Read Online Death of a Garage Sale Newbie by Sharon Dunn - Free Book Online Page A

Renata for forgetting to put out the Do Not Disturb, Lawyer at Work sign again. If she was going to shop all day spending his money, the least she could do was remember to put out the sign.
    Everyone in the neighborhood knew not to bother him. He stood up and glanced out the window as a woman who looked like her curls were made of brass walked back to the curb.
    The woman held a box filled with junk. Keaton’s heart beat faster, and he leaned closer to the window. A whirlwind of anxiety twisted around his torso. No it couldn’t be. He could have sworn the woman was carrying his shell box. His special shell box. The one Renata’s stupid sister, Gwen, had sold at the garage sale.
    He was perspiring by the time the car with the “momof3” license plate pulled away.
    Keaton ran to the hallway and yanked open the linen closet. Just as he had done last Saturday, he pulled out sheets, towels, and pillowcases and dumped them on the floor. Only this time he didn’t expect to see the box. Wishful longing made him look.
    He stared at the bare space on the shelf where the box belonged. Panic seeped through his arteries. Sweat trickled down his back. He stomped on the pile of towels. That stupid, stupid Gwen. He leaned over gasping for breath and clutching his chest. He had to get that box back.
    Renata had failed the first time. This time he would have to do it.
    Outside, Renata’s Lexus, actually his Lexus, pulled into the driveway. Keaton ran back to the window, staring out at the manicured lawn. The momof3 van had already rounded the corner out of view.
    His girlfriend opened the door, and her high heels click-click-clicked across the Italian tile. He raced down the stairs into the kitchen. Renata held ajar of salsa. Two bags of groceries rested on the counter.
    “Keaton, you’re as white as a, how you say, a ghost.” Her accent sounded stronger than usual. It always returned when she visited with Gwen. Keaton vowed that he would find a way to ship Gwen back to France before the summer was over. She had too much influence on Renata.
    “Renata, it’s the box. That minivan you passed on the way up here. That woman has my box.”
    “Uhn, Keaaaaatooon.” The salsa fell to the floor, splattering across tile and cupboards. “I am tired of hearing of the stupid box.” She narrowed her gorgeous eyes. “Gwen did not know. I did not know. It look like junk. We try to get it back.”
    “And that was a big disaster, wasn’t it?” He pointed a finger at her. “You could go to jail for what you did.”
    Renata flinched. “You put the pressure on me.”
    “I didn’t ask you to break the law.” Keaton squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be angry with Renata. He wanted to tell her to put that sister of hers on a boat, a plane, in a barrel. “I know the license plate of the minivan—momof3. I have a friend at the DMV.” He rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. “You know, my friend. He can match it to an address.”
    He stepped through the salsa and grabbed her soft hands. Tomatoes stained his expensive shoes. It didn’t matter. He’d walk through gallons of salsa to keep her, his jewel. “We’ll get the box back.”
    Curly golden brown hair piled atop Renata’s head revealed a long neck, which matched her long arms and legs. Everything about her was lovely and foreign and exciting.
    She was the jewel in his crown of success.
    He was twenty years her senior and required frequent workouts and hair transplants to maintain the illusion of youth. Despite all his pretense and money, he was just a ranch kid from eastern Montana who happened to make a good living as an environmental lawyer and speaker.
    He had to get it back. If he didn’t retrieve that box, he’d lose everything, including Renata and his livelihood.

Tammy had been down to the holding cells of the city jail a thousand times, but never to retrieve her son.
    “He needs a positive male influence in his life, Tamela.” Hannah Krinkland trailed