PW02 - Bidding on Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

already had bids that flabbergasted me. “Oh, they’ll go much higher,” Amy said positively. “The real bidding happens right before the auction ends. It’s fun to watch.”
    Then we got me registered; registering required me to pick out a user name, a recurring fact of modern life that inevitably induces paralysis in me. It’s like the card that circulates around an office when someone is retiring or relocating; when those things would land on my desk, I’d freeze, wanting to dash off a few heartfelt words that would be witty, pertinent to the departee, and characteristic of my own style, whatever that was. I’d dither around trying to come up with words that would fit all those criteria while the card-circulator waited impatiently for me to stop being a road block and get the card moving again. Eventually, I’d give up and pin some lame thing about best wishes in your future endeavors, and promise myself I’d do better next time.
    So – a user name. Huh.
    “I’m ‘qannegurl’,” Amy offered helpfully. “For Queen Anne girl, but gurl with a u. Rose is ‘pacosmama’. Lots of people incorporate pet names.”
    But if I used a pet name, I’d have to slight either Polly or Tough Stuff. They wouldn’t know it, but I would. And ‘Pollyanna’ (Polly’s full name) sounded too sweet, and ‘Tough Stuff’ sounded like a biker chick. Eventually, I fell back on my old Usenet moniker and went with ‘serpentcecil’. At Amy’s puzzled look, I said, “Long story. Old cartoon.”
    I listed a couple tablecloths and a bedspread . Now I had another Must Visit page on the internet. Eventually, they were going to have to just hook me up to the computer and leave me here.
    Tutorial finished, Amy expressed an interest in the winery, so we gave her the nickel tour. Jack and Craig were crushing the last of the cabernet, so there was some activity to watch. Amy expressed disappointment that the grapes weren’t being stomped with bare feet and we all chuckled politely. (Planning to tour a winery? Then be advised that just because it’s the first time you’ve made the grape stomping joke, that doesn’t mean it’s the first time we’ve heard it.)
    And thus ended our Girls’ Outing.
    After dinner, I got back on the internet to check my auctions. The bedspread already had a bid! I e-mailed the pictures of Tough Stuff and Polly to the kids, then I snuck back over to eBuy and bid on a digital camera just like Amy’s. Because why not?
    It was getting pretty late when the phone rang. Too late for telemarketers, was one of the kids in some kind of jam?
    No, it was Julia. “Cissy,” she gasped, “someone broke in!”
     

 
    THREE
     
    “Oh my God,” I gasped,  “are you all right?! Did you call the police?”
    Julia took a deep breath, audible over the phone line. “Sorry,” she said. “Let me calm down or I’ll get you wound up. I just realized that sounded worse than it is.”
    “So what happened?”
    “I was just locking up for the night, and the front door lock has been broken. It must have happened while I was out, because neither Bob nor I heard anything this evening. When I came back from your place I went in the back, so I just now noticed.”
    A rumble in the background, and Julia added, “Bob is telling me to get off the phone. I called the sheriff’s department right before I called you, and they’ll be here soon. Bob wants us to look around, see what’s missing. I’ll call you tomorrow, unless there are big developments. So consider no news to be good news.”
    “Okay,” I said. “Keep me posted. And stay safe.”
    Julia didn’t call again that night, so after breakfast the next day, Polly and I walked over to her place. I knocked on the back door and got no answer, so I opened it, stuck my head in and hollared “Knock knock.”
    “Come on in,” Julia hollared back from the front of the house.
    I entered their great room and Polly trotted over to greet Beau. Julia was sitting at her