Death of a Garage Sale Newbie (21 page)

The silver card made a glitchy noise, and then she heard Earl’s voice. “Ginger, are you there? Over.”

“I can hear you, honey. It’s a little fuzzy.” She lifted her finger from the button.

Silence.

She pressed the button. “Earl?” She let up.

“You forgot to say
over.
Say
over
when you’re done.”

“Oh, sorry.” She walked without looking up, focusing on pushing the right buttons at the right time. “Still fuzzy, but I can hear you…over.”

“Keep walking. Over.”

When she gazed upward, the sky had turned from light gray to charcoal. She pulled Earl’s clever flashlight out of the purse and clicked it on. The trees took on a dark shadowlike quality. Branches creaked. She shone the light on the walkie-talkie to see the buttons. “Earl, are you there?” She walked a few more steps. Oops. “Earl, are you there? Over.”

Nothing.

She stopped in the middle of a large clearing. “Earl, can you hear me at all? Over.” She walked a little faster.
Come on, Earl, say something.
Maybe this was one of the bugs he was trying to work out. It only worked for a couple of transmissions. She trudged through the trees. A branch brushed her face. She drew a protective hand up to the stinging scratch on her cheek.

She entered a meadow that sloped down. The sky had darkened in the ten minutes she had been walking. The flashlight only provided a small radius of illumination. She stopped and then turned in a slow half circle.

A bud of panic blossomed inside her. Trees stood motionless. Silence made her heart beat faster. Was someone watching her? Just like they had when she’d gone to Arleta’s? When she’d been with Suzanne and Kindra? Had Keaton come back to do more than threaten her? Ginger took in a ragged breath.

Again she pressed the button. “Earl, are you there? Over.” Her voice quivered. Static came across that may have had a voice hidden in it. She waited for the noise to stop. “I can’t hear you. All fuzzy. Over.” Goose bumps formed on her bare arms. She hadn’t brought a jacket. “I need to hear you,” she whispered.

She turned in the direction she thought was home. This forest wasn’t that big.

“Ginger, are you there?” His voice was faint. “Over.”

She felt a sense of relief that was bigger than the event seemed to warrant. It wasn’t like she had been lost in the woods for days, but her joy at hearing his voice made it seem as if she had.

She spoke into her husband’s invention. “I can hear you. I can hear you.” She gripped the walkie-talkie even tighter. “Oh, sorry. I can hear you. Over.”

“Tell me when your reception clears up. Over.”

“I can hear you, but I’m still losing words. Static too. Over.” She strode forward focused on the conversation. “Earl, say something. Over.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it? Over.”

“Yes.” She glanced up at the twinkling stars.

“We used to stargaze a lot before we had kids, remember? Over.”

She gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I remember. Long nights, staying up late. Over.”

“That’s for sure. Over.”

“You’re starting to clear up. Reception is good. Over.” She brought the tiny device close to her lips.

“That’s good. Over.”

“Oh, now you are just clear as a bell. I hear you really well. Over.”

“That’s cause I’m standing right next to you, hon.”

Ginger looked up. There was her husband of thirty-eight years. Evening light gave his skin a soft glow. His intense brown eyes studied her. Her heart pounded but not from fear. “Oh.” She laughed and waved the walkie-talkie. “Silly me.”

“You walked in a circle.” He stroked her bare arm just above the elbow. His touch sent a tingle up her arm and into her racing heart. He pulled the walkie-talkie and pepper spray/flashlight out of her hand, slipping them both into her purse.

“I just got so caught up in the conversation.” His proximity made her dizzy.

“So did I.” Earl wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him. He bent close and kissed her.

Ginger’s toes curled in her cross-trainers. Warmth flooded through her despite the night chill.

Ginger slipped her Pontiac
into a parking space by the mall just as her cell phone rang. “Hello.”

“It’s an MLS number.”

She recognized Arleta’s voice. “What’s an MLS number?” She slung the travel purse Earl had given her over her shoulder. Just carrying it made her smile.

“The numbers that David had in his pocket and the numbers on Mr. Jackson’s license plate. I told you I was thinking about putting my house on the market.”

With the phone pressed against her ear, Ginger pushed the car door open. “Oh, Arleta, that’s a wonderful idea.”

“I need to let this place go, start another chapter of my life. Anyway, I am sitting here in the Little Bear Real Estate office with a lovely agent named Dana. She left Jackson-Wheeler two days ago. She said there has always been tension between Mr. Jackson and Mr. Wheeler, but it seems to be getting worse.”

“Arleta, the MLS number?”

“Turns out when they list a house or a piece of land, they assign numbers to it. Those six numbers must be a piece of property Mr. Jackson was fond of to put it on his car like that.”

Ginger walked through the mall parking lot, which was about half full. A white car drove by her and wedged into a parking space.

“I hear traffic. Where are you?”

“I’m at the mall.” She slowed her pace. “I am going to buy a dress at full price.”

“Why?”

“I have to prove something to my husband—that I can be adventurous—and buy what I really want, not just what’s on sale.”

“I don’t understand. But it’s your life.”

Ginger stopped about thirty yards from the Macy’s entrance. Her heart froze as she looked up over the roof.

“Listen, I gave Kindra a call. I really like her. She and I are going on campus to talk to David’s friend in the archaeology department, Lyndon Chambers.”

Ginger walked backward still looking up. Behind her, a car honked. She stepped to one side but continued to back up.

“Ginger, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Oh, you sound kind of far away, like you’re thinking about something. We still need to figure out what we’re going to do about Keaton and his girlfriend.”

“I know.” She kind of doubted that Renata was even his girlfriend anymore. Maybe that was the answer. Keaton wasn’t about to talk, but maybe if they could get Renata alone…

“It all fits together somehow.” Arleta’s voice was strong and clear. “I’ll let you know what we find on campus. Bye.”

“Bye, Arleta.” Ginger said after Arleta hung up. She tilted her head back. The radio tower was just visible over the high slanted roof. She shook her head. A lot could change in twenty years. Most of the surrounding neighborhood was different. The trees were gone. She was 90 percent sure that where the mall stood now was the same place David had stood and leaned against the pine tree in the photograph. The MLS number had to be for this property. Twenty years ago, Mr. Jackson had sold this land, owned it, or developed it. Maybe all three. It had to have been a huge moneymaker for him.

Mary Margret must have recognized the picture. She made the connection between the number in David’s vest and the one on Jackson’s license plate. That really wasn’t enough of a revelation to kill someone over. David had had his picture taken on the property that later became the mall, and he had written down the property listing number.

Ginger walked a little faster to the entrance. She really wanted to show Earl that she could buy a dress at full price, but this new discovery distracted her. While she stood in the polished aisles of Macy’s, she dialed Suzanne’s number. Her throat went dry as she walked past the clearance racks. By the time she passed the 25 percent off section, her chest was tight. Her hand lifted toward the sales racks. Maybe she would just peek at the sales items…and then she would go buy her full price dress.

Suzanne picked up on the third ring. Ginger could hear children screaming and laughing in the background. “Hello?”

“It’s Ginger. Can you do me a favor and go back to the courthouse to find out about the city commission meetings twenty years ago? But this time, see if you can find anything about the mall being built. Was there any kind of controversy, any conflict over the land? Look to see if David McQuire was involved or the college. I would go, but I have to pay full price for a dress.”

Suzanne gasped. “Get out of town.”

“It’s the beginning of an adventure for me and Earl, and it’s cheaper than his and hers Harleys, so I’m still saving money.” That thought made her feel a little better about the task before her.

Suzanne snorted. “Three years ago, I used to pay full price for everything, all those designer labels for my kids just to make myself feel like a good mom. I had credit card debt out the kazoo. Everyone at church kept saying, ‘You have to talk to Ginger. She’ll get you on a budget. Talk to Ginger. Talk to Ginger.’”

“I was glad to help you.” Ginger smiled at the memory of meeting Suzanne in the church foyer. Three years ago, the first unofficial member of the Bargain Hunters Network had had two children and one on the way.

“What you do, how you help people with their spending, is almost like a ministry, you know.”

Ginger brushed her foot across the store floor. She’d never thought of what she did as being that important. “I don’t know if it’s a ministry It’s just that my mom never taught me sensible spending. I guess I don’t like the idea of people having to figure it out alone like I had to.”

She stood in front of the full price rack while her heart pounded and the inside of her elbows grew sticky with sweat. “You know, though, you should always buy what you truly want, not just because it’s a good deal. It’s just as bad to be a tightwad as it is to live beyond the money God provides.” She touched a rayon blend dress that she’d admired when it was first put out on the floor.

“That’s the hard part, isn’t it? Figuring out what you really want, not just what fills an emotional hole.” Suzanne’s voice faded. Judging from the muffled tone, she had pulled the phone away and was saying something to one of her children. She came back on the line. “Before you helped me, I used to have clothes in the closet with the price tags still on them. I bought for the thrill of the purchase, the rush. Don’t buy it if you aren’t going to use it; that’s my number one rule.”

“Like evening gowns you never wear?”

“What are you talking about?” On Suzanne’s end of the conversation, gleeful screams and giggles of children threaded through sharp yips of a dog.

“Long story.” Ginger touched cool rayon fabric. The dress had a pretty, subtle daisy print with a blue background. “Suzanne, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My hand felt hot when I walked past the clearance rack. There is some sort of magnetic pull or something.” She grabbed the tag on one of the full price dresses. Her vision blurred. All the air left her lungs. She’d never paid that much for a dress in her life. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Sure you can. I’ll pray for you while I drive across town to the courthouse. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Ginger hung up, slipped the phone into her travel purse, and pulled a different size 12 dress off the rack. She had tried this one on when it was first put out on the floor. It had fit her, but as always, she was waiting for it to be marked down.

She pressed the dress against her chest.
I will not look at the price tag. I will not look at the price tag.
She may as well have been walking through mud to get to the cashier. She glanced around, wondering if anyone was watching her haul this full price dress to the counter. Of course, she didn’t see anyone she knew. All her friends hung out at the clearance rack.

The cashier, an indifferent-looking girl about Kindra’s age, stared alternately at her fingernails and at the laughing woman behind the makeup counter.

Ginger felt like she was drowning in sweat.
This is for you, Earl.
She saw white dots. The room spun and the floor undulated, but this wasn’t a migraine. This was something different. Invisible weight pressed on her chest, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Maybe she wasn’t meant to pay full price.

Cheaper than two Harleys. Cheaper than two Harleys. Let the adventure begin.
Her vision narrowed; a black circle closed in around the salesgirl.
Focus, Ginger, focus. You can do this. Almost there.

Laughter rose up from somewhere in the store. Ginger glanced around. The women at the 50 percent off rack were having such fun. She longed to join them.

She gripped the dress. Her body swayed slightly.

Kindra had a hard time keeping up with Arleta’s long strides. With her arms swinging, the older woman booked across campus. Montavo Hall, a three-story brick building with small windows, was situated in the older part of campus surrounded by high cottonwoods. Even on a sunny day like today, the building was covered in shadows because of the trees.

Arleta patted her heart with an open hand. “My goodness, I haven’t been on campus in years. Used to come up here all the time to eat lunch with David.”

Kindra pushed open the door. “Third floor. I took a class from Professor Chambers freshman year, Intro to Anthropology.”

The building had a musty smell. Ornate wooden railings stood in sharp contrast to the concrete stairs. Arleta took the lead up the stairs. “When David was teaching, the department was over in Lewis Hall.”

“Lewis Hall? I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

Only a few sputtering fluorescent lights illuminated the hallway.

“Some of the classes he taught were here in Montavo Hall.” Arleta stopped on the stairs, gripping the railing, not even breathing heavy. “Lots of memories.” She waved both hands as though trying to keep mosquitoes away. “But that’s not where I live anymore.”

Kindra was grateful Arleta had stopped for a moment, so she could catch her breath. “Nothing wrong with good memories,” she panted.

Arleta burst up the remainder of the stairs. She stopped and turned to look at Kindra. “True, but you shouldn’t make them your permanent address.” She opened the door that led to the second floor.

Kindra was too out of breath to respond.

“Speaking of starting over, what do you think of my outfit? Ginger’s been helping me pick out some new things.”

The older woman looked hip in her animal print T-shirt with coordinated capris and white sneakers. “Ginger’s good at that.”

“Only twenty dollars for the entire outfit.” Arleta did a half twirl. “She’s a very smart shopper.”

“That’s how I met Ginger—shopping.” Kindra shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wondering if she needed to share the whole story. “Sort of.”

They traipsed across the earth-toned carpet. “What do you mean, sort of?”

“It was about a year ago. I had just started college, and I was getting a lot of pressure from my parents to do well in school. I found this underhanded way to rebel and deal with the stress: I shoplifted.”

This story is about who I used to be.
I’m
different
now. She took a deep breath and plowed forward. “Ginger caught me stuffing a blouse in my tote bag.”

The older woman stopped walking and turned to face her. Kindra waited for that flash of judgment she so often got when she shared this story. The kindness in Arleta’s expression gave Kindra the courage to continue.

“Ginger came over and told me there was a better way. I knew she was a Christian from overhearing her conversation with the woman she was with, who turned out to be Mary Margret. So when she said there was a better way, I thought she was going to whip out her Bible and scream ‘repent.’ Instead, she made me put the blouse back and took me to a different shop that had close to the same blouse for a lot less. When I told her I didn’t have any money, she bought the blouse for me.”

“So you haven’t always been a Christian?”

“It’s been not quite a year for me. Ginger kept taking me shopping with her, teaching me how to get nice clothes for cheap. I came from a family where you only felt loved if you got A’s on your report card. When Ginger bought that blouse for me, after she knew I was a shoplifter…it was one of the kindest things anybody had ever done for me. I deserved to be turned in. After she did that, I understood God’s mercy.”