Death of a Garage Sale Newbie (27 page)

Ginger leaned around the corner that led to the main drag of the mall. She studied the shops and corridors. No sign of anyone. She couldn’t be so lucky as to hope that they had decided to call the whole thing off and go out for pie instead. Something must have required their attention.

Still watching, she edged along the wall.

She slipped into a kiosk that sold sunglasses and goggles and peered above the counter to see if she could see anything.

Nothing.

As she was straightening, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror that was set up next to a display of sunglasses. Bloody ear, armed with pepper spray, and stylish travel purse.
Dirty Ginger to the rescue. Do you feel lucky?

She glanced at her elf shoes. Her heart fluttered. She put a palm on her chest. Who was she kidding? She was terrified. Scared she’d never get out of here. Afraid that something had happened to her friends. Afraid that the early morning mall walkers would find her body stuffed in a trash can.

The mall PA system made a scratching noise, and then she heard the voice that cut through to her marrow.

After David died
, Arleta’s grief had overtaken her with the force of a tornado. She had functioned in the rubble that remained of her life, reminding herself that she needed to eat, to keep breathing. Thinking about David’s death would have interfered with that. She hadn’t reviewed the specifics of that night until now, when she faced her own possible demise.

David had called her before he left Lewis Hall to say that he was going for a drive to think and that he had something important to tell her when he got home.

At the time, she had assumed that his news had something to do with a decision about a sabbatical they had been discussing. But now, with her feet pressed up against the latest lipstick colors, she remembered the hollow tone that had threaded through his voice.

He must have been coming home to tell her about the confession and everything connected with it. He had to have hidden the confession either in the vest or the photo album. The secret had remained hidden until Mary Margret found it.

Arleta closed her eyes. She could still see the young police officer standing at her door that night fifteen years ago. Single-car accident, he had said.

She pushed aside some tubes that dug into her thigh and twisted at the waist to try and get comfortable. David had been a good driver. It hadn’t been raining that night.

Arleta gripped a lipstick tube. Jackson had known that David worked at Lewis Hall because he had either tampered with the car or followed David from Lewis Hall and caused the accident. Somehow, Mr. Jackson had gotten rid of the only man who would reveal his crime—her David.

The footsteps returned, circling the makeup counter. She recognized the slow motion drag of his steps. A thudding noise above her. His hand on the counter? No, too heavy for that.

His breathing was raspy. She’d given her husband’s killer quite a workout. Anger, fifteen years in the making, made every muscle in Arleta’s body tense up.

Jackson’s breathing irritated her. She grabbed the first thing her fingers touched, stuck her feet out of the cupboard, and pushed herself out onto the floor. She was on her feet before Jackson, standing eight feet away with a counter between them, could react.

His mouth formed a misshapen oval. He was sweating so much he glistened.

Simultaneously, she threw the thing in her hand and screamed, “You killed my David!”

Moments before his face disappeared in a red dust cloud, she saw the light come into his eyes and his mouth grew even wider and more distorted. Coughing rose out of the cloud.

The thud she had heard was his gun being put on the counter.

When the whirlwind of loose powdered rouge settled, Jackson’s face, neck, and chins were red. The powder had glued to his sweat. He stuck his tongue out, making puffing noises and finally resorted to wiping it with his hand. He dug at his eyes.

Arleta reached for the gun but stumbled on makeup and boxes she had pushed out during her exit from the cupboard. She fell forward. Her outstretched hand brushed against the gun and sent it spinning off the counter to the floor.

She leaned over the counter, her face about a foot from David’s killer. “Why?”

His eyes watered from the amount of powder in them. “At first it was about getting rich.” His blubbery lips quivered. “This property was supposed to set me up, my first really big deal.”

“Didn’t it?”

“Wheeler has been blackmailing me about the murder for fifteen years. He has everything.” His looked down and spoke to Daffy Duck on his tie. “I only have the appearance of wealth.”

“Why kill my husband?”

“He was going to bring it out in the open. I didn’t want to lose everything. Didn’t want to go to jail. I didn’t mean for Mary Margret to die. This greed, it just keeps compounding on itself.” His shoulders drooped even more.

Arleta’s jaw was clenched so tight she was in danger of breaking a tooth. She could barely see Jackson’s pudgy face through the smear of tears. She fixated on his tie and those stupid, stupid cartoon characters laughing and dancing.

Her words came out slowly with measured control. “You killed the love of my life for money.”

She crawled over the top of the counter, grabbed his tie, and yanked it tighter.

Jackson leaned forward but didn’t resist. He spoke in a staccato rhythm punctuated with choking, gasping sounds. “I’ll turn myself in. I’m so tired. I’ve been Wheeler’s prisoner for fifteen years anyway.”

Arleta lifted her head and let up on the tie, when the mall’s PA system made a scratching noise.

“
Attention mall shoppers, especially Ginger Salinski. I think I have something you want. And I think you have something I want. We should make a trade. One bouncing blond coed for one tiny piece of paper. Such a good deal
.” Even filtered through speakers, Wheeler’s voice shook Ginger to the core.

After tossing the pepper spray back in her purse, she bolted out to the middle of the mall. So that’s why they hadn’t come after her: They’d been chasing down Kindra. Ginger ran, staring into the dark and dimly lit stores. For the love of Pete, she didn’t know where the PA system was housed, probably in the mall office, but where was that? All these years of coming to the mall and she never had a reason to locate the office; there was never anything on sale in there.

Walls closed in on her. She darted back and forth trying to think. Would it be on the main floor? Off in a side corridor? She’d never seen a sign. She trotted down the main corridor of the mall. Looking…looking.

As she neared the fountain in the center of the mall, she slowed. The fountain was turned off, but someone was tied to the stem that jutted out of the fountain’s bowl-like base. She saw the delicate hands with rope wrapped around them, the purple nail polish and the fingers with blood on them.

Ginger circled around. She was out of breath from running. Her heart ku-thudded in her chest. Her skin tingled; an odd numbness blanketed her arms, her legs, her rib cage. She stepped slowly around. The paralysis, in response to what she saw, made her feel as though someone else was telling her to put one foot in front of the other to keep moving.

“Hey, kiddo.” Ginger raised a hand toward her friend.

Kindra lifted her head and forced a smile. “Nice getup. Tell me you didn’t pay full price for those shoes.”

“It w-was the b-best I could do on such short n-notice.” She let out a quivering breath when Kindra turned her head and she saw the gash across the kid’s cheek. “Oh, honey.” She strode toward her friend.

“I wouldn’t go any closer if I were you.” Wheeler’s gruff voice pelted her back.

Ginger whirled around to face Wheeler. Stenengarter stood beside him with a gun aimed at her. But of course, Mr. Sporting Goods had an endless supply of weapons. She made no effort to hide her anger.

He stood about twenty feet away. “I wouldn’t try to get your friend untied.” He tilted his head toward Stenengarter. “My friend here will put a bullet through both of you.”

Ginger’s hands balled into fists. Boy, did she want to pummel him for what he had done to Kindra. Instead, she planted her feet and pressed her lips together really tight. The last thing she needed was to lose control.

“Now, I think we have a trade to make. You give me that piece of paper. I’ll let you untie your friend and you can go.”

This was of course the biggest lie of the evening. Wheeler was going to kill them. All part of covering up the trail that was on his to-do list.

Ginger played along in his little game of pretend. She had no other option, and this bought her some time to try and come up with a plan. Unless she came up with a brilliant idea, she and Kindra were going to die. And Arleta, too, if it hadn’t happened already.

Ginger closed the distance between her and her assailants. She positioned her hand on top of her purse.

The gun in Stenengarter’s hand jerked.

“The confession is in here.” Ginger’s heart galloped at Kentucky Derby speed.
Please, please don’t shoot me.

“I looked in there,” barked Wheeler.

“It’s a travel purse, dummy. It has a hidden compartment.” Her hand brushed over Earl’s pepper spray/flashlight before inching up to the zipper for the hidden compartment.

“Bring it over here.”

She walked slower than molasses pours. Surveying the area around her and thinking-thinking-thinking. “The bribery crime is old. If you hadn’t killed my friend, you wouldn’t have gone to jail.”

“My reputation was on the line. Nobody buys houses from someone connected with a scam like that, proven or unproven.” Wheeler pouted.

“Nobody buys houses from someone who commits murder either.” A light patina of sweat formed on Ginger’s brow.

“Shut up and give me the paper.” His expression would have put him in the running for sourpuss of the month. “Your friend drove me to it. She led me on all day and then tried to escape from my house.”

That was it. She was looking at Mary Margret’s killer. Renata had said that Wheeler chased after Mary. He must have had archery equipment in his car. This whole bribery coverup had smoldered for twenty years and turned to burning rage.

Ginger’s hand hovered over the open purse. If she grabbed the pepper spray, she’d have time to disable Stenengarter but not Wheeler. Maybe she could get to the gun before Wheeler could.

“Hurry.” Stenengarter raised the gun a little higher.

Wheeler leaned toward her. “The man said hurry.”

“Sorry, I’ve been running quite a bit.” Ginger fanned herself. “I’m just so old and menopausal.”

Wheeler narrowed his bloodshot eyes at her. “Oh, please.”

Ginger cut her glance toward Kindra, who lifted her head. All of this was a gamble. She was risking both their lives. But what other choice did she have?

Her hand slipped into her purse, and she wrapped trembling fingers around the pepper spray. “Okay, I’ll give you what you need.” She placed her thumb on the disperse button.

Stenengarter adjusted his grip on the gun, but his finger rested over the trigger, not on it. She was maybe three feet from him, and Wheeler was behind him four feet away.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

Stenengarter’s cheek twitched.

This had to work or they were all dead. Her mouth went dry.
Please, God, help me. Please let Earl’s invention work.

Wheeler curled his lip. “Give it to me.”

That was it. She’d had enough of these guys. She lifted the spray out of the purse, aimed it at Stenengarter, and pressed the button.

Stenengarter moaned, dropped the gun, and clutched his face. His eyes watered. He gasped for air. He bent over, face in his hands.

Ginger dove for the gun. Wheeler pushed her away. She saw a flash of an image. His hand placed over the top of the gun.

A boom of energy like nothing she had ever heard before filled the space around her. Wheeler still on his knees put both hands in the air. The gun remained on the floor.

“There is more where that came from. That was a warning shot. The next one goes straight through your heart.”

Ginger would recognize that voice in the darkest cave. Arleta. Wheeler continued to hold his hands in the air. Ginger picked the gun up off the carpet and turned around.

Arleta stood with the pistol held in steady hands. “This thing doesn’t shoot like my Annie.”

Jackson thudded toward them. A bubble of panic tightened Ginger’s throat. “Arleta, Jackson is—”

“Don’t worry about him. Remember that picture we saw of a skinny Jackson in his office? He’s eaten his weight in guilt over the last fifteen years for what he did…” Her voice faltered. “…To me. He’s ready to turn everyone in.”

Wheeler shouted a curse at Jackson. Stenengarter dropped to the floor still clawing his face. He wheezed. His chest labored up and down.

Kindra let out a small whimper. “Go, Arleta, go.”

Ginger raced over to untie her. Through blurred vision, she struggled with the ropes. The knot had been tied tightly. She dug her fingers between the ropes. Once she got them loose, they were easy to undo. Ginger unwound the rope from Kindra’s narrow wrist.

The younger woman wrapped her arms around Ginger. “Thank you.” Kindra’s voice wavered. Ginger supported her friend while she stepped out of the fountain and onto solid ground. Arleta continued to hold her gun on Wheeler. Stenengarter struggled to his feet but gave up midway, collapsing on the floor and clutching his chest.