by Camryn Eyde
Tara frowned. “When did you arrange the bank transfer?”
“Last Friday.”
“Then you’re fine.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because there’s traceable evidence that you organized her security deposit before the due date. Because the bank takes time to process it is neither here nor there.”
Ricci blinked for a moment. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
Ricci slumped against the back of her chair. “God, I hope you’re right.”
Sitting in companionable silence as they finished their meals, Tara broke Ricci’s reverie again when she asked, “What happened today?”
“Hmm?”
“The apartment. You said you found another thing that’s gone wrong.”
“Oh. That. Yeah. I plugged something into a power socket and zap. Someone has stuck crap into eight of the outlets.”
“Crap?”
“Black goop. Smells like road.”
“Like road?”
“Tarmac.”
“Someone put tar in the power outlets?”
“Looks that way.” Ricci leaned her head in her hands and let out a long breath that was quickly followed with a yawn. Stretching her arms to her sides, she muttered, “I’m exhausted.”
“That’s understandable. Let me clean up.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind. You need rest.”
Ricci smiled at Tara. A smile that turned into a long stare and she may have looked at Tara’s lips before tearing her eyes back to neutral territory. Ricci cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. It is getting late.”
Tara nodded and moved her gaze to the muted lights of the garden.
Ricci stood and collected the plates. If Tara was going to clean up, the least she could do was take the dishes inside. Besides, it distracted her mind from soft lips and slender limbs, not to mention the inconvenience of tarmac. Or more specifically, tar in the outlets. Ricci dropped the plates with a clatter to the table.
Tara squealed as pasta sauce splattered in her direction. “Ricci?”
“Tar in the outlets. She knew,” Ricci said in a whisper.
“What?”
“Mrs. Carter. She said to enjoy scooping tar from the walls. She knew about it. How the hell did she know?”
Tara creased her forehead. “Perhaps it’s in the insurance report?”
Sucking her lips into her mouth, Ricci nodded her head. “It’s not. I rang up about it today. She wouldn’t have a copy anyway.” She began to pace the terrace. “Jesus. I thought it was him all along, but it was her. Bitch. I better call Estevan.”
“Wait. Rica.” Tara reached out and snagged Ricci’s hand before she could rush off. Ricci swallowed. Hard. A lot about Tara’s skin against hers felt so right. “It’s late. Why don’t you do it in the morning?”
“But—”
“There’s nothing anyone can do about it tonight. Rest, and come back to it tomorrow.” Tara squeezed her fingers.
Ricci took a deep breath. “I guess.”
“Good.” Tara dropped Ricci’s hand and got her to her feet. “Let me take care of this,” she said, gesturing to the plates.
“So, it’s goodnight, then?”
“Indeed.” Tara stepped closer to reach the dirty dishes.
Ricci nibbled on her lower lip and looked briefly at Tara’s. “Night,” she said with a croak.
“Goodnight.” Tara smiled tightly for a moment.
“Thanks.”
“For?”
“The advice, and for listening.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sweet dreams. You know…for when you go to bed.” Ricci cringed internally. What did I go and say that for?
Tara’s smile widened. “Thank you. I wish you the same. Goodnight, Rica.” She picked up the plates, brushing Ricci’s arm in the movement and walked inside, allowing Ricci a view of the woman sashaying toward the kitchen. Ricci shuddered. How did she make my name sound so good? The perfume that lingered beside her after Tara left had Ricci closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. Flashes of kisses, sounds of gasps, and the sharp tug of hands in her hair made her shiver again. Inhaling again, she snatched at the last trace of scent of the woman she wanted to kiss again. Preferably, exclusively, and for as long as she’d let her.
Ricci’s eyes snapped open with a grunt. “I’m so screwed,” she muttered when she realized her train of thought. “So, so, screwed.”
Chapter Ten
Benefits
It was nearing nine o’clock in the morning when her phone rang with an unknown number. Standing in front of a plethora of electrical outlet choices, she stared at the unknown ID with a nibble of her lip. Pressing the green button with a wince, she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Am I speaking with Miss Rica Velez?” a man asked.
“It’s pronounced Ree-ka, not Ricker.” She shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead. What a petty thing to pick the man up on.
“My apologies, Miss Velez. I am Gerard Hunter from Hunter and Truman Law. I wish to talk to you about Mrs. Sandra Carter’s security deposit entitlement.”
Ricci sighed. “I lodged the transfer last week. It will be in her account in a few days.”
“From what I understand, it was due on Monday.”
“Yes, and I started the process before that date.” Picking up a duplex outlet, she inspected it and tossed it back in the box. “Look, Gerard, I’m sure you’re aware of the circumstances surrounding Mrs. Carter’s eviction from my property. Admittedly, that delayed the deposit transfer, but I lodged that before the due date.”
“Is there a record of that transaction?”
“Yes, there is.”
“I see.” Gerard sounded like he was scribbling notes. “And to what account is that money going?”
Ricci screwed her nose up. “To the account on their records. Why?”
“With civil proceedings in place, Mr. and Mrs. Carter’s joint accounts were frozen today. Do you know whether the deposit is being credited to a joint account, or one in Mrs. Carter’s name only.”
“How the hell would I know?”
“Shouldn’t that be something you’re aware of?”
“Not particularly. I arranged transfer to the account attached to the lease contract. I wasn’t given instructions to put it anywhere different. If that account turns out to be a joint account, then I’m afraid that’s just too bad.”
“Surely you can understand Mrs. Carter’s plight? With Mr. Carter currently under investigation for willful damage of property, and aggravated assault, Mrs. Carter has sole custody of the children. Shouldn’t you make sure it’s her that receives the deposit to ensure the wellbeing of young ones?”
Ricci blinked and puffed out her cheeks. “I suppose, but it’s out of my—wait. Assault? He hit her?”
“No. Mr. Carter hit a Mr. Harrison Cummings. Mrs. Carter’s partner.”
“Oh.” Harrison? Ricci frowned and managed to scare away the sales consultant looking to assist her when she cried out, “Oh crap! Harrison. He works where?”
“I hardly think that’s any of—”
“Where does he work?”
Gerard sniffed. Paper shuffled about in the background and he came back on the line and said, “Horizon Security.”
“Oh, my God.” Hanging up on the lawyer and snarling out a string of profanities, Ricci snatched eight electrical outlets and charged for the checkout. A scan of the damage report revealed no mention of tar in the power sockets as she suspected. Mrs. Carter’s guilty verdict was getting hotter. “Gotcha.”
“He didn’t do it,” she said the instant her brother answered the phone. Pacing the floor of her office, she felt like a mystery-cracking super sleuth.
“Huh?”
“Mr. Carter. It wasn’t him. It was her.”
“Her?”
“Mrs. Carter!”
Stevan sighed.
“I’m serio
us, Stevan! She knew about the tar in all the power outlets. I didn’t even know about that until yesterday.”
“Maybe it’s on the insurance report.”
“For starters, she shouldn’t even have access to that, secondly, it’s not. There’s something else, too.”
“I’m listening.”
“She came by last week wanting her security deposit back.”
“She’s entitled—”
“Shh. Not the point. She said that I’d signed the paperwork for the bond on the twelfth, and that Mr. Carter had damaged the apartment on the thirteenth.”
Stevan was silent for a moment.
“Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“I found the damage on the sixteenth.”
Stevan was silent for a few heartbeats. “I’m afraid that’s not terrific proof. The damage could have been done any time between the twelfth and fifteenth. Sorry, Rica.”
“There’s more. I got the security footage for the fourteenth and fifteenth, it shows no sign of Mr. or Mrs. Carter.”
“And?”
“I requested surveillance footage from the twelfth to the sixteenth, but the security company screwed the order. Also, they didn’t give me all the angles I requested.”
“So they made a mistake.”
“Yes, but I called them back last Friday and spoke with a guy named Harrison. I asked for all the footage I needed for those dates and he assured me it’d arrive Monday. It didn’t.”
Stevan sighed heavily. “So the courier was late.”
“No. The courier wasn’t even ordered. I rang back Tuesday to find Harrison on leave and the request missing. I should finally get the footage tomorrow.” Ricci took a deep breath. “There’s more.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Carter’s lawyer rang—”
“What? When? What’s their name?”
“Gerard something, but not the point. He said Mr. Carter was up on assault charges.”
“Yes, I saw that. He hit Mrs. Carter’s new boyfriend.”
“Whose name happens to be Harrison Cummings, who also happens to work at Horizon Security. My security company. He’s the person I spoke to last week who promised to send me the surveillance tapes.” Ricci smiled like a maniac into the phone waiting for Stevan to catch up.
“Wait…Harrison Cummings works at Horizon Security, and fudged the order for your footage?”
“Exactly! Bob says his saw the Carter kids out in the park on the thirteenth as well. I think Mrs. Carter was here vandalizing the place that day.” Another thing clicked in Ricci’s mind. “The tenant below their apartment complained of noise from the floor above on the same day.”
“I agree that’s definitely curious, however, I’m not sure the police will be pleased. They charged Mr. Carter yesterday and according to the paperwork I saw today, he’s been revoked any form of contact with his children.”
Well, that explains the phone call the other day. “They already left,” Ricci muttered.
“Left?”
“Mrs. Carter said she wanted her deposit money by Monday because that’s when her and the boyfriend flew out with the kids. Her lawyer wanted me to arrange the deposit payment into a sole account, too.”
“Leave it with me. Cancel the deposit payment.” Stevan hung up.
Puffing her chest out proudly now she’d solved the puzzle, Ricci left the office after calling the bank, and gave a high five to the startled security guard on duty, and practically skipped to her apartment.
There, she dialed another number.
“Hello, you’ve reached Al—”
“Drinks. Tonight at Kickers.”
“You’re on,” Alicia answered. “Any special occasion?”
“I’m freaking Sherlock Holmes.”
Alicia snickered. “Say what?” A heartbeat later, Alicia said, “Eh. What the hell, I’m in anyway.”
“Awesome.”
“Oh, hey. Tara’s here. Want me to invite her along?”
“Uh…” Alicia’s muffled voice came down the line as she asked Tara regardless.
“She said yes.”
“Uh…okay.”
“Come on, Ric. She’s nice. You just have to get to know her better.”
Ricci blushed as images of getting to know Tara’s tongue came to mind. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Great! So I’ll ask her along. I can pick you both up from yours. Maybe we can pick someone up for you tonight.”
“Uh, I suppose…”
“What?”
“I’m not really looking. Besides, Tara is living here. That would be awkward.” Not to mention, she’d feel like she was cheating on her. Ricci groaned.
Silence. “What is up with you?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to find someone, ‘Leesh. So drop it.”
“You’re turning into a bitter old spinster, do you know that? You’ll never get yourself a girlfriend if you don’t get out there and catch yourself your future bride.” Alicia laughed. “As if you’d let someone be a permanent fixture in your love life. Right?” She kept laughing.
Ricci snapped. The sound irritated her and the assumption she was going to be alone forever, and incapable of loving broke something inside. “That’s not true, and you have no idea what it is I want.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want—” Ricci bit her tongue. Hard. Tara’s name nearly slipped from her lips, and that in itself was a billboard-sized danger sign. Frustrated, Ricci huffed and clenched her fist. “You know what, forget about tonight. I’m no longer in the mood.” Hanging up on her friend, not for the first time in their lives, Ricci marched downstairs and took out her anger on the remaining weeds in her garden. Installing the sockets and painting the last coat on the walls upstairs could wait. Her phone rang endlessly, and suspecting one of the callers was Mrs. Carter or her lawyer, she ignored each and every ring.
“Ricci?”
Looking up and wiping her brow, Ricci saw Alicia emerge from the apartment to the terrace in the dim light of the evening. Turning on the garden lights on dusk, Ricci had continued her rampage on the thistles, and had moved on to re-setting the loose pavers in the path.
“What are you doing?” Alicia asked as she spotted her.
“Gardening.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
Alicia huffed. “Wow. You really are in a mood, aren’t you?”
Ricci ignored her.
“Will you get up and get dressed, please? It’s time to go.”
“Where?”
“Girls night.”
“I told you to forget it.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Alicia trampled over the pile of weeds and yanked Ricci up by the arm. “Time to grow up, Rica. We have cocktails to demolish.”
About to argue, Ricci spotted Tara on the terrace watching with amusement. Pulling away from Alicia’s grip and walking toward the terrace, Ricci said, “I don’t feel like socializing.”
Alicia grunted. “Will you stop being so dramatic. So I teased you a little. Get over it.”
Ricci spun and glared at Alicia. In harsh, but quiet tones, she said, “Teased me? You basically told me I’m unlovable and without hope.”
Alicia’s eye roll was emphatic. “I said no such thing.”
“You implied it.”
“Because you never let anyone get close to you. God! When was the last time you kissed someone?”
Ricci’s ear tips burned and became acutely aware Tara was only a few meters away.
Alicia kept pushing. “It was Gina, right? From Bessler’s job a few years back?”
Ricci rolled her shoulder back. “No.”
Alicia frowned. “Wait. What? Who’d you kiss? When? Where? Why wasn’t I told?”
“Because it’s none of your business, that’s why?”
Alicia made a noise of frustration and threw her hands up in the air. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Can we please go and drink cocktails now?”
“Ugh.” Ricci hit her forehead with her palm. “Fine. Give me a minute to change.”
“And shower,” Alicia said, as Ricci stepped up onto the terrace, crinkling her nose.
“Hi,” Ricci said when she was closer to Tara. The woman was in form-fitting jeans and a tight halter top. She couldn’t help the lick of her lips as she digested the outfit.
“Eyes up, Rica.” Tara was smirking when she looked back up.
Ricci clenched her jaw and strode inside.
Alicia’s voice drifted in from the terrace as she moved past the kitchen. “Just wait until she has a few in her. She really let’s herself go wild. She might even pick up tonight.”
Pausing to see what Tara’s reaction to that was, Ricci saw the woman meet her eyes through the window. She looked a little put out. Unsure what to make of that, Ricci reminded herself that Tara was married, living under her roof, and soon to become a tenant. Her opinion of Ricci’s potential love life shouldn’t even register. However, it didn’t stop her from muttering a few curses under her breath about her inappropriate best friend.
Thirty minutes later found a group of six women sipping at their first cocktail for the evening. The crowd was lively for a Tuesday night thanks to discount cocktails. Ricci guided Tara through the bar with a hand at the small of her back telling herself it was about not being swallowed by the crowd, and not because of the need for a little bit of contact. Ricci knew it was bordering on pathetic, but refused to call herself out on it.
“So, where are you from?” Fiona yelled across the small table at Tara.
“L.A.”
“Cool. And how long have you been dating Ricci?”
Ricci choked on her straw and Tara’s glass clattered to the tabletop.
Alicia laughed. “They’re not dating. Tara’s my boss,” Alicia informed Fiona and her roommate, Paige. Fiona, Alicia had known since birth. Paige was a recent addition to the group, and looked at blank as usual. The shrewd eyes of Lizzie, Fiona’s twin, scanned back and forth between Tara and Ricci.
