Garage Sale Stalker (Garage Sale Mysteries) (3 page)

CHAPTER 3

J
ennifer maneuvered
her car
smoothly into an opening among the vehicles clustered in front of the next sale. The later on a Saturday morning, the more Buyers are awake and on the prowl! Knowing that choice stuff sells fast, she jumped out and hustled up the driveway.

An entirely different scenario here—these Sellers were NOT novices. The two of them seemed relaxed as they looked out confidently over their well organized, pre-priced merchandise.

Jennifer dodged through the large crowd of buyers to approach the comfortably seated sellers. “What a lot of effort you’ve put into getting ready for this!”

“You’re so right! We’re recently married and so we’re combining two households,” the man said pleasantly, beaming at his new bride. “For instance, I thought I had a lot of exceptional bachelor stuff, but I’m told now,” he winked at his wife, “it’s
ina
ppropriate!”

“Well,” added his wife, “besides the usual duplication we have some one-of-a-kind things that just couldn’t work in the new house,” she glanced at her husband mischievously.

“Such as?” Jennifer queried with friendly interest.

New Wife cradled a coffee cup in one hand and gestured with the other. “Such as everything on that side of the driveway from my husband’s old apartment! Such as that oil painting of a nude woman, coincidentally also an old girlfriend,” she shot her spouse a meaningful glance. “Such as all this ultra-modern black and chrome living room furniture, the zebra rug and pillows, and all those chrome accessories. And,” she wrinkled her nose, “and not least, such as these stacks of
Penthouse
and
Playb
oy
magazines.”

“A fifteen-year
classic collection of both,” N
ew Husband remarked wistfully
, reminiscing as he riffled through
one of the magazines. Dropping it b
ack on the stack, he si
ghed. “Perfect for just the right
guy.”

The sign on the husband’s orphaned items read:

COUCH - $100

2 MATCHING CHAIRS - $40 each

3 GLASS/CHROME COFFEE AND END TABLES - $30 each

CHROME 4-PANEL ROOM DIVIDER - $75

PAIR CHROME TABLE LAMPS - $30 each

CHROME FLOOR LAMP - $40

CHROME SHELVING - $85

FRAMED ORIGINAL OIL PAINTING - $100

MEN’S MAGAZINES $1 each or all 360 for $200

The painting caught Jennifer’s eye right away. She’d immediately divined the bamboo tree’s place in her living room, but where could she hang this intriguing art? She walked around the sale thinking this over before again returning to study the painting: a nude woman seated with her back to the artist, delicate flesh tones accentuating her hour-glass figure, her long, tawny hair cascading from the crown of her head down over her shoulders. Because of the subject ’s unseen face, the picture embodied every woman who had ever sat in that classic pose. She definitely wanted it, but where to display it? Her mind flipped through possible places in the house and then it came to her—their spacious master bathroom was the perfect location. But $100?

Jennifer approached New Wife, “What’s your best price for the old girlfriend you don’t want.”

“I especially want
THAT to disappear t
oday,” New Wife confided.
“Hey, make me an offer!”

“Okay, how about... um... $50?”

“I think it’s worth way more than that.”

Jennifer smiled craftily, “Ah, but what is it worth to you to have this abomination gone forever?”

“Sold!” laughed New Wife. Jennifer paid her, awkwardly hefted the large painting as best she could and sidled slowly down the driveway with her oversized trophy.

Suddenly an obstacle blocked her way and a rough male voice commanded, “Put that down. It’s mine!” Hardly a polite suggestion, this was an
order!

“Pardon me?” Jennifer said politely, “I’ve just bought this and am taking it to my car.” As she tried stepping ahead, her path was again blocked. Now she lowered the large frame slightly, her blue eyes barely peering over the top.

Those same blue eyes widened in shock as she stared directly into the face of the brawny, blond muscleman who’d crashed into her at the last sale—the man she’d vowed to avoid! A thick neck topped the tall man’s square torso and the beady eyes in his obstinate face glared coldly straight down at Jennifer across the top of the picture frame. Only inches away from him now, she shuddered as her initial apprehension from that first sighting escalated into fear. Big and nasty, he reminded her of a wrestler, which confirmed this as the right name for him.

Wrestler barked at her, “I just bought everything listed on that sign from him,” he pointed toward New Husband. “That means
all
of it—the furniture, magazines, lamps AND this picture.”

Her logical mind commanded her to defuse this risky situation fast, but incongruously she did not. Summoning courage born of the conviction that she was in the right and reinforced by the illusion of safety with at least twenty people at the sale who could come to her rescue, to her surprise she said, “But I’ve already paid for this. I think that makes it mine!”

Wrestler’s expression turned malevolent as his large, powerful
hand encircled and squeezed her small
wrist. He spoke in a
measured, demanding voice. “I bought it and I’m taking it
now!”

He was hur
ting her arm! Frozen, she still
clung to the
painting, unable to move away from this menace. Heads turned in the direction of their raised voices and New Husband hurried toward them.

Jennifer had already
mentally hung the painting in the
chosen ro
om at home and knew that at these sales whoever paid first became the new
owner! To her amazement she stubbornly
repeated to New Husband, “I b
elieve I bought it first and if s
o, I think it’s mine.”

Wrestler’s face reddened as he fought for control. His arm muscles twitched, his fingers clasped and unclasped, his already thick neck seemed to swell as his frustration increased.

“Hey there,” New Husband said to them both in a congenial, relaxed tone. “I bet we can work out this little misunderstanding. As you both can see, my wife and I are each trying to sell everything out here today and sometimes people come to us separately with offers.” Turning to Jennifer, he continued. “I’m sorry but my wife made a mistake offering the painting to you. She didn’t realize I’d already sold it to this guy. We really apologize to you for the confusion. Of course, we’ll return your money. No harm done?”

“But
money changed hands.
I think it’s mine!” Jennifer
p
rotested to New Husband, ca
reful to avoid Wrestler’s glare.

“May I talk to you privately for a moment over here?” New Husband asked Jennifer.

Carrying the painting with her, she walked a few guarded steps to the side with New Husband.

“Look,” he said, “I understand that you like it, you paid for it and you want it, but here are three things to think about. First, you can understand that we hope to get the best price offered today for our stuff. That’s just common sense. Wouldn’t you feel the same way if you were giving this sale today? And you know he paid us twice as much as you did. Second, we can’t know which of you bought it first. Let’s imagine that my wife sold it to you at the same moment I sold it to him. You can’t both take it—unless it’s cut in half, which makes no sense. And third,” he glanced toward Wrestler, “frankly, this guy makes me very uneasy. You know what I mean? What happens if we try to take it away from him?”

Peering sidelong at Wrestler, reluctantly, she
did
understand. His intransigent scowl, his body radiating bottled energy and his next move ominous and unpredictable, never mind that piercing stare...A barrage of thoughts tumbled through Jennifer’s mind. Was this the kind of nut who would follow her home, stalk her or the children, bash her car windows or poison her cat?

New Husband continued calmly, “Look, agreed, this isn’t the outcome you’d like, but here is your money back with an extra five dollars,” he pressed it into her hand, “and we’ll make you the deal of a lifetime on anything else you buy here today. How does that sound?”

Vacillating, her focus flicked from New Husband to the glowering Wrestler and back again.

“This isn’t fair,” she said in a quiet voice to New Husband.

“No, it isn’t. But it is a good decision,” New Husband assured her, pressing the money into her pocket and gently easing the picture from her loosening fingers. “Now go look around and find some good stuff. Then see me for a REAL deal!”

Turning ba
ck to the sale, she tried to
refocus yet couldn’t help glancing sid
eways as Wrestler loaded his pur
chases into the black pickup truc
k, mercifully ignoring her. Rel
ieved at his rapt absorption with his
task, she realized now the idioti
cally stupid risk she’d take
n. She had pledged to avoid him
and instead confronted him! Ma
dness! What was wrong with her toda
y?

Still, she memorized his license plate number to record in the notebook in her car, an act giving her the illusion of a strategic edge: she knew his vehicle plate number but, thank goodness, he didn’t know hers! Also this information doubled as insurance against any possible future trouble from him, in which case she could tell police exactly how to trace him.

Shaking these uncomfortable thoughts a
s best she could,
Jennifer forced her attention back to the sale. Soon she noticed a bench which her tape measure confirmed fit her space perfectly. With a little paint and simple upholstering she could turn this into a decorator piece to transform her mudroom in a practical yet custom way. The tag read $20.

Looking around, she observed that Wrestler’s truck was gone. Relieved, she lugged the bench and some other small items into the line of buyers to pay New Husband for their purchases.

When Jennifer’s turn came, New Husband patted her arm and without even cataloging her items said, “You just take these with our compliments. No charge at all! And again, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. But that guy was, well, strange! You know what I mean?”

“Here’s your $5 bribe back,” she said with a twinkle, “and thanks for your kind offer, but of course I’ll pay for my purchases,”
and when she insi
sted, New Husband finall
y agreed. Jennifer
continued, “That dreadful guy had no sense of humor at all, but clearly you do!”

New Husband chuckled appreciatively, “God knows I try, and I admit that bachelor stuff held warm memories for me. But my future’s going to be way better than the past.” He glanced happily toward New Wife, busy selling items on the other side of the yard.

Jennifer started to leave, but on impulse turned back. “I’ve been thinking about the way you handled that situation with the painting and I must ask—what do you do in real life?”

New Husband threw back his head and broke into a hearty laugh. “Funny you should ask! I’m a professional mediator.”

CHAPTER 4

C
hecking her watch
, Jennifer
realized with regret that only 20 minutes remained to shop if she were to return home by 9 a.m. as planned. She pulled into the knot of cars at the next sale and parked quickly.

Three gloomy middle-aged couples conducted this sale. They’d
neatly categorized
and priced the items around them,
but these
dejected Sellers were not happy campers.

“This represents a
who
le
lot of work,” Jennifer commiserated, surveying the scene.

“Yeah, but not because we wanted to,” said the woman in orange. “After Mama died, Daddy just couldn’t keep on by himself. He forgot to pay bills, so the utilities got turned off a couple of times and he blazed up a few pots of food on the stove. We were afraid he’d set the house afire and burn himself to a bacon-crisp if we hadn’t finally put a stop to it by finding him a nursing home.”

“Assisted living,” corrected the tired-looking man in green, who wore a straw hat.

The woman in yellow said, “It ’s been a nightmare going through all their things, and were they ever savers: old bills, receipts and magazines dating back fifty years! Besides all we put out for this sale, there’s a ton more to go through inside before we can sell the house. Because some of us grew up here, that’s yet another nightmare.” Yellow sighed heavily.

The man in the red shirt glanced at the other two. “Lucky for us, Reba knows all about giving garage sales, which saved us a pile of money because those estate sale folks charge a bundle to do it for you.”

Orange said, “We had a devil of a time pricing stuff because we’re not from around here and not real sure what’s right for these parts. So if the price doesn’t look right, make us an offer.”

About fifteen other shoppers
milled around now. Spotting
Swordsman again, Jennifer watched him peripherally. What set him apart from the other shoppers? Not focused on the sale’s
merchandise like everybo
dy else, instead he looked
around
the house and yard as if in the first upscale residence he’d ever seen. Nor did he fit the bored husband stereotype— one dutifully accompanying his shopper wife but with no shred of interest himself. No, Swordsman seemed alert to the surroundings, but if not a shopper or the spouse of one, then why repeatedly visit these sales? An architect looking for new ideas? That seemed farfetched.

Was she just edgy from her earlier encounter with Wrestler?
Once suspicion clouds y
our mind your perceptions c
hange
. Different from the in-her-face prickly danger radiated by Wrestler, Swordsman’s unlikely behavior triggered her curiosity—something
odd
about him!

Enough. Didn’t curiosity ki
ll the cat? Her smile faded
. She
was
that curious cat!

As if reading her interest, Swordsman turned to look directly at her and their gazes locked. To break this uncomfortable contact, she consulted her watch—her time was running out!

Ignoring Swordsman now, she stepped forward for a better overview of the sale. Her glance moved across the merchandise, stopped, then riveted. Could it be true? At the end of the far table sat a collection of Blue Danube china! She could hardly contain her excitement!

Years ago, she inherited her mother’s Blue Danube place settings for eight and using it brought back warm childhood memories. Adding extra settings to accommodate her large family was easy back when it sold open-stock in department stores. But the now-discontinued pattern was no longer available retail, even though breakage and chips required frequent new additions. A company called Replacements, Inc. charged dearly since the current demand exceeded the existing supply, forcing the price up. Now occasional lucky finds still occurred at antique and thrift shops or estate and garage sales.

She moved swiftly past the other displays to the table. There they were! Turning the gravy boat upside down, she verified the maker’s mark on the bottom. Calm, be calm! Check each piece for chips, cracks, maker’s mark and price. The gravy boat sticker read $10 , salt and pepper $7, candle sticks $5 each, filigree serving dish $15, cream and sugar $15, cake plate $15, jelly jar $5, pitcher $10, coffee pot $15—and all in mint condition. She felt pricks of adrenalin rush down her arms to her fingertips as she gently eased past another shopper who reached for one of the pieces.

“
Excuse me,” she smiled politely
at the shopper, “but I’m
already buying these,”
and then a bit louder to Yellow and
Red, “Would you please help me collect
them and wrap them up for me?”

Yellow hurried to assist. “Well, they sure are pretty little blue and white dishes, aren’t they? You want them all?”

“Yes, please. Was this part of a whole set of china?” Jennifer probed.

“Well now, a lot of it sold about 30 minutes ago but I think another piece is still inside the house unless Reba’s keeping it—a sort of casserole dish with a cover on it. Let me ask her about it.”

Jennifer wondered at the connection between the upscale items
at this
handsome house and the folksy heirs unloading t
hem.
Certainly a story here, but probably not one learned diplomatically. With an important purchase in progress she must not risk alienating them, despite her curiosity.

A moment later Blue walked over to Jennifer. “You the one interested in more of these dishes?”

“Well yes, I might be. I... ” Jennifer hoped her voice didn’t reveal her true passion as she made a Herculean effort at casualness. “I sort of like blue and white and think I
might
be able to find a place for some of them,” she somehow managed.

“Seems like you sure love dishes! While they’re wrapping up your other things, come on in the house with me to take a look at it, but I don’t know for sure yet if it’s for sale.”

Nearly trembling
, Jennifer followed Blue into the h
ouse,
through the box-strewn kitchen to the cluttered dining room with paintings stacked against a wall. And there it was. Jennifer couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath. To cover this betrayal, she faked a small cough.

Like a museum piece atop the credenza sat the graceful Blue
Danube soup
tureen, a replica of the empe
ror’s own Meissen
original. She’d often ogled its photo in the brochure. Steadying herself against the door jam, she felt her pulse race. What pleasure to gaze upon this beautiful piece, never mind the intoxicating possibility of
owning
it! How could she persuade Blue to let it go?

“Oh, my,” Jennifer whispered. “Looks like your mother owned a lot of nice things.”

Rather than accepting the intended compliment, Blue’s face became even sterner. “Actually, she’s my husband’s mother, not mine. He’s sitting outside there with the rest of us, the one in green, wearing the straw hat. Yes, she did have a lot of right pretty dishes and statues and such, but just between us she always acted real snooty.”

Doubting its wisdom, Jennifer risked a curious, “Oh?”

“Yep, she was always uppity with me, like I wasn’t good enough for her son. Tried to like her but just never could. My dander went up every time she put me down: how I set a table, the way I cooked, the music I liked, how I dressed. Truth is, I’m not real sorry she’s finally gone.”

Thinking of no discreet response, Jennifer instead reached for the tureen. “May I?”

“Here, let me do it for you,” Blue responded protectively. “This here is the lid, and this is the bowl part. I’ll turn it over for you because I saw you doing that with the other pieces outside. And that’s the big saucer that sits under it.” Blue replaced the tureen and its parts on the credenza. “And this here is the dipper,” she held up the soup ladle.

“Did I understand you to say this is for sale?” Jennifer inquired politely.

“Maybe, but first I want to see how much you like it, cause that would mean you’d pay... I mean, you’d take real good care of it. And next, I’d be asking a lot for it because I’m just as happy to keep it myself. So I might sell it to you but not for less than...” she’d pick an outrageous price, doubting anyone foolish enough to buy it for that, “not for less than $100,” she said smugly.

“A hundred dollars? I... is that your best price?”

“Not a penny less. Yep, that’s it, take it or leave it,” said Blue with finality.

Jennifer frowned, “Then I guess...I guess I’ll take it!”

Surprise spread across Blue’s face. What kind of place was this McLean, Virginia? Who ever heard of paying that much for a darned old dish, even one with three parts and a dipper? Should she have asked more? A crafty expression flickered across her face. “I meant to say $125.”

“But you just offered it to me for $100 and I agreed.”

“Yes, I know that but I made a mistake. And we don’t take checks! ” Blue warned.

“I understand about preferring cash, but... well, I mean… you changed the deal.”

“Yes, I did, but I’m just as happy to keep that casserole myself. And they need me outside! Do you want it or not?”

Jennifer stared at the tureen. Explaining this impulse purchase to Jason would require creativity. But just look at it—she might never ever stumble upon another such chance! Straightening with decision she said, “I’ll take it.”

“You got the money with you?”

“Yes, in the car.”

“Better get it and pay me then before I even carry it outside the house,” Blue added with caution.

Hurrying outside, Jennifer whispered to herself over and over: Don’t let her change her mind!
Please
, don’t let her change her mind!

Five minutes later, with the packaged Blue Danube china braced safely in cardboard boxes on the van’s floor, she gloated. Even if you were lucky enough to
find
them, these pieces cost more than double what she just paid and the four-part tureen more yet!

Euphoric, Jennifer turned toward home!