Sell Low, Sweet Harriet Page 3

  “You have a good memory.”

  “She told me that Brad and her husband had golfed together before. So she stood out in my mind.”

  Most bases have golf courses. On big bases they were right on the grounds of the base. But on a smaller base like Fitch the golf course could be off base. Fitch’s was on the VA grounds in the town of Bedford. Only people who were military, veterans, DOD employees, or VA patients and employees, could golf there. Well, there were two exceptions. The high school golf team and civilians who were playing with someone who had access. Golf courses weren’t funded through taxpayer dollars, but by funds raised by MWR—Morale, Welfare, and Recreation.

  “Did Brad know them well?” I asked.

  “I asked him after I found out she’d died. He said he and Alicia’s husband had been paired up in some base golf outing last fall. Brad’s old squadron and Alicia’s husband’s current one. They hit it off and played a couple of more times. I don’t think he ever met Alicia. Did you know her?”

  “Not well. I met her briefly at the thrift shop on base, but never really talked to her.”

  Carol cocked her head to one side. “Then why did you go to her funeral?”

  I shrugged. “I just felt like that could have been me. Weird, huh?”

  “Not so weird. I think most of us feel that way when someone who shouldn’t have died does. Did anything interesting happen?”

  “Why would you ask that?” I said.

  Carol shrugged. “It just seems like interesting things always happen when you are around.”

  I tossed a paintbrush at her. “Scott Pellner was there. For work.”

  “Is that why you were really there? Your curiosity about what happened? Who did it?”

  “No. NO! Absolutely not.” I shook my head for emphasis. But was that why I was there?

  “Methinks thou doth protest too much. Especially with all of the questions you were asking.”

  “Okay, Shakespeare. Think whatever you want. That’s not why I was there.” I shook my head again. “At least I don’t think that’s why I was.”

  Chapter Four

  Stella, my landlady, threw open her door when I entered the foyer. She poked her head out, green eyes large in her olive-toned face. “Do you have time to come in? For a glass of wine?” she asked.

  Her sweet little tuxedo cat, Tux, meowed at me from the door by Stella’s feet. It almost sounded like he meowed “please.”

  “Sure. I’d love to.” Seth Anderson, the man in my life, was coming over but not for a couple of hours. “Sans the wine. I just had a glass over at Paint and Wine.”

  I followed Stella in, hung my coat on a hook by the door, and bent down to Tux. “Who’s a handsome boy?” I asked. Tux put his front paws on my knee and nudged my leg with his head. “You should be on TV,” I told him as I scratched his ears. My apartment was right above Stella’s, only hers was a bit bigger because it had what the locals called a “bump out,” a small addition, on the back. Tux lost interest in me and curled up on a pillow on the floor. I went to the bathroom and washed my hands. Being allergic to cats wasn’t fun, but as long as I was careful I didn’t have many problems with Tux.

  Stella was sitting on her couch when I came back. I sat in a chair across from her.

  “You look tired,” Stella said.

  “Long day.” I filled her in on the funeral. “The good news is I have a big sale to do.” I quickly explained about Jeannette and her parents.

  “Stuff from all over the world and they were in the CIA? That is one garage sale I’m not going to miss. I’ll have to bring my mom and aunts along.” She smiled briefly and fiddled with a tassel on a pillow.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?” She’d looked distracted and a little blue the whole time I was talking.

  “I need to find a renter for the apartment next to yours. I’m sorry,” Stella said. “I need the income.”

  “Don’t apologize. It’s ridiculous not to.” Stella had had some problems with her renters in the past.

  “You can help me look and I’ll do extra background checks. By the time I’m done with them I’ll know if they have a mole on their rear end.”

  I grinned. “Sounds good.”

  “Do you know anyone on base who’s looking?”

  “Not off the top of my head, but I can check around.” Someone from base would be good because most of them already had been checked out up to their eyeballs. And if there were problems you could go to their commander. It didn’t mean you’d never have a problem with a military renter, but it helped tilt the odds in a landlord’s favor.

  “I thought about changing it to an Airbnb type of thing. I could make a lot of money doing that with all the tourists who come to Lexington and Concord, but it seems like a lot of work and more noise than I’m ready to handle.”

  “More cleaning too,” I added. “And you’d have to furnish it. Although, I’d do that for you. It would be fun.” I loved searching for furniture for people.

  “There’s all that. Anyway, if you hear of anyone, let me know.”

  “Will do,” I said. “Is that it?” I had a feeling more than just that was bothering her.

  “It’s Nathan.”

  Oh, no. That didn’t sound good. Nathan Bossum was Stella’s cop boyfriend. They met last winter under unusual circumstances. I’d misunderstood his last name at the time, so he’d been called Awesome ever since.

  “Is he okay?” I asked. “Are you guys all right?”

  Stella looked miserable. “He’s been acting so strange lately.”

  “What’s he been doing?” If he was cheating on her, I was going to kill him myself.

  “He’s cranky. Nathan’s always been so even tempered. Until the past couple of weeks our relationship has just been easy. Fun. Now I’m wondering about everything.” Tears formed in her eyes and dripped down her face.

  I moved over to sit next to her. “You’re in love.” I knew that Stella really enjoyed Nathan. He was over here almost every day. But now that I thought about it, I’d hadn’t seen him around as much lately.

  “I am. I’m such a fool. I promised myself after that mess out in California I was off men forever. Then came the whole debacle with Bubbles. What a winner he turned out to be.” Stella looked down and shook her head. “But at least I got Tux out of that situation.” Tux meowed and jumped in Stella’s lap. She swiped at her tears before stroking Tux’s back. “Nathan snuck up on me. On my heart.”

  Stella didn’t talk about her past much. I know she’d had some problems with drugs a long time ago. “What happened in California? Maybe it’s affecting how you’re feeling now.”

  Stella took a drink of her wine. “The man I loved scammed me. Took off with my money and my heart. It’s one of the reasons I came back home.”

  “That’s rotten.” I knew at times I’d projected my marital problems with CJ onto Seth—unfairly. They were so different. “You could be projecting. Especially after what happened with Bubbles.”

  “Yeah, I have a pattern of falling for guys who don’t really care about me. It looks like I’ve done it again.”

  “Awesome is a good guy.” He’d better be, anyway. “Maybe it’s something at work that’s bothering him. Alicia’s death is weighing on everyone. I saw Pellner at the funeral this morning. He was frustrated.”

  “I hope that’s it,” Stella said.

  “Me too.” I planned to have a little chat with Awesome next time I saw him.

  * * *

  Once home I grabbed my computer and looked up Jeannette Blevins’s family. There were extensive articles about the death of her parents. Jeannette’s father was from a well-known, well-off Boston family. Not a family who traced their roots back to the Mayflower, but they arrived shortly after. There was no mention of either of her parents being in the CIA, only that they worked for the government. The article did say it had been determined that the explosion that killed them was caused by a gas leak. Senegalese officials were cited as saying the Ble
vinses had misused the system. Seeing as who her parents were, I’m guessing that story had been checked and double checked.

  Chapter Five

  I woke Wednesday morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of Seth humming in my kitchen. I turned over with a contented sigh and pulled my blue and white comforter tighter around me. I wasn’t feeling inclined to get up.

  “Hey sleepyhead,” Seth said.

  A kiss landed on my cheek. I opened my eyes to see a cup of steaming black coffee on the nightstand. I rolled over and looked up at Seth. The first time I’d laid eyes on him had been in a bar in Lowell, a town thirty miles north of here, almost two years ago. He had come over with dinner last night after he heard about my day. You had to love a man who brought you Chinese takeout after a rough day.

  He was already dressed in a suit and crisp white shirt, looking every bit the Massachusetts’s Most Eligible Bachelor he’d been named the past three years in a row. Broad shouldered, wavy dark hair, and dark eyes. And he was smart too. Seth had served as interim DA after the prior DA had gotten ill and had to resign. Seth had won his first election last fall, so could continue his work as the district attorney for Middlesex County. He was the youngest DA ever elected.

  I looked a mess with bed head and no makeup. A far cry from the model types Seth had dated before me.

  “You look gorgeous. I wish I could stay.”

  I smiled and reached out an arm. “It’s warm under here.”

  Seth leaned down and kissed me. “Don’t tempt me. I have to get to court.”

  “Go get some bad guys,” I called to him as he left. He flashed a smile that made me want to fan myself. I propped my pillows up and grabbed my coffee. I didn’t have to rush this morning, which was lovely. I blew some of the steam off the top of my cup and took a tentative sip. Black and strong. Just the way I liked my coffee.

  My phone rang so I plucked it off the nightstand. I frowned at it. Special Agent Frank Bristow. Why would he be calling at seven in the morning?

  “Would you come see me in my office at eight thirty?” Frank wasn’t one for social niceties, which always surprised me. His voice had that nasal quality so many Midwesterners had. And my perception of Midwesterners was they were all about being nice.

  “What for?” I asked. I couldn’t be more surprised. As far as I knew I wasn’t in any kind of trouble with the OSI. The OSI was the Air Force equivalent of what NCIS was to the Navy. They investigated major crimes. I visited the base every couple of weeks, either to see friends or volunteer at the thrift shop, but as far as I knew that hadn’t created any kind of problem.

  “I’d rather explain when you come in.” He paused. “If you come in.”

  Well, that’s a hard thing to turn down. My curiosity was piqued and my morning open. “I’ll be there, but I’ll need a pass to get on base.”

  “I’ll have one waiting for you at the visitors’ center.”

  He hung up without a goodbye. I sprung out of bed and pondered, as I showered, what Frank wanted. Part of me was convinced it had something to do with Alicia. But maybe I was wrong. By the time I was in my Suburban driving to base, I’d convinced myself otherwise.

  * * *

  At eight o’clock I had another surprise at the visitors’ center, where I had to show my driver’s license and proof of insurance to get the pass. Special Agent Bristow had left me a pass for thirty days, not the couple hours I expected.

  “Are you sure this is right?” I asked the young enlisted woman standing across from me behind a long counter. She was part of the security police force and had worked for my ex-husband when he was active duty. I had known her for three years.

  “I’ll double-check,” she said. She tapped away on her computer. “Yes. That’s the instructions. A thirty-day pass.”

  The pass meant I could come on and off base as I pleased. Usually passes were more restrictive, to somewhere specific like the thrift shop or a friend’s house for X number of hours.

  “Is everything okay with you?” I asked. Duty at the visitors’ center often meant the person working the desk was in some kind of trouble and this was part of their punishment.

  “It looks bad, right?” she said. “But they are just shorthanded, so here I am.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad that’s it.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  A couple of people walked in, so I said my goodbyes and headed over to Special Agent Bristow’s office.

  * * *

  I kept my mouth from dropping open when I walked into Bristow’s office and saw Pellner sitting in a chair across from Bristow. Someone had cleared off another chair for me. Bristow’s office was cramped and dark, but it was neater than the last time I’d been there a few months ago.

  In fact, Special Agent Bristow looked neater. His wife had died a couple of years ago and his grief had been plastered on his haggard face for months. Now his light brown hair, thinning but not yet thin, was neatly combed. His suit didn’t look like he’d slept in it. However, his tie was askew, so not everything had changed. This case must be hard for him—another wife gone, another husband grieving.

  I sat on the edge of the chair, wondering why I was there. Pellner was in his uniform and was tap, tap, tapping his fingers on his thigh.

  “What’s up?” I asked, looking from Pellner to Bristow.

  They exchanged looks but remained silent, as though each was waiting for the other to speak.

  Jeez, what was going on with these two? I decided to try another tactic to get the conversation going. “You accidentally gave me a thirty-day pass.” I looked at Bristow.

  He adjusted his tie. But now it was crooked to the other side. “It wasn’t an accident. I need your help.” He gestured to Pellner. “We need your help.”

  “With?” I asked.

  “While we have suspects, we don’t have a strong suspect in Alicia Arbas’s death,” Pellner said. “Or, as I mentioned after the funeral, any proof.”

  I sat up a little at what I anticipated was coming.

  “We’d like you to find out what you can. That’s why the thirty-day pass was issued. That way you can come and go as you need to,” Bristow said.

  “Seriously? You want me to go undercover?” First a CIA garage sale and now this. Life was getting exciting, but I tempered that thought when I thought of Alicia and her husband.

  “No,” Pellner said. “Not undercover.” He shook his head vehemently to underscore his statement. “Like you are you.”

  “You know more of these people and have access to them. People like and trust you,” Bristow said.

  “You can mingle and look innocent in places where we can’t,” Pellner added.

  “All we want you to do is listen. If you hear anything interesting, let us know and we’ll take it from there.”

  “We are asking you to only listen,” Pellner said.

  Bristow nodded. “And observe.”

  “And report back.” Pellner leaned forward, giving me the hard cop look. His deep dimples all serious.

  “I get it.” Yeesh, the way they were acting you’d think I didn’t understand English. “Who else knows about this?”

  “We just came from the cops and robbers meeting,” Bristow said.

  “The what?” I asked.

  “You never heard CJ call a meeting that?” Bristow asked.

  CJ had been the head of the base security-forces squadron when he was active duty. As such he attended lots of meetings. “No. That I would remember.”

  “It’s the weekly meeting with the top brass to go over what’s going on around base.”

  I hooked a thumb toward Pellner. “He’s not top brass.” I looked at Pellner. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Pellner said, “but we have shared jurisdiction for Alicia’s death since she’s a dependent and it happened in base housing. I was invited to that meeting.”

  “Who else was there?” I asked. I wanted to know who the players were.

  “In addition to the base
officials, a representative from mental health,” Bristow said.

  “Why?” I went over in my head what I could remember CJ saying about those kinds of meetings. Not much. But to CJ the meetings would have been part of his routine so nothing unusual.

  “For two reasons. To see if any mental health issues were involved, with the victim or perpetrator, and to help coordinate efforts for extra counseling for the troops. People on base are shook up over all of this,” Bristow said.

  That made sense. Good sense. Sometimes I didn’t give our military officials enough credit for all the parts they had to juggle. “And they all agreed to me helping. Listening? Why?”

  “Most of the people knew either you or CJ,” Bristow said. “You and I have worked together before.”

  Yeah, one of the times we “worked” together was when Bristow was trying to pin a murder on CJ.

  “And we vouched for you.” Pellner pointed back and forth between the two of them.

  Wow. My heart felt all warm and fuzzy. “Why me? There are plenty of other spouses available. The general’s wife. The husband of the new head of the security forces.”

  “You are a trusted source,” Pellner said.

  “And you won’t go around bragging that we asked you for help. No one was sure the other people whose names were tossed out could do that,” Bristow added.

  “Okay. I’m in.” In and flattered. Who knew people had such a good opinion of me? Frankly, it was nice to hear after my ego was bruised from the breakup with CJ. Last fall Bristow had told me that I’d make a good analyst. I hadn’t taken him very seriously at the time. A small pump of pride went through me that two professionals were asking for my help. Even more important, I could do something for a young woman and her family. I could help find her killer.

  Pellner stood up. “I need to get going. Sarah, just—”

  “I’ve got it. Listen, observe, report.” I stood up too as Pellner left.

  “Wait,” Bristow said. “I have one more thing to ask you.”