Colts Crossing...Unsolved - Episode 6

Mean Streak

Murder, Mystery & Mom Season 4

Goldilocks snored like a freight train. Not a cute little puff-puff snore. No. Full-body commitment. Tongue out. Paws twitching like she was chasing criminals in her dreams. If she’d solved the case overnight, she wasn’t sharing.

I, meanwhile, had just reached that perfect level of sleep where reality couldn’t touch me…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I opened one eye.

“Mama?” I mumbled into my pillow. “If that’s you, I swear—”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Goldilocks didn’t move. Not even a courtesy ear twitch. Some watchdog.

I peeled myself off the Airstream bed, hair doing something that could only be described as criminal, and shuffled to the door like a woman who had not agreed to participate in the morning.

I cracked it open, using the door to respectfully shield my mismatched pajama situation.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Loretta stood there. Fully dressed. Fully alert. Fully judgmental.

She cringed and laughed all at once. “Goodness gracious, Patsy, you look like you spent the night protecting the trailer from a twister.”

“I’ll have you know, I just got back from the wonderful world of Oz. You weren’t there. It was great.”

“Glad you made it back in one piece.” Loretta clapped her hands, and her voice reached the irritating cheerleader pitch. “Now, if you’re finished joking, I’d like you to join us outside. I have news.”

I blinked at her. “Do you wake up like this, or do you have caffeine pumped directly into your veins every morning?”

“Some of us don’t insist on hitting snooze a dozen times,” she said, stepping aside.

Which revealed Mama. Outside. Already seated in a folding chair. Coffee in hand. Watching the sunrise like she personally scheduled it.

My flip-flop thumped onto the gravel, and I squinted against the light. The Kentucky morning stretched out in soft gold across a rolling pasture, low mist clinging to the ground like it wasn’t ready to commit to the day.

Okay. I’d admit it. It is pretty.

I dropped into the chair beside Mama, tucking my robe tighter. “If you say something inspirational about the sunrise, I’m going back to bed.”

Mattie lifted her steaming mug to her lips. “You’re missing a good show.”

“I’m missing REM sleep.”

Goldilocks trotted out behind me, yawned dramatically, then flopped at my feet like she’d been up all night solving crimes.

Loretta crossed her arms. “The judge denied the warrant.”

I straightened. “For the storage unit?”

“Yes.”

Mama took a slow sip of coffee. “Freddy stopped paying the bill six months ago.”

“And?”

“And that means the contents legally belong to the storage company now,” Loretta said. “They’re auctioning it off this morning.”

I blinked. “Today?”

“In an hour.”

The best cure for morning grogginess was someone telling you something went wrong. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” Loretta shrugged. “The FBI can’t intervene without cause.”

I stood up. “Well, good thing Mama and I aren’t FBI.”

Loretta smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

This mission was made for me. Finally, my obsession with all versions of Storage Wars was paying off. Suddenly, those Sunday afternoons binge-watching season after season didn’t seem like such a waste of time.

I knew exactly what to look for. I knew how to squint at a half-hidden cardboard box and confidently guess it held mint-condition comic books instead of old tax forms. I knew how to spot black mold and how to identify vintage leather from across a parking lot. I knew how to give a rival the death stare over a pile of plastic storage bins, and exactly when to drop a dramatic YUUUP! to break someone’s spirit.

But none of that expert television training would actually help me here. Because I wasn’t looking for a profit margin or a hidden gem, I was determined to win Freddy’s unit even if it contained nothing but twenty-year-old Sports Illustrated issues and a colony of raccoons.

Because this wasn’t about making a profit, it was about solving his disappearance.

And I had a strong feeling that something in this storage unit would be the key to understanding what happened.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this kidnapping than met the eye.

The ransom was paid. Why wouldn’t the kidnappers return Freddy and Double Jeopardy? For that matter, why steal the horse at all? It was looking more and more like an inside job, and Freddy’s failure to pay his storage unit bill confirmed my suspicions.

He was strapped for cash and desperate.

Now I just needed to prove my theory to the FBI.

The storage facility looked like a tailgate party for people who trusted no one and brought cash. Pickups with oversized wheels, suspiciously pristine SUVs, and a few creepy vans lined the gravel lot. A crowd of local bidders circled the asphalt, a school of land-sharks smelling blood and a good deal in the water.

Goldilocks bebopped by my side, excited for our next adventure.

Mattie looked less enthused. “Are you really going to blow your own money to purchase this unit?”

I shrugged. “I want to solve the case. Besides, even the junkiest units usually have one hidden treasure that’s worth a lot of money. I’ll probably earn my investment back and maybe even double it.”

Mattie rolled her eyes. “The man-hours it would take to go through piles of junk and separate the garbage from things you can put in a garage sale for twenty-five cents... It’s not going to be worth your time, Patsy.”

“Well, I don’t really care if it is, as long as we solve the case.”

And I could beat Loretta.

I didn’t say that last part out loud, but we both knew that was the real motivation.

Mattie studied the crowd, reading it in the way she read everything—quietly, thoroughly, and as if everyone had already given her more information than they meant to.

She glared at a tough-looking biker dude who elbowed past her to get a closer look at the unit. “Explain the process here.”

I boxed out, reliving my junior high basketball days, securing our spot in the third row. “The auctioneer is going to open the unit and give us a quick thirty-second look. Then we’ll have about ten to fifteen minutes to confer with our people and decide how much we want to bid before the auction starts.”

Mattie nodded. “So, thirty seconds to make a terrible decision. Sounds about right.”

The crowd tightened around the door as the auctioneer stepped up, keys in hand.

The garage went up. People shoved closer.

I got elbowed in the ribs, and somebody stomped on my foot.

Goldilocks squealed, not liking the mob pressing in. She tugged on the leash, her fight-or-flight instincts definitely favoring flight. My shoulder nearly yanked out of the socket.

The garage closed, and people backed off.

“Wait, what was in there? I didn’t get to see it. Can we do it again? I wasn’t ready.” I spun in a circle. “Mama, please tell me you saw something.”

Mattie pulled me aside into an alcove. “Cardboard boxes stacked floor to ceiling, about fifteen feet deep. Lots of shopping bags in the front section.”

“From what stores?” I asked.

“Target and Toys R Us. Mainly Toys R Us.”

“That’s a throwback. What else is in there?”

“Smaller boxes. About shoebox size, maybe a little thinner.”

“That could be comic books. Those are always worth a lot of money.”

Mama somehow looked at a storage unit for six seconds and came back with a complete inventory. I looked at it and saw… cardboard and a blur of nothingness.

Mattie rolled her eyes again—I started to get the feeling she didn’t trust my plan. “You’re really going to waste money just to prove your sister wrong?”

“This could be the key to solving the kidnapping,” I said. “And proving there wasn’t one.”

“All right, well, if you’re going to do this, we need to thin out the competition.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, more people here drives the price up.”

“Ooh, you want to make people nervous?” I snapped my fingers. “I have just the thing: Mad Dog Jill Briscoe.”

“Who’s that?”

“The character you’re going to play. Think you can come up with a disguise in the next fifteen minutes? Someone who looks like they belong on Storage Wars and will scare them off.”

Mattie rubbed her chin. “I’ll come up with something.”

She turned toward the Airstream in the parking lot. Goldilocks watched her go, then looked up at me as if she were deeply invested in the outcome.

“Don’t worry, Goldie. It’s gonna be good. She used to be an S-P-Y.”

I trusted Mama would hold up her end of the bargain, so while she was getting into character, I needed to lay the groundwork. We needed to scare off the competition. Or at least make it seem like we knew what we were doing and that no price was too high.

The best way to do that was to start a rumor.

I scanned the crowd, looking for the loudmouth—the person who would gossip. Every auction had at least one. The gal or guy who knew everything, or at least thought they did.

I spotted him near the edge of the festivities—a ball cap and a permanent lean, the kind of posture that said he’d been here long enough to have opinions about everyone.

I tapped my hip, and Goldilocks followed. Her tail wagged, and she got a bounce in her step. Yay, new friend.

Putting on my most casual expression, I sidled up to the town crier. “This is going to be a good one.”

“Could be.” The man tugged his ball cap. “Though it’s hard to tell much from a little peek.”

“I just wish I had a chance to win it.”

His eyebrows quirked together. “Let me guess: didn’t bring enough cash? Rookie mistake.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s not it.” I sighed. “I didn’t realize we’d be going up against one of the pros.”

That got his attention.

“What do you mean?”

I lowered my voice, letting it feel like this was information he wasn’t supposed to have. “You didn’t hear?”

He leaned closer. “Hear what?”

I nudged my head in a random direction. “Mad Dog Jill Briscoe.”

He gave me a blank look.

I kept going. The best way to sell a bluff was never to look back.

“She’s on the storage circuit. Shows up unannounced, bids high, doesn’t lose. People back out to avoid going up against her.”

He glanced around, suddenly less relaxed. “Which one is she?”

I tiptoed, looking over the crowd. Goldilocks scanned with me. “She hasn’t revealed herself yet. That’s part of the schtick. She shows up at the last second and bids hard and fast.”

His eyes flicked across the crowd again, sharper now. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me a minute.”

And just like that, my phony piece of gossip spread like wildfire.

Now, as long as Mama held up her end of the bargain, we’d be in good shape.

I watched with amusement as the crowd scattered in various directions. It didn’t take much to get everyone into a frenzy.

I gasped, nearly dropping my phone as I spotted a familiar face.

Standing next to a stack of water-damaged tires was a woman who didn’t look like she belonged within ten miles of a foreclosure. She wore oversized designer sunglasses, crisp paddock boots, and a sharp defensive posture that practically radiated don’t bother me.

I knew that face.

Or rather, I knew the glossy headshot attached to Loretta’s profile. Addison O’Duggan-MacQuillan. Freddy’s zero-nonsense horse trainer.

I didn’t have much time before the auction, or a plan for what I was going to say. I walked up to her anyway.

“Oh wow. Hi,” I said, bouncing over with my best I’m just a friendly bystander smile. “Fancy running into you here.”

She turned her shoulder as if pretending I wasn’t talking directly to her.

“You’re Addison, right?” I asked, spinning around to the other side. “The trainer from Final Turn?”

Addison cocked her head slowly, her gaze sweeping over my hot pink shirt with an expression of pure, unadulterated disdain. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Patsy. Patsy Steffanelli. I’m actually a guest at Final Turn Ranch. Sort of.”

“I don’t care who you’re here with, Patsy,” she cut in, her voice brittle as dry kindling. “I’m trying to bid on a lot, and you’re throwing off my concentration.”

Despite her prickly attitude, I couldn’t let that deter me.

She was a business partner. One of the people with money tied up in Freddy Darrow. And here she was at an auction for a storage unit that no one in the house mentioned—not even his wife.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Crowd’s a little thicker than usual,” I said. “Do you come to these things often?”

Her mouth quirked at the corner. She pointed to the other side of the row. “I’m going to go stand over there, and you aren’t going to follow me.”

“I’m sorry to be a bother, Addison. I’m just surprised to see you here.” I lowered my voice. “Since this unit belongs to Freddy Darrow and all. The unit he defaulted on just before his kidnapping.”

Addison froze.

It lasted only a fraction of a second—a sudden tightening of her jaw before she let out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut through the hum of the crowd.

“Freddy? Please.” She crossed her arms, her chin lifting in a classic defensive maneuver. “Freddy wouldn’t step foot in a place like this unless it was carpeted with old money. You’ve clearly been misinformed by whatever local gossip column you pull your news from.”

“It wasn’t a gossip column. It was the facility records.” I smiled. “I know because I’m consulting for the FBI. You know, in his kidnapping.” My eyes narrowed. “You really didn’t know?”

“Of course, I didn’t know.” She placed her sunglasses atop her curly brown hair. “I manage multi-million-dollar equine athletes, sweetheart. I don’t keep track of where my boss hoards his junk or his midlife crisis memorabilia. The fact that you’re lurking around a foreclosure sale trying to spin a conspiracy theory about a missing man is a new level of desperate.”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory.” I placed my hands on my hips. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“Well, take your legitimate questions back to the tourist track,” Addison said, turning her back on me to face the closed locker. “If I knew Freddy owned this unit, I would have brought a crowbar days ago instead of standing around in ninety-degree humidity with the local vultures. Now, if you’ll excuse me, they’re about to open the bidding.”

I didn’t let her off the hook that easily.

“Interesting. You say you would’ve opened it with a crowbar. That means you want something that’s in there.”

Her eyes rolled so hard I felt the breeze. “You’re twisting my words.” She huffed. “I’m here because this is a hobby of mine. My husband and I attend auctions all over the state. We like hunting for treasures, and the ones around the parts usually contain expensive horse gear. This being Freddy’s unit is a crazy coincidence.”

“So it has nothing to do with him being missing or your horse getting kidnapped?”

“Look, we paid the ransom to get Spilled Perfume back. I still believe we will.”

My eyebrow arched. “Spilled Perfume? I thought the kidnapped horse was Double Jeopardy.”

Her cheeks reddened. “That’s what I said. Double Jeopardy.”

Goldilocks and I exchanged a glance. Her ears perked, as if to say, No, Mom. I heard it too.

“No, you definitely said Spilled Perfume.”

“You’re wrong.”

Perhaps it was a simple slip of the tongue. I said the wrong names all the time. On various occasions, I called both of my boys Goldilocks. I called Michael Loretta when we bickered, probably muscle memory. And poor Christopher, my youngest, thought his name was Henry until the age of three.

It wasn’t odd to have a mix-up.

What was odd was how emphatically she denied it.

“Who is Spilled Perfume?”

“Listen, I don’t know what your deal is, Patsy, but stop trying to put words in my mouth and stop trying to trip me up.”

I wasn’t doing either of those things, but it was interesting that she immediately went on the defensive.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not worried about your boss?” I asked.

“Freddy is not my boss. He’s our business partner.”

“Thank you for the clarification, but you still didn’t address your concern for him or the horse. Or lack thereof. Final Turn Thoroughbreds has a lot of money on the line, and I’m not talking about what you paid in ransom.”

“That horse—”

“Double Jeopardy?”

“Yes, Double Jeopardy. He’s more important to me than any amount of money, and I refuse to let anyone treat him like a bargaining chip.”

“Okay, but—”

She snapped her bidding paddle against her palm, dismissing me with the casual arrogance of a woman who didn’t care who I was, as long as I stayed out of her way. “Go find a gift shop, Patsy. Leave the high-stakes bidding to the grown-ups.”

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