Splitsville.com (19 page)

I get out of the car. “I’ve got to finish my job.” I walk away and Carl puts his arm out to stop me. “What?”

“Who did this Olivia?” Carl starts to ask all sorts of questions. “What do you know about Brittany that we don’t?”

“You ask a lot of questions for the professional one here.” I jerk the note from his hands. “You know where to find me when you have a subpoena.” I walk past Ian and stare him straight in the eyes.

I squeeze my eyes shut and open them. Ian’s aura reminds me of the sour apple jolly ranchers. I stumble forward and Carl catches my fall.

His eyebrows narrow. “Are you okay?”

I stand tall and brush my hands down my jumpsuit. I’m not okay, but I can’t let them know that.

“I’m fine.” I hold my head high and keep my eyes on the door. If I can just get myself inside and sit down, I’ll be fine. I can’t risk looking back at Ian.

Relief overcomes me once I get back into the safety of the building. Harold is still staring at the cameras.

“Thanks for nothing.” I take the file off the cart and write down “sour apple.” “You left me out there high and dry.”

Harold hands me a sticky note with a bunch of numbers on it.

I read the numbers out loud. “What’s this?”

“I rewound the security camera footage outside and zoomed in on the car. That’s the license plate number.” Harold is one sly cookie.

I slip the piece of paper in the file. I take Brittany’s picture off the ledge of his desk and put it back in her file.

“Does Brittany have anything to do with what happened tonight?” Harold asks.

“I don’t know. Can you tell me anything else about her?” I pull up the other chair next to Harold and sit down. I have to get my nerves straight before I can think about looking for more clues.

He shrugs. “Only that she was a great housekeeper.”

“Housekeeping?” I try not to sound surprised. “I took her job?”

“She quit and they needed a replacement.”

“Did you know about Kent?”

“Of course, everyone knew about her and Mr. Goodwin. Let me tell you, Mr. Stone was none too happy about Dabi not ripping up that prenuptial agreement where Mr. Goodwin gets alimony.” Harold continues to spew like a volcano, “Now it’s none of my business, but poor Brittany was left out of the big functions.” Harold uses the finger quotes around “big.”

“What big functions?” I write down what Harold is telling me.

“You know, dinners, awards.” He waves his hand in the air. “Mr. Stone said that the housekeeping staff wasn’t welcome.”

That explains why Brittany isn’t in any of the event photos from Dabi’s photo albums. But it doesn’t explain why she would kill Kent. It completely explains why she’d kill Dabi. Maybe Kent had promised to marry her and she knew he’d get the alimony.

“Whoo wee, I remember the night Mr. Goodwin came in here to see her and they had a big fight.” Harold looks into the air like the event is playing in his head. “She accused him of going back to his ways. Especially by accepting the new white shoes Ms. Stone had given all the employees.” Harold takes a sack of grapes out of his brown bag and begins to unzip the baggie. “Dabi had given him a pair, but Brittany said he shouldn’t accept them because it looks like he’s gone back.”

I put my hand in the air. “Stop!” Shoes? “What white shoes? Can you describe them?”

“Mr. Stone had made a big deal with that shoe company with the cat. . .a. . .”

I interrupt him, “Puma?”

“Yeah, that’s the one, and Puma gave Mr. Stone shoes for his employees. Oh, Brittany hated it.”

“Well, what do you mean when you say gone back?” I bet Brittany was talking about how Kent had taken Dabi for her money.

Harold pops a grape in his mouth. “That’s where I draw the line of snooping.” He pops a few more to make a mouth full.

“Do you have a list of employees?” I wonder if I will recognize any one from a list.

“Naw, I just watch the cameras.” He smiles. “But I do know where Human Resources keeps a copy.”

I wink at him. Harold is the eyes and ears of this place. He may have some psychic intuition that he definitely hasn’t tapped into yet.

“Are they saying you had something to do with Ms. Stone’s and Mr. Goodwin’s death?” Harold begins to question my questions. I follow him down the hall to the Human Resources department. There is a list of employees hanging on a corkboard. I take it down. I glance through it and don’t see any familiar names.

“Let’s say I have had some type of contact with both of them. But I didn’t do it.”

Harold laughs, “I know. Because if you did, your finger prints would be everywhere because you sure can’t clean worth a darn.”

Twenty-Four

I’m happy with all the information Harold gave me about Brittany and her ties to Macro Hard. It might’ve answered a few questions, but not all of them. She knows I have to be snooping around or at least the mystery BMW man does.

My thoughts circle back to Michael. He has a white pair of shoes, Kent had a white pair of shoes, and both mystery men had a white pair of shoes—unless he’s Michael. I know Kent didn’t work for Macro Hard and Michael doesn’t and they both own a pair. If I can only pin point the mystery man.

“Harold, thank you for all of your information and making me realize cleaning isn’t my thing.”

The yellow aura completely surrounds him. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t last. It’s a shame, I really like you, Olivia.”

“I really like you too, Harold.” I want to say something about his untapped psychic ability, but it gives me an excuse to come back and visit one late night.

I take my phone out of my pocket and dial Bradley.

“Did you scrub the floors?” Bradley is amused by his question.

“Funny.” I drive out of Macro Hard’s parking lot for the last time. “Can your brother-in-law run a license plate number for me?” I don’t want to give any leads to Carl or Ian. Like I said before, they spent years in college to learn how to investigate. While I spent years in front of the TV watching Angela Lansbury.

“Sure. I may take a while to get the results.”

That’s good enough for me. I read the number off twice so he can write it down and check it.

Once I get home, I have no problem falling asleep on the couch. I’m confident that Brittany doesn’t know I’m Jenn. I have a sneaky suspicion she’s desperately trying to find out who Jenn is. She’s seen me with Erin though and that gives her reason to not like me.

The sound of bells wakes me from my deep sleep. I shield my eyes from the light creeping through the once pulled curtains that are now hanging wide open. Aunt Matilda is standing over me with her trusty old notebook and Herbie is beside me licking my face.

“I thought you might be dead.” Matilda continues to scribble. “Until you started talking about white shoes in Brittany’s closet.” She points to the page in her notebook where she’s been taking notes on my dream. “Something about Carl and jolly ranchers.”

My mind is full of cobwebs as I look at my watch and realize it’s almost night again and I’ve slept the day away.

“Really? Did I say something about Carl?” It’s inevitable that I talk to the police, but I have to figure out if a few of my hunches are right. I need time to put my clues in order, and in doing that I have one last thing to do—break into Brittany’s apartment.

“It wasn’t anything enlightening, but it’s time to get up. We are having dinner company.”

That explains the banging of the pots and pans in the kitchen. My house is so tidy I barely recognize it. And fresh-cut flowers in a vase on the table are a telltale sign this isn’t just any dinner.

Herbie rushes to the door, barking like a mad dog at the sound of knocking. There’s no time for Aunt Matilda to tell me that Carl and Ian are the guests when I open up to find them standing there in plain clothes.

“Good evening, Ms. Davis.” Carl smiles with Ian standing behind him. If they spent as much time on the case as they had getting all cleaned up for a dinner, they might have the case solved by now.

“
Hello, Carl
.” I do my best Jerry Seinfeld impression when he says hello to his neighbor Newman. Sort of my smart-alec way of being annoyed because they’re here.

Aunt Matilda glides her way in between me and the screen door allowing them into the house. I look at Aunt Matilda whose gaze is fixed on Carl.

I step back.

“Don’t you think this is sort of weird having dinner with me when you have me as a suspect on a murder case?” I’m appalled to even think about sitting across from them let alone being able to break bread with them.

“We are off duty.” Ian slides his way past me following Aunt Matilda and Carl into
my
kitchen.

Erin rounds the corner. She seems more annoyed than I am. “I told her this wasn’t a good idea, but she insisted it was.” Erin and I both know not to question Aunt Matilda, well…at least not to her face.

I schlep back to my room and take a quick shower before returning just in time to sit and eat. I can kiss spying on Brittany tonight goodbye.

Herbie is an all together different story. His gentle spirit is turning slightly yellow. I watch as he goes from one door to the other in an uneasy trot. His black eyes fix on mine and he begins to let out a low growl.

Ian looks over at Herbie. “What does he want?” Herbie doesn’t break his stare. He wants me to let him out.

I hesitate as his aura turns yellow. I jump up from my chair as Aunt Matilda gets up from the table and picks him up.

“Maybe he needs to go in your room until our guests leave.” She hands him to me and follows me back down the hall. “What’s going on?” She says in a low tone.

“I don’t know.” I use my fingers and make a circle around his body without telling her his aura is yellow. You can never trust a yellow aura animal. That means they are up to something and can go off any minute. I’m afraid to let him out. Animal’s senses are greater than ours and maybe the killer is outside. Or maybe he doesn’t like the vibe I get having cops in the house. Cops that think I killed not only one person, but two.

Aunt Matilda goes back to the table.

I put Herbie in the spot on my bed where he likes to lie. “Hey, buddy. It’s okay.” I assure him before I go back to dinner. I walk back down the hall into a room full of laughter and clinking glasses.

Carl is telling stories about Aunt Matilda and the crimes they use to solve. I watch as her eyes light up with excitement. I can see her hay days running in her head by the smile on her face. 

“How did you do it?” Ian isn’t following along with Aunt Matilda’s gift.

“Oh, I guess I’m just intuitive.” Aunt Matilda has always been cautious of telling new people about her stint with Park City Police Department.

Carl laughs. “Yea, I’d say.” He fills everyone’s glasses.

Of course Erin is rolling her eyes because she never truly believed in Aunt Matilda’s ability to help with the police, but she never questioned how the crimes got solved. She most certainly never wanted to hear what I had to say about people’s auras. “Not natural, Olivia. Don’t you want to let life unfold?”

Yes, I want to let life unfold, but when it unfolds in front of your eyes without your permission, it’s a little hard to control. As I’ve gotten older it’s been easier and the dreams seem to be less. But these two murders have turned into a nightmare.

“I’ll tell you what. . .” Erin’s sways her glass in the air, almost tipping out what Carl just put in. “I’ve never seen any. . .” Erin hiccups. “Anything.” She brings the glass to her mouth.

“I think Erin’s had enough.” I signal Carl to put the wine bottle away before he begins to top Erin’s glass off.

“I’ve not.” She points her finger towards me. “I deserve to have a drink, seeing that my boyfriend who’s been married, who used your service to break up with his ex, who by the way…” she turns to Ian, “is sending threatening emails to. . .”

No. No. Erin, don’t tell Ian. I know Carl knows, but Ian will not let this die. I open my mouth to stop her just before she plants her face down on the table.

My heart is pounding, fearing she is going to jump up any minute and tell everything she knows. I know I should tell them, I know I should give them the evidence I’ve collected, but I’m not ready to give all the pieces of the puzzle. Not yet.

Everyone laughs but Ian. He’s stone faced. Nervously I chuckle to break any tension Ian may feel. I can tell he is very intent on solving his first murder case in Park City, let alone two.

“I guess she’s had too much wine.” Carl blurts out and Erin wiggles her little finger in the air keeping the rest of her upper body flat on the table.

I get up and help her out of her seat. Ian comes over and does much more of the lifting.

“She can go back here.” I nod towards the guest bedroom.

He picks her up and carries her down the hall behind me. Once he has her on the bed, I turn to go back out.

“Wait.” His voice is demanding. “Ex what?”

I bite my lip and roll my eyes. My back is to him. “What?” I know I have to turn around and face him. Alone. The worst place to be when you read auras. I prepare myself and turn on my heels.

His Jolly Rancher sour apple aura is starting to yellow a little like mustard. My legs shake and I grab the door knob for support. I don’t want him to question why I do this when we are alone.

“You know what?” he whispers and comes a little closer. I close my eyes. “Whose ex is who? Are you withholding evidence from the police, Olivia?”

“I have no clue what she’s talking about.” Another white lie to the police. If they don’t get me for murder, I’m sure they can get me for tampering with evidence.

“You know I’ll throw the book at you if you aren’t telling the truth.” He jabs a finger in my chest bone. “I’m not saying you did it, but I think you know more than you’re letting on.”

I’m not about to give in to Ian and his bullying. It only makes me want to figure this thing out on my own and let them figure it out on their own. “Am I under arrest?”

I push my way around Ian and walk back to find Aunt Matilda and Carl still reminiscing about old times.

I walk over to the front door. I open it and stare at Aunt Matilda. “I think it’s time for them to leave.”

I swear lightening shoots out of her eyes. She’s always telling me to mind my manners, but I don’t have to do it in my own house.

“Okay.” Carl looks at Aunt Matilda, then Ian, then me. “Well, Matilda thank you for a lovely evening. It’s been fun talking about old times.” He taps Ian on the fore arm and points for him to walk to the door. “Olivia.”

I fake a smile. “Carl.” I nod. “Ian.” I slam the door behind them.

The nerve of him coming into my house and accusing me of…well, the truth. If I want him to know the truth, I’ll tell him.

“What is it?” Aunt Matilda stands up and walks over, taking both my hands in hers. This is exactly what she used to do when I was a child and upset about a fight with Erin. “What’s wrong? Did you see something?” Aunt Matilda has a funny way of asking questions indirectly to what she is thinking.

“I don’t know.” I’m so mad at Erin that I can’t focus on anything Ian said. “I can’t believe Erin was going to tell Ian about all the evidence I’ve collected. I can’t go around accusing Brittany of emails she might not have sent, even though everything points to her.” I’d hate to accuse someone falsely.

“Baby steps.” Aunt Matilda saunters down the hall and let’s Herbie out of my room. “Being a detective takes baby steps.” She smiles at Herbie running around and sniffing every inch of where our guests had been.

Baby steps. The last time I heard her say that was when she described our getting to know each other when my momma left.

I’m happy to see Herbie’s aura is back to normal and we can get on with our night. I check on Erin a couple more times before it’s time for me to get back on my normal sleep schedule. It’s been a long couple of days and I’m looking forward to snuggling with Herbie.