One Deadly Sin (8 page)

“I want a swan on my shoulder,” she demanded.

“Absolutely not,” Mimsy said.

“Why?”

“Tattoos are for grown-ups, that’s why.”

“I want to be grown up,” Miranda said.

“Don’t I know it. And much too fast if you have anything to say about it.” Mimsy lifted the girl up. “Come on, child, we’ve got to get home.”

Miranda waved over her grandmother’s shoulder, and against her better judgment, Edie found herself waving back.

She returned to the microfiche thinking of Holt. Lately she’d been doing a lot against her better judgment, hadn’t she?

10

F
red Lyle’s funeral left Redbud quiet all over town. Holt sent Sam to direct traffic into and out of the small town cemetery, which would overflow with family, friends, and plant workers. While the rest of the town was burying one of its own, Holt ran a street patrol. No better time for a robbery than when half the town was away.

But Redbud was silent and calm, its houses small and tidy. And on the east side they were shabbier, strewn with automobile parts and kids’ toys. But he saw no broken windows or signs of vandalism that hadn’t been there before. Nothing out of the ordinary until he got to one weedy yard. Leaning against a detached outbuilding that was once a garage stood a motorcycle.

Holt knew the house well, had cleaned up several drug operations there. He’d have to talk to Runkle again. The grass needed mowing, the house needed painting. It looked forlorn and abandoned. No wonder one scumbag after another thought it the perfect place to set up shop.

He parked. Got out of the car and crept up the front steps. The door was locked, the curtains drawn. Slowly, he eased his way around back.

Someone was sitting on the back stoop, turned away from him. But he’d recognize that head of hair anywhere.

“Edie?”

The surprise on her face mirrored his own. “What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“Just what I was going to ask you.” He crossed to the stoop, stood with a foot on one step.

“Meeting a real estate agent. Dennis Runkle.”

Holt’s eyebrows rose. “Real estate? This place?”

She shrugged. “It’s affordable.”

“Not when you look at the repair bills.”

“It’s criminal the way this place has been neglected. You definitely should be arresting someone.”

“I did. Cleaned up a drug gang here. Saw the bike out front. Thought someone was starting it up again.”

She raised her hands. “Not me. Just looking for a place to live besides Red’s.”

“So the bike’s yours?” He glanced at her curiously. Jealously even. “Nice ride you got there.” He let that float away. Gestured to the run-down house. “So… planning on staying a while?”

Edie scanned the yard. She’d come straight from the library, not knowing what she’d find, but not expecting this. The grass had given up fighting with the weeds, which were knee high in some places. Her grandmother’s house was riddled with neglect and abandonment.

“I don’t know.” She rose, pushed through the weedy thicket to the elm tree in the south corner. “Maybe.” A souvenir of better times, remnants of a tire swing hung from a branch. The thick rope her father had used to fasten it had been replaced by blue nylon. While most of the tire was gone, that indestructible nylon noose hung on. She pushed the piece of black rubber still attached to it. Squeals of laughter echoed in her memory.

Holt joined her. “Wouldn’t be hard to fix. New tire, new rope. Back in business.”

If only fixing the rest was as easy. A wave of sadness rolled over her and she turned back to the house. White paint peeled off the back wall and rust spotted the metal edges of the screen door.

“Don’t think I’ll be needing it,” she said. Maybe this was a bad idea. Too much memory could drown her.

Well, drowning was always a risk. Wasn’t that why Aunt Penny never brought her back here?

“Why can’t you leave the past where it belongs?” she always complained, even in those last days.

“Because it’s with me. Always,” Edie had replied, handing her a glass of water with a straw. Her aunt had shriveled to almost nothing, stopped eating, barely drank anything. She wanted to die, and it made Edie furious. As if egging on the anger, Penny waved the glass away, shifted in the hospice bed, and turned her face to the wall.

Edie gritted her teeth. “Please,” she begged. “You’re the only person who can tell me now, the only one left.” Her voice cracked. Tears of anger and frustration began to sting, and Edie swiped at her eyes.

With a grunt of pain, Aunt Penny turned to face her niece. “You’ll be all right, cookie,” she whispered. “You’re strong. You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Edie said. “You’re not the one who’ll be alone.”

Her aunt managed a choked cackle. “I’ll be the one dead.”

“You and everyone else.”

Her aunt patted the bed weakly. Edie sat, and her aunt took her hand. “Why do you tramp through the world with your fists up? Don’t you know there are some things can’t be changed? No matter how hard we wish for them.”

“I just want to know what happened. Please.”

“All right. Don’t have the strength to battle with you anymore. Though I don’t think it’ll bring you much peace.”

And after all the times she’d asked, Penny had finally given her what she wanted. A week later she was dead. Edie stayed to see her buried, packed up the apartment, gave away her clothes. A month after the funeral she pulled into Redbud. Alone, adrift, and ready for payback.

“If you’re serious about buying, I’m sure you could do better than this.” Holt pushed the tire remnant, and they watched it swing.

“If I had the cash, you mean.”

“If you had the brains,” Holt corrected.

Just then the voice called out, thick with false cheer. “Halloo?”

“Back here,” Edie shouted.

A small, energetic man with a golf course tan emerged around the corner. He wasn’t young, but he was well-preserved. Expensively dressed. And the hand he extended to shake had a thick gold bracelet on it.

“Miss Swann? Dennis Runkle.” A wide smile accompanied Runkle’s outstretched hand. He looked from her to Holt. “Nice to see you, too, Chief. Problem?”

Holt shook his head. “Just making sure you don’t sell Miss Swann a bill of goods.”

Runkle chuckled. “Oh, I warned Miss Swann about the condition of this property. And she said she was looking for something out of the way.”

“I like to work on my bike,” Edie said to Holt, using the explanation she’d given Runkle. “Too many neighbors complain about the noise.”

Holt seemed satisfied with that, but he cautioned Runkle on keeping the house maintained and Edie on purchasing it. “Buyer beware,” he told her.

When he was gone, Runkle turned to Edie. “Front or back?”

She chose the front and he guided her to the door. “Watch your step, here, young lady.” Runkle inserted the key, had a little trouble with it sticking, but eventually got the door open.

Suddenly she was surrounded by the familiar and unfamiliar. Roses still clung to the walls, but the wallpaper was dirty and faded. Nothing like the bright, airy foyer she remembered. Instead of the homey smell of Sunday dinner, the air was stuffy and reeked of mold. And the house was much smaller. As a child it had seemed gigantic to her. Now it was stunted and dwarfed by time.

She followed the real estate agent to the kitchen. A rust stain marred Grandma’s sparkly-white porcelain sink.

“Not much to look at,” Runkle said.

She pulled at the oven door, and it opened with a squeak. “Well, I don’t cook much.” She remembered chicken swimming in a sea of gravy. Mashed potatoes. Her mother smiling as they sat down. Her father holding the chair for Aunt Penny.

“Want to see the rest?”

He led her up the stairs to the bedrooms, and she ventured her first real question.

“So who owns this place now? Why’d they let it get so dilapidated?”

“Not much going on this side of town. House hasn’t been lived in for a long time. Twenty, thirty years ago used to be the Bellinghams lived here. Old Mrs. Bellingham died and the property was sold to settle the estate. I bought it five or six years ago, kind of a speculation. Development’s going to come to this area one of these days. Been renting it on and off, though the last lot was a horror, as the chief said. One of these days I’ll just tear the thing down and put it out of its misery.”

Bellingham. Her mother’s maiden name. The answer to every security question she’d ever been asked.

She floated to the room she’d stayed in when she slept over. Her mother’s room. Not that she would have recognized it. There was no trace of the white dresser or the pink chenille bedspread. An iron bedstead and a bare mattress occupied the space now. Looked like prison gear.

“Seen enough, young lady?”

She nodded and they trooped down the stairs. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that,” Runkle said with a wink. “Wouldn’t blame you a bit not wanting to live out here. Still got that condo in town, if you change your mind. Nice hardwood floors. New appliances.”

They left the house and walked to the curb where Runkle’s car—a neon-blue Corvette—sat. “You just let Dennis Runkle know how he can be of help.”

And now the real reason Edie had set up this appointment. She fingered the tiny treasure inside her pocket and leaned against the passenger side door. Examined the car with bright eyes. Guy who owns a car like that had to be a little machine proud. “Nice wheels.”

Sure enough, he brightened. “You like cars?”

“Who doesn’t?” To distract him, she pointed to some gizmo on the dash. “What’s this?”

Runkle went off on a lengthy explanation of torque and rpms, explaining it as if she’d never heard the terms before.

Okay by her. While he was busy with show and tell, she slipped her little gift under the briefcase he’d laid on the front seat.

“Impressive,” she said when he paused for breath.

“Best money can buy.” He smiled proudly and reached for the briefcase.

Edie froze. Waited breathless to see what would happen. How he would react. A small thrill of anticipation ran through her.

But he only snapped the case open and brought out one of the Runkle Real Estate fans she’d seen at the picnic. He handed it to her, pointing at the logo. “Got my phone and email there. Keep in touch, young lady. I’m sure we can find something for you.”

“Thanks.” She gave him the smile she usually saved for customers and watched him go. He waved as he drove away.

When he was gone, she pulled out the crumpled list she’d carried everywhere for the last few weeks. Aunt Penny’s list. She stared at the five names like they were the magic keys to unlock the kingdom of revenge.

She’d seen Lyle at the picnic. Now Runkle. Three more to go.

The fun was only beginning.

11