All Murders Final! (17 page)

Chapter 30

I'd spent a lot of my time cleaning thinking about Margaret, Juanita, and Frieda and focusing on Frieda as the killer. It seemed plausible. She had had an axe to grind with Margaret and Juanita. She had obviously been angry with them. Maybe she'd lied to me about Margaret rehiring her to throw me off. No one could contradict that. But why would she stalk me? All I'd done was let Juanita post an ad. Was that enough to make Frieda go berserk?

At the end of my second day of cleaning, I was beginning to think my theory that somehow the cleaners were involved in a crime ring was wrong. Maybe I was just overeager, or maybe I needed to post another ad, a more desperate-sounding ad. On top of that, I was already losing faith in humanity. The house was a small cape; the owner a perky, small woman who, if she'd been a dog, would have been a whippet, sleek, energetic, and alert. The place had looked pretty clean, no Sharpie-covered walls. After I'd finished cleaning, she'd asked me to organize the closet in the master for an extra fifty. No problem. Sorting clothes into categories was easy, and everything had gone smoothly, until I reached for a box on the top shelf. The lid had flown off, and I'd got showered with racy clothing and pictures of the owner in them.
Yuck.
She wore stuff I wouldn't dream of wearing, let alone owning or being photographed in.

Even now as I drove to the base to help with the final setup for the February Blues sale, I shuddered at the images I'd seen. Telling her good-bye and accepting money from her had required my best acting skills. I'd channeled my inner Hennessy. The woman had asked me to run a garage sale for her. I wasn't in a position to turn down business, so of course I'd said yes. I grinned to myself. It might be one of the more interesting ones I'd ever do. Thankfully, tomorrow was a day off from cleaning, and I was back to the fun of running the base sale.

* * *

I pulled into the community center parking lot. There was only one other car there, and it wasn't Laura's. Where was she? I walked into the community center and hollered hello. No one answered, so I took a few tentative steps and yelled again. James popped out from around the corner, which made me jump.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was trying to keep from scaring you. You must not have heard me yell back.”

“It's okay. Where's Laura?”

“She's at some meeting and will be over as soon as she can. I came to help in the meantime.”

“Great.” It was great, wasn't it? I didn't get any creepy vibe from James when I was with him. He was different, yes, but not creepy. “Let's start hauling the tables out and setting them up. You're probably stronger than Laura, anyway.”

Forty-five minutes later all the tables were set and ready to go. Laura walked in. Her timing was so convenient, I wondered if she'd arrived earlier, seen us working, and scurried out.
Yeesh.
I was becoming cynical.

“Sorry, I'm late.” But she grinned and didn't appear all that sorry. Maybe I was right. She looked at me closely. “You look beat. Why don't you go on home?”

“Because I promised you I'd stay while people set up their tables.” The room was going to be open for the next two hours so the sellers could arrange their things this evening instead of early tomorrow morning.

“As long as you give me the list for who has what spot, I can handle it.”

I hesitated. Food and a bath tempted me.

“Really,” Laura said, giving me a push toward the door. “I've got this.”

I handed her the list and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”

James walked me to my car. “Want to grab a pizza?” he asked.

I had to eat, I didn't want another fluffernutter, and I did want to find out what was going on with James. I liked James but was worried about him. He had always been one of those “the nicest guys you'd ever meet” types. Or at least he had been before his last tour in Afghanistan. Today he was showing his nice side, but lately, I'd seen his harder side, too. I hated to think his deployment had changed him, but he wouldn't be the first it had happened to or, sadly, the last. So yes, I wanted to have pizza and talk with him. Find out how he was. And I had another reason. I wanted to get to the bottom of these silly concerns about him and being with him in a public place seemed to be the best way.

“Okay. DiNapoli's?” I said.

“Sure. I'll meet you there.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later we sat across from each other at DiNapoli's. My being here with James raised a few eyebrows. Okay, a lot of eyebrows. Everyone from Rosalie to Angelo to Ryan to Lois to some of the diners had done a double take when we walked in. I couldn't exactly shout out that we were just friends. But I had introduced him that way as we ordered a half-pepperoni, half-cheese pizza.

James deflected my attempts to find out more about his deployment as we drank water and waited for our food. I ended up talking about myself more than I had meant to. When the pizza arrived, we started to eat, and our conversation was more about “Pass the hot peppers and the Parmesan cheese.”

After my third piece of cheese pizza, I pushed my plate away. “That was good.”

“Mind if I eat the rest?” James asked.

I shook my head no, relieved that with whatever was going on, at least he was eating. “Have you heard anything about Margaret's or Juanita's murders?” I asked.

“Is this why you wanted to eat with me?”

“No.” It wasn't the only reason. “I wanted to see how you were doing, but you aren't talking.”

“Since the victims have nothing to do with base, I haven't heard much.”

I was disappointed. “I guess that makes sense.”

“But I saw on the garage sale site, you started a cleaning business.” James watched me intently.

I tried my best not to squirm. “I needed the extra money. There aren't a lot of garage sales in New England in the winter. The garage sale site takes a lot of time and produces very little income.”

“Do you want to come clean my place?”

I laughed. “You live in one room in the dorm on base.” Single enlisted troops could live in dorms on base for far less than they could out on the economy or, as civilians would say, in town.

“Not anymore. I moved off base a few weeks ago, to an apartment not too far from here.”

Well, this was awkward. I hadn't thought about someone I knew asking me to clean for them. And beyond being awkward, James lived in town now. Which meant he'd could have been around, taking pictures a lot more easily, but I still didn't want to believe James could be my stalker. “I'm pretty booked right now.” It sounded like a lie, and judging by the frown on James's face, he thought so, too.

“Did you stop to think it might look like you killed your rival and then took over her business?”

Oh, no.
I'd never dreamed anyone would think that, but if James did, others might. By trying to draw out the killer, I'd just completely screwed myself. “You know that isn't true.”

“I know that, but the state police might not.”

Chapter 31

After a restless night's sleep, and having no solid answers either way about James, I roamed around the community center at eight in the morning. The sale would start in an hour. Tables lined the outside walls, and there was another square of them in the middle of the room, allowing just enough space to maneuver around everything. Laura and I were the only ones here. She'd helped me set up my table. We had eaten the donuts I'd brought along, and now we sipped coffee as we walked around the room.

“Laura, look at this bench.” The curved arms of the bench were upholstered in burgundy leather that had cracked in several places. The seat was burgundy velvet, which I suspected was added later. I tipped the bench over and saw that the thin cheesecloth-like fabric covering the bottom was still intact. I stuck my nose as close as possible to the bench and sniffed. It smelled fine. I was leery when things smelled of air freshener or Febreze.

“Where would you put it?” Laura asked when I stood back up.

“It would just fit at the end of my bed.” Where it would really look beautiful was in Seth's bedroom in his house in Bedford. The previous owners had turned the attic into a spacious master. I blushed a little as I thought about that. I'd done some decorating for him, and he'd asked me to do more, but with the moratorium on seeing him, I hadn't. Although I'd broken that well and good more than once recently. “I'd have to re-cover it, but you don't see these every day.”

“The carving along the bottom and on the legs is beautiful.”

“I told myself I could spend fifty dollars today.” Even though I wasn't in desperate straits financially, I tried to watch my spending. It was kind of like going to a casino with a set budget and quitting when you hit your limit. But unlike from a casino, I usually walked away from my bargain hunting expeditions with something that delighted me.

“There's no price on it,” Laura said.

“I'll watch and make them an offer as soon as they come in.”

Half an hour later a couple showed up and stood behind the table with the bench. I rushed over and realized I was breaking my own rule about trying to act casual to get a better deal. “I love your bench.”
Yikes.
What was with me this morning? I seemed to have lost all my bargaining skills.

The couple exchanged a glance. “It's not in very good shape.”

Oh, be still, my heart.
They didn't realize how hard it was to find a bench like this. I had been looking for a long time and knew it was worth several hundred dollars, even in its current condition. “I know. I'd have to have it reupholstered. And I'm not sure I want to put that kind of money into it.” I hoped they bought my story. “What are you asking for it?”

“Two hundred.”

My heart dropped. That was way out of my price range. “Thanks, anyway.” I turned.

“You can make us an offer,” the man said, with a quick glance at his wife.

Yeesh.
I should have done that automatically. “Would you take fifty? Since it's going to require a lot of work?”

The woman shook her head and shot a “Don't say yes” look at her husband. From the looks of things, he was lucky to escape with a look and not a swift kick. “One-fifty. It does need work, but we've priced it with that in mind,” the woman said.

“I can't. Fifty's my limit today.”

“If it lasts through the day, we'll consider it,” the man said.

I smiled. “Thanks. I don't think it will.”

“I don't, either,” the woman said.

I hated losing out but brightened at the thought that if I sold enough today, maybe I could buy it. I put some finishing touches on the things on my table. I found a plug, so the blue and white lamp glowed. I arranged the atomic starburst dishes, and I gave the small end table a final dusting. After making sure everything looked as good as it could, I waited for the doors to open.

The crowds were great, and I was so busy selling items that when my stomach rumbled, I was surprised to see it was 12:30 p.m. Since there seemed to be a lull, I ate the fluffernutter sandwich I'd brought with me. Just as I swallowed the last deliciously sticky bite, Ryan from DiNapoli's walked in.

“Ryan, hi.” I reached over the table and gave him a little hug. “You look nice today.” He had on a collared dress shirt and dark slacks. A wool overcoat was folded over his arm.

“Thanks. I don't always wear my work clothes.”

“You made it,” I said.

“A friend of mine brought me. We did a tour in the air force together years ago. It wasn't for me. They sent me to a small town in New Mexico, and I thought I'd never leave that place. Have you ever been there? It's so . . . so . . . different.” He smiled, and we both laughed. “Although, I guess I should have stayed in. My buddy has done well, and I'm still working at DiNapoli's.”

“I thought you liked it there. Angelo would be lost without you. He says you can fix anything.”

“They're like family. My own handyman business is really taking off, and it's hard to do both.”

“You should be proud of yourself. I know how hard it is to start your own business. Are you here looking for anything in particular?”

“My girlfriend likes old stuff. I thought I might find something for her.”

“Does she collect something or have a specific era of things she likes?”

“I'm not sure.” He picked up and set down several things on my table.

“What about a favorite color?”

“She has a lot of blue in her house.”

“A woman after my own heart. It's my favorite, too.” I showed him a couple of cobalt-blue glass bottles from the forties. One was shaped like a violin. I had found them at a garage sale last summer and couldn't resist them. But I'd realized I didn't really have anywhere to put them.

“I'm not sure,” he said.

“What about this?” I picked up a blue and white porcelain jar. The writing on the front said
MAGDA TOILET CREAM C. J. COUNTIE & CO. CHEMISTS
. The top lid said
COUNTIE OF BOSTON
. “It's from around eighteen-ninety. I did some research and found out the company was bought and it became Pond's Cold Cream.”

“She'll like it because it says Boston on it,” Ryan said. “How much is it?”

“Thirty,” I said.

“Okay.” Ryan pulled out his wallet.

“Wait. You're supposed to bargain.”

“But that seems like a fair price for what it is.”

“Always ask at these kinds of events or at antique stores if they'll take anything off. Most dealers will. If they don't, you have to decide if it's worth full price or not.”

Ryan handed me three tens. I gave him three dollars back.

“You're taking all the fun out of my day. I like to bargain,” I said. I wrapped the lid and the base in tissue paper and then stuck them in a plastic bag. “I hope she likes it.”

“Me too. See you around.”

Right after Ryan left, I saw a couple carrying out the bench I wanted.
Darn it all.

The afternoon continued to be busy. James stopped by. “I'll swing back by at five and help you put the tables away.”

I nodded and waved, then turned to negotiate the sale of a chair I loved but didn't have room for. It was a sleek leather chair from the fifties. I had found it on the curb one morning on base, set out next to the garbage cans. The red leather went with nothing I had, so I had decided that keeping it under the eaves was selfish. The young couple I was negotiating with was so excited about it that when they gave me a lowball offer, I took it. Part of me envied their young love, and the other part didn't want to have to drag the chair back up the stairs.

I never did have time to go back around and take another look at what people had for sale. By five o'clock I had sold 90 percent of what I'd brought with me and had made three hundred dollars. I decided to donate what was left to the base thrift shop. I put what I could in boxes and carried it over to the thrift shop space.

Laura looked a bit frazzled. “We sold a lot, but people keep dropping off stuff they didn't sell.”

I held up my box. “Here's more. It will be good for business.”

“Yes, but I don't want to have to haul this all back tonight.”

“I could come back tomorrow and help.”

“I could, too.” I turned, and James was standing behind me.

“That would be great. One-ish?” Laura asked.

Laura's husband stopped by, and between the four of us, we got the community center looking almost like it had when we started.

“I'm going home, putting up my feet, and having a large glass of wine,” Laura said. “Anyone want to join me?”

James shook his head. “Thanks, but I can't.”

I wanted a shower and a good night's sleep. Although, now that the sale was over, all my worries started swarming me. I hugged Laura. “Thanks for the offer, but I'm beat.”

* * *

After a shower, I sat on my couch, flipping through a magazine full of decorating tips for flea market finds. It was only seven, but it felt more like midnight. Someone knocked on my door. As I went over to answer it, I yet again missed having Mike and his brothers next door to prescreen my visitors. And since the photo from the other night had me on edge, I called through the door, “Who is it?”

“It's Seth.”

I leaned my forehead against the door, not sure if I was ready to see him.

“Please, Sarah.”

I opened the door and stepped back to let him in, but I didn't move from the door or close it. As far as I was concerned, this was going to be a very short conversation.

“I'm sorry about the other night. I should have answered your question.”

“You told me last fall the difference between you and CJ was that you wouldn't let me go. But you did.”

“You're the one that took off. Couples have disagreements.”

“It was more than a disagreement. It was trust. It's about you having a job that's complicated. I think I need easy right now.”

Seth took my hand. “Move in with me.”

I stared at him, in shock.

“I'll take care of you.”

A million thoughts swept through my mind. “But I want to take care of myself. I have to for a while.”

“I love you. Please. Move in with me.”

A creak sounded from the stairway. CJ stood on the landing. Instead of turning and leaving, he trotted up the rest of the steps.

I looked from Seth to CJ and bolted.