Trouble In Spades

by Heather Webber

  Ah! Victory. "And," I said, slightly out of breath, "I have to make nicey-nice with Brickhouse Krauss!" Take that, I silently added.

  Maria swiped a muddy lock of hair off her face, narrowed her eyes as she adopted her Grace Kelly look. "Well, I have a dead body in my pond."

  It took a second for her words to register. I was too busy thinking ahead to the next miserable aspect of my life. Carefully, I edged toward the pond, hoping this wasn't a ploy to push me in.

  I peered. Sure enough, there was a woman facedown, dressed all in black, in the shallow murky water, her hair floating around her head like a blonde halo.

  Slowly, I looked back at Maria, who was looking rather smug. "You win."

  Eleven

  Best the medical examiner could tell without a full autopsy, Claire Battiste had been dead less than a day. I wasn't impressed. By now, two hours after Maria and I had found her body, everyone knew Claire had been seen at her office yesterday afternoon.

  Kevin and Ginger Ho, er, Barlow had been questioning us since they'd arrived at Maria's. I cursed my luck that there weren't any other homicide detectives on duty. I pulled a blanket tighter around my muddy shoulders as two burly medical personnel carried the stretcher with Claire's body on it, zipped inside what looked like a Gor-Tex cocoon. I shuddered.

  Kevin rubbed his chin. "Tell me again why you two were out in the mud?"

  Maria looked up at him, arched a muddy eyebrow. "We were dumping a dead body in the pond." I gave her a sharp jab with my elbow.

  Her high-pitched voice scraped my eardrums raw. "What? They've asked us the same questions over and over."

  I glanced up at Kevin, gave him my best please-help-me face. It wasn't hard considering I looked the way I did. "Detective Barlow, why don't you walk Ms. Ceceri through the events."

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Maria's lips press into a thin, tight line. Her control over her temper was being sorely tested.

  As they walked away, toward the pond, Kevin picked up a lock of my mud-covered hair. It crunched between his fingers. "Mud's good for the skin, right? Same for hair?" I was in no mood. "Can we go now?"

  We'd been through everything that had happened in the last two days—from Nate's disappearance to our trip to the Kalypso that morning. "Not yet."

  I sat on the concrete step leading from the back door to the patio. "Maria called me last night," I said. "She'd thought she heard something back here . . . I thought she was just being paranoid after the break-in at the condo."

  "Did she come out and look around?"

  I shook my head. Mud crackled and fell to the ground. "No, but she did look out the window. She didn't see anything." "Is there any chance Nate was sleeping with Claire?"

  I looked him straight in the eye. "I don't think so. Nate's not that kind of guy. Of course, I didn't think you were that kind of guy either."

  The muscle in his jaw pulsed. "Was Maria jealous of Claire?"

  I jumped to my feet. "Oh no! No, you don't. Maria has nothing to do with any of this."

  He shrugged. "She's a suspect. The victim was found in her yard."

  I swallowed hard. He was just trying to upset me. Or prepare me, my inner voice said.

  I told it to shut up.

  One of the crime scene guys carried a Ziploc bag with a ski mask in it past us. I blinked.

  A ski mask. Dressed all in black . . . bulky black too. A huge sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants. Jaw dropped, I looked up at Kevin.

  "Yeah, I noticed that too," he said. "We'll see what the autopsy says about her eyes."

  "She had to be the person who broke into Maria's!"

  "We can't assume anything. And I wouldn't share that theory with anyone until we know for sure."

  With anyone . . . Like Maria. She did have a big mouth. I thought he was probably just being stubborn because he didn't want to admit a woman could have gotten through a dead bolt. "All right."

  "We'll put out an APB on Nate and his car and continue to investigate all angles."

  I wasn't above assumption. Claire had to be the one who'd broken into Maria's condo. It was too coincidental. What had Claire been looking for? The package Nate sent me? I opened my mouth to tell Kevin about the phone call I'd gotten and that package. After a second's hesitation I closed it again.

  Kevin was a good detective. He'd learn soon enough of the courier who'd brought the package to me. Until then, I wanted to get it home and get a good look at what was inside. "What?" he said.

  "What, what?"

  "You were about to say something."

  I took off the blanket, folded it and put it on the concrete step. "I'm just worried, is all."

  "About Maria?"

  I nodded. "Nate too."

  His bright green eyes darkened as he dipped down to look me in the eye. "I'm worried about you," he said, nudging up my chin.

  I backed away. "Don't. I can take care of myself." Ha! Take that.

  "Like you did when you got involved with the Sandowskis?"

  Oh. Nothing like taking me down a notch. He was referring to the murder investigation I'd stuck my nose into a few weeks ago. The one that almost killed me.

  I decided to ignore him. "Can we go now?"

  "Yeah." He wagged a finger at me. "But stay out of this." I saluted him. "Yes, sir!"

  Maria and Ginger were walking back to us. I looked at Ginger with a critical eye. What did she have that I didn't? Okay, sure. The long legs, long gorgeous auburn hair, the big boobs . . . But I had personality. That had to count for something, right?

  I shot a murderous look at Kevin. He apparently had the ability to read my mind because he took one look at me and turned away, his eyes filled with guilt. Good.

  Maria sighed loudly. I could tell by the expression on her face that her patience was threadbare.

  "And why, again, were you having a mud fight?" Ginger said.

  Maria's perfectly plucked eyebrows dipped dangerously low and her lips were curled in a snarl.

  Uh-oh. I saw a dry cleaner in Ginger's future. Inwardly I cheered Maria on.

  "Ms. Ceceri?" Ginger prompted when Maria didn't answer.

  As if in slow motion, I saw Maria's bare foot snake out to trip her.

  Ginger's arms flew out to grab Maria for balance, but Maria slyly backed away. Ginger fell head first into the mud. It covered her from forehead to toes.

  Maria squatted and said in a fake beauty queen voice, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened. I must have slipped!"

  I held in a laugh as Kevin shot me a dirty look. "What? I didn't do it."

  "No, but you wanted to."

  I smiled as innocently as I could. "Never!"

  "Hmmph."

  He turned to walk over to help Ginger up. That little inner voice in me egged me on. Really, I didn't need all that much encouragement. My muddy foot darted out. Kevin stumbled and fell forward like a giant sequoia.

  He shook mud from his hands as he looked over his shoulder at me, narrowing his eyes.

  I shrugged. "Oops."

  A little after three, I parked Maria's Mercedes in my driveway and jumped out. I hurried up my front walk before I was swarmed by nosy neighbors.

  I'd dropped Maria off at my mother's and promised to get her car back to her as soon as possible.

  I was thinking next week. It was a seriously nice car.

  A long hot bath sounded heavenly, but I would settle for a shower.

  I caught sight of Riley next door, his head bent close to Mr. Cabrera's. What were they up to? My stomach filled with dread.

  I snuck in the back door, hoping I wouldn't get waylaid by Mr. Cabrera. I was in no mood to play his game of twenty questions as to why I looked the way I did. Or get into another conversation about Brickhouse Krauss. I'd done all I could on that front. My conscience was officially clear.

  I threw my Keds, jeans, and T-shirt into the washing machine, and grabbed a clean towel from the dryer. I wrapped it around me as I ran through the kitchen and up the stairs. Rivers o
f muddy water swirled down the drain as I showered. Claire Battiste, dead.

  I didn't for a second believe Nate was behind it, despite what Kevin thought. Nate was much too kindhearted, and his voice on the phone earlier still sent chills down my spine.

  He had been scared. Of what? Did he know who was behind Claire's death? Was that why he was on the run? As I shampooed for a second time, I realized that supposition didn't make sense.

  Last time Nate had been seen was with Claire at lunchtime. Claire had last been seen without Nate in late afternoon.

  If Nate hadn't called me this morning, I'd be phoning the morgues. As it stood now, I still might.

  What was in that package?

  Don't open it.

  I shut off the water, the pipes squeaking, and reached for a towel. I know he'd told me not to open it, but I had to. With Claire dead and Nate missing, there might be something in there to give us all a clue.

  I slipped on a pair of faded denim shorts, pulled a tank top over my head.

  As much as I wanted to, I couldn't forget that somebody had also tried to steal the envelope from me—so someone, maybe Nate, maybe the person who'd killed Claire, knew I had it.

  The sooner I learned the contents and handed it over to Kevin, the better.

  Quickly, I blow-dried my hair and went in search of my backpack. At the top of the stairs, I stopped short at the sound of voices rising and falling.

  I crept down the stairs, peered over the banister. Blinked.

  Mr. Cabrera spotted me. "Miz Quinn! You're just in time!"

  I took the rest of the steps slowly, hoping I was imagining things. There weren't twenty-odd old people crowding my living room. I rubbed my eyes, blinked.

  Oh Lord. There were!

  I opened my mouth to ask them what they were doing here, how they got in, and how soon could they leave, when Riley came in the room, carrying a pitcher of lemonade and a stack of paper cups. I blinked, wondering when he'd taken hostess lessons from my mother.

  He spotted me, grinned. "Hope you don't mind I volunteered to have the neighborhood watch meeting here."

  "Me? Mind? Haha." I gritted my teeth. "Don't be silly." I supposed mine was the only house in the neighborhood with enough room to fit everyone . . . Just before she'd died, my aunt Chi-Chi had renovated the whole house, adding more room upstairs for a master bath, and downstairs, a bigger eat-in kitchen and a laundry room. She'd also knocked out the wall separating the living room from the unused dining room, making one big great room, which was where everyone was now seated.

  Still, it had turned into a beautiful day. Couldn't they just pull up lawn chairs and do this outside?

  Flash Leonard rose on shaky legs. "Here, Nina. Take my seat."

  I averted my gaze as his robe slipped open. But not before I saw boxers covered in heart shapes. Waaaayyy too much information.

  "Go ahead and sit," I told him, copping a spot on the arm of his chair.

  He smiled at me and winked. "Were I but ten years younger," he said, patting my leg.

  By my calculations, ten years younger would put him at eighty. Still, I'd heard rumors about him at eighty that would put most randy teenagers to shame. I smiled and covered his wrinkly hand with mine. "If I were but ten years older." He winked again.

  I smiled. Between him and Vice Principal MacKenna, my ego was slowly gluing itself back together. Just because Kevin didn't want me, didn't mean no one else did. All right, so one was married, and the other was old enough to be my great-grandfather. But still. It felt nice. Mr. Cabrera called the meeting to order by clearing his throat repeatedly. After it was determined he wasn't choking, and he had everyone's attention, he got right to the point. "Miz Quinn thinks our burglar is a pervert." Twenty geriatric heads turned my way. I rolled my eyes and wished I'd stayed in the shower. "I never said pervert," I defended.

  "What else would you call someone who goes around stealing gra—" He cleared his throat. "Ladies' panties?" I bit back a smile at him not saying "granny." Probably didn't want to ruffle any feathers since most of the women in the room constituted the Mill's dating pool. "He has a point," Mrs. Daasch said.

  "How do we know for certain that's what the burglar's doing?" Mrs. Mustard asked, crossing her legs as if the panty thief might be in the room at that moment and think ing about stealing her JCPenney briefs right out from under her polyester skirt.

  Actually, if my theory was right, the panty thief might very well be in the room.

  I glanced from face to face as the debate about burglars and panties grew heated.

  Colonel Mustard sat next to his wife on the love seat. He was a decorated World War II hero, and I really couldn't see him getting his jollies from a bunch of stretched out underwear.

  Mr. Cabrera? I ruled him out immediately. Not that I didn't think he could get his jollies from old ladies' underwear—I think he could. And has. But he'd be more likely to come out and ask for them.

  My gaze landed on Riley, who stood in a corner, listening intently. I allowed myself to think about him being involved with this—but only for a few seconds. I could see him doing this only as a prank. Once. Not numerous times, and not to the point where it would cause someone a heart attack. I ruled him out. Mostly because I refused to believe it. Denial was sometimes a good thing.

  Flash? I looked down at his crown of white hair. It was thinning on top, but was white as down. It was true his days of being a player were over, both on the field and in the bedroom, but would he resort to panty stealing?

  Mr. Weatherbee? I looked over to where he sat on the hearth. He was a mean old man, the kind who kept your ball if it went into his yard. He'd been divorced nearly thirty years ago, and now lived with his mother, who was pushing one hundred. He never dated, as far as anyone knew—and in the Mill we'd know—and received Playboy in the mail. He looked up, caught me staring. He scowled and turned away. Well, so much for my healing ego.

  The Molari brothers? I doubted it. One never went anywhere without the other, and there was no evidence about there being two burglars.

  Really, I couldn't see any of them being involved. Well, maybe Mr. Weatherbee, but that was just because I didn't like him.

  The meeting dragged on for an hour. I kept eyeing my backpack sitting by the front door and wishing everyone would leave.

  As much as the panty thief was a problem, what was happening with Nate was bigger.

  Riley looked at his watch. "All right, everyone! Meeting's over! I need to get to work."

  Bones creaked and knees popped as people rose. I helped Flash to his feet when he had trouble getting out of the double wide chair.

  As people filed out, Mr. Cabrera shook Riley's hand. He turned to me and said, "Good boy you got there."

  "Sometimes," I said.

  Riley rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna be late," he said as Mr. Cabrera shuffled out the door.

  "And whose fault is that?" I asked. "What was this all about anyway?"

  "What?"

  "The meeting? Here?"

  "I didn't think you'd mind."

  "I don't." All right, I did, but he didn't have to know that. "How'd you get involved in this?"

  "Oh. Mr. C asked if I wanted to be his partner. Said he needed a young pair of eyes, ears, and legs."

  Partner? "Partner in what?"

  Riley beamed. "Crime solving."

  "What!?"

  "It's gonna be so cool. I'll be just like Dad," he said, oblivious to me freaking out in front of him. "Riley . . ."

  He ran up the stairs. "I'll be ready in a minute."

  I slumped into the chair Flash Leonard had just vacated, dropped my head into my hands.

  Twelve

  I dropped Riley off at Kroger and got him to promise he'd come straight home after work. I wasn't holding my breath.

  Out of the corner of my eye I checked my backpack for the hundredth time to make sure Nate's package hadn't upped and disappeared.

  It hadn't.

  I'd successfully evaded all temp
tation to open it at every stoplight. I needed space to spread out whatever was in there.

  And if it was especially shocking, I didn't want to be behind the wheel of Maria's Mercedes if I crashed. Maria. I'd dropped her off at my mother's after finding Claire's body. She'd promised to tell my mother everything that had happened, from Nate's misplacement to finding Claire's body. I still hadn't heard from her, and I was holding onto that no news, good news saying.

  Ugh. Again with sounding like my mother! Tam would pitch a fit.

  Ugh. Tam. I wondered if Leo Barker was still alive.

  I thought about calling the office to check on things and decided to let it be. However, I couldn't stop thinking about all the preparation going into Maria's backyard. I needed to find out ASAP if I should continue as planned. Which meant contacting Nate's dad. I wondered if Maria had already called him about Nate. Someone needed to. I frowned in confusion as I pulled into my driveway. Kit's TBS truck was parked at the curb, and he was sitting on my porch swing. I hoped the bolts held.