaning bag to pull over the gown to keep it clean. A dress like this one deserved better treatment, she thought, even if the owner had mysteriously vanished.
Shaking her head, she thought that such a dress should never have been thrown into a garbage bag. As she reached under the clear plastic bag to straighten the folds and flounces of the skirt, she spotted a stain near the hem on the front of the dress, halfway between the center and the left side. She thought it looked like an old stain and as if someone may have tried to wash it out, unsuccessfully. Maybe that’s why the dress had been tossed, she thought.
She peered more closely at it and concluded she had no idea what the stain could be, only that it looked as if the dress had been laundered multiple times just in that one area. It was still fairly dark but faded. How unfortunate that a dress this beautiful which had presumably only been worn once, had such a flaw. Her Aunt Rose would have told her to sew a silk flower or a bow over the spot. Nobody did things like that anymore in these disposable days.
Laura tried to return to the shop, but this action was apparently not an option, for Empress Isabella sat, back arched and tail straight up, on the work table and glared at Laura until the lady looked at the dress again.
“You’ll bother me until I get it, huh? At least not until I figure out what you want me to know.”
She set her mind on what the stain could be: mud, grease, paint, or grape juice, or any of a number of other substances.
“Okay, Isabella, what do you think it is?”
The feline let out a loud and painful-sounding merrrrrooowww, almost like a baleful howl during a full moon.
Laura stared at the cat for about three seconds.
“Blood? You think it could be blood?” she asked, looking back at the dress. It would make sense, she thought, if the girl who wore it vanished. Nobody really vanishes, though, do they? They just go someplace where nobody can find them. So what happened to Brittany? Where did she go that nobody could find her?
Isabella began to relax and wash her paws.
Laura could have sworn she even heard a purr.
Okay, another item to bring to Connor that he would discard without proof.
Next on her agenda, after a quick dinner, was returning to her primary function: Tracking the Raging Ford founding families’ descendants. In her efforts to keep helping on Cold Case Card #1—her parents’ double murder—she needed to track everyone’s descendants from the formation of the town until the present. There was still a danger that she was a target, as she was the last descendant of Samuel Rage left on this planet, and it was looking very suspiciously as if the Munley and Dowell families had conspired to eradicate the rest of the Rages over the decades.
Her list was growing smaller and smaller as she traced Munley and Dowell descendants through the years of marriages and name changes until death. The death certificates from the town mortuary, Smedley & Smedley, had helped enormously, due to their conscientious record-keeping from the first day they opened for business. She was also able to track those descendants who had moved out of the area, with the help of RFPD. Now she could focus on a smaller circle of people presently living in Raging Ford. She eliminated seven more people in the past month, and now she ran into a brick wall that kept her awake late into the night.
She could not find out whence the three Kovacs triplets had come. They ran the town council, the Raging Ford Bulletin, and the best bakery in town.
Charlie, Harry, and Will Kovacs, veritable pillars of the community, seemed to have sprung fully grown from nowhere.
thirteen
If Laura thought she was off the hook for another crazy-busy weekend day, she was dead wrong. She had to sideline her concerns about the Kovacs for a few hours at least. So a lot of coffee propped up her eyelids and got her moving on Sunday.
Jenna showed up promptly at 9 a.m. in the Lexus with Kelly, to pick up Erica and Laura. From there, off they flew to the Harmington Hotel off Interstate 35 about a mile short of Duluth to go over all of Jenna’s plans for the silent auction. As they pulled into the hotel parking area, Jenna unhesitatingly slid her vehicle into a reserved spot.
“Won’t they tow you?” Erica asked.
“Not with this on the dash,” Jenna replied, pulling a Reserved Permit card from her Gucci bag and setting it on the dashboard so it would be visible through the windshield—the only piece of exterior glass through which one could actually view portions of the SUV’s interior. “Since I’m holding an event here, I can come and go pretty much as I need to, and I have two permits in case someone comes with me, such as Reynolds…or one of you.”
With that, she turned to her friends with a big smile.
“You guys ready to see where it’s going to happen?”
They were out of the SUV before Jenna was.
She led her three pals through the lobby to the front desk where she picked up her keycards to the two conference rooms she was using, one for presentation with refreshments and the other for the silent auction itself.
“Who knows about the silent auction, Jenna?” Erica asked as the foursome trod silently on the smooth carpet. “How are people going to find out about it?”
“There’s no publicity for this yet. Invitations have been mailed to specific key individuals and groups. We plan to get the word out beginning next week. Mother recommends we keep a ‘fence’ around whom we allow to attend. You won’t see anything stapled or taped to telephone poles or in social media.”
She showed them one conference room, being readied for another customer, where there would be a “greeting” table for the participants.
“Everyone will need to register online and bring their printout of the email confirmation. At the greeting table, each participant presents their email and is given a stick-on label that the person at the table puts on their receipt. It contains the code number they are to use in the silent auction when they wish to make a bid on anything. No names go on the bid sheets—just the code numbers and bid for any one item. Everybody gets a small booklet with pictures and details of the auction items and the required minimum opening bid for each item when they sign in, as well.”
Jenna then showed them where the refreshment tables would be at one end and where the tables with chairs would be scattered for eating and drinking. The participants could watch a video, from a drop down screen, of Jenna holding and describing each item, as put together by her videographer.
“Oh, like a fashion show without the runway!” Kelly beamed.
“Exactly,” Jenna replied. “Then, everyone is given moist towels to clean up from snacking, and they bring their receipt with the code sticker and booklet to the much larger room for the actual silent auction. This way, please!”
Jenna led the ladies down the hallway, around a corner, and to a second room, much bigger than the refreshment and fashion show room. She swept her arms around the huge room des
cribing where the draped tables with auction items would be and where a small, cozy sitting area would be placed for those who get tired of standing and a small table off in the corner with bottled water.
“What is all this costing to rent?” Erica inquired. “How do you expect to net enough to make a difference?”
“Mother called in a favor or two and got a seriously low rate for the two rooms. She’s donating the cost, so it’s nothing for the event itself. Everything we take in will be pure profit. We’ll load up the tables the night before and be ready to go in the morning.”
“What kind of security do you have for this auction?” Laura asked. Jenna had stressed that some donated items were very valuable and should bring a pretty penny for the plumbing repairs in the nurses’ quarters.
“We have a security firm that Mother has used for years. They’re very reliable and will be onsite from the moment the auction items are placed in the room, until the auction is concluded. They are responsible for the storage and conveyance, before and after the auction. All is covered.”
“What happens with items that don’t sell?” Kelly inquired.
Jenna hesitated before answering.
“We are hopeful that everything will go. I’m not thinking that something won’t be sold, but if it isn’t, we’ll return it to the vault room in my home for another auction. We can also contact a private collector to see if they are interested. If the donator wants it back, we’ll return it to that person.”
“Looks like everything is covered and you’re good to go!” Erica grinned. “You are so ready for this, aren’t you, Jenna?”
“So ready.”
Jenna was glowing.
“What’s next?” Kelly asked.
“Lunch and back to Laura’s to help her organize the items for some of the dream baskets.”
After eating and still ten minutes out from Raging Ford, Laura’s iPhone buzzed. She recognized the number from the police station and answered. Silence fell in the car as her friends listened to her side of the conversation.
“Hi Brianna. What’s going on?”
After a long silence, Laura said, “We’re about ten minutes away. Yes, I’m fine. I’m with my friends. Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
Kelly and Erica faced her, waiting. Jenna’s reflection in the rear view mirror was aimed at her.
“There’s been an incident in front of my shop, and they were trying to reach me because my car is still there, but I didn’t answer the door. They said the shop looks okay.”
As they approached Second Treasures, mouths fell open as Jenna slowed to a stop half a block away, the closest she could get. Three police cars were already there, lights flashing, and blocking the street in both directions.
The foursome could see through the growing crowd that there was another huge load of boxes, bags, and furniture dumped in front of Second Treasures. It jammed the sidewalk and spilled into the gutter. The open sidewalks were filling with the curious of the town, some who had moseyed from nearby and those who had walked a distance to see what was going on.
“Laura,” Erica said. “I think you need to set up a surveillance camera. Right away.”
“Looks like somebody is trying to get your attention,” Kelly added.
“No, it looks like somebody wants to annoy me and they’ve succeeded,” Laura responded. “And they’re going to be very sorry they did because you all know I won’t stop until I pull it all apart and find out who’s behind this and why.”
fourteen
Max and Nicky were already there, along with three police officers, one of whom Laura knew well. Corporal Maurice Sanchez was talking with Harry Kovacs, who had dashed from his barber shop next door the minute flashing police car lights caught his attention. Both men turned to Laura as she marched down the sidewalk to her shop and the messy mound in front of it, ahead of a growing crowd.
“Brianna called me. When did this happen, Mo?” she asked.
“Marie Vandergard at the Valencia Café across the street saw a white van pull up about thirty minutes ago. A guy was literally throwing and dropping everything here, and he was done and gone in a handful of minutes. She called us right away, but he was in the wind before we both hung up. This time, we’re going to take it all over to our forensics department where they can go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. That’s why Max and Nicky are helping.”
Sanchez’s summary told Laura all she needed to know; she was very grateful she would not have to go through the goods herself. But there were other considerations.
“Are you taking the items from my carport, too?”
“Yes, we’ll get those. And I strongly urge you to get with Eric on the security camera thing. He mentioned it to me the other day. It’s smart.”
At that moment, a lone jogger pattered down the middle of the street as the police cars had halted all wheeled traffic in either direction.
Eric Williams.
He pushed his way between cops and rubberneckers, landing at Laura’s side.
She felt, rather than saw, his sweat.
“Laura?”
“I’m okay. Just got here.”
“Mo?”
“Everything’s under control. No damage, just another trash dump.”
Laura turned to Eric.
“I’m getting the security contract today, and I’m getting one of those doorbell ringing things that talks to me on my phone and shows me who’s at my front and back doors.”
Harry whispered to Laura that he agreed with her idea.
“You let me know if you need anything,” he said. “Gotta run. Beth and I were in the middle of an early Sunday dinner.” He returned to the barber shop confident everything was getting pulled together. Members of the sidewalk crowds were in motion. Some left, figuring they’d find out what was going on from another source, perhaps the Raging Ford Bulletin; others, just arrived to see what the hoopla was.
Williams, in spite of his flushed and sweaty appearance, was barely in need of extra oxygen. He checked his Fit Bit and noted he had not yet completed his strides for the day. He would need to resume once he determined all was in good hands at Second Treasures.
“I’m on it, Laura. I’ll get you the best deal and have it set up stat,” Williams said, leaning into her ear. “Not necessary everyone should know you’re doing this, so keep your cards close.”
She nodded to Eric, mouthed a “thank you” and turned back to Sanchez.
“So it was a man this time, not a woman?”
“That’s what Marie saw. We don’t know anything else yet. Not even sure of that; could have been a disguise.”
“Same van?”
“We just have a rough description. Unmarked white van like the last time. We checked right away with the guy whose van was taken the last time. Not his; he was out of town with it the past two days. So we look, but do you know how many white, unmarked vans are out there? He kept to side roads where there were no traffic cams. And…you weren’t here to get the license plate.”
“Yeah, silly me. I was out having some fun with my friends…”
Which friends were now catching up to her in the midst of the growing crowd, spilling into the street, surrounding the burgundy-and-whites, gawking at Max and Nicky, sporting blue police gloves, picking up the items and stowing them in two long-bed pickups. As they finished up, one of the police cars left the scene, and one of the two remaining officers moved a second car out of the road so that regular Sunday traffic could resume on Taylor Street.
“Any signs of breaking into the store?”
“Not that we could see,” Sanchez responded, writing in his notebook. “You have the front and back doors on a coded alarm system, right?”
She nodded, then thought of something else and lowered her voice.
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“I’ll get the red prom dress out for you when the team swings round back to get the stuff in the carport. I took it inside and left it in a plastic dry cleaning bag. But I noticed a stain near the hem that looks like someone tried to launder it and failed. No idea what it is, but I have suspicions.”
Mo Sanchez nodded, putting it all in the little notebook.
“Oh, what happened to Eric?” Laura asked, looking around.
“He resumed jogging right after he talked to you,” Jenna offered.
Once all was in the trucks, and the red dress was also taken into custody, Laura thought of one last thing to share with Mo Sanchez.
“Check all the clothing that was dumped today to see if there are any more prom dresses or any dresses that look like Cinderella ball gowns.”
• • •
Laura was furious.
The festive atmosphere had vanished, and a lackluster effort to help Laura organize her dream basket items failed. She fed her friends brownies and milk, then sent them all on their separate ways, in spite of their continued spoken desire to help her. The fun could not be recaptured.
She would have stood immobile in the back room of her shop for a much longer time, just boiling, had her phone not dinged after about ten minutes. Tempted not to answer it, she did anyway, automatically.
It was Connor at her back door.
After punching in the security code and pulling open the door, she poked her head outside to take in the empty space in the carport. She retreated inside and stood with her arms crossed, staring at the empty place where the beautiful, red prom dress had hung.
He approached her slowly and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.
A Dress to Die For Page 7