Splitsville.com (18 page)

I jot down the last item on my list before the mystery guy pulls out and Brittany runs back in her house. I wait a second before I make a u turn and follow the BMW onto Main Street. Unfortunately, with the rain, traffic is a mess and the BMW slips in and out making it hard for me to follow.

I take the next right and wind my way around the streets, straight for Erin’s house. Erin might not want to see me, but she has no choice.

The complex looks completely different since the last time I was there. The cops have long since gone. The rain makes the building drabber than it really is, if that’s possible. I dodge the puddles going up the steps by tip toeing over them. Icky drops of something are falling on top of my head from the stairs above. God knows what’s dripping off them.

I knock.

I see the light from the peep hole disappear into black.

“Erin, I know you’re looking at me.” I jam the files back up under my sweatshirt so they won’t get wet. “I need to talk to you.”

“Go away.” My happy-go-lucky friend is not going to open the door just because I say so.

I pull the files out from under my arm pit and sweatshirt. “I don’t have time for these high school games.” Okay, so that most certainly won’t entice her to open the door. I hold the file up next to my face so she can see it, “I think I know who did
it
.”

I don’t dare say who murdered Kent, because I am sure her nosy neighbors are listening.

My heart beats a little faster when I hear the click of the door lock and the slide of the chain. Erin is standing there in her Dartmouth sweatshirt and cut off sweats. I’m taken off guard. It’s not an outfit you see Erin in too often. Me? Yes. I wear sweats daily. Erin, not so much.

She opens the door to let me in. I don’t say a word or at least I don’t tell her she looks like crap. I can’t help but look at the big hole of carpet missing from the floor where a once dead Kent was found.

I’m concerned. I can’t imagine her wanting to stay here. “Where have you been living?”

“In my car.” Her voice is monotone like the color on her face. I try not to stare. Her aura is grey with a red overlay. The grey tells me she is sad or sick and the red overlay tells me she is trying to protect herself. Is she protecting herself from me or the police?

I can’t believe I let her stay by herself. But with my news, I have high hopes her aura is about to change. I’m not such a good friend. “Oh, I’m sorry for fighting.”

She lifts her head with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Me too,” she says. We hug for a brief moment and she cuts to the chase. “So who did it?”

I take the camera strap off my shoulder and click through the pictures. I get to the ones of Brittany. “Is this the girl you saw fighting with Kent at the bar the night before his death?”

Erin takes the camera out of my hands and hits the zoom button to get a closer look. I peek over her shoulder to inspect Brittany up close.

Erin’s face begins to shows some sign of color other than blah. “Yes. That’s her.” A little pink creeps into her cheeks.

“Is this the girl you saw at the SPCA?”

“Yes!” Her voice escalates, “And she’s the girl I saw leaving the coffee shop the day you got the lead.”

That’s all I needed to hear. “She dated Kent and he used Splitsville.com to break up with her.” I hand Erin the file. She walks over to the couch and sits down. She begins to read the dump out loud.

“What?” Erin begins to pace. “Girlfriend? Splitsville.com?” She stops and shakes her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about her. I knew something was funny when I told Kent about your company. He turned white like he’d seen a ghost.”

I take out Dabi’s file and hand it to her. “Kent knew about Splitsville.com because Dabi used it. Actually Dabi and Kent are divorced.”

The little bit of pink in Erin’s cheek completely melts away. “I’m going to be sick.” Erin runs down the hall to her bathroom. I go into the kitchen and retrieve a glass of water.

“Here.” I hand the glass to her and she takes it. “I’m so sorry, but I have to tell you the details in order to exonerate you, me and Splitsville.com.” I begin gently and tell her how I found out everything I know.

The sound of her laughter lifts my heart. “I can’t believe
you
of all people is cleaning. And a building at that.” She can hardly contain her composure. I laugh with her and it all turns out into a full outcry. We sob like babies.

“I’m so glad I have you.” I hug her. “Let’s get your stuff. Herbie misses you.”

I gather all the files and wait for her to get some things together.

“I have to make a stop before we go home.” We buckle our seat belts and drive off to Michael’s to get a few of my questions answered.

I want to know if he knows Brittany and her capacity with the company.

Erin and I think of questions I can ask Harold during my night shift. I really need to find Brittany’s file from Macro Hard. I want to know how long she’s been there. If she knew Kent and Dabi when they were married. Everything, before I go to the police.

Michael and Belle are running across the street as if on cue. I smile because he looks so funny dragging a dog who obviously doesn’t want to be in the rain. I beep the horn to grab his attention.

He runs back towards us and hops in the car.

“Michael, Erin,” I make a quick introduction and gesture between the two. “Erin, Michael. We are all suspects in these messy murders I’m trying to solve.” I check my watch to see how much time I’ve got left. If I hurry, I can make it home in time to rest my eyes for a couple hours before I have to put on my jumpsuit for another exciting night of scrubbing toilets and taking out tampons.

Michael nods at Erin who nods back. “Hey, what’s going on?” He turns his attention to me.

“I want to know if you know this girl.” I take Brittany’s picture out of her file and pull the digital camera photo up from today. I hand them to him to look over.

His eyes wander back and forth from the camera to the photo. There doesn’t seem to an ounce of knowing who she is. He hands the picture back to me and the camera to Erin. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Brittany and she dated Kent.” He takes the picture back out of my hand and takes another look.

“
This
is Brittany?” He holds the picture closer to his face. “I knew he dated a girl named Brittany because people gave him crap about her. She doesn’t look so bad.”

I pluck the picture from fingers. “Well she may be the answer to our prayers. I’ll keep you posted.”

Michael looks out the window to make sure no one is around. He picks up Belle and he bolts to his apartment building trying to dodge all the puddles in his…
white pumas
!

“Do you see his shoes?” I fling my body across the seat and plaster my hands on Erin’s passenger window. “Freakin’ white Pumas.”

My stomach curls. Everything Michael and I had talked about, all the sneaking around Dabi’s apartment, having keys to her office, me getting a job there-everything! What if he did do it? What if he’s collecting evidence for the police to use against me?

“What?” Erin pushes me back in my seat. “You don’t like Pumas?”

Ay, ay, ay. “Michael, you have some ‘splaining to do.” I do my best Ricky Ricardo accent. On our way home, I tell Erin everything I know about white Pumas and how they have made my life a living hell.

Twenty-Three

I don’t get any sleep before it’s time to start my night shift at Macro Hard. I don’t think I can sleep if I try. Thinking about Brittany—and now Michael—is a shot of adrenaline I don’t need.

Aunt Matilda listens to every word I’m telling her about all the clues I have put together.

“You need to tell Carl.” She holds the phone up for me to take.

I come to the conclusion that she’s talking nonsense now. “I don’t see how that’s going to help. I won’t know for sure until I check more out tonight.” There is
no
way
I’m telling Carl or Ian about anything I found out. “They spent all that money to go to college to be a cop. They should already know all of this stuff.”

Aunt Matilda crosses the floor of my office as graceful as a ballerina. There is just something wonderful and soft about her. The way she moves like a butterfly is one trait I didn’t get from her. “Carl may have Brittany linked somehow. He might be able to trace them all.”

I know he’d be able to, but I’m leaving that up to Bradley.

Before she walks out the door, she tilts her head to the side, smiles and says, “Herbie and I are going to my house for a while.” Her hand grips the crown molding on the door and she swings back around. “The old people at the retirement community love dogs.”

I chuckle at the fact she’s the same age as the residences.

“Have fun.” I walk into the kitchen where Erin is propped up on one of the bar stools. She is wrapped up in Aunt Matilda’s arms.

“Want to come?” Aunt Matilda asks Erin.

“Where?” Erin flings her bangs out of her eyes.

“Herbie and I are going to the home of the near dead.” Her eyes twinkle.

Erin looks over at me with a cockeyed look. “Where?”

I laugh at Aunt Matilda’s quirky humor. “Retirement community.”

Erin hops off the stool and slips her flip flops on. “Sure.”

“Let’s go.” Aunt Matilda winks and floats out of the house with Erin and Herbie in tow.

These dumps are never going to get done. I make my way back in the office to get at least one dump done before I go to Macro Hard. Splitsville.com has taken a back seat to this sleuthing junk and that’s not what I promise as a business. Once I hear Aunt Matilda and company pull out of the driveway, I begin my calls.

“Hi, is this Linda?” I question the older voice on the other end of the phone. I’m already agitated. I specifically ask dumpers for a number that no one other than the dumpee will answer. I don’t have time to go through parents or grandparents to get to the dumpee.

“This is Linda.”

I jerk my head back and hit click so I can see Linda’s photo. There she is a middle-aged woman. My first middle-aged woman.

I’m completely taken back. “Ah, yeah.” I think about Aunt Matilda and how she’d feel if someone she dated dumped her using Splitsville.com. I quickly put it out of my mind because Aunt Matilda hasn’t dated,
ever
.

I get out of my chair and look in the oval mirror hanging on the wall. My eyes stare deep into my dark pupils. Get a grip.

“I’m Jenn from Splitsville.com and Justin hired me to break up with you.” I tap under my eyes. This night job is going to be the death of me. Oh, another plus about doing jail time, I can sleep all day.

“I’m on a business trip and I don’t know what you are talking about.” Linda is a bit older and wiser than most of my clients. “Did you hear me?”

“I do hear you Linda. But most importantly do you hear me?” Just being older doesn’t give her the right to be a bitch. What is it with old people? When is it okay to say, “Screw it, I’m old and I can say whatever I want to whomever I please?” Well, not today!

“I should’ve dumped that lazy bum a long time ago.” Linda’s tone is sharp.

I look at her middle-age photo and see the sour-puss look on her face. No wonder he wants to dump her. I’m kind of mad at myself for feeling sorry for her when I first looked at her picture.

“He waits at home for you all week long while you’re gone on these business trips with God knows who. . .er. . .it says here Daniel. Okay,” I gather my senses. “You’re gone all week with Daniel while Justin waits around for you.”

“He needs to get off his lazy butt and get a job. Then I wouldn’t have to go on these trips.”

I lay my head on the desk. “So are you telling me that you and Daniel aren’t an item?” All I can think about is getting this dump complete, getting on my fancy jumpsuit and questioning Harold.

“Whoa, whoa.” Linda is definitely smarter than most and a bit more complicated. I’m tired and I’m not on my game right now. “Justin breaks up with me and now you want to know if I’ve cheated on him. Right. I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t have time for this?” I jump at the chance to scream at her, “I don’t have time for this! Do you have death threats against you? Do you have to clear your name of murder? Do you? Do you Linda?! Do you understand Justin has dumped your middle aged cheating butt?” I scream in the phone waking up every little sleepy bone in my body. I’ve totally lost it.

“Yes. Now I can move on with Daniel.” Linda got the last word before the line went dead.

I email a dump notice to Justin and leave it at that. I bend down and turn my computer off. In the kitchen I find my jumpsuit neatly ironed, by Aunt Matilda of course, on the barstool. I open the refrigerator and pack a few snacks. Maybe I can get to Harold’s heart through food.

***

The rain has given way to a chilly spring night. The town is quiet. Every business has closed up for the evening. Aunt Matilda’s truck is exactly where it should be. I stop at the red light and glance over at the retirement community. Through the window I see Erin, Aunt Matilda, and Herbie entertaining the group of residence gathered around them.

It’s good to see Erin smile.

With no traffic, I pull into Macro Hard and feel happy to see there aren’t any cars in the lot except one—Harold’s. I grab the files sitting on my passenger seat, all the snacks I prepared to bribe Harold, and hand lotion. I made sure to bring my own lotion because my hands are starting to dry and crack from the cleaning chemicals. But the calluses are looking much better.

I wave at the security camera above the door before I swipe my entry card. I know Harold is watching.

“On time tonight, I see.” Harold is already at his perch and ready to go. I stop when I see his yellow tone aura wrap around his security hat and through his soft grey wisps curls sticking out from under it.

People who have an undeveloped psychic intuition are surrounded by yellow tones.  

“Do you think you’re going to get some other work done?” He is referring to the files

under my arm.

“Good evening.” His aura is telling me to be cautious, he could call my bluff. I have to get some information out of him. I plop the sack of goodies next to his sack of goodies. “I brought you some snacks since you let me eat some of yours last night.”

“Hmm.” Harold stands up and picks through the snacks. “Veggies, bagel chips, fruit.
Dip
?” His thin lips turn up in a smile of approval.

“I’m glad you like it.” I look down the hallways on either side of the desk and it’s dark and quiet.

His grin doesn’t last long. “What’s the catch?”

I play if off, but he knows something is up my sleeve. “No catch.” I walk over to the closet to retrieve my cart and begin filling up the bottles. I look over at Harold with an empty bleach bottle on my hand. “Ya know, they really should invest in some hand friendly products.”

I go about my business and begin pushing the cart down to the bathrooms. I can get a jump on them while Harold settles down with the sack of food. I hope it relaxes him a bit so I can snoop.

I look up and Harold is standing next to my cart.

“What’s in this file?” I keep my files with me because I don’t trust that he won’t go through my things. After all, he is the security guard. “More investigating?”

I take the bleach spray off the cart and walk into the bathroom. “Mm hmm.” I spray along the base of the toilets going from one stall to the next. “Put it back.” I don’t have to say anything else. I hear Harold shuffle out of the bathroom.

After finishing both the men’s and the women’s bathroom, I’m ready to take a snack and find what I’m looking for.

“Break already?” Harold looks up from the paper he’s reading.

“I guess we can’t all read all night and get paid for it.” I smile getting a diet coke out of my cooler next to his chair.

“Actually you’re doing much better tonight.”

“That’s because I want to finish early. I didn’t get to nap today and I’m tired.” I take a carrot from the sack and offer one to him. I take the file from the cart and pull out Brittany’s picture.

I’m tired of waiting around for the right opportunity to ask him questions. Either he’s going to tell me something or not. He can call the police, Mr. Stone or whomever he pleases on me. I won’t be back after tonight, or I hope I won’t be back.

“Do you know this girl?” I hand him the drab photo of meek Brittany.

“My goodness.” Harold makes a few noises under his breath. “What do you want with Brittany? Is this why you’re working here?”

“So you know her?” I walk around to his chair and look at the picture again. That innocent smile, that neatly coifed hair and outfit to match are certainly not the images you associate with a cold-blooded killer.

“Sure do. I’ve spent a lot of time with this girl.” He hands the picture back to me. “Little obsessive, but kind.”

“How so?” I can’t believe he’s saying the same things Kent did about her.

“For starters she always kept the closet tidy. Everything has a place she’d say.” He shakes his head and points back to the picture. “That girl can tell if a rag is out of place. I’m not kidding.” He clicks the computer screen to twelve images showing the outside of the building and the parking lot. “And she always filled the bottles before she left for the night. Plus I never had to get bleach for her.”

“Why would she care about rags?” I find it strange that Brittany cared about the cleaning of the building, but I guess OCD people obsess about a lot of different things.

He continues to scan the videos making sure all is safe at Macro Hard and doesn’t look up. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“Didn’t she have to worry about her job?” I watch Harold push several different buttons and zoom in on the parking lot.

“She did.” He zooms in on a car next to mine. “Strange.” He zooms the cameras in a little closer. “I don’t recall that car being parked next to yours.”

I creep around to the monitor and take a closer look. Funny, because I don’t either. I distinctly remember only two cars: mine and Harold’s. I squint and make out the car. I swear it’s the BMW from Brittany’s house.

“There wasn’t a car.” I run around the security desk towards the glass front doors and grab my keys off the cart. “Somebody is trying to get into my car.” I hear Harold’s footsteps behind me and feel a little safer. I don’t know why, he doesn’t carry a gun or anything.

Without looking, I get my pepper spray ready and leap over the perfect manicured bushes, towards the back of the BMW speeding away. I turn to see if I can get the license plate, but it’s going too fast. My car door is open.

“Damn!” I look in my car to find the contents of my glove box emptied out onto the floor. The list of motives why Brittany killed Dabi and Kent is stabbed into the dashboard with a Swiss army knife.

“Are you okay?” Harold questions, with the phone attached to his ear. “I’m calling the police.”

I’m too scared to stop him. My heart is racing, my breaths are short and quick. This investigation has gotten a little bit bigger than me. Maybe it’s time I tell the police everything.

Within ten minutes Carl is on the scene, shortly followed by Ian. Harold is back inside keeping a very close eye on the building through the safety of his cameras.

“Well, well.” Carl walks around my car. “What do we have here?”

I roll my eyes. I don’t want to focus too much because everyone’s aura is colliding. Then Carl may question if I have the same “gift” as Aunt Matilda.

Carl hands the list of motives to Ian.

“Have you been doing a little investigating on your own, Ms. Davis?” Ian has a spark in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell us everything you know?” He opens the door to his cop cruiser for me to sit and wait while Carl looks around my car for clues.

Strangers invading my car is where I draw the line. Obviously someone knows who I am, and with the death threats, I need to make sure I’m safe. My Blackberry goes off, signaling a dump. I look at my watch.

2 A.M.? Who is up doing a dump at 2 A.M.? I totally bet it’s what I call a drunk dump. That’s usually the late night dump when lovers fight and using Splitsville.com is a handy tool to get back at each other.

I thumb through it as Carl and Ian finish looking around. It’s not a dump, it’s another threat.

Look at you sleeping so sound in your bed. Are you scared? Soon your heart will be ripped like all the hearts you’ve ripped.

I gasp and put my hands to my mouth. “It’s not the same person,” I whisper as I reread the words.

If BMW man was here and knew I was here, the email had to be sent by someone else, someone who thinks I’m at home—Bree.

I put my head in my hands. I feel like the tears are going to come flooding out. Now I have two separate people to worry about.

Carl and Ian look over. I try not to give away what’s going on in my head. Brittany can’t be the one sending death threats. But the lipstick, Erin identifying her, the motives all add up. I’m so confused.

Carl leans onto the cop car. “You can start from the beginning. Or you can tell us who and why would someone break into your car?”