"And the Nordic guy is her husband Dale." Color rose up Meredith's neck. "And he does have amazing cheekbones."
I shot Kevin an I-told-you-so look.
He ignored it. "Did Dale and Russ Grabinsky get along?"
Meredith fidgeted. "I don't like to talk."
Right.
"This is an official investigation," Kevin told her. "You have to talk."
It seemed to me all Meredith wanted was a little prodding. "Well, no. They didn't get along. They hated each other."
"Why?"
"It's complicated. The Hathaways live there," she said, pointing right next door to the house with the wrought-iron fence and fountain grasses. "There's always been animosity between them. The Hathaways wanted to move about two years ago and quickly found out that not only had their house depreciated in value because of the Grabinskys' yard, but also no one would buy it because of the eyesore. It was on the market for almost ten months. Finally they gave up and formed the homeowners' association."
Ah. To get the Grabinskys to comply.
"Russ was mad that Greta had joined the association, but I think she really wanted the yard done and thought that would spur him to do it."
"Why didn't Russ just fix the yard?" I asked.
Meredith shrugged. "He was a jerk. I don't even know why Greta stayed with him. Anyway, Russ refused to fix the yard or pay the association dues."
"What'd the association do?" Kevin asked.
"Started fining him. Two hundred dollars a day. Plus legal fees."
Two hundred dollars a day? My mouth dropped open.
"The association gave them two months to fix the yard and pay the back dues."
I couldn't believe the power a homeowners' association, essentially a group of neighbors, had. "Or?"
"A lien would be taken on the house. It would be foreclosed upon after that and sold at auction to pay off debts."
No wonder Russ was under some stress. I'd be stressed out too.
Kevin shifted from foot to foot. "Where's all this stand now?"
"Well," Meredith said, "the lawsuits have been filed. The lien was placed on the house July first. It's foreclosed upon the thirty-first unless the yard is done and the fees are paid."
Unbelievable. "So Greta could lose the house?"
Meredith nodded.
"How much?" Kevin asked. "What are the fees totaling now?"
"With the legal fees? About thirty grand. That's including the daily fees of the yard not being done for the rest of this month."
Kevin whistled.
My cell phone vibrated on my hip. I looked at the readout and recognized the number immediately since I'd been calling it every hour on the hour since five o'clock yesterday.
"Tam?" I said, answering it. I backed away from Kevin and Meredith.
"I heard you killed somebody! Is it true?"
I gasped. "I didn't kill him!"
"But someone is dead?"
"Well, yeah."
"And you were involved?"
"Not technically. He had a heart attack."
"What? Hold on, Nina." She covered the phone with her hand and murmured something to someone. "Oh, all right," I heard her say. "Nina?"
"Yeah?"
"Someone wants to talk to you."
"Me?"
"Nina Ceceri?"
I sucked in a breath. "Mrs. Krauss? What are you doing there?"
"Keeping Miss Tamara company. Since you're too busy."
I think my stress level had maxed out since her jibe didn't even bother me all that much. "Did you want something?"
"Who died? Was it that awful broom lady?"
Broom lady? "Who?"
She clucked. "The trollop with my Donatelli yesterday."
Boom-Boom. Ah. "No."
"Oh." She sounded sad about it.
I couldn't help but smile. It was wrong, I know. But seeing Mrs. Krauss miserable and jealous did my heart good.
Next thing I knew Tam was back on the line, her voice muffled as she murmured something again, presumably to Mrs. Krauss.
"What was that?" I asked.
"I asked Ursula to turn the TV down." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She snores too."
I rubbed my temple with my free hand. "How do you know that?"
"We're sharing a room."
"What!"
"She's really kind of nice."
Nice? "What kind of drugs are they giving you?"
She laughed.
"Really," I said. "How on earth did she end up in the maternity ward? Isn't she contagious?"
"Actually, I'm in the main ward. The beds were full in maternity. And the doctors said she wasn't contagious. I wouldn't risk the baby's life like that. Oh! Ana just walked in!"
"Don't tell her about the body! Don't tell—"
I heard her say, "We've got Nina on the phone! She killed some guy!"
I hung up, turned the ringer off before I got the Grand Inquisition from my cousin.
Slowly, I walked back to Kevin, whose eyes had a glazed appearance. After two seconds I knew why.
"And the Sheefers? Well, they had a Fourth of July block party one year and Russ called the police every time a firecracker went off. And the Marabellis? Well, every time they leave their kids alone, he calls Children and Family Services."
"How old are the kids?" he asked.
"Fourteen and sixteen."
Kevin sighed, held up a hand. "Thanks for your help, Mrs. Adams."
"It's Miss," she said, batting short eyelashes.
Jeez. Eww.
"Good to know," Kevin said, leading me down toward where the body had laid.
I got the shivvies again as I looked at the spot. Russ Grabinsky's body shape was still indented in the dirt.
"How'd you end up here?" Kevin asked.
"I was hired to redo this backyard. I was misled into believing it was the backyard of my client."
"Why would they mislead you?"
"Beats me."
"So you didn't have permission to work here?"
"Um, that would be no. Now Mrs. Grabinsky is threatening to sue me."
"Ouch."
"Tell me about it. She actually has a case."
"Who hired you?" he asked. "I need to talk to them."
I motioned with my head toward Lindsey Lockhart, who was standing on her driveway, her husband Bill's arms around her.
Bill, who must have known about the makeover all along.
I'd been played. I just didn't know why.
Kevin's eyes rounded. "You're kidding."
"Nope. It was your former in-laws who caused this mess."
Seven
I finally headed back to the office around six. It had been a long afternoon, and as I pulled into the TBS lot I figured by the looks of things it was about to get longer.
There were six cars in the lot, five I didn't recognize and one I did. Ana's SUV.
Let the inquisition begin.
After I parked in an open spot near the garage, I sat there thinking about how a teary Lindsey had apologized over and over for her deception.
I hadn't decided whether or not to accept the apology yet.
I leaned toward or not.
The air conditioner blew cold air in my face and "Rockin' Robin" played on the Oldies station as I sat in my truck trying to sort the story out.
Russ Grabinsky had a passion for healthy eating. He had the desire but not the know-how to open his own restaurant. That's where Bill had come in. Bill managed restaurants for a living and jumped at the chance to co-own one with Russ.
The two next door neighbors had banded together to create Growl. Healthy fast dining, affordable prices.
Bill and Russ had become business partners, whereas Greta
and Lindsey had become friends. According to the Lockharts, Lindsey and Bill felt just horrible over what was happening with the homeowners' association, especially since Russ hadn't put much credence into the HOA's power. Finally Bill and Lindsey decided they'd needed to step in
and do something drastic to help Greta, before she lost her home. And apparently they'd had to do it on the sly because they knew that Russ was too prideful to accept help from anyone, and Greta was too reticent to go against Russ.
So they contacted me. And lied. Outright duped me, figuring no trouble would come of it because they "just knew" Greta and Russ would love the makeover once they saw it done.
Only Russ came down with the flu that was going around and went home early. And died.
And Greta, grief-stricken, lashed out.
The logistics of it all amazed me. Like how had they gotten Russ and Greta out of the house for the whole day? Turns out Russ and Greta went to the gym together every Thursday morning, and Russ went straight to work afterward. Greta, after swimming her laps, usually went home, but today had made plans to meet with Lindsey Lockhart to do a little shopping, go to lunch. Apparently a rare treat.
They'd been together when I called Lindsey, left the message about the dead guy in her yard.
Sitting in the truck, I ran my thumb over the pewter watering can key chain Riley had given me for my last birthday.
There was hope for me. Hope that once Greta had a chance to think things through, she would change her mind. Would let me finish the yard.
Wouldn't sue.
I pushed open the TBS door, and the set of chimes announced my presence.
Ana jumped up, out of Tam's throne chair.
The chimes continued to jangle, snapping my last nerve. I yanked the set off the door and flung them outside into the row of boxwoods lining the path.
Ana's eyes went wide. "Bad day?"
"No, no. Not at all." My gaze swept over the reception area. Five people I didn't know looked back at me, all wearing the same expression. Wide eyes and open mouths.
Probably I didn't make a good first impression, what with chucking the chimes out the door and all.
Sue me.
Sue me. I laughed, cracking myself up.
"Um, Nina. I set up some interviews with some prospects for Tam's job. To fill in, while she's gone."
I checked them out. All still wore that Warning! Warning! In the same room as a crazy lady look.
Two men, three women. All looked respectable, and I had trouble figuring out what they'd done that landed them in Ana's world. I'd never gotten a single guess right, so I didn't try too hard.
All in all, Ana's probationers had worked out for me. I'd gotten burned only a few times. Like the time Pedro Cho drove away on one of my John Deeres, never to return. Or the time Ike Hughes took a deposit for a job and disappeared. The authorities tracked him to a Disney Magic cruise ship, where he'd been whooping it up with Mickey on my dime.
I thought again about not hiring any more probationers. "Ana, I don't think—"
"What's a few interviews?" she asked, hands on hips.
All I wanted to do was wrap up a few loose ends, go home, shower, and crawl into bed for the next three days.
Then I spotted a box of Almond Joys on Tam's desk, with a bow on them.
Bobby. He sent me Almond Joys on a regular basis.
I sighed. What was I going to do about him? The last time he'd dropped me off at home after dinner, he looked at me with those big blue eyes and asked, "Can I come in?"
I'd lied and told him Riley was home.
Ack.
I'm sure he knew I lied, but he didn't call me on it. He just kissed me till I couldn't breathe and walked away.
"Nina?" Ana asked.
Thinking of Bobby lightened my mood. It always did. "All right," I reluctantly agreed. "Send someone into my office."
"Mary Hernandez?" Ana said. "You're first."
A petite woman with long dark hair and darkly tanned skin stood up, walked hesitantly toward the office. "I'll be right in," I said and offered her a drink. She shook her head no.
"So," Ana said as I walked toward the fridge for a Dr Pepper fix, "the dead guy . . . did you really kill him?"
Heads snapped up, stared at me. "I didn't kill anyone!" I cried. "He just happened to . . . well, die while I was there."
Mary hustled out of my office, saying something to Ana in Spanish. She hurried out the door and was followed by three others.
One man stayed, a Better Homes and Gardens magazine forgotten on his lap as he stared at me.
"Really, I didn't kill him," I said to him. "He had a heart attack."
"Did he turn blue?" Ana asked.
Ana had a sick fascination with dead people. She wanted to know all the details.
"Ana," I warned.
"Purple? Did he get all stiff?"
I thought about Russ lying there, a prostrate stick figure, and shuddered.
"Foaming at the mouth?"
"I am not having this conversation."
"You," I said to the man on the couch. "What's your name?"
"Harry von Barber."
"Nina, I'm going to head out now." I jumped as someone came out of the conference room to my left.
"Jeez! A little warning. A slight cough or something! I didn't even know you were here."
Jean-Claude apologized, then said, "I was hiding out after . . . well, you know."
Yeah, I did know. But maybe Kit wouldn't kill him after what happened with the dead guy and all.
He went on. "I've been working on the next job, doing some ordering."
"Good," I said, thinking maybe I wouldn't have to fire him after all.
"Jean-Claude?" Harry asked. "Is that you, man?"
My head snapped to Harry, then to Ana, who shrugged.
Jean-Claude's cheeks turned a fiery red. "Do I know you?"
I caught a very subtle shake of Jean-Claude's head as he asked. Hmmm.
Harry cleared his throat. "Guess not. You just look familiar."
My mouth dropped open. "You knew his name!"
"Lots of people with that name." Harry shrugged, fussed with his collar.
"Uh-huh. Jean-Claude is at the top of every baby name list. I'll have to let Tam know."
"Tam?" Harry asked.
"I better go." Jean-Claude fairly sprinted out the door.
Obviously Harry knew Jean-Claude and Jean-Claude didn't want anyone to know that. Why? Did it have something to do with the late night activities he was so hush-hush about?
Had Harry been into the car stealing business too? Maybe
a drug dealer? Maybe he'd been arrested on possession charges. Asking him might shed some light on JeanClaude's nighttime forays.
"Hey, Harry, why were you arrested?" I asked.
He looked at Ana, his eyes pained. "Do I have to tell her that?"
Ana nodded. " 'Fraid so."
"I, um. Shhrohghn," he said, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
"What?"
He pulled his hand away. "Solicitation, all right?"
I blinked. "You're a prostitute?"
"I prefer escort. And I'll have you know I was entrapped. That's why I got locked up."
Harry was, er, an escort. And he knew Jean-Claude.
Oh. My. God. Was Jean-Claude moonlighting as a gigolo?
"I have to go talk to her, right?" I asked. "Try to explain."
It was early Saturday morning and I should have been helping Kit with a "mini"—a mini makeover reserved for smaller yards or certain problem areas—but I knew the McPhains' yard was perfectly fine in his capable hands. Plus, he had Marty and Jean-Claude with him. Despite my determination to fire Jean-Claude, I'd taken pity on him since he had been at the Grabinsky site after all—helping Kit.
I was such a sucker. How many chances was I going to give him?
Kit had plenty of manpower to transform a small nondescript brick patio into something special. Plus, if he needed help he could always call Deanna or Coby, who were at the office.
Instead of helping out, I'd driven over to see Tam.
"I don't know," Tam said. "It might make things worse."
"Worse than getting sued?" I asked.
Digging Up Trouble Page 6
