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cast-outs spoke volumes about their personal lives. For example, go through the garbage of a young family and you’ll find out-grown clothing, used up toys, and other remnants indicative of a growing family. A garbage with lots of take-out bags and Styrofoam Starbucks cups usually belonged to a young single person; and, the dumpsters on the college campus…well, needless to say, those kids aren’t spending all their time studying. Point being, if you want to know something about someone, go through their garbage.
     

     
    Chapter 5
     
    I felt a bit uneasy as I pulled into the parking lot of The Classy Closet. For a second, I considered abandoning my mission, but I knew if I wanted to get to the bottom of things I needed to find out more about Jane Reynolds.
    As if on cue, the sun dipped low on the horizon, cas ting long shadows across the pavement as I eased my car next to the security fence that surrounded the dumpster. Using my station wagon as a step stool, I clambered up the windshield and made my way to the top of the car. I cringed when I heard a few metallic popping sounds under my feet, but I didn’t let it deter me. By stretching onto my tip-toes, I was able to get a firm enough grasp to hoist my upper body onto the top-edge of the fence. I teetered there for a moment, catching my breath, before swinging my legs up and over.
    I landed with a thud on the other side, my palms acquiring a few splinters from the maneuver. Looking up, I was proud of my ninja-lik e prowess until I realized I hadn’t planned for a way out. Lucky for me there were several wooden pallets stacked next to the dumpster. I’d have to use them to fabricate a make-shift ladder. No problem.
    The sky was growing dark; I’d need ed to work quickly. I surveyed the giant container. The left lid was open with stacks of folded cardboard boxes protruding from its depths.
    By utilizing a couple of the pallets , I was up and into the dumpster in no time at all. At first glance I saw the usual: empty boxes, waded up plastic bags, broken hangers, shredded papers, and…oh…a beautiful black sequined purse. The dainty shoulder strap was broken, but heck, I could just take the strap off. It’d make a great little clutch. Wow, what a find!
    Momentarily forgetting my mission, I began rooting around for more resalable treasures. In the corner, I found a partially opened box. Peering inside I was surprised to see several hard-cover books. Weird. Jane didn’t sell books, just clothing and accessories. What were these doing here?
    Turning the box on its side, I saw the word Sokolov—the same as marked on the bags in Jane’s office. I wondered if I’d been wrong about the bags being brought in by a consigner; Jane probably picked up these items at an estate sale. A lot of consigners shop estate sales. I even go to them every once in a while, but only when I’m desperate—it gives me the heebies to buy dead people’s stuff.
    I thought about it for a moment. Jane, the owner, probably hit an estate sale and purchased a large lot of clothing and accessories. This box must have been mixed in with the lot by mistake. So, instead of trying to return these books, she disposed of them.
    I began going through the box, shining my light on each spine. The books were in good shape, leather bound, and written in a fore ign language. I could tell they were somewhat valuable. I could definitely make a good profit selling them on-line.
    On the other hand, may be this was the connection I’d been looking for. Was there some sort of tie between the Sokolov estate and Jane Reynolds’ murder? I remembered that the clothing bags in Jane’s office were disheveled, as if someone had packed them in a hurry. I was rethinking that now. Could it have been that someone was searching through them? If so, what would be so valuable—valuable enough to kill for—in a bag of used clothing? Perhaps this was the type of connection Sean was hoping I’d make.
    I flipped open my cell.