Death of a Garage Sale Newbie (16 page)

Kindra gripped the back of the front seat. “If Mary Margret was kidnapped—which is what I think happened—we need to figure out why she was taken out here. There are lots of forested areas around Three Horses. Why out here? Why so close to the range?”

“I don’t know. We need to retrace her steps, every step.” It felt good to be doing something again to catch Mary Margret’s murderer. “After she bought the four items, Mary said she was meeting one of the other agents. I think we should start by going back to the real estate office and talking to that other agent.”

Earl drove the rest of the way down the winding road behind Suzanne.

Keaton Lustrum waited at the base of the mountain until the cars pulled out onto the main road. No need getting the Lexus all muddy and calling attention to himself by following them up the narrow road to the top of the mountain. This was where Renata said she had followed Mary Margret’s blue Volkswagen that Saturday.

It had been easier than expected to follow the momof3 car. One of these women in one of the other cars had to be Ginger, holder of his seashell box. He had already let a yellow car whiz by, taking time to read the last digits of the license plate. The momof3 car edged past him. Then a Pontiac went by slowly enough that he saw a flash of brassy colored hair in the passenger seat.

He pulled out onto the road, lagging far enough behind so as not to call attention to himself.

Close to town, the right signal on the momof3 car flashed, and the car turned off the main road. Keaton followed the Pontiac.

Ginger hadn’t noticed
the light blue Lexus until Earl turned onto the gravel road that led to their home. She craned her neck. Unless some new construction she didn’t know about was going on, there were no other residences beyond their property.

Earl glanced in the rearview mirror. “I see him, too.” He braced his hands on the wheel, giving his biceps some extra definition.

Even the strength in Earl’s voice made her feel safe. Almost two weeks ago, when she’d been nearly run off the road by the brownish-gold car, she’d never been more terrified in her life. But having Earl here made it less scary. She sure didn’t want to lose that.

“Maybe we should drive past the house so he doesn’t see where we live.”

Earl hit the blinker. “He’s not signaling.” He turned onto their property. “We’ll take our chances.”

The blue car whizzed by.

Earl smiled at Ginger as he brought the car to a stop. “See, it was nothing. Think I’ll go get to work. Tammy said she could drop Trevor off later today.”

Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. Was that all he could talk about?

After dropping Kindra off on campus and making sure she was safe in her dorm room, Earl had talked almost nonstop about Trevor and the things they were planning on building. Ginger had listened, nodded, and smiled while her insides crumpled and compressed.

“Fine.” Her word had bite to it. She hadn’t been able to mask her frustration.

“Is something wrong, Ginger?”

Of course something was wrong. Didn’t he see? She was trying so hard to be a part of his life. “I couldn’t buy that full price dress because I was being trampled in the parking lot.”

Ginger clenched her jaw. The words spilled out of her mouth. What an illogical leap. That wasn’t at all what she intended to say. Why couldn’t she talk about how she wanted to help him in the garage? She wanted Earl to talk about her the way he did Trevor. She wanted to be his assistant.

Earl’s jaw dropped and his eyes glazed. “That’s okay, honey.” His words were slow and measured, and he had more wrinkles in his forehead than a linen pantsuit. “It was just an idea.”

Ginger sat up a little straighter. Now he changed his mind again? The other night it had sounded so important. She was going to tell him that she felt jerked around by his constant and bizarre requests, that he needed to be clear on what he wanted.

Ginger twisted her purse strap around her wrist. She opened her mouth. “I need to go inside. The house is a mess.” She sounded downright accusatory. “You need to invent something that reads my mind because I am tired of trying to explain my feelings to you, Earl Salinski.”

Ginger cringed and pushed open the door. Oh, forget it. She’d never be able to say how she felt. Saying she wanted to be Trevor sounded stupid. She stomped to the house, leaving Earl in the car with his mouth open and his head shaking.

Keaton drove down the road until he found a place to turn around He’d had a moment of clarity right before he almost turned into that Ginger woman’s property. If he knocked on the door and told Ginger he wanted the box, he would have way too many questions to answer. She was bound to think that something was suspicious about him tracking her down and going to all this trouble for a cheap shell box. If he offered her money, she might think something about the box was valuable, and then maybe she wouldn’t give it to him at all.

No, he needed to devise a better plan, some sneaky way to enter the house and retrieve the box. He wouldn’t try breaking and entering again. That was just way too risky. He had enough crime to try and cover up.

How do you get into a stranger’s house without breaking the law? He shifted into gear as a plan formulated in his head. He might need Renata one more time before he put her and her sister on that boat.

Ginger laid the garage sale stuff out on the table—the vest, the photo album, the paper with six numbers on it, and the shell box. Through the window, she could see Earl still sitting in the car. Now he was just as confused as she was. Thinking about this mystery was easier than thinking about her lack of a relationship with Earl.

She flipped through all the photos, stopping to look at the one of Arleta’s late husband standing by the tall, old Ponderosa pines with a radio tower and houses in the background. She pulled the photo out of the album and turned it over. All that was on there was the date 1986. Twenty years ago. Then she removed all the photos and checked the backs of them.

What had Mary Margret seen that alarmed her? Most of the photos only had dates on them; some listed people’s first names. Ginger put her hands in the pockets inside of both covers. Empty. But maybe something had been there at one time. What if the thing that alarmed Mary Margret wasn’t here anymore?

Someone had tried to run Ginger off the road and then tried to break in to her trunk; they had come into her house and probably searched Arleta’s too. Whatever they were looking for, they hadn’t found it yet.

Ginger picked up the shell box and viewed it at all angles. She opened it and touched the velvet lining. Could there have been something in the box, something Mary Margret put somewhere else? Maybe it was none of these things. Maybe the fishing pole she had given back to that Frank fellow was gold plated. Nah, she knew gold plating when she saw it.

Ginger paced the kitchen floor. The next step to putting together the sequence of events for Mary Margret’s fatal Saturday was to talk to the people at Jackson-Wheeler Real Estate. She stood beside the window. Earl had gotten out of the car and was wandering around his Bobcat scratching his head. She touched the window.

She’d read about this kind of thing. A midlife crisis. Men bought sports cars, left their wives, and found girlfriends who were half their age. She took small comfort in knowing that Earl probably wouldn’t find a girlfriend half his age. The man had a potbelly, and it wouldn’t be long before he could join the comb-over club. But the rest could happen. He could just decide that Ginger was in the way.

She paced the kitchen some more. If she was going to question Mary Margret’s coworkers, a little help and company would be nice. She thought about calling Kindra or Suzanne but instead looked up Arleta’s number in the phone book.

Arleta picked up on the first ring. “Hello.”

“Listen, I have some things to look into with Mary Margret. Why don’t you come along with me? I don’t think your break-in was just because you are in a bad neighborhood.”

The invitation solved two problems. Arleta wouldn’t be alone thinking about the break-in, and she could pick Arleta’s brain about how to make Earl a soul mate.

On the other end of the line, Arleta sighed. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Gotcha, I’ll be there in two shakes.”

Tammy sighed. The chair in the captain’s office pressed hard against her back. Paul Stenengarter had told her she was back on patrol and then proceeded to type on his laptop like she wasn’t even in the room. The keys clicked for ten excruciating seconds while her teeth clenched tighter and tighter.

She’d come in on her day off, given up her precious free time with Trevor and her mom. “Is this because I’ve been hanging out with the Parker woman’s friends?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The way his fingers hovered momentarily over the keys told her he knew exactly what she was talking about. “You missed half your shift.”

Tammy gripped the edge of the desk. “The second I knew I was going to be late, I phoned in—twice. I had a crisis with my son that threw off my schedule. Certainly you have other officers who have missed work for family reasons.” She straightened her back and shifted in her chair.

Stenengarter’s cheek twitched, but he kept his eyes on the computer screen. A photo of the captain with his wife and two girls sat on his desk. All four of them were smiling.

“Your daughters are teenagers now. When they have a crisis, I bet your wife handles it. I don’t have that luxury.”

He lifted his chin slightly. “Your choices were your choices, Welstad. You’re back on patrol.”

“Am I being held to the same standard as the other officers?” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk. “Because I feel singled out. I’ve never missed a shift. I’ve never taken a personal day. I’ve never been late before. I work hard, and I don’t expect special treatment because I’m female.”

“You’re back on patrol.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of blank paper. “If you push this issue, you’ll be suspended.”

Stenengarter spoke in code, but she knew the issue was her involvement with Mary Margret’s friends. Of course, he would never admit that he was abusing his power. Other officers had done worse and not received such a severe reprimand. The threats were always veiled and indirect, but she got the message loud and clear. What she couldn’t figure out was what he was covering up or who he was protecting.

While he’d always come across as a bit ivory tower, she had never known him to misuse the authority until the Parker death. Then again, he was from a political family; maybe he didn’t view it as an abuse of power, just business as usual.

He stopped typing and finally met her gaze. He pushed his rimless glasses up on his nose. “You are dismissed.”

Tammy stood. She pressed her feet hard against the floor. Her knees locked. Stenengarter just kept typing. She did not come in on her day off to be treated with so little respect. The demotion was embarrassment enough.

“Everything was given to you. Your family has pull and status in this town. You were the heir apparent for this job.”

The keys clicked away.

She pounded her fist on the glossy wood desk. “You have no idea what it’s like to fight and claw. To live paycheck to paycheck. Were you ever even on patrol?”

His fingers stopped, resting on the keyboard. Again, the twitch in his cheek.

“The men don’t respect you.”

He looked up at her. The rimless glasses hid as much as they revealed. At least he was paying attention.

“Maybe if you hit the streets yourself, put on a uniform, you’d understand better.” Her throat tightened. “And you would know how it feels…to be busted down like this when you fought so hard to get the promotion.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her. At the same time, his expression gave nothing away. It was only his reluctance to break eye contact that suggested she might have hit a nerve, said something that made an impact.