Let's Fake a Deal
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Praise for I Know What You Bid Last Summer
“I Know What You Bid Last Summer is cleverly plotted, with an engaging cast of characters and a clever premise that made me think twice about my shopping habits. Check it out.”
—Suspense Magazine
“Never one to give up, Sarah continues her hunt for the killer in some unlikely and possibly dangerous places. Fans of Harris will appreciate both the clever mystery and the tips for buying and selling at garage sales.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Each time a new Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mystery releases, I wonder how amazing author Sherry Harris will top the previous book she wrote for the series. I’m never disappointed, and my hat’s off to Ms. Harris, who consistently raises the bar for her readers’ entertainment.”
—Chatting About Cozies
Praise for A Good Day to Buy
“Sarah’s life keeps throwing her new curves as the appearance of her estranged brother shakes up her world. This fast-moving mystery starts off with a bang and keeps the twists and turns coming. Sarah is a likable protagonist who sometimes makes bad decisions based on good intentions. This ups the action and drama as she tries to extricate herself from dangerous situations with some amusing results. Toss in a unique cast of secondary characters, an intriguing mystery, and a hot ex-husband, and you’ll find there’s never a dull moment in Sarah’s bargain-hunting world.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars
Praise for A Good Day to Buy
“Harris’s fourth is a slam dunk for those who love antiques and garage sales. The knotty mystery has an interesting premise and some surprising twists and turns as well.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“The mystery of the murder in A Good Day to Buy, the serious story behind Luke’s reappearance, the funny scenes that lighten the drama, the wonderful cast of characters, and Sarah’s always superb internal dialogue will keep you turning the pages and have you coming back for book #5.”
—Nightstand Book Reviews
Praise for All Murders Final!
“There’s a lot going on in this charming mystery, and it all works. The dialogue flows effortlessly, and the plot is filled with numerous twists and turns. Sarah is a resourceful and appealing protagonist, supported by a cast of quirky friends. Well written and executed, this is a definite winner. Bargain-hunting has never been so much fun!”
—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
“A must-read cozy mystery! Don’t wear your socks when you read this story ’cause it’s gonna knock ’em off!”
—Chatting About Cozies
“Just because Sherry Harris’s protagonist Sarah Winston lives in a small town, it doesn’t mean that her problems are small . . . Harris fits the puzzle pieces together with a sure hand.”
—Sheila Connolly, Agatha- and Anthony-nominated author of the Orchard Mysteries “A thrilling mystery . . . Brilliantly written, each chapter drew me in deeper and deeper, my anticipation mounting with every turn of the page.
By the time I reached the last page, all I could say was . . . wow!”
—Lisa Ks Book Reviews
Praise for The Longest Yard Sale
“I love a complex plot, and The Longest Yard Sale fills the bill with mysterious fires, a missing painting, thefts from a thrift shop, and, of course, murder. Add an intriguing cast of victims, potential villains, and sidekicks, an interesting setting, and two eligible men for the sleuth to choose between, and you have a sure winner even before you get to the last page and find yourself laughing out loud.”
—Kaitlyn Dunnett, author of
The Scottie Barked at Midnight
“Readers will have a blast following Sarah Winston on her next adventure as she hunts for bargains and bad guys. Sherry Harris’s latest is as delightful as the best garage sale find!”
—Liz Mugavero, Agatha-nominated author of the Pawsitively Organic Mysteries
“Sherry Harris is a gifted storyteller, with plenty of twists and adventures for her smart and stubborn protagonist.”
—Beth Kanell, Kingdom Books
“Once again Sherry Harris entwines small-town life with that of the nearby air force base, yard sales with romance, art theft with murder. The story is a bargain, and a priceless one!”
—Edith Maxwell, Agatha-nominated author of the Local Foods Mystery series
Praise for Tagged for Death
“Tagged for Death is skillfully rendered, with expert characterization and depiction of military life. Best of all Sarah is the type of intelligent, resourceful, and appealing person we would all like to get to know better!”
—Mystery Scene Magazine
“Full of garage-sale tips, this amusing cozy debut introduces an unusual protagonist who has overcome some recent tribulations and become stronger.”
—Library Journal
“A terrific find! Engaging and entertaining, this clever cozy is a treasure—charmingly crafted and full of surprises.”
—Hank Phillippi Ryan, Agatha-, Anthony-, and Mary Higgins Clark award-winning author
“Like the treasures Sarah Winston finds at the garage sales she loves, this book is a gem.”
—Barbara Ross, Agatha-nominated author of the Maine Clambake Mysteries
“It was masterfully done. Tagged for Death is a winning debut that will have you turning pages until you reach the final one. I’m already looking forward to Sarah’s next bargain with death.”
—Mark Baker, Carstairs Considers
The Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mysteries
by SHERRY HARRIS
Let’s Fake a Deal
The Gun Also Rises
I Know What You Bid Last Summer
A Good Day to Buy
All Murders Final!
The Longest Yard Sale
and the AGATHA-NOMINATED BEST FIRST NOVEL
Tagged for Death
LET’S FAKE A DEAL
A Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mystery
Sherry Harris
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Praise
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Teaser chapter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright
© 2019 Sherry Harris
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
KENSINGTON BOOKS and the K logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-1698-9
Electronic edition:
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1699-6 (e-book)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-1699-X (e-book)
To Bob
To the least fake man I know,
Love you.
CHAPTER ONE
Two police cars squealed to a halt at the end of the driveway, lights flashing, front bumpers almost touching. I stared at them and then at the half dozen people milling around the garage sale that had started fifteen minutes ago at 7:30 a.m. Everyone stopped browsing and turned to stare, too. Doors popped open. Three officers jumped out. Unusual in these days of budget cuts and officers riding alone that two were together. I didn’t recognize any of them because I was in Billerica, Massachusetts, just north of where I lived in Ellington.
“Who’s in charge here?” one of the officers called. His thick shoulders and apparent lack of neck looked menacing against the cloudy late September sky.
“Me. I’m Sarah Winston.” I gave a little wave of my hand and stepped forward. It seemed like the carpenter’s apron I was wearing with SARAH WINSTON GARAGE SALES embroidered across the front was enough to identify me.
The officer put out a hand the size of a baseball glove to stop me. “Stay. The rest of you, put everything down and see the two officers over there.”
What the heck? I stayed put, having had enough experience with policing through my ex-husband’s military and civilian careers in law enforcement to know to listen to this man no matter what I thought. Several people glanced at me but did as they were told. I stood in the center of the driveway all by myself. One by one the people spoke to the police officers and scurried off. Five minutes later it was me and the three cops. Thankfully, it wasn’t hot out here like it would be in August.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Do you have any weapons?”
“No.” I looked down at the carpenter’s apron tied around my waist. It had four pockets for holding things. “There’s a measuring tape, some cash, and a roll of quarters in the pockets.” Ugh, would he think that was a weapon? I’d heard that if you held a roll in your fist and punched someone, it was as good as brass knuckles. “Oh, and my phone. Do you want to see?”
“Put your hands on the back of your head and then kneel,” he ordered.
I started to protest but shut my mouth and complied. Something was terribly wrong. Thank heavens I’d worn jeans today instead of a dress.
“Now lay face-first on the ground.”
I looked at the distance between my face and the ground. I couldn’t just flop forward. It would smash my nose. I hunched down as much as I could, rolled to one side, and then onto my stomach. The roll of quarters made their presence known, digging into my already roiling stomach. The driveway was warm and rough against my cheek. A pair of highly polished black boots came into sight. I felt the apron being untied, and I was quickly patted down. Then I was yanked up by the big officer. My carpenter’s apron looked forlorn laying on the driveway.
“Please tell me, what’s this about?” I asked again.
The big guy glared down at me, hands on his hips. His left hand was a little closer to his gun than made me comfortable. If this was an effort to intimidate me, it was working on every level.
“We had a tip that everything being sold here was stolen.”
CHAPTER TWO
Cold. Cold like someone had just dumped one of those big icy containers of liquid over my head. The kind they dumped on the winning coach at a football game. Only I wasn’t the winner here. The cold reached through my skin and gripped my heart. “Stolen? That’s not possible.”
“Is anyone else here?” the officer asked. His nameplate said JONES.
“Yes. The two people who hired me are in the house.” I pointed, thumb over shoulder, to the large two-story colonial house behind me.
“Do they have any weapons?”
“No. No one has weapons. It’s a garage sale. I won’t let anyone sell weapons at the garage sales I run.” I stared at the officer, hoping I’d see some sign in his face that he believed me. I didn’t. “I was hired to run this garage sale. It’s my job.”
“By who?” The other two officers headed to the house. One stood by the front door and the other went around the side of the house toward the back.
Why did this guy sound so freaking skeptical? “A young couple. Kate and Alex Green.” I remembered the day we met at a Dunkin’ Donuts in Ellington. I’d instantly labeled them as hipsters with their skinny jeans, flannel shirts, fresh faces, and black-rimmed glasses. Kate and Alex had been shy but eager at the same time. Alex had just gotten a job at Tufts University in tech services. “They just moved here from Indiana and didn’t realize how expensive everything is. They owned a huge house in Indiana but once they got here realized they were going to have to downsize.”
I almost chuckled thinking about their wide-eyed explanation of how the money they got for their home in Indiana would only buy a small cape-style house far from Boston in this area. Sticker shock was a real thing for anyone who moved here.
“Once they realized they had to get rid of two thirds of their stuff, they decided to reduce their carbon footprint,” I said, “and to buy one of those tiny houses. Me? I couldn’t live in one. Not that my one-bedroom apartment is that big, but those loft bedrooms? You have to climb up some little ladder. The bed’s just a mattress on the floor. How do you make the beds without hitting your head?” I shuddered. “Claustrophobic, don’t you think?”
Officer Jones stared at me. I was rambling. Just answer the question he asked, I reminded myself.
“So where did all of this stuff come from?” he asked, sweeping his arm toward the carefully set out tables full of items.
“From the Greens. They put it all in storage when they got here from Indiana.” I remembered their excited faces as they told me that they’d moved into a one-bedroom apartment in a complex on the north side of Ellington to prepare for their new lifestyle. “I priced everything at the storage unit, and then they moved it over here. This is their friends’ house.” I waved a hand at the house. “And their friends decided to sell some stuff, too. Stuff I didn’t know about.” I pointed to a group of tables that held computers, TVs, and cell phones. Then over to a bunch of furniture. “They priced all of the electronics. Personally, I thought their prices were a little bit high, but I don’t usually deal with electronics.”
“What do you usually deal with?” Jones asked. He stepped in closer. His coffee breath swept over me.
He sounded like he expected my answer to be “drugs.” I glanced toward the house, hoping the Greens would be out here in a second to explain all this to Officer Jones. How they owned all of this stuff and it was some kind of terrible mistake. But the only person by the house was the officer knocking on the door.
“My favorite things to sell are antiques, furniture, linens, old glassware, but I sell pretty much whatever my customers want me to. And you wouldn’t believe the stuff some of them want to sell.” Officer Jones didn’t crack a smile. “The rest of it they said to price as people expressed interest. Personally, I think everything should be priced in advance, but the customer is always right.” I shut up. I was volunteering too much again.
“I’ll need you to let us into the house so we can talk to the Greens,” Officer Jones said. He glanced over at the officer standing at the front door.
“I’d be happy to,” I said as we walked to the front door. “They went
in to make some coffee for everyone since it’s chilly out here. Then they were coming back out to help run the sale.” If they worked the sale, then I didn’t have to hire anyone to help me, which meant we all pocketed more money.
The officer by the door stepped aside as I opened the door but followed Officer Jones and me into the foyer.
“Kate?” I called. “Alex?” No answer. “The kitchen is just down the hall.” They should have heard me. Why didn’t they answer?
The two officers exchanged a look. One that gave me prickles of discomfort.
“Miss Winston, would you mind stepping back outside while we take a look around?” Officer Jones asked.
The prickles turned into waves. I called to the Greens again. Nothing. “I’d be happy to wait outside.”
Officer Jones looked at his fellow officer. “Go with her.”
The other officer didn’t look happy, but Jones’s message seemed clear. Make sure she doesn’t take off. I went back out onto the porch and walked down the steps to the sidewalk that led from the driveway to the house. The other officer followed me out. We stood awkwardly while avoiding looking at each other. A few minutes later Officer Jones came back out along with the officer who had gone around the back.