Bundle of Trouble (29 page)

Jim would know. At least he had a business degree.

Flipping through the reports, I saw one for Heavenly Haight.

My breath caught. Svetlana’s store? Even after her marriage to Brad had ended, she’d stayed connected to him and by more than the memory of their daughter. Had they started the store while they were married? Did he still own shares in it? Maybe those shares had gone to Michelle.

I stuffed the reports into what I now lovingly referred to as my “diaper purse,” a very far cry from a Coach handbag, and stood. I placed the empty shoe box back into the closet and closed the door.

Without a clue about what to look for next, I decided I’d check out the makeshift office area in the guest bedroom. If memory served, what little I had left, I thought I’d seen at least a desk with a computer and printer. But first a stop in the master bath.

I rummaged through Michelle’s medicine chest, looking for Valium. It was practically empty. Maybe the cops had gone through and confiscated everything they could find.

Wait.

If Michelle had an office setup, why would she store paperwork in a shoe box at the bottom of her closet?

She must have been hiding those reports, but why?

Just then I heard a click and a creak.

The front door?

Someone was entering the house.

I froze. Footsteps approached from the hallway. Two voices, a man and a woman. The man’s voice was clearly recognizable to me. Rich, the manager of El Paraiso, aka Mr. Creepy.

“That fucking bitch! She can’t screw me like this!” Rich fumed.

“Calm down,” the female voice said.

Who was he with? I couldn’t place her voice.

“I won’t let her screw me over!” Rich said.

Something crashed to the ground. The woman yelped.

“Jennifer is going to sing like a canary. I gotta be sure there’s nothing here. Go check her stupid office, will ya?”

Footsteps sounded down the hallway. “I already told you: I checked before and didn’t find anything.”

“Yeah, well, check again!”

More footsteps in the hallway. Heavier ones. Rich’s. Coming right toward me in the master bath.

A drop of sweat stung my eye. I needed to get out of the house. But how?

Footsteps sounded dangerously close. I heard the closet door swing open.

“Look at all these shoes!” Rich said.

He slammed the door shut.

I listened as his footsteps retreated toward the kitchen. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out into the bedroom.

Empty.

I leaped toward the window. It wouldn’t budge. I pried harder.

Nothing. Painted shut!

Old houses were exasperating. Michelle had done a lot of renovation work, but obviously she hadn’t gotten around to replacing the windows in the bedroom.

Could I break the window and get out?

I heard arguing from the living room and a crashing sound. Glass breaking. I thought of Michelle’s gorgeous crystal lamps and hoped they weren’t the victims.

If Rich and his gal pal were going to start throwing things, maybe they wouldn’t notice if I broke a window
.

I heard footsteps outside the bedroom and took a nose-dive under Michelle’s king-sized bed.

Dust balls were everywhere. I repressed a sneeze by rubbing the tip of my tongue across the roof of my mouth.

Aha! A theater degree was good for something!

How long could I hide underneath the bed? Certainly if they were looking for something, under the bed might be a good place to search.

I heard drawers being pulled open.

Rich mumbled to himself, “Okay, if I were that stupid bitch, where would I put it?”

“Look at this!” the woman called from a different part of the house.

I heard Rich tread out. I peeked out from under the dust ruffle. The room was empty.

I could hear them arguing in the kitchen, but couldn’t make out any of the words. I had to find a better hiding place.

I scooted over to the far-right-hand side of the bed and wondered if I could make it back into the master bath before they returned to the bedroom.

What then? Was there a window in the bathroom? I didn’t recall seeing one. Could I hide out in the bathtub until they left? I figured the bathroom was my only hope.

I crawled out from underneath the bed and dashed back to the bathroom, diving into the tub. I pulled the shower curtain closed, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

There was a small window, also painted shut. Even if I could pry it open, it was way too small to squeeze out of.

There were two of them and one of me. I hoped they were unarmed. Were they the killers? Was my life in danger? I immediately thought of Laurie. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to me. The thought of leaving her so tiny and vulnerable, without a mommy, almost brought me to tears.

I pulled my diaper purse close and rummaged past the reports to find my cell phone. I grabbed it from the bottom. Thank God I’d remembered to pack it.

I punched in 9-1-1.

Nothing happened.

I’d remember to pack it, but not to charge it.

I heard footsteps again. Tears sprang to my eyes. I was going to die in this half-renovated Victorian. Just like Michelle.

Who only renovates half a house anyway? Why couldn’t she have put new windows in the bedroom? It wasn’t like she didn’t have the money.

I crouched down farther into the bathtub.

The front door squeaked open, then slammed shut.

Were they gone?

Thank God. I crawled out of the bathtub and pulled open the bathroom door.

I had to get out of here fast.

What kind of stupid idea was it to come here anyway? I left the bedroom and entered the hall. I flew past the kitchen toward the entryway and smack into Rich.

I gasped.

He stared at me, his face beet red. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, my God!” I covered my heart with my hand. “You startled me. I was in the garden, watering.” I smiled my most innocent, sincere smile. All those years of im prov couldn’t go to waste. “What are you doing here?”

The redness in his face was dissipating. He smiled now, too. His flirt smile, honed by years of skirt chasing. “Well, I came over to water, too!”

Still in character, I squeezed his arm. “Aw! If I had known, I could have saved you the trip.”

I delicately sidestepped him, heading toward the front door.

Move, move, now!
a voice inside my head ordered.

Rich pushed his shoulder out a bit, just slightly but enough to block my way. “How long you been here?”

I blinked up at him. “Not long. It only took a few minutes to water.”

Why didn’t I have a gun, dammit? Or mace or something, anything, to protect myself! I hated to have to suck up to this creep.

If I was going to be legit, I’d need the PI license
and
a gun permit.

Rich pushed his hand against the door. He looked me up and down. “You want to get a drink?”

I feigned disappointment. “I’d love to, but I have to get back home. To my baby.” I enunciated “baby” for good measure.

He nodded. “Right! Hey, listen! I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention my being here to Mrs. A.”

It took every ounce of self-control not to break the flirt/airhead character I was in. I smiled, and tilted my head to the side. “No prob.”

He let go of the door. “Thanks. I . . . she . . . just gets weird about stuff.”

I seized the moment to pull open the door. “Got to run,” I called over my shoulder, wiggling my fingers as I bounced down the steps without looking back.

My heart was racing. Laurie, Jim, and safety were the only things on my mind.

As soon as I was out of sight, I ran toward my Chevy. I glanced over my shoulder. Rich hadn’t followed me. I got into the car and started the engine as quickly as I could.

I locked the doors, just in case. An image of Rich running after me, trying to get in through the passenger side window, flashed through my mind. Something like you’d see in the movies. A quick check of my rearview mirror told me he’d already forgotten about me and was probably busy searching the house again.

•CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE•

The Sixth Week—Pushing

When I arrived home, I found Jim wearing my green flannel bathrobe. I laughed “What are you doing?”

Jim flapped his arms up and down in despair. “It’s the only thing that would calm her down.”

“Wearing my robe?”

“I read it online. I guess the robe has your scent on it. She feels like Mom is holding her when I’m wearing it.”

I kissed him. “You are so sweet! Anything for your little girl, huh?”

He nuzzled my neck. “Anything for my girls, big or little. I even vacuumed.”

Raising my eyebrows, I said, “Anything?”

Jim winked.

“I need you to look at something.” I pulled the reports from the diaper purse and handed them to him. He seated himself on the sofa to read the reports.

The phone interrupted his reading. It was Jim’s former client, Dirk Jonson. He wanted a follow-up meeting.

When Jim left for his meeting, I fussed around the house, carrying and rocking Laurie. I jumped on and offline, e-mailing Paula and doing research. On a whim, I asked Paula if she recalled any “Carol” from our high school class, since Mr. Creepy had gone to a Holy Rosary dance with someone by that name and met Brad Avery that night.

I wondered about background checks. Galigani said he’d run one on George. Maybe I could run one on Mr. Creepy.

I finally admitted to myself it was time to recruit help on the PI front. I dialed Galigani in the hospital.

“How’s your recovery coming along?”

“They’re releasing me today. The miracles they work with surgery!” He paused for a moment, then continued, “I got very nice flowers from my
former client
Mrs. Avery.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. She enclosed a curious note.”

“Curious, how?”

“She thanked me for sending over such a wonderful replacement.”

Relief washed over me. “That was nice.”

“Nice? I don’t remember sending you over there as my replacement.”

“You said . . . You told me . . . I went there to tell her you were dropping the case . . .”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“But she thought . . . she thought . . . I let her think I was your replacement. That I was a PI because I want to start my own business and set my own hours to be with my daughter and I’m having fun and being challenged and she was ready to hire me, so I—”

“You let her think you were my replacement!”

I steadied myself for his wrath. “Yes.”

Galigani burst out laughing.

Instead of relief, I felt annoyed. I let him laugh a moment longer. When he didn’t stop, I said, “It’s not
that
funny.”

He kept laughing.

I played with the antenna on the cordless phone and waited him out. “Are you done?”

“I’ll just wipe these tears.”

“Ha ha.”

“Okay, let me guess, are you calling for a little guidance, a little help?”

“I was calling to see how you were doing.” We both chuckled. “I didn’t call for a little help. I need a lot of help.”

“Ah! Okay, you’re talking to an expert. And since you saved my life, I’ll give you a ten-minute consult on the house.”

“I might need more than that. I’m completely in over my head.”

“Why? Jennifer Miller was arrested last night.”

Air rushed into my lungs. “Arrested? Jennifer?”

“McNearny had a search warrant, they found the gun that killed Brad and Svetlana. They also found a supply of diazepam, the drug Michelle overdosed on.”

“And you know this how?”

He laughed. “McNearny and I were partners a long time. Loose lips.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. How could Jennifer get rid of Brad, alone? She couldn’t lift him, could she?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Women can be pretty strong. And you know, ‘Hell hath no fury—’ ”

“Jennifer wasn’t scorned. She had scorned Brad.”

“Who told you that?”

“Well, Jennifer. She said—”

Galigani snorted. “Never, ever believe what a suspect tells you. If she didn’t think twice about shooting someone, you think it’s gonna hurt her feelings to lie to you?”

“Right. Right. Of course.” I paused. “Did McNearny tell you who the gun was registered to?”