The wiper swept sheets of water off the windshield, and rain pattered against the roof. It kept coming down and showed no signs of letting up.
We followed the patrol car through the slick streets.
At a stoplight, there was a sign for an estate sale. Mickey started banging on the Plexiglas divider, trying to get Erickson’s attention. The light turned green, and Erickson went straight, ignoring Mickey’s pleas.
My phone buzzed with a call from Erickson a moment later. "This asshole wants me to take him to an estate sale. He's adamant about it. First off, I am not a taxi for your deranged friends."
"We're not deranged," Flynn shouted in the background.
"I don't care who they are,” Erickson said. “I'm not sure why we're giving them preferential treatment. They ought to be locked up.” He wasn’t entirely joking.
"Take him to the estate sale. We’re right behind you. It's part of an ongoing investigation."
"What investigation, Wild?"
"Just take him to the estate sale.”
Erickson banked a U at the median and headed back in the opposite direction.
We followed.
The patrol car turned into the neighborhood and followed the signs to the estate sale. The rain had pretty much killed all the activity. The sellers had moved the tables into the garage and were waiting out the storm.
Jack found a place to park, and we hopped out into the pouring rain. I grabbed the door of the patrol car and let Flynn and Mickey out.
"I'm not waiting around for you guys. You can find your own ride home," Erickson shouted.
I thanked him for his cooperation and closed the door.
The patrol car sped away, and the four of us hustled up the driveway and took shelter in the garage.
It was a wild goose chase, but I was willing to indulge it at this point.
We looked like complete fools. Sopping wet shirts, soaked hair, and Mickey holding an iguana.
The sellers looked at us like we were from another planet. It’s quite possible that Mickey and Flynn were. They were certainlyonanother planet at the moment.
Mickey handed me the iguana, and suddenly I became its caretaker while Mickey sifted through the items atop card tables.
Two girls in their mid-30s ran the sale—a brunette and a redhead. Both attractive with classic features. The brunette stared at Flynn like he looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Who would expect a major movie star to show up in their garage at an estate sale?
It didn’t take long for Mickey to find a cardboard box full of books—some paperbacks, some hardbound. The entire box was priced to move at $20.
Mickey discovered something worthy of attention inside. He reached his hand into the box and pulled out a hardback copy of Treasure Island. He thumbed through the pages, and his eyes soon filled with glee. He shared a knowing glance with Flynn, then asked the brunette, "How much?”
"You can have the whole lot for $20.”
Like a dumbass, Mickey said, "I just want this book."
The brunette shared a glance with her sister.
The redhead’s eyes narrowed at the book. Then they rounded when she realized what it was. "I'm sorry. That's not for sale." She moved to Mickey and snatched it from his grasp.
A look of shock and horror played on Mickey's face.
The redhead examined the book. “This was one of my father’s favorite books.” Her face wrinkled with anger and confusion when she looked into the box. “None of these are supposed to be for sale.” She glared at her sister. “I told you these were the books I wanted to keep.”
The brunette shrugged. “I thought you said those were the ones we could sell.”
