Going Through the Notions(14)

I counted to ten, and then counted to ten again for good measure. I took the six-pack of beer and some other items out of the fridge and prepared my unorthodox care basket. Sarah raised a languid eyebrow, but didn’t comment. It was as if the energy had completely drained from her body.

A few minutes later, though, as we bumped over the potholes on the Kratzes’ driveway, she perked up. “Wow. Look at this place, Mom. It’s about as far from Manhattan as you could get, right?”

“Hey, you wanted a change of scene. Be careful what you wish for.”

We grinned at each other. Sarah slung her ever-present camera around her neck, and I hefted the basket out of the backseat.

I found Reenie in the kitchen, boiling milk on the stove. A collection of glass jugs stood on the counter next to her. The room was dark and cool because the window over the sink was almost completely covered by the creeping vine growing up the outside of the house.

Reenie unpacked the basket eagerly, grabbing the beer first, and stashing a pack of cigarettes in the pocket of her apron. Apples, bananas, yogurt, and granola bars didn’t seem to hold as much interest, and she held up a package of peanut butter crackers with a look of dismay.

“Peanut butter! Oh, Daisy, we can’t have these in the house. Jimmy’s allergic—or well—he was. I guess it don’t matter no more . . .” Her voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears.

The two children crept in from the living room. The girl looked to be about six years old, and the little boy was a couple of years younger.

“You must be starting first grade soon, right?” I said to the girl, smiling at her. “Are you excited?” The child looked at me blankly. Reenie made no comment.

The younger one sniffed, his nose running. Reenie pinched the mucus from under his nose, and wiped it on her apron.

Sarah made a small choking sound. “Would you excuse me? I—um—need to get some air.”

“Want to go see our chickens?” asked the boy.

“Sure,” Sarah answered, in that same slightly jaded tone she used with me. She strode outside, and the kids followed, gazing up at her as if she were some kind of movie star.

Reenie turned the burner off on the stove and cracked open a cold beer.

“You want one, Daisy?”

I didn’t really, but maybe if we shared a drink together, she would talk. I’d gotten the feeling last time that there was something she wanted to tell me.

“Okay, thanks.”

Reenie handed me a bottle and then lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.

I took a tiny sip of my beer and waited.

She started speaking slowly, as if picking her words. “I think I know why Jimmy died. He had some kind of deal going on with this company that was hired to sell stuff from people’s estates.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “I don’t really know much about it. To me, it was just another one of Jimmy’s crazy get-rich-quick schemes.” She laughed without humor and gestured to the kitchen around her. “You can see how well they worked.”

The Formica table with its fake gray marble surface was chipped, and the brown and white speckled linoleum floor was missing a few tiles. There were no cabinets, only makeshift open shelves. The fridge looked like something Jimmy had salvaged at one time because it was too small for the space it sat in, and the range had to be at least twenty years old.

The whole place needed gutting.

“But how was Jimmy involved?”

Reenie tipped the beer bottle up and took another swallow. It was already half empty.

“This company would send valuable things out from the city to a country auction like Sheepville, where they’d sell for a much lower price. They’d hire a local to go and bid on the items. He’d hand the merchandise back to them afterwards, and they’d sell the stuff for a much higher price somewhere else down the road.”

“Do you know the name of the company?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Don’t think Jimmy knew either. He was only ever contacted by this one guy, who said they’d be in touch after the auction.”

“So he planned to bid on a collection of very expensive fountain pens, with his own money, risking thousands of dollars for someone he never met and had no idea how to contact?” My voice rose as I finished the question. I didn’t know Jimmy that well, but he didn’t sound too bright to me.

“Oh no, they said they’d give him the money to bid with—the night before. He was supposed to get paid a flat fee for doing the job. Seemed like he was getting nervous about the whole thing, though. He’d be on the phone and then hang up whenever I came in the room.”

Reenie picked at the label on her beer bottle. “Maybe he got cold feet. Or he got greedy and decided to do a double cross. Maybe Jimmy realized how much they were really worth from talking with Angus, and somehow these people figured out he was going to screw them.”