Gaffe Out Loud

by Christy Barritt

  When your wheels spin like this, it usually leads to trouble, Joey.

  And I didn’t need any more trouble in my life.

  I turned my head toward the house next door as a commotion there cut through the air.

  I glanced across the dune at the place. It was a rental house. Most of the homes in this area were. The section of town where I’d purchased this house was an older area filled with large homes clad with cedar shingles, wooden hurricane shutters, massive decks, and tons of character.

  I stared at the home beside me but didn’t see anyone.

  But there were clearly voices carrying outside.

  Two heated, volatile voices.

  I stood and edged closer to the noise. It almost sounded like the argument was coming from inside the house.

  A man yelled something else—I couldn’t make out his words but they sounded angry. A crash rattled the air.

  A woman shouted back.

  My muscles tensed.

  Someone was having a big-time fight over there.

  I waited, anxious to hear what would happen next. Anxious to know if I should call Jackson back over or grab one of the guys from inside to intercede.

  I didn’t want to be afraid to speak up—not if someone’s life was in danger. And the good Lord knew after everything I’d been through that I didn’t want someone to suffer with the same mistakes I’d made.

  A moment later, the door slammed, and a man stormed out. I backed up, slipped behind a post, and turned, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious I’d been watching.

  But I was totally watching.

  The man stomped toward his car, climbed inside, and pulled away with a loud screech of his tires.

  A moment later, a woman slipped out the door and onto the deck. I didn’t have to see her up close to notice the tears in her eyes. With her arms pulled tight across her chest, she gravitated toward the railing and stared out over the ocean.

  What had just happened over there?

  I nibbled on my bottom lip. Their fight was none of my business. I knew it wasn’t. Yet I couldn’t ignore the instant connection and sympathy I felt toward the woman.

  The two of them had obviously had a fight. She didn’t appear injured. That was good. At least, she wasn’t injured physically. Emotionally it could be an entirely different story.

  “Joey?” someone said behind me.

  I turned to see the other officer at my door. I couldn’t remember his real name, but I called him Officer Duck Donuts since I always saw him eating donuts from a local joint by the same name.

  Jackson always joked about me and my bad memory—especially when it came to remembering things like passwords. He said I wouldn’t be able to remember important details if my life depended on it.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “I’m all finished here. You’re free to go inside. We’re just asking that you don’t go upstairs for the time being.”

  “No problem.” I had no desire to go upstairs.

  But now I had to figure out exactly what to do with myself since my visions of a happy move-in day had been ruined.

  Okay, the last thing I wanted to do was go back into that house.

  So I did what any respectable neighbor would do.

  I went next door to introduce myself.

  And maybe ask if the woman had seen anything over here in the past couple days.

  And to feel her out to make sure she was okay.

  The man she fought with hadn’t returned yet, which made the timing perfect.

  I twisted my hair into a bun as I hurried across the sand that separated my house from their rental. After straightening my blue short jumpsuit set and drawing in a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

  A moment later, a pretty blonde with red-rimmed eyes cracked the door open. “Can I help you?”

  The woman looked older than she should. I’d guess her to be in her mid-twenties, but her drawn features aged her. She had a slim build, long wavy hair, and a picture-perfect face.

  “Hi, I’m Joey. I live next door.” I pointed my thumb that way, trying to sound casual.

  She squinted. “Is there a problem?”

  “There was a little incident at my house, and I wondered if you’d seen anything. I’m assuming you probably checked in on Saturday or Sunday.”

  “What do you mean by anything?”

  I remembered my earlier conversation with Jackson and knew I couldn’t share specifics. “Anything suspicious?”

  She opened the door wider, hugging her arms around her. “I saw the police over there earlier. Is everything okay?”

  “No, not really.” I decided to go with the truth—just not all of it. “I just bought the house, but when I went inside, I discovered . . . someone had broken in. The whole place feels tainted now, you know?”

  “I can imagine.” She drew her arms even closer. “But I can’t say I saw anything happen over there. Then again, I haven’t been paying much attention.”

  “I understand. You and your husband are probably here on vacation, aren’t you? I don’t mean to ruin your fun here.” Yep, I was fishing for information.

  She frowned. “We are on vacation. We came down from Philadelphia. I’m Annie.”

  “Well, you picked a beautiful place to vacation, Annie. How do you like it so far?”

  I was an actress, so this lighthearted banter façade should be a no-brainer, but every once in a while, things went south. At the heart of it all, I wanted to know that she was okay.

  “Oh, it really is beautiful here. And I’m sorry to hear that something happened in your house. I really am. And I wish I could help. But I didn’t see anything.” Her hand was on the door, like she might close it.

  She was trying to get rid of me, I realized.

  That was when I zeroed in on a bruise on her arm.

  Let it go, Joey. Let it go.

  But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t, not based on my own past experiences.

  I nodded toward the blemish. “Oh, man. What happened? Did you run into something?”

  Annie reached for her bicep and covered the bruise. “Yes, I did. The door jam. I can be terribly clumsy sometimes.”

  I swallowed hard, wanting to call her out. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know her. I didn’t have that kind of relationship.

  Despite that, I swallowed hard and started, “Look, if you ever need—”

  “Who do we have here?” someone asked beside me.

  I froze at the deep tone. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was. I recognized the voice from earlier.

  It was Annie’s other half.

  Chapter Four

  I forced myself to plaster on a smile as I turned toward the man who’d stepped up beside me. He was large—well over six feet, with broad shoulders and a broad midsection. He had a head full of dark hair, cut short, and piercing eyes that dared me to challenge him.

  I glanced at his hand and saw a paper bag with the top of a wine bottle protruding.

  I cleared my throat and smiled broader, hoping to put him at ease. “Hey there. I’m your temporary neighbor while you’re here in town. Name’s Joey.”

  The man glared at me as he extended his hand. “I’m Adam.”

  “I was just asking your wife if she’d seen anything strange over at my house over the past day or two. She said she hadn’t.”

  His dark gaze traveled to my place. “I’m not here to keep an eye on other people, just to enjoy myself.”

  “I understand.” Yet the starkness of his words sent a shiver through me. I already didn’t like this man. “I figured it was a longshot.”

  He narrowed his eyes, as if a memory hit him and some of his frostiness melted. “Actually, now that you mention it, there might be something.”

  “Anything would help.” I stepped back and leaned against the railing. A slight sea breeze came from behind me, the smell of salty air along with it.

  “Last night I saw a woman sitting on the deck. She looked like she belonged there—except for th
e fact that the house was all dark. People are weird, you know? I thought maybe she was decompressing.”

  “Did you say anything to her?”

  He tersely shook his head. “No, I just nodded hello. She either didn’t see me or she pretended like she didn’t. Like I said, it didn’t really matter to me. I’m not here to make friends—just to enjoy time with my wife.” He raised the wine bottle.

  When he did, Annie stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist. The two looked happy—kind of. Actually, it looked like they were trying too hard.

  “And this woman was just sitting there?” I clarified. “On my deck?”

  “That’s right. Almost like she was waiting for someone. She wasn’t even sitting in a chair—just against the wall.”

  On the deck? Wait—was this the woman who’d carved the words there? I’d have to figure that out later. “Did she have chin-length brown hair, by chance?”

  Adam let out a sigh, and I could tell I was testing his patience. “It was dark. I can’t be sure.”

  “That was helpful. Thank you.” I took a step away, my stomach churning. “And if you need anything while you’re here, you know where to find me.”

  The last statement was directed toward Annie.

  Adam continued to stare at me as I walked toward the stairs and back to my place.

  That man was definitely dangerous. And Annie . . . she had all the signs of being in an abusive relationship. But I didn’t know what to do to help her.

  So I left, vowing to keep an ear open for any more trouble coming from the house next door. And if I needed to step in, I would.

  Three hours later, I was dressed in a cute black sundress that flowed all the way down to my ankles and some strappy heels. I’d spent my time unpacking my suitcases. I had run to the store to get new sheets and pillows for myself. I was working under the assumption that I’d actually be able to sleep here tonight, though I wasn’t entirely confident about that.

  I’d still had a little time to kill, so I’d sat on my couch and read through my script. Then I looked through some missing persons reports, but I didn’t see anyone who resembled the woman upstairs. I’d rounded out my time by watching funny cat videos. You could never go wrong with those.

  At the moment, I was all ready for my big date with Jackson, and I couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. And I really couldn’t wait to get out of this house. In fact, I’d been on edge ever since the police left.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about that woman in the upstairs bedroom. It made no sense to me how she’d gotten into my house. Who she was. How she’d died.

  The intrinsically nosy part of me wanted to check out the scene of the crime. Since only the upstairs was blocked off, I assumed that’s where the crime scene was contained. And I could also only assume that the police had already checked the downstairs, trying to figure out if someone had broken in and left any clues on the way up to the bedroom.

  As I pulled my feet beneath me, something rattled above me.

  I froze.

  What was that?

  Not a ghost, Joey. Not a ghost. Ghosts aren’t real.

  I waited, desperate to know if I’d hear the noise again. Everything was silent. Eerily silent.

  I released my breath. The sound had been nothing. I’d probably just imagined it, for that matter.

  I relaxed against the cushions.

  Until I heard the sound again.

  It was definitely a rattle. Directly above me.

  Above me?

  Was that the location of the bedroom where we’d found the dead woman?

  I could hardly breathe again.

  Maybe the woman was haunting this place.

  Ghosts aren’t real. Ghosts aren’t real.

  I didn’t care. I had to get out of this house.

  I glanced at the time on my phone. It was 5:30. Jackson should be here any minute. Thank goodness.

  I decided to wait for him on the deck. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I breathed easier. I felt suffocated in my own house. That was never a good sign.

  Deep in my gut, I knew that, until I had answers about what had happened inside, I would never have any peace about staying here.

  But I was going to let Jackson find those answers.

  In theory.

  No, I should resolve to stay out of it.

  But getting involved was so tempting.

  I leaned over the deck and breathed deeply. It was two stories to the ground. All the houses here—most of them, at least—were built on stilts to combat the ocean’s overwash and flooding concerns. Sand stretched below.

  Just looking down caused a wave of dizziness to come over me. I’d never been one for heights, but around here you had to get used to them. Just for good measure, I shook the railing. It felt steady—thank goodness.

  My gaze traveled to the house next to mine. All had been quiet since I’d heard the fight earlier today. Maybe the two of them had shared some wine and made up.

  I still shuddered as I thought about someone living with that kind of anger. It wasn’t fun or healthy. I prayed it was a one-time thing, but I knew better.

  I glanced at the time again before pacing around to the other side of the deck—the side closest to my driveway, where I could see Jackson when he arrived. But as I stepped that way, something else caught my eye.

  It was a woman. Hiding in the dune grass near my house.

  And staring at me like a UFO hunter who’d just seen a mysterious light in the sky.

  Chapter Five

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  The woman didn’t have a camera—not a visible one, at least.

  Was she a fan trying to catch a glimpse of me so she could tell her friends about it?

  Maybe. It had happened before.

  But I didn’t get that impression.

  What if she was here because of the dead body? Were the two events related?

  I needed to find out.

  “Hey, wait!” I started toward the stairs so I could catch her and talk.

  Of course that didn’t work.

  The woman took off down my driveway, headed toward the sidewalk that led along the beach road.

  And, of course, I decided to follow her.

  In my heels.

  Please don’t let the paparazzi see this . . .

  Running in high heels was much more difficult in real life than it was on camera. No detective with an ounce of self-preservation should wear these.

  But, in my gut, I knew this woman had answers. And I needed answers if I was ever going to be able to sleep in this house.

  How did I know? Easy. A fan would stick around for an autograph. Would be flattered that I’d called her out and given her an opportunity to interact. The fact that this woman ran showed some kind of internal guilt.

  My legs burned—and wobbled—as I headed down my steps, to my driveway, and to the sidewalk.

  The woman was fast—much faster than I was. But that wasn’t going to stop me. I pushed myself down the sidewalk, despite the strange looks I was getting from tourists in bathing suits with floats around their midsections.

  A Jeep pulled out from a public parking area, stopped and waited for traffic to clear before turning. The woman slowed so she wouldn’t crash into it. She glanced behind her.

  Her eyes widened when she saw me gaining on her.

  The topless Jeep took off, and the woman skirted around it.

  But not before grabbing something from the back.

  A beach umbrella.

  Before I realized what was happening, she opened it and propelled it behind her.

  Right toward me.

  The breeze caught it and sent it flying like a bullet disguised as a rainbow. The tip hit me in the chest and the rest of it hit the rest of me. I raised my hands and slapped the cheerful stripes from my face.

  Finally, it flew behind me.

  I scowled when I saw that the woman had gained considerable ground and speed.

&nbs
p; But I wasn’t giving up yet.

  I hiked up my dress and kicked up my effort to a new level that I didn’t know I had.

  As I reached another parking lot, two vehicles pulled out, waiting to turn and so close I couldn’t get between them.

  Traffic around this time of year . . .

  I didn’t have time to wait for them to move.

  Instead, I put my foot on the tire of the first vehicle—a truck—and climbed over the bed.

  “Hey!” the driver yelled.

  “Sorry,” I called behind me.

  Then I kept going.

  The woman stopped. Saw what I’d done. Her eyes widened again and then she kept running.

  But her pause had been just what I needed.

  I was close enough that if I lunged . . .

  Without thinking through any repercussions, I threw myself toward her.

  My body flew through the air for just a split second until finally my hands caught the woman’s shoulders. We both tumbled onto the sandy ground beside the sidewalk.

  But not before my ankle twisted.

  Again.

  I paused and bit back my pain.

  Because I had her. I’d caught her.

  And now I wanted answers.

  “Please, let me go.” The woman struggled under me, her hair thrashing over her face. “I didn’t do anything.”

  I grabbed her arms, trying to restrain her—just like I’d learned to do while acting out many scenes on my show. It couldn’t be much different in real life.

  Only she put up more of a struggle than the actors on the set.

  “Why did you run?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “Because you scared me.” She continued to fight me, her body in motion as she tried to get away.

  “I scared you?” I hadn’t heard that one before.

  The woman stopped struggling and looked at me. Her eyes widened. “Oh. My. Goodness. You’re Joey Darling? Joey Darling just tackled me.”

  I didn’t know if I should feel good about myself that she’d recognized me or if I should run. “That’s right. You were outside my house. Staring at me.”