Euphoria Lane (13 page)

Andi glanced about the room. Two boxes, left unpacked in the kitchen, gave the story she was moving a touch of validity. But since her stomach clenched with the thought of lying, it would be best to change the conversation. She reached for the pizza and pulled back the lid. “A supreme. You remembered what I like.”

“Sugar cookies. You remembered what
I
like.” He reached across the table to remove the clear plastic from the plate of frosted bats. “The Halloween spirit still gotcha?”

“I call them Bloodsucking Harries.”

He chuckled and bit off a wing. “Funny, yet tasty.”

At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “I added extra vanilla,” she revealed.

He gave her an appreciative look, then bit off the other wing. A mischievous twinkle lit his eyes. The chemistry between them begged her to forgive all, be his friend, and hope that one day he would want more.

Self-preservation made her turn to the pizza. She snatched a slice and then plopped onto a dining room chair. “I thought about what you said before. I’m surprised you want to be friends. It’s not like I’ve made your life easy since I moved to Euphoria.”

“Harry’s enough to get anyone riled up.”

She sunk her teeth into the pizza’s thick, chewy crust and enjoyed a huge bite. For two seconds it took her mind off her troubles.

“I hope you noticed that isn’t just any old pizza. It’s a Double Meat Lover’s Supreme with
extra
pepperoni.” He slid onto the chair next to her.

Andi nodded her approval as she chewed.

“I’m hoping I earned extra points for remembering what you like?” He lifted a brow.

She shrugged and swallowed. “I guess I can spare a few points, but don’t be in a hurry to cash them in. I still don’t like the idea that you work for the enemy.”

“Once you move, it won’t matter who I work for.”

“Right . . .”

He selected a slice of pizza and, just like old times, his awkward smile touched her heart. The last time they had eaten together, they had been stretched out on the carpet in front of the television. Back then, life was simpler. They watched horror flicks or talked for hours and knew everything about each other. He even knew that Jessie was a police officer—a fact he still hadn’t mentioned, and she was too afraid to bring up, hoping he’d forgotten.

“Roxie confirmed that you’re working for a detective,” Luke said, as if reading her mind—and ignoring the fact she had told him it was none of his business.

“Part-time. You know what it’s like on a teacher’s salary.”

“Does your boss think he can clear Bernice’s son?” Luke said it more like an accusation than a question.

Andi placed her slice on the edge of the closed box. “You don’t think Reverend Nichols is innocent?”

“I’m not sure. On the one hand, reverends rarely turn into serial killers. It sounds more like a plot in a B-rated horror flick. On the other hand, he started acting strange after Helen left him.”

“Strange?”

He looked at her as if she had to be joking. “You saw his condo. He turned a bachelor pad with minimal furnishings into a thirteen-hundred-square-foot monastery.”

His condo
had
made her feel guilty for not attending church in a long time. “Maybe he’s hoping the biblical statues will fill his heart with God’s love where Helen left a gaping hole.”

“Or . . . he could be seeking God’s forgiveness.”

“Perhaps. We haven’t found any proof to exonerate him.” Deciding napkins and plates would be a good idea, she scooted the chair back and headed to the kitchen. “Harry has photos of Nichols snooping around his car about the same time someone cut his brakes.” She spoke louder so Luke could hear. “We know this because the picture had a date and time stamp. At least that is what I was told.”

“It’s strange that Harry would accuse the reverend. They’ve known each other for years, even shared holiday meals. Harry and Bernice were thick as thieves.”

Thieves. They were thieves, all right.
They stole from their neighbors by manufacturing violations.

Andi removed two paper plates from the stack in the cupboard, grabbed a handful of napkins from a kitchen drawer, and a couple of orange sodas from the fridge. “What if Harry is trying to misdirect the police investigation?”

“You still think Harry killed Bernice?”

“I’m asking
you
.” Returning to the dining room, she handed him a plate and soda, then tossed the napkins onto the table between them.

“Thanks.” He finished his slice of pizza and then pulled the tab on the can. “Harry may be stubborn and vindictive, but he’s not a murderer.”

“Anyone can commit murder under the right circumstances.” At least that was what her sister kept telling her. “To tell you the truth, I think I just want Harry to be guilty. Anyone in this complex could have killed her. Most of them had motive and opportunity.”

His facial expression tightened, growing as serious as she felt. “I hardly think a violation letter is motive for murder.”

“Not just letters—fines.” She tried to explain it so he would understand. “All I know is how angry I felt every time I received a violation letter. This is my new home. It should be a safe haven, but Harry keeps eating away at my sense of security.”

“But you signed―”

Andi lifted her hand like a stop sign. “You don’t get it. It doesn’t matter that I signed a piece of paper agreeing to follow some rules. In fact, it makes the situation worse. I went through a lot of trouble to make sure I followed the rules, and I
still
received violation letters.”

“Trouble?”

“The rules state that we have to park the first car in the garage, the second in the driveway, and only then can we park a car in guest parking. Since my sister comes home late and sleeps in, she has to call me at three in the morning and wake me up so I can pull my car out of the garage and she can pull in. My car needs to be in the driveway since I go to work before her.”

“Why don’t you just switch them yourself in the morning when you go to work?”

“Where can I park her car while I pull mine out?”

He leaned back in his chair, contemplating her question. “I see your point. If you park
her
car in guest parking or the fire lane while you drive
yours
out of the garage, you’re breaking a rule.”

She nodded, glad he was finally listening to her. “And I don’t want to wake her when she’s been asleep for only a couple of hours, so I crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to rearrange cars.”

“I can see how that would upset you,” he conceded, his voice low. “But you wouldn’t kill someone over it.”

“That’s not all. Throughout the day, I constantly have to stop and ask myself if I’m breaking a rule. I can’t just toss the box the soda cans come in. I have to put it in a bag first. If a bird targets the hood of my car, I can’t whip out the hose for a quick cleaning. Those blasted birds drop their bombs on my hood every single day, but I can’t put a wind chime in the tree to scare them off. When friends or relatives come to visit, I have to make sure they park in the driveway if Jessie isn’t home, and then I have to check for oil stains when they leave. If anyone visits for more than three days, I have to notify the board or they’ll tow their car. My life revolves around making sure all the rules are followed, and to top it off, I’m always looking over my shoulder for a board member with a camera. This is no way to live.”

“Then Harry lies about the oil stain on your driveway anyway.”

“Correct. But even before that, I knew he was watching my every move. I’ve lived here only a week. I can only imagine how some of the other residents feel. Over time, these fines could drive anyone into a state of rage. Look at the cowboy.”

Luke nodded. “And Harry’s gotten worse since he became president. I can throw out fines that are not legitimate, but if the residents break the rules he has every right to send them letters and eventually fine them if they refuse to stop. And there isn’t anything that says he can’t check every hour for violations.” He shook his head with regret. “I keep hoping he’ll go back to being a decent guy now that Valerie’s moving in with him, or at least have more to do with his time than walk the property checking for violations.”

“Forgive me if I don’t hold my breath. Did the Euphoria Lane rumor mill tell you Harry threw trash on my porch this morning?”

Luke’s brow furrowed. He didn’t know. “Are you sure it was him?”

“Yes, and I’m going to prove it. I was going to try and match his fingerprints to those on the bag, but he was smart enough not to leave any.” She retrieved a tiny surveillance camera she found when she helped her sister clean at Lenny’s Detective Agency earlier that day. “Then I found this. I’m going to install it out back tonight.”

“You know that’s—”

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s against the rules, Luke Ryder. Harry is behind this. I’m going to prove it, and nothing is going to get in my way.”

“I was going to say it’s difficult to install.” He examined the box. “I can put it up for you. I’ll hide it where Harry will never look.”

“You’d do that for me? Why?”

“Like I said, I want to be friends again. I’m hoping this . . . gesture will prove I’m serious.”

“What if you get caught?”

“I won’t.” He slid the chair back as he stood. “Got a tool kit?”

Guilt ate at her again. He had offered to install a camera for her without knowing she was keeping the truth from him. “Luke, you’ve done enough bringing the pizza. I’ll take care of this myself.”

“I want to help.” Conviction backed his words. He made quick work of opening the box and removing the directions.

“There’s something you need to know before you decide to help.”

“You’re not really moving.” His smiled turned devious.

She jumped to her feet. “How did you know?”

“The Andi Stevenson I know would never run from a fight. It’s not your style. On the other hand, that rumor is definitely Meg and Roxie’s style.” He lifted the soda to his lips and drank, the grin never quite leaving his face. “I knew you would tell me the truth before the evening was over.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be angry or relieved. “Meg and Roxie are trying to help. They feel bad about Harry trashing my place after they started the anti-board.”

“They spied on him in the privacy of his bedroom,” Luke added.

“We are all guilty of that.” She lifted her brow to punctuate the comment. “Even you.”

“True, but I was doing my job. Now, where’s your tool kit?”

Luke really was that good guy she knew back in college. “Wait here.”

Inside the garage, Andi gripped the toolbox, struggling to accept being friends with the man she still loved . . . deep down inside. Lifting the heavy box, she gathered her wits about her. When she returned to the dining room, she found Luke hauling her kitchen two-step ladder out to the back porch. She set her toolbox down on the cement, then eased onto a patio chair where she could watch him play handyman. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed watching any man work. The fact the man on her porch was Luke Ryder felt surreal.

Luke turned to position the ladder, and she noticed the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and backside. Her pulse quickened. She tried to turn away. Really, she did, but her head only tilted to the side so she could get a better view.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Can you hand me that screwdriver?”

Afraid he had caught her staring, she jumped up, grabbed the tool, and handed it over. She berated herself for staring at him instead of doing something more productive. A thought occurred to her. “Why would anyone want to kill Helen? It’s not like she’s an active member of the board from what I hear.”

“The murderer might not care how active or inactive the board members are.”

“True.”

“Unless the murderer is Reverend Nichols,” he said softly, as if not wanting any of the neighbors to overhear. “Helen left him after he gave up his church.”

“True.” Her heart weighed down like a boulder planted in her chest. She felt sorry for the both of them and hated to think a man of the cloth would turn to murder to even the score.

“Done.” Luke admired his work and stepped down from the ladder. “Follow me and I’ll show you how the system works.” He led Andi back into the living room with his hand placed gently on her lower back.

It had been a long time since he’d guided her into a room with a gentle touch. She missed the feeling, the sense of protectiveness.

Luke, seemingly unaware of the power he had over her, bent over the laptop she’d left on her coffee table. A few quick strokes of the keypad and her porch appeared on her monitor. “You need to stop using the same password.”

“I don’t have anything for anyone to steal—it all belongs to the board now.”

His deep brown eyes darkened. “Why don’t I hang around awhile—in case Harry shows up? I don’t want you confronting him by yourself.”

Is he hoping to spend the entire evening together?

If they were going to establish a friendship and nothing more, she could take Luke only in short increments of time. Deep down she wanted him back, but she knew it was impossible. The reasons they broke up hadn’t changed. She still kept her sisters’ secrets—like the fact Jessie owned Lenny’s Detective Agency. “Thanks for the offer, but I can handle things myself.”

“If you’re sure . . .” He looked at her with obvious doubt.

“I am. What I’m not certain about is your change of heart. I have trouble accepting that you suddenly want to be friends. When you left me, you said you never wanted to see me again. That it would be too painful.”

“I know.” Regret flickered in his eyes. “I let my pride get in the way. I thought I had done the right thing, but seeing you again . . .” He shook his head. “I realize I was too unyielding.”

“I never thought I’d hear those words.”

“I’m simply admitting I shouldn’t have said I never wanted to see you again. I took it too far. I admit that. There’s no reason we can’t spend time together.”

“
If
I ignore the fact you work for Harry.”

“I just put up a spy camera. That should be worth at least a thousand brownie points, don’t you think?”