Sell Low, Sweet Harriet Page 9

  “Keep the dress, Sarah.” Jeannette smiled at me.

  “I can’t do that. It’s worth a lot of money.”

  “Please. I’m sure my mom would be happy to know someone else is enjoying it.”

  “I—”

  “No arguing. Please. I want you to have it.”

  I looked down at the dress. It was stunning. “Thank you. It’s a lovely gift.”

  “Hurry back,” Jeannette said. “I brought meatball subs from DiNapoli’s.”

  I quickly changed and went back out. By the time I returned Jeannette and Zoey were chatting away. They had set the table, passed out sandwiches and pasta salad. We all dug in. Jeannette had had the good sense to order three half sandwiches that any place else would be a full sandwich. The bun was soft, cheese gooey, and meatballs tender. “Thanks for bringing us food, Jeannette,” I said.

  “I had to meet the security system people this morning so took a personal day. I thought I’d check and see how you were doing. And make sure the system worked okay.”

  “Your instructions were perfect. I was able to turn it off without any problems.” I looked over at Zoey. “It’s fun having Zoey here to help. Your parents had so many interesting things. What was your life like as a kid?” I asked.

  “To me it was just normal. It wasn’t until I went away to college that I realized how different it was than most kids’.”

  “Did you move a lot?” Zoey asked.

  “Yes. Every couple of years. Not unlike what you do as military spouses.”

  “It just seems like it would be harder as a kid.” I thought about my childhood friends. How close we had been even though we’d drifted apart since. “At least you had your brother.”

  “I was just enough younger to be the annoying younger sister. But he was overprotective. It’s amazing I ever had a date.” Jeannette smiled at the memory. “He went to college at Harvard, so I chose to go to California to college.”

  “As far away as you could. I hear you,” Zoey said.

  We finished our food and started to clean up the mess we’d made.

  Jeannette picked up the vintage valentine I’d laid on the kitchen counter. “What’s this doing here?”

  “I left you a note,” I said. “I’d like to buy it for a friend of mine.”

  Jeannette looked at the postcard and then me. “I don’t see a note.”

  I pointed to a piece of paper next to where Jeannette stood. This was a bit worrisome. “It’s right there.”

  “This?” Jeannette held up a blank piece of paper.

  I walked over and took it out of her hand. There wasn’t a word on it. Now she looked worried. “I swear I wrote you a note.” I grabbed the pen I used originally. It was just a normal blue pen. I took the paper from her hand and rewrote my original message. “There.”

  We looked at each other.

  “Do you think—” I started.

  “Could it be—” Jeannette began.

  “Disappearing ink,” I said.

  We stood staring down at the paper. Zoey walked over and joined us. Nothing happened so we finished putting our lunch things away.

  Jeannette pointed to the piece of paper. “Look, some of the letters are starting to fade.”

  “Oh, whew. I thought I was losing my mind for a minute.”

  “So did I,” Jeannette said with a grin. She took the pen. “I guess I’ll keep this.”

  Zoey returned to the bedroom to price and I walked Jeannette to the door.

  “You’re sure you feel safe working here?” Jeannette asked.

  “Yes. Especially with Zoey around and the new security system in place. I explained the situation to her.”

  “That’s good.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Have you heard anything about the man who injured himself here? Do the police have any leads?”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing new.” At least if there was, no one had filled me in on it.

  “How does someone just disappear like that?”

  “Beats me.” Maybe I should talk to my brother about it. He’d disappeared from my parents’ and my lives for almost twenty years until he resurfaced last spring. He might have some insights. Jeannette left and I hooked the security chain back in place. I would talk to Luke when I got the chance.

  * * *

  At seven that evening, Special Agent Bristow stood beside my car in the parking lot of the All Ranks Club. There used to be an Officers Club and an Enlisted Club, but they had joined into one for economic reasons several years ago. I was doubly glad we agreed to meet here because I really didn’t want him to run into Mike Titone or whoever was parked outside the door of his apartment.

  Bristow opened the door of my Suburban and held a hand out for me to climb out. The Suburban was great for hauling stuff but not so good for descending out of in a long dress and high heels. I managed to get out without stumbling or ripping my dress. I wore what I’d originally planned to instead of Jeannette’s mother’s dress. I would save it to wear to an event with Seth.

  “You are looking elegant this evening, Special Agent Bristow,” I said. He was usually a bit rumpled. Tonight he wore a tux that was tailored perfectly. The shirt wasn’t stained, but his bow tie was a bit crooked. I stepped in and adjusted it without thinking.

  “Thank you,” he said after I stepped back. “Please call me Frank. At least for this evening. It will feel uncomfortable if you don’t.”

  “Of course.” The whole thing felt uncomfortable the way it was. But if I could do some good for him, for the case, I would.

  He held out his arm. “Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”

  I slipped my arm through his and we went in. After we’d hung up our coats in the cloak room, I pulled Frank aside.

  “I heard that Alicia was poisoned. Is that true?” I asked. I smiled and waved at a woman I recognized.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  The non-answer. And exactly what Pellner asked. Hadn’t they talked about this? “A woman at the thrift shop mentioned it.”

  Frank’s forehead squinched into a mass of wrinkles. Did that mean I was right and they didn’t want anyone to know for some reason? Or was this the first time he was hearing this? His eyes gave away nothing. Really, I needed to give up on trying to read people who were in the law enforcement community. They were just too practiced.

  “What’s her name?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize her. Is she right?”

  “Special Agent Bristow, how lovely to see you.” An older woman with gorgeous silver hair approached us. Talk about bad timing. We all headed into the ballroom together where the dinner was set up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The toasts started right after the invocation was given by the Protestant base chaplain. We sat at round tables of ten, glasses charged with wine. Charged not filled, as the rest of the world would say. We stood as soon as the commander raised his glass.

  “To the Flag of the United States of America,” he said.

  We all responded. “To the Colors.” And took a sip of our wine. I took as small a sip as possible because you never knew how many toasts would follow and you didn’t want to be stuck with an empty glass.

  “To the President of the United States,” the commander said.

  “To the President,” we answered. The national anthem played. When it was finished the commander toasted the Air Force, the Chief of the Air Staff, and on down the line, including the guest of honor, who was the lieutenant governor of the Commonwealth.

  The toast that always got me was the one with water. Nondrinkers didn’t use water for their toasts. They held their glass of wine and just lifted it but didn’t drink. The toast with water was started by service members in North Vietnam prisoner of war camps where only water was available for toasting. The toast called “One More Roll” was from a poem to honor those killed in action, missing in action, or prisoners of war.

  We responded with “hear, hear.”


  After the toasts the dinner began. This was my time to listen. I sat between Frank and a lieutenant colonel, making it difficult to chat with his wife or the other women at the round table. After a salad they served our entrées. I had the chicken and Frank had the beef. Although we hadn’t planned it, that was what CJ and I always used to do at these dinners. That way if one meal was horrible—and trust me, I’ve had chicken the texture of jerky in the past—we could share.

  Once the people at the table found out that Frank was OSI, the subject of the murder came up quickly. Frank deftly deflected the questions by asking questions in return. But as far as I could tell no one had any new information. And no one mentioned poison. One of the wives was very still during the discussion. When she excused herself to go to the restroom I did the same. I caught up with her as she left the ballroom.

  “Tough topic for what’s supposed to be a fun evening,” I said.

  “Yes. And here I thought I was going to get away from it all and enjoy this evening.”

  “I hear you. Did you know Alicia well?” I asked.

  “She was my next-door neighbor.”

  “That must be terribly difficult.” We slowed as we walked down the corridor. The floor was a slippery tile and we were both in heels.

  “We weren’t best of friends. I’m very liberal and she was very conservative. Alicia was a nice person, but our life philosophies were drastically different. That said, I can’t imagine anyone wanting Alicia dead. Especially not her husband. That was ridiculous.”

  “I didn’t know her well,” I said, “but would see her around. It’s just so shocking. I thought I heard someone say that Alicia and her husband argued a lot.” I held my hand to one side and crossed my fingers. We walked into the bathroom. There were ten stalls, huge mirrors, and flocked gold wallpaper.

  She turned to me. “I can tell you for a fact that’s just an ugly rumor. Our walls are so thin I can hear Alicia’s husband singing in the shower if I’m in our bedroom. If they fought it was done very quietly.” She went into a stall and closed the door a bit more firmly than necessary.

  Since I was here, I might was well use the facilities too. I went into a stall at the end. First, I fought to get the dress up around my waist. Then I peeled off my shapewear. Being a woman wasn’t easy. After I put myself back together, but before I exited, I heard voices.

  “What’s Sarah Winston doing here?”

  “Got me. It’s kind of pathetic how she keeps hanging around base even after her husband dumped her.”

  Ouch.

  “Yeah, she thinks she’s some kind of super sleuth now too.”

  “Or hero.”

  “That’s not nice,” a third voice said. “I don’t see either of you volunteering at the thrift shop. She works hard there and we’re lucky we have her.”

  Thank you, whoever you are. I didn’t recognize any of the voices. I waited a few more minutes until I was sure they had left. By the time I got back to the table a chocolate dessert had been served.

  Frank leaned over to me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I took a bite of the dessert. It tasted like nothing, but maybe that was my mood more than the food itself.

  “Did you find out anything?” he asked.

  “Way more than I wanted to. But not about anything having to do with Alicia.”

  He gave me a sideways glance. Fortunately they brought out the grog bowl, so Frank didn’t have time to pursue the matter, to my great relief. The grog bowl was another military tradition. All I know is that it was usually a toilet bowl (hopefully, someone had gone to a store and bought a new one) that was filled with punch and everything from cereal to spaghetti noodles. It used to be alcohol laced, but times had changed.

  If service members violated a rule of the mess, they were sent to the grog bowl. There they took a mug, filled it from the bowl, toasted the crowd and said, “To the grog.” Then they drank down the contents of the mug. CJ had once been sent for having his name tag on the wrong side of his mess dress. It created a lot of hilarity, but I was relieved that spouses and dates were excused from having to drink from the grog.

  After the grog a DJ came out and dancing started. I’d always loved to dance and Frank was up for dancing too. Three songs in, a slow song came on. We stared at each other, then both shrugged, and Frank started twirling me around the dance floor. No shuffling back and forth in a tight grip for us. He was a very good dancer. After a couple more dances, Frank excused himself and I went back to the table to drink some water.

  After I sat down, two of the other spouses joined me. We talked casually, introduced ourselves, and exchanged information about who did what—one was a nurse, the other a substitute teacher. I’d been relieved that neither of their voices sounded like those of the women in the restroom. My cheeks warmed a bit just thinking about the whole thing.

  “Are you and Frank dating?” Rhonda asked. She had lots of dark braids that were woven together in an intricate pattern.

  “No. We’re just friends.”

  “It’s nice to see him out,” Paula said. She wore hot-pink glasses that contrasted with her sleek silver hair. “He’s been so sad. Tonight he looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

  Oh, boy. I hoped the base wives’ rumor mill wasn’t cranking up into high gear. News spread faster via that network than it did on Twitter.

  “As I said, we’re just friends.” I thought about telling them I was seeing someone, but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

  “And I know he’s been working long hours since Alicia died,” Paula added.

  “He mentioned that,” I said. He hadn’t, but maybe this was my intro to finding some information, or anything else, out. “It’s so sad.”

  “Did you know Alicia?” Rhonda asked.

  “Not very well. How about you?” I asked.

  “We were dear friends,” Rhonda said. “It’s hard to even be here acting like everything is okay.”

  One thing I had learned was Alicia had a lot of friends. She must have been a very special person to be so well thought of. Paula reached over and gave Rhonda’s hand a squeeze.

  “I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you,” I said.

  Tears formed in her eyes. “We were stationed together twice. Once a few years ago. We were so happy when we found out we’d be in the same place again.”

  It was how I felt about Carol. I was so grateful Carol and her husband decided to stay in Ellington too. I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask these women. But between Frank telling me just to listen and the comments I overheard in the bathroom, I kept silent. Rhonda grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her eyes.

  “I don’t want my husband to see me crying. He thinks I should be over it.” She used air quotes when she said over it. “But you don’t get over losing someone close to you that quickly. Alicia was so fun. She managed to make every day brighter.”

  “Except when you made her angry,” Paula said.

  Now that was interesting.

  “Alicia angry was more fun than most people happy,” Rhonda said.

  Paula nodded. “That’s true. I’ve never seen anyone rip Becky a new one like Alicia did.”

  “Well, Becky deserved it,” Rhonda said.

  “She did. Alicia was one of the few people who wasn’t impressed by Becky’s husband’s rank.” Paula pushed her pink glasses up her nose.

  It was like they’d forgotten I was there. I was dying to ask what had happened, but worried they’d quit talking if I spoke.

  “Yeah, that whole respect the spouse’s rank is so 1990s,” Rhonda said.

  Some spouses felt important because their husbands were. It was called wearing your spouse’s rank.

  “Not completely,” Paula said. “You must have heard the rumors.” She looked over at me.

  What rumors? It took everything in me not to ask. I shook my head. Paula and Rhonda exchanged a look I couldn’t interpret.

  “Alicia bowled on a team with the general’s wif
e in the Spouses’ Club league,” Paula said. “They took first place. And you know how competitive Ginger is.”

  “I don’t think I know her. She must have come after I moved off base,” I said.

  “Ginger always wants to win anything she does,” Rhonda added. “Alicia was in a sweet spot with the higher ups in the Spouses’ Club and on base in general. She was the president of the PTA too.”

  Rhonda didn’t sound jealous. “But Alicia doesn’t have kids. Why would she be president of the PTA?” I asked.

  “She volunteered as a reading tutor at the school and knew they were having a hard time finding someone,” Rhonda said.

  “Alicia stepped up to take on that role. Everyone was relieved.” Paula smiled. “It’s a thankless job.”

  That was interesting combined with everything else I’d heard. I remembered Eleanor mentioning the base cookbook and that Alicia’s brother printed it for free. Combine that with bowling well and taking the PTA presidency and she was doing a lot. Plus she volunteered at the thrift shop and did who knew what else. Alicia must have been the golden child with the upper officer wives. And from what I could tell, all the other spouses too. I wonder if that is why Becky and Alicia argued.

  “Do you know Becky?” Rhonda asked.

  “I do,” I said. “Doesn’t everyone on base?” I didn’t want to say anything mean about Becky. Besides, who knew who was listening. The ballroom was full of people.

  Both of their spouses returned then and sat down at the table. It ended our conversation before I could find out anything else. Frank came back too. We danced until the DJ packed it up for the night. I felt a little guilty about having so much fun while Seth was stuck at some stuffy event in Boston.

  “Learn anything?” Frank asked as he walked me to my car.

  The temperature had dropped. The sky was clear, with winter stars twinkling madly. The moon reflected off the hard crust on top of the snow. I shivered in my thin wool coat. “Only that Alicia had yelled at Becky Cane at a Spouses’ Club meeting.”

  “She’s Colonel Cane’s wife?” Frank asked.

  I nodded. “Becky is hard to get to know. She can come off as snooty, but in reality she’s shy. I’m sure it’s nothing.”