Authors: Katie Allen
“Nada. Rhodes gave me the password and then…distracted me before I could use it.” He shot a steamy look at his partner from under his lashes. Rhodes just smiled.
“Here’s an idea,” Pete said. “Why don’t we stain the floor upstairs and then hang out on the front porch tonight. The neighbors will come to us.”
“Sure?” Rhodes asked doubtfully.
“Positive,” Pete told him. “They’ll be wanting to talk. All we’ll have to do is listen.”
“You just want your floors finished,” Trevor grumbled.
Pete grinned at him. “Pretty much.”
“So where will we sleep tonight while that shit dries?” Wash asked.
“Living room, I guess,” Pete told him.
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Wash snorted. “All comes back to the slumber party, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love a slumber party,” a deadpan Rhodes told him before turning to Pete, ignoring Wash’s sputter of laughing protest. “You have stain?”
He nodded. “And applicators.”
“Let’s do this then.”
* * * * *
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Pete asked. He was standing on the top step, admiring the gleaming wood floor of the upstairs hall stretching into the three bedrooms.
“Yeah,” Trevor grunted from the living room below, where he was sprawled in his camp chair. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Ignoring Trevor’s sarcasm, Pete said, “I can’t wait for the whole house to be done.”
Wash groaned. “I think you’re high on fumes, Petey-Pie.”
“You’re the one doling out the cutesy nicknames,” Rhodes told him. “How much of that shit did you inhale?”
“Me? I never inhale,” Wash protested, eyes wide with put-on innocence. With an amused snort, Rhodes stood and stretched. “Wish we could get to the shower.”
“Yeah.” Pete winced, joining them downstairs. “Forgot about that.”
“We could all strip and hose off outside,” Wash suggested. Trevor laughed. “That’d bring the neighbors running.”
“You guys go ahead,” Pete told them. “I’m gonna see what I can do in the sink.”
* * * * *
They all managed to get the worst of the stain off at the sink in the half-bath. After changing clothes, they were presentable enough. In fact, Pete looked so good Trevor couldn’t stop looking at him.
“Who wants to sit on the front porch and drink a beer?” Pete asked.
“Me,” the other three men chorused. They all trooped inside, grabbed beers and chairs and headed for the front porch. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. The sun was setting, lighting the sky peach and orange around the edges.
“We’ll need a lawnmower,” Trevor said, almost regretting breaking the silence.
“Lawn’s getting shaggy.”
Pete grunted an assent. “And a weed-whacker.”
“Who’re your friends?” a voice piped from the porch next door. Trevor looked over to see Iris and Morty watching them.
“Come on over and meet them,” Pete called. Lowering his voice, he added, “And the first neighbors have arrived. What’d that take, three minutes?”
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All four men stood up as the elderly couple climbed the porch steps, offering their chairs. Iris and Morty didn’t hesitate to take Trevor’s and Pete’s.
“Beer?” Trevor offered.
“Love one,” Iris told him and Morty nodded. Trevor headed to the kitchen, grabbed two from the fridge, hesitated and then grabbed two more. It would save him the trip inside if more neighbors stopped by.
On his way out to the porch, he passed Wash, who headed toward the bathroom. Trevor stepped outside, letting the screen swing shut behind him. He put two of the beers down and popped off the caps on the others before offering them to Iris and Morty. Pete was sitting on the top step, his back resting against the railing post. Trevor settled opposite him.
“Did that sheriff treat you decently?” Iris asked Pete. “We saw he took you with him last night.”
“Of course,” Pete assured them. “It was just routine, since I was first on the scene.”
“Second,” Morty corrected.
Pete nodded. “Right. Michelle was first.”
“Poor thing,” Iris sighed and Morty nodded. “Can you imagine finding your husband like that?”
“You don’t think she did it?” Trevor asked, curious.
“Oh no,” Iris told him. “No, no, no. She’d never do anything like that. Is that what the sheriff is thinking? Do I need to call him and put him straight?”
Pete looked surprised. “Didn’t Osgood call you already?”
“Sure,” Iris said. “Didn’t say anything about thinking Michelle did it though.”
“Why don’t you think she did it?” Rhodes chimed in. He had been quiet until this point and both husband and wife looked at him, startled.
“You haven’t met Michelle,” Iris told him. “She’s the sweetest thing. Adores that ass of a husband too.” She paused, looking sad. “Adored, I mean.” Morty patted her knee.
“Ass?” Pete pressed gently as Wash rejoined them on the porch. Iris shook her head. “Don’t mean to speak ill of the dead but I can’t lie—he was
not
a nice man. Here she was, wanting to start a family, and there
he
was, cheating all over the place.”
“Who was he having an affair with—do you know?” Trevor asked, feeling as if he were waist-deep in a soap opera.
Morty snorted. “The better question is, who
wasn’t
he fucking?”
“Morty!” Iris reprimanded sharply. “Watch your mouth.”
“I’m sorry but it’s true.” Morty leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And it wasn’t just women, if you know what I mean.”
Trevor was careful not to catch Pete’s eye as he tried to keep a straight face. “Men?”
he couldn’t resist asking.
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Both Iris and Morty nodded.
“Anyone you know?” Pete asked.
The couple exchanged a glance. “Well,” Iris told them in a conspiratorial whisper,
“it was a while back but we think something was going on between Greg and Marsha.”
“Really?” Pete lowered his beer bottle without taking a drink. “Do you think she could’ve…?”
“No, of course not.” Iris bit her lip and glanced at Morty. “At least…I don’t
think
she would. She is a nervous one though, isn’t she? Always laughing when nothing’s funny.”
“I don’t know,” Trevor said, thinking about the cookies she’d made for them. “Sure, she’s twitchy but I thought she was nice. Besides, do you think she could have done something so…cold-blooded?”
“Chopping off his what’s-it, you mean?” Iris asked. “You’d be surprised what a woman scorned is capable of doing. There’ve been times when I’ve been so mad at Morty here I’ve eyed our kitchen knives.”
Morty’s head snapped around and he stared at her.
She flipped her hand dismissively. “Of course I wouldn’t actually
cut
you, silly thing. It’s just something every wife has thought about at some point or another.”
Wash went into a coughing fit.
“Beer go down the wrong way?” Rhodes asked, giving him a slap on the back.
“Yeah,” Wash wheezed, holding up a hand when Rhodes looked ready to give him another whack. “Thanks, I’m okay now.”
Clearing his throat, Pete asked, “But why would Marsha lose it now? Hadn’t their affair been over a long time ago?”
“Maybe something happened,” Iris said vaguely, apparently determined to hold on to her theory. “And it all came rushing back.”
“What about a jealous husband?” Pete suggested. “All that anger could’ve been because Greg slept with his wife.”
Morty coughed.
“Is that cold of yours coming back?” Iris asked him. He shook his head and jerked his chin in the direction of the next house. Trevor turned to look and saw Marsha crossing the yard with another plate in her hands.
“Is it okay if I join you?” she asked, hovering a few feet away from the porch steps.
“Of course,” Pete told her. “Come on up.”
“Beer?” Trevor held up one of the extras.
“No thank you,” she said, climbing the steps. “Beer upsets my stomach. I brought over some cheese and sausage biscuits I made for Michelle but she’s not home yet, poor thing, and they should be eaten while they’re hot.” She offered the plate to Trevor, who snagged a couple of biscuits and passed the plate to Pete. 109
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“They’re great, thanks,” Trevor said around a mouthful of biscuit.
“Oh, it was no problem,” Marsha told him, flushing a little. “It’s an easy recipe—
just a pound of cheddar and a pound of sausage heated and combined with biscuit mix…” She trailed off, turning her head away. “Here I’m going on about food when Greg was m-murdered only last night.” She snuffled and rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand.
“Now don’t worry about that,” Iris told her, balancing a biscuit on her leg to free up one of her hands so she could reach over and give Marsha’s arm a reassuring pat. Trevor thought it was funny Iris kept a tight grip on her beer at all times. “That’s how people cope with death. We feed the survivors.”
Marsha gave her a shaky smile. Rhodes and Wash stood up, offering up their chairs, but she waved them back down. “I shouldn’t stay long. I just wanted to bring over the biscuits and see if anyone had heard anything.” She leaned against the railing. Pete frowned. “Rhodes, would you mind checking that railing?”
Before he’d even finished asking, Rhodes was nudging Marsha over and giving the railing a hard shove. “Solid.”
“Thanks,” Pete told him. He turned to Marsha. “Lean away. Just didn’t want you ending up in the bushes.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Despite the reassurance, she rested her hip against it a little tentatively this time. “Has anyone heard anything? How’s Michelle doing?”
“I know she spent last night at the hospital,” Pete said. “Did she go back to her friend’s house?”
“Her sister picked her up and brought her home with them,” Iris informed them.
“She and her husband have a farm about an hour south of here.”
“How do you manage to know all this?” Pete asked in amazement. She shrugged. “I just pay attention.”
Morty smiled. “Iris is a sharp woman,” he said proudly. “Nothing gets by her.”
“Well, this sharp woman needs her bed,” Iris announced, pushing to her feet. Both Trevor and Pete stood up.
“Have a good night,” Pete said. “Thanks for coming over.” There was a chorus of goodbyes.
“Thanks for the beer,” Morty said, following her down the porch steps. The conversation dwindled as everyone watched the couple cross the yard to their own house.
“Poor Michelle,” Marsha sighed, breaking the silence. “I can’t imagine who could’ve done such a thing.”
“What’s your theory?” Wash asked.
She stared at him with huge eyes. “Mine?”
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“Sure,” he said casually, watching her closely. “You’ve known them for years. Who do you think hated Greg enough to do that to him?”
“Well, I…I…” She bit her lip. “I really don’t know. No one we know, that’s for sure.”
“Why’s that?” Pete asked.
She looked over at him, surprised. “No one we know could’ve done such a thing, of course. I mean, to cut him up like that… You’d have to be a monster. There’s no way we could’ve lived in the same town as a killer and not known.”
“You’d be surprised,” Trevor said under his breath.
Everyone turned to look at him and he winced. He hadn’t really meant to say that out loud. “Um…think of all the people who lived next door to serial killers,” he improvised. “None of them ever suspect.”
“I suppose,” Marsha said doubtfully.
“You’re all talking about what happened to Greg, I suppose,” Terrance said as he came up the front walk. “Terrible thing.”
There was a murmur of assent. Trevor wordlessly handed Terrance a beer.
“Thanks,” Terrance told him. “Think Michelle finally offed the cheating bastard?”
Marsha sucked in a breath. “Terrance! What a horrible thing to say.”
He shrugged and took a drink of beer. “It’s the truth. Just ’cause someone chopped him up doesn’t mean we have to pretend like he’s a saint. The guy screwed everyone who stood still long enough.”
“I can’t listen to this.” Marsha stormed off the porch and past Terrance, almost running back to her house.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Shit,” Terrance said. “Didn’t mean to upset her. Just pissed me off how the article talked about him. You know, what a great guy he was and all that.”
“Article?” Pete repeated.
“Yeah,” Terrance confirmed. “The one in the
Storm County Sun
? Actually, the A.P. picked it up. Guess the murder was gory enough to go national.”
“I’ll have to check it out,” Pete said. “Where’s Abby tonight?”
Terrance shook his head. “This thing really freaked her out. She’s all jumpy today. Startled her when I walked in on her in the kitchen tonight and she nearly took my head off. I told her the psycho who did it was most likely someone he picked up out of town so she shouldn’t worry.”
“Why do you think that?” Rhodes asked. “That an out-of-towner did this?”
Although he looked surprised by the question, Terrance answered easily enough.
“He was always picking up strangers in bars and bringing them home. Like I said, the guy wasn’t what you’d call discriminating and he was always looking for new meat.”
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Across the street, Len’s garage door opened and his minivan backed out of the driveway.
“What’s the story on Len?” Pete asked Terrance as the van accelerated down the street.
“What do you mean?” Terrance finished off his beer and reached for the last unopened one sitting by Trevor.
Trevor raised an eyebrow, watching as the man uncapped the fresh bottle.
“He doesn’t seem to care for us,” Pete elaborated. Trevor noticed he also watched Terrance’s switch from empty bottle to full with sharp interest. Terrance shrugged. “He’s a little, what do you call it? Homo-scared.”
“Homophobic?” Pete offered.
“That’s it.” Terrance nodded. “Me, I don’t care what you guys do in your own bedrooms, as long as you don’t ask me to watch.”
Watch? Terrance?
Trevor’s stomach curdled at the idea. He shot a quick glance at Pete in time to see his tiny wince. Trevor bit his lip to hold back a grin. Pete didn’t like the idea any more than he did.