Death of a Garage Sale Newbie (12 page)

Renata came up behind Keaton while he crouched in the bushes outside the pregnant lady’s house. She touched his back with her cold fingers and giggled. His palms were sweating, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, and she was laughing. This “heist” had been her idea. How had he allowed her to have this much influence over him? He was the one paying the bills.

They snuck around to the back of the house. Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog yelped, setting off a chain reaction of other dogs barking. All of which made Keaton’s heart pound even faster and the sweat flow like Niagara Falls. Still crouching, he turned the knob of the screen door and eased it open.

Renata let out a gleeful but muffled cry.

She
thought this was fun. He was too old for this. All this crouching and crawling made his knees feel like they had been beaten with a hammer.

The screen door creaked. He cringed. He waited a moment before reaching for the doorknob. His hand trembled. He twisted the knob and opened the door.

“Oui,” whispered Renata, triumph coloring her voice.

They were breaking into somebody’s house. She didn’t seem to be a bit afraid. Was everything a movie to her? Didn’t she understand the legal ramifications of this? She couldn’t be that dumb, could she?

He had a brief moment of thinking they should just get back in the car. No. They’d come this far. He needed that box.

He pushed the door open wider, and they crawled inside on hands and knees. Sharp objects poked into his legs. A hundred tiny needles stabbed through his kneecap. He suppressed a cry and patted around the floor for the cause of his pain. Something plastic and rectangular with little bumps on it.

He clicked on his miniflashlight. A Lego? A Lego made him wish he could cut his leg off? So much for governments developing weapons of mass destruction. All the army had to do was spread a bunch of these puppies out on the ground. Disable a whole platoon in no time.

He shone the light around the little room. Hundreds of different size shoes, sweat jackets, various assorted clothing items, and sports equipment littered the room. He turned off the light and continued to crawl across the floor. The floor, changed from tile to carpet. If the box was anywhere in the open, it would probably be here in the living room.

Without a word, both he and Renata clicked on their tiny flashlights, rose to their feet, and checked every flat area for the box, which was no easy task. Papers, mail, catalogs, and toys occupied all the surfaces.

He felt a tug at his leg, turned slightly, jumping and gasping in the same movement. Below him stood a child with a flourish of blond hair. Keaton’s entire body compressed. His stomach and lungs folded over his intestines, and his toes tensed. The reality of what he was doing plowed over him like a mob of angry protestors. The kid was going to scream. His desperation to get the box back had made him blind.

The child opened her mouth. Keaton’s breath caught in his throat, a tiny bubble of panic. Time stood still.

The creature opened her mouth even wider.
Oh no. Oh no.

“I havfoo go potty,” the girl whined.

A gurgle that was something like “oh” fell out of Keaton’s mouth.

“I havfoo go poooooooteeeee.” This time a bizarre dance that involved lifting alternating feet and swinging from side to side accompanied her plea.

Renata came up behind Keaton. “Go on now. Go back to bed, little girl.”

“Do you want to talk to my daddy?”

“No,” Renata and Keaton spoke in unison.

Keaton got down on his knees. “Why don’t you just go use the toilet and go back to bed and pretend like you didn’t even see us.”

“Issa secret?” The child leaned close to him, her breath hot on his cheek.

“Exactly, it’s a secret.”
Maybe this kid could prove to be an asset.
“Does your mom have a box with shells on it?”

The little girl shook her head. “Ginger has that. It’s pretty.”

“Ginger?”

“Mama’s friend.”

“What’s Ginger’s last name?”

“Ginger.” She cocked her head to one side. “Ginger Ginger.”

“No, her last name.” He fought to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Does Ginger have curly hair?” He mimed ringlets around his own head.

The girl nodded.

“Does she live here?”

The little girl shook her head. She stuck a finger in her mouth and stared at Keaton. “I know my phone number.” She planted her feet, preparing for her minirecitation. “Five-five-six—”

Keaton leaned close to Renata and whispered, “The box isn’t here. We’ve got to find out who this Ginger woman is and where she lives.”

“I think I should go get my daddy.” The girl turned quickly and dashed out of sight. Tiny feet padded on hardwood.

Keaton’s heart ripped into overdrive. “Oh no.” He turned a half circle and bolted toward the front door. He stepped on something with wheels that caused his foot to slide out without the benefit of the rest of his body going with it. His groin stretched. Again, he had to stuff down a cry of pain.

Down the hallway, the little girl said something in her chirpy voice followed by the sleepy moans of an adult male.

Keaton took another step toward the front door. His leg banged against something hard and metal. A bicycle? This whole place was a death trap, a giant toy land mine field. The entire lower half of his body screamed in anguish. Sweat drenched the upper half of his body. It was only ten feet to the front door, and he wasn’t sure if he would make it there alive.

A male voice said, “Emily, just go to bed.”

The little girl said something indiscernible. And then Keaton heard footsteps, heavy footsteps coming down the hallway…toward him. He inhaled several shallow, desperate breaths and took a big step toward the door. By the door, he hit something else solid, only this something barked.

The footsteps grew louder, more insistent. Keaton’s hand touched the door. The dog let out a sharp yelp. He bolted down the stairs and raced across the lawn toward his car.

He was safely behind the wheel and had started the car when he thought of Renata. He stared at the door of the house. A porch light went on. Where was she? Had she opted to go out the back door? Was she hiding somewhere in the house waiting to slip out once things calmed down?

A man came out of the house and stood beneath the porch light. Keaton clicked off his motor and slumped down in the seat. Fortunately, he hadn’t turned on his headlights yet. The man stood for some time with his hands on his hips. Keaton could have negotiated a speaking fee in the time that passed. Finally, the man went back inside. A few moments later, the porch light went off.

Should he drive away or wait for Renata? All of this had been her nutty idea. He placed a flat hand against his chest, where his erratically thudding heart threatened a coronary.

If he could just figure out who this Ginger person was and offer her money for the box.… He could say it was a family heirloom and that it had been sold by accident. That would be partially true. He had no idea how he would find out Ginger’s last name.

Keaton’s chest hurt. Who was he kidding? He was too old to be crawling around a house in the dark. Why did he allow Renata to talk him into these things?

She was the one who thought a garage sale would be fun. If her stupid sister hadn’t sold that box, his career wouldn’t be slipping through his fingers.

This was all her fault.

Renata had really messed up the first time she tried to get the box back, and now she’d talked him into breaking and entering. Maybe he should just drive away and leave her.

Before he could finish mulling over the thought, she was suddenly in the passenger seat, sitting beside him laughing. “Voilà, it is me.” She was breathing heavily and tilted her head back. “Oh, that was fun. So exciting.”

“Fun?” Amusement park rides were fun. Breaking and entering was risky. He’d nearly had a heart attack, and she thought this was fun. He saw Renata for who she was—a nut job from France. Albeit a beautiful nut job. “Renata, we are not in a movie. Do you understand that?”

“Oh, Keaton.” She reached over and slapped his leg. Hard enough that it hurt.

He drew his leg away protectively. “What took you so long?”

“I hid,” she said gleefully. “I wait until the big man go to bed.”

“We still have to get that box back. I need to find out who this Ginger person is.” He started the car and clicked on the lights.

“Oui, we don’t want people to know you are a heeppie creet.”

“The word is
hypocrite,
Renata. Hypocrite.” Her remarkable inability to learn English was starting to annoy him.

The evening had garnered one revelation. Breaking and entering was too high a price to pay just to have a pretty girlfriend. He was pretty sure that as long as he had the dirt on her about that Mary Margret woman, she wouldn’t reveal the secret of his box. He could always find another safer Renata.

True. She was the jewel in his crown, but jewels could be replaced.

A crowd of maybe a hundred
people gathered at the south side of the mall outside the Macy’s entrance. Electricity, created by the anticipation of a good deal, hung in the air. People huddled together in clusters, their laughter and animated chatter filled the summer night.

Ginger stood with her hands shoved in the pockets of her Windbreaker. The clock above the store entrance said it was 11:57. She sighed and bent her head back to stare at the dark sky and soft beautiful moon, so far away. Midnight shopping used to be fun, but now it felt empty. Her best friend was dead. Nobody was going to do anything about it. Other than hunting down Keaton Lustrum, she was out of brilliant ideas of what to do next. The fight with Earl had been the purchase that put her over the limit.

Kindra and Suzanne pressed closer on either side of Ginger as the crowd size and noise level increased.

“I heard they were going to have Cole Haans and Clarks marked down.” Kindra’s shoulders rose in an excited jerk. She took a sip of her steaming latte.

“I need to get Greg some work pants.” Suzanne said, doing the pregnant lady version of standing on tiptoe to peer over the top of the crowd. The movement involved a great deal of neck stretching and very little lifting of heels.

Both women looked at Ginger. She knew the routine. It was her turn to say what she was going to look at first, what she wanted to get a good deal on. Instead, she just hung her head. She couldn’t remember why she had even come. Why bother? With Mary Margret gone, what was the point?

Kindra wrapped her arms through Ginger’s. “Don’t be sad.”

Ginger managed a smile and stroked Kindra’s cheek. For this kid and Suzanne she would make an effort at being pleasant, even if she didn’t feel like it. “Earl wants me to pay full price for a dress tonight.”

Kindra’s jaw dropped. “Is he breathing funny fumes in that garage of his?”

“Have aliens abducted him and replaced him with a clone?” Suzanne tugged on her shirttail. “I thought you said he wanted you to be his cheerleader. What does that have to do with buying a dress at full price?”

“He changes his mind every ten minutes. Now he says I hurt his feelings when I buy things on sale. He says it would be the start of an adventure if I would pay full price.” Ginger leaned a little closer to her friends. “You know, he’s reading that book that says women are from another planet.”

“I’m going to write a book about relationships someday.” Kindra swayed from side to side to see around the crowd.

Suzanne crossed her arms, resting them on her stomach. “And what are you going to call it?”

Kindra took another sip of her latte. “I’m going to call it
Women Are from Neiman Marcus, Men Are from Kmart.
”

“I know that book isn’t really about women being from another planet.” Ginger’s throat tightened. “It’s about relationships that don’t work.”

Suzanne leaned against her shoulder. “Actually, it’s about fixing relationships.”

That was where the roadblock was for Ginger. Admitting that the marriage needed to be fixed felt too much like the last thirty-eight years meant nothing. At the same time, she longed for something more than her and Earl trapped in separate little busy bubbles. Twenty years of that would make her crazy.

Inside Macy’s, the lights made everything warm, soft-focus, and glowing. Salespeople raced around clothing racks, sorting and adjusting.

Suzanne placed her palms on her lower back. “I still don’t understand why he wants you to pay full price.”

“You know when a man buys a woman a diamond necklace?” Ginger adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder.

Kindra nearly bounced her latte out of the cup. “Earl wants you to buy a diamond necklace?” Her voice held a tone of glee.

“No, that’s just an example.” How could she explain this when she didn’t understand it herself? Ginger crossed her arms. “I don’t know what he wants.”

The crowd pressed in tighter and jostled her slightly. Ginger smelled the cinnamon in Kindra’s latte as she was squished against her.

Suzanne placed a protective hand over her stomach. “I don’t know if this is the best place for a pregnant lady to be.” She took a step back. “If it’s all right with you ladies, I think I’ll dip out of the crowd and come in after the rush.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, Gin, you stay with Kindra. I need someone to grab me any 36 × 34 men’s work pants and hold them until I can get inside.”

Ginger gave Suzanne the thumbs-up.
For my friends, I will be supportive.

People stepped to one side when Suzanne said “excuse me” and they noticed her large stomach. Suzanne disappeared into the crowd and then reappeared at the edge of the cluster of people with the other stragglers. A wave of sadness swept over Ginger. If Mary Margret were here, she would stand with Suzanne.

Four was just the right number for the Bargain Hunters Network.

“Everyone is so excited.” Kindra tilted her head to see over the crowd, then looked back at Ginger, her smile fading. Her hand found Ginger’s and squeezed. “I miss Mary Margret, too.”

Ginger smiled. “Mind reader.” She wrapped her arms around Kindra. “I’m glad I got you, kiddo.”

A thin salesgirl came to the glass door with a key in her hand. The crowd compressed and gravitated toward the entrance. The doors of the department store swung open. Ginger and the others edged forward. Like a snake swallowing a frog, the crowd jostled and squeezed through the narrow entryway of the double doors. Kindra had been pushed forward several feet in front of Ginger. She turned slightly and offered Ginger an expression of excitement. As the crowd squeezed through the door, Ginger kept her eyes on the blond head.

Someone anxious to get to the sales racks bumped against her a little harder than was polite, even in a crowd. She glanced around. None of the men and women around her offered an apology. When Ginger looked ahead, she couldn’t see Kindra. An odd panic exploded inside her. Losing sight of Kindra made her feel suddenly alone.

The emotion was irrational. She’d find Kindra in the store.

The vacuum of promised discounts sucked the crowd through the door, pressing them even closer together. A mixture of sweat, perfume, fabric softener, and garlic invaded Ginger’s sense of smell.

Eight feet ahead, the door loomed in front of her. She could see the glossy floors, soft lights, and clearance signs. The proximity of people made breathing difficult. Almost there. Almost…there. Again, she felt a bump from behind. Turning around wasn’t an option.

Something slammed into her ankle. She stumbled. Ginger’s view changed from the back of people’s heads, to a blurred picture of shoulders, to a kaleidoscope of colors. Legs, she saw lots of legs. She reached her hand forward touching nothing. Feet pounded very close to her ears. She held her breath and waited for the moment when her knees hit concrete.

A hand clamped around her forearm, pressing harder and harder, lifting her before she hit the concrete. She opened her mouth to say thank you, to turn and see who had helped her when a voice very close to her ear whispered, “Leave your dead friend alone or you’ll lose another one.” The hand let go of her, let her fall.

Her knees buckled, sending pain shooting up her legs. All the people around her seemed to be pulled back and away from her. The voice had been male. Seven or eight men populated the remains of the crowd behind her.

“Ginger, are you all right?” Suzanne’s face was close to hers. Sweet Suzanne with her red cheeks and deep brown eyes framed by slightly crooked eyeliner. “Did you trip or something?”

“I—I—”

Suzanne placed her hand under Ginger’s elbow. Ginger wobbled but righted herself. Stragglers milled past the two women, some staring, some of them offering condolences and queries of “are you okay?”

Ginger nodded, still not tracking with her surroundings. She looked again at Suzanne, whose gaze softened. The first time Ginger opened her mouth to speak, nothing but a strange moan came out. She was shaking, trembling.

Suzanne wrapped her arm around Ginger. The warmth of her friend’s touch calmed her a bit. She patted Suzanne’s hands. “I don’t want to lose you too—”

Suzanne shook her head. “Lose me? What are you talking about?”

Ginger planted her feet, aware of the concrete beneath her shoes. Aware of the warm glow, scraping of hangers across iron bars, and excited chatter that spilled out of the store. A cool breeze soothed her, brought her fuzzy thoughts into focus.

“You and Kindra matter so much to me.” She glanced into the store with its markdown signs. “None of this means anything without you.”

“Ginger, what are you talking about?”

The expanse of the mall parking lot stretched out in front of her. Not far from them, a yellow car pulled into a parking place. The driver, a woman, got out, shut the door, and came around to the other side of vehicle. The yellow car was like the one that police lady drove.

Another car, a boatlike Buick, squealed to a stop twenty feet from Ginger and Suzanne. Arleta McQuire jumped out of the car, slammed her door, and shouted, “Ginger Salinski, I’m tired of living in the past. I’m here.” She raised a fist to the air. “Let’s go shopping.”