I lean against her dresser, not wanting to attempt the bean bag and having to struggle to get back up. "Excited about being a freshman in the fall?" Another shrug.
"Hanging around any cute boys?" My sister would not like this idea, but Alice knows I won't blab unless she's doing drugs or harming herself.
One corner of her mouth lifts. And she shrugs.
I walk to the bed, sit on the edge, and playfully slap her foot. "Come on. Squeal. I need to live vicariously through you."
She chuckles and sits up straight, crossing her feet under her knees. "Why? You're an adult. You can do anything you want."
Ha! The innocence of the youth.
"I can legally do more, but relationships are so much more complicated." I whine my last word.
She giggles.
"Young love is fun and fresh and exciting. So tell me." I scoot onto the bed more and match Alice's position, directly across from her.
"Well, there is a boy, Raúl, and he's sweet but shy, so I don't know if he likes me."
Aww, she has a crush.
"Is he cute?"
Her eyes light up. "Oh, yeah."
I try to not laugh at her excitement. It's nice that she's feeling those pitter-patter feelings.
"So if everything is good, what's the problem with your mom?" I ask.
Her happiness instantly fades, and she falls back on her pillows. "She's so mean. She wouldn't let me go hang out at the beach earlier."
"Why?" I'd think Izzie would want to get the girl out of her hair.
She lowers her voice. "Because I didn't do my chores last night."
So in other words, Alice knows she did wrong and didn't want to be punished for it. Again, I hold back a laugh.
"What's the chore, and why didn't you do it?" How hard could it be?
Alice shrugs and says, "Take out the trash."
So that's why it looked like that.
"That's it? Come on, Alice, you know you won't get rewarded when you don't listen, so what's really going on?"
There has to be more deep down. Why is it so hard to get teens to open up?
"That's it. I swear," she shrieks.
I raise a brow and tilt my head just enough to give her that "get real" look.
She doesn't take the bait though, so I ask, "Okay, so why didn't you do your chore?"
She shrugs. Here we go again.
"Too busy texting Raúl or stalking him on Instagram?"
She giggles but shakes her head. "No. Not last night."
We laugh, and it's nice to see her smiling again.
But I'm not letting it go. "So why, then?"
She shrugs, but this time I can tell it's more of a knee-jerk reaction and not an actual answer. "I went down halfway and overheard Mom and Paulie talking about baby names, so I…didn't want to interrupt."
Oh! So this is about home, and it sounds like maybe my niece is feeling left out with the little one coming. I can't blame her.
"Anything else?" I ask. I want to be sure.
She looks into my eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Any other problems? Like, how are you and your friends?"
Another knee-jerk shrug tells me there's definitely a lot on her mind. "Kaisley is mad at me because Levi asked me to go to the movies with him."
I do a double take. "Wait, who's Levi?"
"Some boy in our class Kaisley has the hots for. He asked me out, but I don't like him—"
"Because you like Raúl?"
She nods. "But Kaisley is still mad."
Ah. Friend, boy, and new baby problems. No wonder this girl is slamming doors.
"Okay, do you want some advice?" I ask.
She eagerly nods and leans toward me.
"One. I'm thinking you feel left out with your brother or sister coming."
She looks away, and my heart drops. Poor kid.
"You have to know that your parents love you."
I only get half of a shrug this time. "Yeah, but…"
"What?"
"This kid is Paulie's. I'm not."
My heart drops a little more. "And you think he'll love the new kid more? Not gonna happen."
She looks up, and there are tears in her eyes. "How do you know?"
"Because I've watched him all of these years with you, and he has shown nothing less than pure love for you. Believe me, I know. I mean, I've watched him."
She frowns and then laughs. "Why?"
"Because you are a part of my heart, and if he or anyone ever didn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated, I'd mess them up. I swear."
Somehow, with her young, flexible body, she tilts up onto her crisscrossed legs, falls forward, and squishes me in a hug. I squeeze her back because I need her to truly know I mean every word.
When she's back in her original position, there's a smile on her face. She looks genuinely happy.
I'm not done though.
"And as for Kaisley, talk to her. Get vulnerable, and tell her how you really feel. About Levi, Raúl, and her. Don't leave things unsaid because you A, don't want to ruin a wonderful friendship through miscommunication, and B, don't want to regret it."
My stomach twists as I give out the advice I should have followed a decade ago.
Alice nods. "Okay, I will."
"Great. Now come downstairs, take out the trash, and help me with the rest of the kitchen. Your mom needs help. Do you know how hard it is to grow a human?"
She grins and shakes her head.
"Okay, neither do I, but it looks difficult." I unfold my legs and stand up. "Come help."
"Can I call Kaisley first?" she asks.
"Sure, but don't take too long."
I head downstairs and find Izzie sipping a glass of iced tea and folding a pair of Paulie's boxers. I did not need to see that.
"How did it go?" she asks.
I sit across from her and lower my voice. I won't snitch, but I can push my sister in the right direction. "We chatted, and Super Aunt Gianna fixed all the girl's problems."
Izzie rolls her eyes. "I hate you." Then she cocks her head. "So what are they?"
"Oh, I can't tell you that. But I can say that it must be hard being a teenager with a new baby coming. Hint, hint." Izzie can't help with the BFF stuff. Alice has to do that herself.
"She's feeling jealous or left out?" Izzie frowns. "Paulie has been talking about adopting Alice. He's not sure if she'd want that."
I knew I liked that guy.
"Talk to her about it. Don't treat her like a kid with this."
I agree about adoption. It sounds like a great idea, but feeling like you're a part of your own family isn't a decision that Izzie and Paulie should make for Alice. She needs to be a part of this conversation.
I gently slap the table and stand up. "Okay, now onto this pigsty you call a home."
"Hey," Izzie says with a chuckle.
I head straight to their microwave and pull out the wad of takeout menus leaning up against the side of it. I march back to the table and hand them to my sister.
She looks up in confusion.
"If I'm cleaning, you're going to feed me."
She grabs the stack and smiles.
I figure I'll start with the sink and pour dish liquid on the cloth. I start scrubbing the dishes when Alice comes downstairs. She heads straight to the trash, smushes down what she can, and ties up the bag. Izzie and I glance over a few times but don't say a word. Just in case those horns return.
When Alice takes it out the back door and comes back in, she asks her mother, "What next?"
Izzie looks so surprised, she just stares at her.
I clear my throat. "Um, why don't you put away the food."
Alice reaches for the bread, and I shout, "But wait."
She freezes and stares at me.
"We have to do this right. Go put on some music, and let's dance this kitchen clean." I shake my hips for emphasis. Who says scrubbing eight-hour-old egg yolk can't be fun?
Alice runs into the living ro
om and turns on some pop song super loud.
"Thank you," Izzie shouts before Alice returns and goes for the items on the counter.
I shake my hips again. "That baby better call me Super Aunt Gianna."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I'm leaving Izzie's and on my way home, several hours later, when my cell rings. I don't recognize the number, but since I have the office calls rerouted to my phone during business hours, and I forgot to un-route them today, I answer just in case.
"Hello?" I'm at a red light and hope the caller talks fast or else I'll have to switch over to speakerphone.
"Yes, hi, I spoke with a…um, Gina, I think."
Wrong number.
"Uh, this is about the woman who died in my building," the woman says.
My eyes widen. "Yes, that's me. Gianna. Are you the neighbor I gave my card to?"
"Yes. My, uh, husband is out. Can you come back?"
The light turns green right on cue.
"I'm on my way." I toss the phone onto my passenger seat, look both ways, and do an illegal U-turn.
I'm at Hilary's place in record time, and I don't even make it across the street when I see the woman standing beside the building, hiding by a tall bush.
I approach her and look over my shoulder a few times. I feel like I need a fedora, trench coat, and a cigarette, and then we'll be having a clandestine meeting correctly. "Why are we out here?"
She juts her chin out toward the street. "I want to keep an eye out for my husband. He shouldn't be back for a while, but just in case."
"He doesn't want you to talk to me?" That sounds like it could lead to some juicy story or trouble. I, too, don't want to get caught talking to her if he's hot-tempered or aggressive.
She shoves her hands into her denim shorts. "Not just you, but the police too. He doesn't want us to get involved."
That's not as juicy as I hoped.
"Why not?" I ask.
"He and that woman's husband, the cop, have had some words. Lonnie doesn't want any problems."
If Lonnie ever saw Kevin's angry side, I understand his reasoning.
"What do you know?" I ask. I don't want to come across as rude, but I also don't want to get interrupted by her husband.
The woman shakes her head but is looking past me into the distance, so I think the movement is more her way of clearing her head and not telling me she dragged me down here for nothing.
"They were always arguing," she says.
Yep, that's definitely been established.
"And that night?" I ask. By the time she spits it out, Lonnie will be back.
"We told the police that we weren't home, but I feel awful about that." She hangs her head.
Because they were really home and saw or heard something?
"You're a PI, right?" The woman holds up Julian's card.
If I tell the truth, will she stop talking to me?
"That's what the card says."
She nods and lets out a small sigh. I think that's a good sign. "That means you're not the cops, and you won't tell them what we discuss."
Sure. If that makes her happy and chatty.
"I was home. Lonnie was out. I heard arguing. First the cop husband, then another person, and then another."
That's what Brenda heard too.
"Was it three different voices?" I ask and get excited. If there was a third person, that means Kevin and Michael are innocent.
"They had different vibrations, so maybe, but I'm not sure. I had moved from my living room to my bedroom."
Ugh, the same with Brenda. Why couldn't Hilary have been killed earlier?
Oh no! I didn't mean that.
"Could you make out what was being said in the third argument?" I ask.
"Not clearly, but I heard a few words. Selfish."
That's what Michael called Hilary. Does this mean the third person was Michael after all?
The wife frowns and says, "Also money and meddling?"
Why would Michael be talking about money? What on earth was Hilary discussing with her killer?
"That's all I know," the wife says and scurries past me and up the steps to her building.
I'm not sure if this was helpful or not.
I turn to head back to my car and see the mini skirt neighbor leaving. She looks identical to the first night I saw her, except she's in a gold sequined skirt with a black top this time.
She stops at the edge of the sidewalk, glances my way but apparently doesn't recognize me, and stares at her phone.
I take a few steps closer. "Hi, you live on the third floor, right?"
She looks at me from the corner of her eye. "What do you want?"
"I was hoping we could talk. I saw you the night Hilary died. Um, your neighbor."
She lifts her chin and looks at me fully now. "Oh yeah, you were talking to that cop."
Good, she remembers me enough that I'm not some random stranger walking down the street asking her about the dead woman who was murdered.
"I was wondering—"
She waves her hand. "I don't have time to chat. I'm waiting for an Uber."
Dressed like this, I assume she's going clubbing. Is that still the proper term, or has it become outdated? I can never stay up with current slang.
"I can drive you," I impulsively say and then realize how crazy that may sound. "This way we can chat on the way, and it'll save you the fare."
And because I don't think those reasons say I'm not an axe murderer looking for my next victim, I add, "Hilary was a friend, and I just want to learn what happened to her."
After the words tumble out, my stomach doesn't twist, I don't taste a lie on my tongue, and I'm not feeling stressed. Wait, is this true? I want to know what happened to Hil? What about my not getting involved?
I quickly glance at the building behind us. I just sped here to talk with a neighbor, the second one, and now I'm working on the third. Have I been involved this whole time?
Mini skirt looks me up and down, and I wonder if I pass her inspection. "I've never seen you around here before that night."
"There's some history."
She juts her chin toward the parked cars. "Which one is yours?"
I point. "The silver Kia."
She slightly grimaces and then shrugs. "Fine, I'm going to Oasis. You tell me about your history, and I'll tell you what I know."
I don't even have to think twice. "Deal!"
We cross the street and settle into my car. I turn on the engine, and she says, "I hope you have A/C."
I blast it, make a mental note to get gas on the way back, and start driving.
Oasis Tavern is in the next town, so I'll only have about ten minutes to grill her. I haven't been there yet. It's a bar and restaurant with a small dance floor, according to Enzo, who went there for a bachelor party last year. I hear it has a high price tag and a classy clientele.
"You start first," she says.
Okay, so I need to talk fast.
"Hilary and I grew up together. We were best friends until high school when I found her kissing the boy she knew I had a crush on.
Mini skirt scoffs. "I knew she was a witch."
"Why do you say that?" I ask and head out of town.
"She was always so uppity. Never said hi, didn't chat at the mailbox like everyone else in the building. And she was always griping at her husband. He deserves better. Someone hotter too." She flings her hair off her shoulder, and I have a feeling she's thinking about herself.
I had issues with Hilary, but I never thought of her as uppity or rude. I wonder if this woman's apparent hots for Kevin clouded her assumptions for Hilary.
"I'm Gianna, by the way. What's your name?" I can't keep thinking of her as mini skirt.
"Mindy."
"So what did you see that night?" I ask and drive over the bridge.
"I was coming home when I saw a man leaving. Not sure if he was visiting Hilary or not because he passed me on the stairs, but I doubt he was there for Brenda, and he was
n't visiting me. Although I wish he was. He was dreamy too."
"Did you tell the cops?"
"Yep. They were very interested. They grilled me for like twenty minutes. I didn't mind. One of the officers was nice-looking and kept smiling at me."
I'm assuming she's not talking about Sanchez unless she likes the fatherly type.
I stop at the bar and pull out my phone. I scroll through pics and find one of Michael from last year. He still looks the same now. I turn it so she can see. "Is this the guy?"
Her eyes light up upon seeing him. "Yeah, that's him. A cutie, but not as hot as Kevin."
"Oh, yeah?" I can't see Kevin that way.
"Come on. You never noticed?" Mindy asks.
I change the subject. "Did you see or hear anyone else go to her apartment that night?"
Mindy flips my visor and slides open the mirror. "No, but I don't hear a lot from my apartment since it's on the other side of the stairwell. Mostly traffic. Now when Hilary and her husband are arguing in the hallway or on the stairs, I can hear that."
"Did they do that often?" I assume she'll say yes, but I'd like to dot my Is and cross my Ts.
Mindy pulls out her vampire red lipstick and touches up her mouth. "Sometimes. Brenda says she hears them arguing all the time."
So Brenda likes to gossip. Great. Has she told Mindy or anyone about me seeing ghosts? Now I'm glad I lied to her.
Mindy snaps her lipstick shut and tosses it back into a tiny black purse. "Are we done? 'Cause a whiskey sour is calling my name."
I smile. "Sure. Thank you, and have fun tonight."
She opens the door and laughs. "I always do."
I watch her head toward the double wooden doors, but she turns and approaches a guy she must know. At least I hope they know each other, because she presses her body against his and pulls his head down for a long and rather graphic kiss.
I avert my gaze and take off.
So Michael was there that night. I already know this. Nothing new. But was he Hilary's last visitor? I have a feeling the only person who knows this for certain is Hilary.
I'm back on the bridge, headed into South Shore Beach, and my thoughts are jumping. I don't trust what Hilary's told me. She didn't trust her husband. He couldn't trust her. Michael called her selfish, so they were on the outs too. I can't ask him anything more because he probably no longer trusts me. Ugh, this is awful.
Diamonds, Pies & Dead Guys Page 17
