The Longest Yard Sale (21 page)

CHAPTER 34

I headed over to Acton to talk to my friend who owned the estate-sale business. She was going to help me price things. Part of me wondered if I should even proceed with Gennie's sale. My mind whirled around what I'd found out about Gennie as I drove down the 2 through the rotary by the prison in Concord and on to Acton.

She could have murdered Terry. He'd been blackmailing her. She had a secret she didn't want to get out. A chill went through me as I thought of all the time I'd spent alone with her at her house. If Nancy was as protective as I suspected, it gave her a motive too. But it was harder for me to believe she had murdered someone.

The GPS said I was close, but the area was still fairly commercial, and my friend worked out of her home. A few houses sat between strip malls. As I passed a one-story, rambling motel, I did a double take. Anna McQueen was going into one of the rooms.

I pulled into the cracked paved driveway. A neon sign said ACANCY, which wasn't surprising, given the run-down appearance of the place. Only five cars sat in the lot. I parked near the door I'd seen Anna go in. I
bam, bam, bammed
on the door a little harder than I intended to. When she opened it and saw it was me, she stepped back. I took that as an invitation to enter, though she tried to close the door.

“Anna, what the heck are you doing here? You could have stayed on base,” I said.

The room was cramped, more so because it was filled with file and moving boxes stacked almost to the ceiling. A couple of computers were open on the desk. It smelled a little musty, and I wasn't sure if it was the boxes or the dingy, stained carpet.

“How did you find me?”

“Were you hiding?” I joked.

Anna laughed. “Just from all the helpful neighbors ringing my doorbell to make sure I'm okay. I couldn't get any studying done.”

That made sense. Everyone on base wanted to pitch in and lend a hand. It's what military folks did for one another. Anna looked more rested than the last time I'd seen her. Her red hair fell in shiny waves around her shoulders. So maybe it worked for her. But how could she study here when she could barely get by the bed to the bathroom? The large number of boxes made the room claustrophobic. I could hear traffic through the thin door. It didn't seem that much quieter with it closed.

“Surely you could have found a better situation than this?”

“I suppose, but I took this so I'd be out of the way. It's only for another week. Then I'll be moving back to Oregon. Near Terry's family. It's what he would have wanted.”

“What about your family?”

“I don't want to move back to Kansas. And we aren't that close anyway.”

“I have some bad news.” It sounded trite, considering her husband had just died. But I knew sooner or later the skimming scandal would come out. It was better for her to hear it from me than on her car radio. I quickly filled her in but left out the part about Dave's disappearance or my suspicions that he had murdered Terry.

Anna gasped and got continually paler as I told her the story. “Terry would never have been involved with something like that.”

She sounded so confident I almost believed her. But I didn't want to. Even after all I'd learned about Bubbles, part of me still didn't want to believe he'd done anything wrong.

“Dave gave Terry the figures to input,” she said. “He must have been the one doing it. Terry was too honest.” She sounded like she was pleading with me to believe her. “He trusted everyone.” Her eyes filled with tears.

She must not know about his days as a sports agent. I didn't plan to fill her in on them, or on Gennie's assumption that he was blackmailing her again. “I really hope all this is resolved quickly and that the police have it right and it's only a glitch in the system. Have you seen Dave?”

“Why?”

Rats. “He's dating my friend Stella and he stood her up the other night. She's worried about him.”

“I'll be sure and tell him to call her.” Anna opened the door. “I have to get back to studying.” She gave me a little shove toward the door.

“Call me if you need anything. I hate to leave you here.” As the door closed behind me, I heard a few choked-back sobs.

“Damn it. What have you done?” Anna said.

I froze. Could Anna have called someone on her phone that fast? I pressed my ear to the door and heard the murmur of someone else's voice. Someone had been in there the whole time I had.

I hurried to my car, scanning the parking lot as I went. I didn't recognize any of the cars, but that didn't mean anything. I knew very little about Anna except that her husband had died and she was studying for her CPA exam. Really, what she did and with whom was none of my business. Unless . . . Anna was involved in the scam too. Instead of heading down the highway I drove around the back of the motel. There were rooms on this side, too. Parked in front of another door, a room that must be opposite Anna's, was a shiny, black Porsche.

Could it be Bubbles's car? Thoughts swirled in my mind as I looked around. I thought about Bubbles's affair with someone named Anna. Could it be Anna McQueen? Were they still involved? The Porsche looked out of place at this seedy motel, like a diamond in a flophouse. I parked beside it and climbed out. I tried to peer inside, cupping my hands to cut the glare, but the tinted windows were too dark. I tried the handles, but the doors were locked. I leaned in to look through the windshield. There wasn't anything on the seat to indicate it was Bubbles's car.

I climbed back into my Suburban. Anna had seemed sincere when she'd said Terry was honest. Then she'd added that he was too trusting, which was almost exactly what Jill had said about Bubbles. Maybe Anna, not Terry, had helped Bubbles with the faked statements. He'd found out. But why call Carol? Why did he want to meet with her? If he somehow knew Bubbles was planning to steal the painting and didn't know he'd already taken it, Terry might have wanted to warn her. He might have thought she was in danger.

According to Gennie, Terry was no innocent, even if Anna proclaimed he was. I could be way off base; Terry might have been up to his neck in all of it. At some point, something had gone horribly wrong, and Terry had ended up dead. As I thought over my conversation with Anna, I realized she'd said, “I'll be sure and tell him to call her.” Anna didn't say she wouldn't hear from him. She more or less admitted that she'd be in touch with Bubbles.

I called CJ. After a quick explanation, I convinced him to run the license plate number and read it off to him.

“Get out of there,” CJ said. “I don't know what's going on with Bubbles, and I don't want you anywhere near him.”

“Okay,” I said. “I'm starting my car and leaving.” The only way out of the lot was to go back around the front. I spotted a convenience store across the street from the motel and headed over.

“I mean it, Sarah. Don't hang around there.”

“I left. I have an appointment with an antiques appraiser anyway,” I said as I drove into the convenience store lot. “Have you run the plate?” I backed into a space, so I had a good view of not only Anna's room but also the entrance and exit to the motel.

“Not yet.”

“Will you call me when you know?”

“Worry about your own life, Sarah.” CJ disconnected.

I tapped my finger on the steering wheel. First, CJ had sounded concerned about me being at the motel, which had made me think he still cared about me. Then he'd told me to mind my own business, but maybe that meant he cared about me too. I sat a few more minutes, debating whether to stay or go.

I sent a quick text to the woman I was supposed to be meeting with and told her I was running late. She sent back a message that said “obviously” and asked if I could reschedule. Before I could answer, the Porsche careened around the side of the motel. It slid onto the 2 and headed west. It moved fast, cutting in and out of traffic, which was not that unusual considering the way people drove around here. I thought about trying to follow the car, but it was already a tiny dot. There was no way my Suburban could keep up.

Instead, I called CJ again. I told him what I'd seen and then hung up before he could lecture me. I was tired of being lectured. Bubbles must have killed Terry and left the frame around his face to throw off an investigation. Then he'd sent the notes to himself to make it look like he was a potential victim, too. All the while, he continued to steal from his investors, people who trusted him. Bubbles wasn't the man I'd believed him to be. He was a liar, a cheat, and probably a murderer. But instead of feeling sad, a slow anger built in me.

I decided to go back over to the motel. In my brief glimpse of the Porsche, it didn't look like anyone was in the passenger seat. If that were true, Anna was still over there, and I wanted to talk to her before she fled. If she didn't answer, I'd ask the manager to open the room to make sure she wasn't dead on the floor.

I parked a couple of doors down from her room and knocked. The door flung open. Anna stood there, looking hopeful even though her face was streaked with tears. Before Anna could register it was me, I grabbed her arm and hauled her out.

CHAPTER 35

I wasn't about to go into her room again. Who knew what or who was hiding in there.

“Let's go sit over there.” I pointed to a couple of rusted lawn chairs sitting in front of the manager's office. By the time we sat down, tears were flowing down Anna's face again.

“I can't believe he was dating someone,” Anna said when we sat down.

“That's what you're worried about?” Good heavens, and I thought my personal life was a mess. I started to feel better about myself. At least I wasn't
that
stupid. “Shouldn't you be worried about jail time? Mail fraud? Murder?” Those were just the crimes I could think of off the top of my head. I figured there were more. Lots more.

“It was all Dave. He came up with the idea to rig the statements. And to sell
Battled
.” She gripped the arms of her chair. “How long has he been seeing her?”

If this was the way to get information out of her, I'd answer. “A few months. Did he set the fires?”

“Yes. Just to make sure there were plenty of distractions.”

“So you could steal the painting?”

“Most of the librarians were outside selling books. I made sure the one inside was busy. But Dave made the switch. Is she pretty?”

I thought about Stella.
Pretty
wasn't a good enough word to describe her, and yet
beautiful
seemed too much. She was intriguing, interesting, and smart, but for Anna, I'd keep it simple. “Yes. She's pretty. Why'd he steal
Battled
?”

“For the money.” She said it with a tone that implied I was stupid. “The black market for art's always booming. Please tell me she's fat.”

“Sorry. She's got curves where every woman wants them.” I worried Anna was going to run out of questions for me before I did for her. “How did Terry end up dead at Paint and Wine?”

Anna released her grip on the arms of the chair. Her hands were covered with bits of rust and paint. She flicked a few off. I was afraid our conversation was over.

“I overheard Terry call Carol and ask to meet her. I told Dave.” Anna looked at me. “Dave said Terry's death was a horrible accident.”

You don't accidentally strangle someone. “How'd he get into the store?”

“Dave knew a girl that worked there.”

I wondered how Bubbles knew Olivia. Then I remembered she'd mentioned karaoke at Gillganins and that Bubbles hung out there too. “She let him into the store?”

“No. He slipped her key out of her purse one night at Gillganins. I took it and made a copy.”

I shook my head. “Is your maiden name Sweeney?”

Anna jerked up. “How'd you know?”

“You and Dave were missile crew partners and had an affair.”

“We've loved each other for years and saw each other when we could.”

There were so many things I wanted to ask her but had to choose wisely. “Why'd he steal the money from his clients? People who trusted him.”

She looked out over the parking lot, like she hadn't thought about this before. “Broken promises. He should have made general. They shouldn't cut so many benefits to veterans. It's only going to get worse, you know.”

“But Dave was taking money from the very people affected by those same things.”

“Not all his clients were in the military.” She turned in her chair to look at me. “Did Dave seem happy with her?”

I thought about the times I'd seen Stella and Bubbles together; there'd been a lot of laughter. “He did.”

“I'd punch her in the face if I could.”

I never understood women who were mad at the other woman when their man dallied. I called CJ and sat with Anna until the police arrived.

Laura called me as I was headed back to base. “It's Beverly. I think she's moving some of the stuff.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked.

“She said she wanted to leave early so she could drop off some old clothes she'd stuck in the storage shed at Goodwill.”

“Are you at the shop?”

“Yes.”

“Did you call base security?”

“Of course.”

I wasn't that far from the back entrance to Fitch. “Sponsor me on. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

As I drove to the base, I called Carol. “It looks like you will be a free woman,” I said, and then I filled her in on my conversation with Anna.

“Now Brad's mom can go home. Just as soon as I finish this painting.”

“Why are you going to finish it? There's no client. There never was.”

“I put my heart into this painting. It's almost done, and it's even better than the first version. If no one else wants it, I'll keep it.”

“I wonder if they'll ever find the original.”

“I hope so. I can't believe your friend did all this.”

“Neither can I. I don't know who to trust anymore,” I said.

“Trust yourself.”

Fifteen minutes later, I walked through the front door of the thrift shop. All was calm. Laura stood behind the counter, helping someone check out. Beverly sat in her office as though she didn't have a care in the world. She waved and smiled when she saw me. I poked around a couple of racks of clothes before moseying out to the shed at the side of the shop. All the bags seemed to be in place, untouched since Sunday night. I looked up at the cameras. They weren't that easy to see. A security police car drove by as if it was on a routine patrol. I spotted another one parked down the street.

I went back into the thrift shop. Laura waited for me in the sorting room.

“So what's the plan?” I asked.

“We can't actually do anything until she takes the stuff.”

“Hey, girls. I'm heading out.”

We jumped apart at Beverly's voice.

“Want me to help you move the stuff from the shed to your car?” Laura asked.

“It's only a couple of bags, and you shouldn't leave the register uncovered. Someone might try to steal from us.”

Laura and I nodded like a couple of bobble-head dolls. The nerve of that woman astounded me. I followed Laura to the front. She called the security force squadron again. We watched as Beverly drove by the front of the shop. We rushed out to the shed and flung open the doors. It was empty. Out front tires squealed. We ran to see what was going on.

Beverly was out of her car, yelling at James. “You almost caused a wreck. I'm going to report you.”

“Open your trunk please, ma'am,” James said.

“Absolutely not.” Beverly spotted us. “Laura, call your husband. I'm being harassed.”

“Just open your trunk, Beverly,” Laura said. “We know you're stealing from the thrift shop and selling things on eBay.”

Beverly tossed her hair as she clicked open her trunk. She held her head up as the bags came out. The first ones were all of the old clothes.

“See. This is clothing that's going to the recycler.”

But the next bags held the dolls, quilts, and purses. Even after she'd been caught, she stood there, as haughty as ever.

“Why would you do this?” Laura asked her.

“You don't pay me enough, and there's plenty to go around.”