Garage Sale Diamonds (Garage Sale Mystery) (29 page)

“Indeed we did.” She smiled and gave him a kiss. “This is a wonderful time of life, isn’t it, Jay?”

“It might be if we had less excitement, like this voyeur watching us from the woods.”

“I mean I’m glad we’re both here to share it. Think about Kirsten, here one day, gone the next.”

“Then get your shower and hurry back. A new episode of Law & Order starts in twenty minutes.”

“Do you want popcorn?”

“No, Jen, just you.”

69

Sunday, 11:59 PM

Zayneb paced anxiously in her room, glancing periodically at the clock on the dresser. She awaited the midnight hour. She no longer anguished over right or wrong: it was all wrong. She knew the law directed citizens to call police right away for any murder case, even self-defense. But instead she fell for their guest’s seductive logic: to erase the incident as if it never happened.

She shrugged, realizing she locked herself into this dangerous new situation last night by agreeing to wrap her husband’s body in the shower curtain and leave it on the floor until Ahmed resolved the problem. But she hardly knew Ahmed. He’d been at their house only four days, and he was from an entirely different culture. What passed as “right” in his world? Would she open the door to find Ahmed with a hallway full of policemen ready to arrest her? Or would he bring cronies along to kill her for daring to strike, never mind kill, her husband? Or finding her defenseless without a husband to protect her, might he rape or murder her? With no idea what to expect next, Zayneb choked back an apprehensive sob.

Her head snapped up at a rap on the bedroom door. She hurried across the carpet, pressed her forehead against the door and mustered courage to face whatever fate held on the other side.

“Zayneb?”

“Yes.”

“Ahmed here. Please open the door.”

Holding her breath in fear, she unlocked the door and edged it open.

To her relief, Ahmed stood alone in the hallway. She backed away for him to enter.

He spoke forcefully. “Listen carefully. You must be strong. This is what we are going to do.” He described his plan. When he explained the last part, her eyes widened in shock. But what choice had she at this point? She could only do what he said.

Ahmed opened the door from the bedroom to the upstairs deck before guiding her into the bathroom, where her husband’s body lay wrapped in the shower curtain.

“Everybody sleeps now, but we must be quiet. I’ll lift the heavy part.” He indicated the torso of the wrapped corpse. “You take the legs.”

He and Zayneb took their positions and bent to the burden of carrying the lifeless body’s weight.  Ahmed walked backward, leading the way through the bedroom door onto the deck. Maneuvering their burden slowly down the wooden stairs brought them at last to the bottom, where Ahmed whispered they should put the body on the ground. There they secured edges of the shower curtain, which had loosened in transit. Ahmed showed Zayneb their destination. They carried their heavy bundle to the empty raised garden frame with the three-foot excavation. With effort, they coordinated lifting the body up over the edge, then lowering it down into the pit.

For a moment they both stared silently into the grave. “I washed him in the traditional Islamic way,” Zayneb whispered.

“Good,” Ahmed said. “We can each say our own prayers for him later.”

Ahmed slit open a plastic bag of hardware soil and emptied it into the pit. He opened another for Zayneb and, though she lifted the bag with difficulty, she managed to pour out its contents. They both added soil until it filled around the body and a light layer of dirt covered the shrouded figure. He slit open more bags of hardware dirt for Zayneb before quietly shoveling in excavated dirt dug earlier from a tarp next to the new garden. They alternately added the two kinds of soil until it came even with the top of the frame.

He indicated they’d done enough, gathered the empty bags into a pile and lay the shovel on top to prevent them blowing away. He took Zayneb’s arm, guided her up the wooden stairs and followed her into the bedroom. He closed and locked the deck door.

“Have you cleaned the bathroom?” he asked. She nodded. “Show me,” he said. After she did, he nodded in approval. “Our work is finished. May he sleep in peace.”

He looked at Zayneb. “You are a strong, brave woman.” He turned and left the room.

She locked the door.

Zayneb stood numb in the dark bedroom, the room she’d shared for a quarter of a century with her husband. She could hardly grasp the past twenty-four hours’ chaotic events. Yet an unexpected peace crept into her soul, freed at last from the fear and dread with which she’d lived so long.

Ahmed returned to his room. Myriad thoughts crisscrossed his mind: Mahmud’s burial, his growing need for Khadija, Abdul’s childhood rescue story, his doubts about the jihad he planned and how to recover the diamonds.

On the main floor, Heba stood alone in the dark kitchen. Often restless at night, she frequently came up from her cell-like room to look out the kitchen window, but tonight’s scene outside defied belief. She saw Ahmed and Zayneb bury something in the new garden, something shaped like a human body. Her evil master Mahmud, now presumably on a long trip, was the only person missing from the household.

Or was he?

DAY FIVE

Monday

70

Monday, 7:11 AM

“Grands sleeping late this morning?” Jay asked his wife as she poured their coffee.

“I haven’t checked, but they’re not shy about reporting for breakfast. You’ll be out of town today?”

“Yes, but with the madness here, I won’t stay over. I wouldn’t go at all but it’s the biggest thing our company has ever done and I’m the pivotal decision maker. I’ll definitely drive back tonight but will get home late. Who could I call to stay here with you. One of our kids? Adam?” 

“Thanks, Jay, but they have their own busy lives. We have an up-to-date security system and phones all over the house to call for help. We should be fine…”

Jason wondered if he should insist. Her schedule might influence that decision. “What’s on your list today?”

“The Grands until Kaela collects them tomorrow about ten o’clock, plus getting organized for Thanksgiving in only three days. We’re having twenty adults and ten children and…”

“Geez, Jen, that’s thirty people for a sit-down dinner? What were you thinking?”

“Celeste and Fred will help in the kitchen, wash dishes and clear the tables. Most are family, but the list mushroomed with kids’ friends plus a few neighbors like Tony and Adam’s mother and father. By the way, weren’t you going to discuss finders-keepers with Greg Bromley?

“Yeah, but today is tough. With a full work morning of preparation plus that trip, I can’t today. And tomorrow morning is Tony’s deer hunt. Maybe tomorrow afternoon or, worst case, when he comes for Thanksgiving.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta go. Love you, Hon.” He kissed her goodbye and headed toward the garage.

“Please remember to repair the garage door before it crushes somebody,” she called after him.

She sighed, hoping he’d heard her, put the kitchen Rolodex by her coffee cup, dialed the grocery and reserved two large turkeys for Wednesday pick up. Grabbing a pencil to write down the order number, she noticed the psychic’s phone number Adam had left yesterday.

Becca appeared in her PJs and said in a bleary voice. “Morning, Mom. Coffee needed.” She shuffled her way to the counter and poured herself a cup.

“You’re up early. Anything going on?”

“No, just couldn’t sleep any longer. Thought I might take Chris and Alicia to a movie and dinner today if you don’t mind having Milo to yourself. He’s too little to keep it together that long.”

“The girls will love it. By the way, could you baby-sit all three a couple of hours around lunchtime? I’d like to meet this psychic who visited the police station, if she’s available.” Becca nodded. “And Thursday morning could you help me with Thanksgiving details?”

“Count me in, Mom.”

The Grands appeared at the kitchen door. “The good news is we’re ready for breakfast.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Milo wet the bed.”

71

Monday, 7:31 AM

Hannah stepped out the kitchen door to enjoy morning birdcalls from the huge trees nearby. She loved the country feel of this old farmhouse. Even when they built their new house here, the surrounding multi-acre lots assured this continued closeness to nature.

Adam’s police shift began at noon, so a busy morning at home lay ahead for them. Transforming the old home’s interior exhilarated them. Her first project today: installing the new medicine cabinet. Only her mom could produce so specific a garage-sale item so fast.

Hannah found a Phillips screwdriver, got the cabinet out of the box and carried it to the bathroom. Adam still slept, so she’d work quietly, surprising him with a finished project when he awoke.

Emptying the cosmetics and pills from the old medicine cabinet, she found two screws on each side fastening the old cabinet to the studs. She removed the lower ones first, then the upper with greater care, bracing the cabinet to prevent its crashing to the floor. She eased the old one out and leaned it against the wall.

But as she lifted the new cabinet toward the vacated space, something caught her eye. Unlike wallboard or insulation, the unfinished opening behind the old cabinet revealed antique lathe-and-plaster construction found in civil-war era buildings. Stranger still, a small, rusted nail fastened a yellowed envelope to the lathing. On the envelope she read one faded word: “Mathis.”

Hannah put down the new cabinet and gently touched the envelope. Brittle around the edges, might it crumble if she removed it? Adam had been called Mathis when he lived here as a little boy—before his later adoptive parents renamed him. She tried to remember what her mother had learned about the people living here then.

Hannah tiptoed back to the kitchen, closed the door, dialed a phone number and spoke quietly.

“Mom, it’s Hannah. Have you a minute to talk about the old Yates house?... Good. When Mathis was born, weren’t his parents the only adults living in this house?... Okay. And didn’t you say the father was a tyrant who abused his wife and sons until sent to a booby-hatch where he later died?... So after the boys left didn’t the mother live in the house by herself like a hermit?... Wasn’t she trained as a school teacher?... Well, we just found something unusual and I’ll call you back when we know more about it….” Hannah laughed, “Yes, I know the suspense is killing you. Be brave, Mom.”

Hannah tiptoed back to the bathroom and studied the envelope. In the bedroom, she smiled at her husband’s peaceful sleep before gently nudging him awake. His eyes opened with the “where am I” expression until he saw her standing over him. He reached for her arm, pulled her into the bed, pinned her down beside him and kissed her well.

To her half-hearted protest he said sheepishly, “Hey, it’s not my fault. I am a newlywed.”

She giggled before extricating herself. “Adam, be serious. I just found something incredible you need to see right away.”

He traced a finger along her arm. “Can’t it wait?”

“No, it can’t. Hurry, you’ll see.” He followed her to the bathroom where they stared at the envelope. “It’s hung there a long time,” Hannah said. “Your mother taught school. Doesn’t this flawless cursive look like a teacher’s writing?”

“Slow down, Hannah. Who’s the detective here? Or are you turning into your mother?” They shared a laugh. He removed the envelope carefully. “Let’s see what this is about.”

Part of the faded envelope crumbled away as he unsealed it, revealing better preserved paper inside. He opened the tri-folded letter carefully. Hannah peeked over his shoulder as he read.

My Precious Child,

I hope you’re all grown up when you read this even though now you are my beautiful, perfect baby. Tobias frightens me every day, threatening to break my spirit, whatever it takes. Strange, because my parents valued my spirit. I think my spirit must be who I am. If he succeeds, will my body be an empty place with nobody home?

If Tobias finds this letter he’ll surely kill me. He’s acutely jealous of my deep love for you, dear little Mathis, so I show you my adoration when he is outside and can’t see me rocking you, cuddling you or humming songs to you. If I sing aloud he might hear me. I live in constant fear of what he’ll do next to me or to you. I must obey him, for what would happen to you if I died during one of his brutal tirades? He regularly threatens to maim you if I cringe at his evil whims or cry when he beats me. I live in terror of your safety.

This letter’s purpose is for you to know when you grow up that you are my proudest achievement, created in happiness with the only man I ever loved. A problem kept us from sharing our lives together, but in our hearts and your genes we’re irrevocably interlaced.

My heart is yours alone. I’ll shield you the best I can as long as I can. Whatever happens to me, my dearest wish is for you to grow into a bright, capable, loving man filled with your own unique, precious spirit.

My heart overflows with love for you, my sweet little boy,

Your devoted mother,