by Amy Saunders
So why did Elena go to meet the person?
If Belinda ever received a text telling her to meet someone at an empty house at night, she'd tell the person to take a long walk off a short pier. And she might tell Jonas about it.
So that led her to one conclusion: Elena was used to getting texts like that. She communicated regularly with someone who used disposable phones. Someone she trusted.
And Belinda found someone in the area who might have known what Elena was up to: Elena's sister.
What startled Belinda the most about the sister were her eyes. The woman had Elena's eyes. Not that this was shocking in itself. After all, Belinda and Kyle had the same golden brown eyes. But it was strange seeing them in death first, then in life.
"I'm sorry it's such a mess," Elena's sister, Isabel, said, randomly piling some glasses and dishes from the coffee table and carrying them into the kitchen a few feet away. Her apartment reminded Belinda of where Jonas lived, a two-story house with beige siding and an enclosed front porch. In fact, he was just a street over.
Two preschool age boys played with toy trucks in the next room over. The oldest boy, with a messy crop of thick black hair, saw her and grinned, both his cheeks dimpling. She could tell immediately he was going to be a heartbreaker.
Belinda picked up a couple plates and followed Isabel into the kitchen, setting them in the sink.
"You don't have to do that," Isabel said. "Please, go sit down."
"I don't mind, and I know you weren't expecting company. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. In person." Belinda set the flowers she'd brought on the kitchen table. The kind of thing you'd find in a 1950s diner.
Isabel set more glasses in the sink. "You were the woman who found her?"
"I guess I am." Belinda hadn't put the experience in those terms, but she supposed that's exactly who she was. "Were you close?"
"In recent history." She half-smiled. "Elena had a drug problem when she was younger. But she finally got it together, and was really happy. Happier and more excited to be alive than I've seen in a long time."
Belinda supposed Elena's past could explain her response to that text message. Maybe it was from someone she'd known before? "Did she have a lot of friends? A boyfriend or anything?"
"I wouldn't say a lot, and I don't think there was a guy. Elena told me she wanted to get totally straightened out first." She examined the child's sippy cup in her hand. "For the first time I really thought...I could see her having a future." Isabel's eyes misted over.
Belinda led her over to the couch and made her sit down. "Could Elena's old life have returned to haunt her in some way? Maybe old dealers or associates who wanted something from her? I mean, do you think she owed anyone money?" None of this was in her realm of expertise, but she did know that past actions had a way of finding you later.
Isabel dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, glancing at her boys. "We didn't talk about the details of her old life, so I really don't know. But she did promise me she'd cut everyone off."
Promises could be cheap. But this was Elena's sister. Wouldn't she have seen the signs of Elena returning to her former lifestyle? "Did Elena like her job?"
"Apparently." Isabel laughed lightly. "I never would've thought cleaning other people's houses would be that fulfilling. But she wasn't miserable."
"Did Elena ever...I don't know. Act mysteriously?"
Isabel gave her the kind of face Kyle would pull when she asked a weird question. "I don't understand."
Belinda hesitated, trying to figure out how to couch what she wanted to say. "Well, the house she was in...it was a strange place for her to be at that time of night."
Isabel looked troubled. Like she was surprised, but not surprised. She was used to secrets, but they still bothered her. "Elena did hint a couple of times that she might've been doing more than cleaning. But I don't know what." Her face fell a little.
Belinda was thinking about the alleged thefts, but she was reluctant to come out and ask this poor woman if she thought her sister had become a thief. "Did Elena ever mention rumors about someone in her company stealing from the houses?"
Isabel twisted the fringe of a throw blanket around her index finger. "No. You think it was Elena?"
"No. I'm just...I'm wondering if Elena knew who it was."
"And the thief killed her?"
Belinda nodded, having to wonder if Elena was stealing. Or working with the person responsible. It wasn't entirely out of the question. On the other hand, she kept returning to the empty house problem. Plenty of people in Portside were back in town with their valuables. Why bother with the Wolman's house?
"I don't think so," Isabel said. "Elena wasn't the type to get involved. She kept her head down."
Belinda didn't want to keep her any longer and left, thinking she might have to see what she could learn about the thefts. It was convenient for Elena to die and take the blame for them.
Lurking outside Isabel's apartment was Female Reporter. Maybe lurking was extreme. Technically, she was walking toward the apartment on the sidewalk. But at this point, she always seemed to be lurking to Belinda, but not really doing anything, which was oddly unnerving.
"Can't get enough of me, can you?" The reporter pressed her lips together in a sort of smile, and Belinda realized she had an almost heart-shaped mouth. "Visiting the sister?"
Belinda nodded, annoyed she had to put her thinking on hold to talk.
"It's bugging you," the reporter said.
The reporter showing up around every corner was bugging her, but other than that...
"You want to know what happened to Elena," the reporter said. "The whole story's bothering you. You don't like the theft angle, either."
"I saw her." Belinda swallowed. "So, yes, it's bothering me."
"Then I have a proposition for you. I want a story, you want answers. I think we should work together."
Work together? Belinda wanted to laugh. The last thing she wanted was to see more of this person.
"I think you could be really useful," the reporter added.
It sounded like Belinda was a kitchen extra. Something you'd find at a specialty store like a diner-style milkshake mixer. If you had room in your kitchen to store it and could justify the money, it could be really useful.
The reporter pulled out a double-sided folder with a pink floral print on the outside. The kind they sold around back to school time. Not exactly what Belinda expected to see her carrying around. "I've unearthed something I think will intrigue you. Take a look."
Belinda refused to take it even after the reporter shook it in her direction. "Is it something related to the murder?"
"Could be." She looked thoughtful. "Just read it."
That pink folder with flowers scared her. Knowledge could be very dangerous. "Why should I?"
The gleam in the reporter's eye returned, only it looked more menacing this time. "Because I think being in league would be mutually beneficial."
Belinda felt cold, even in the clammy air. The words themselves were harmless. She could mean anything. But it was the way the reporter said it that made Belinda's spine tingle–and not in a pleasant, kissing Bennett way. It was how it tingled when she saw one of those ginormous spiders that snuck into the house sometimes disappear behind the couch.
She felt like she was about to be blackmailed.
"My card's in there," the reporter said, forcing the folder into her hands. "I figured you probably tossed the other one."
Belinda pursed her lips, holding the folder away from her body like it carried a disease. Even if she was about to be blackmailed, did she want to get entangled in anything else? Not really.
"Read it. Then give me a call." The reporter breezed past Belinda, heading up the hill.
"Aren't you going to see Elena's sister?"
"I didn't come here for her."
That was comforting. How did this woman always know where to find her?
Belinda's recent issues–and run ins with wannabe
journalists–made her skittish holding on to that folder. She hurried into her car, locked the doors, and hid it in her glove compartment.
Before she took off, she got an urgent message from Jonas that he needed to talk to her about Bennett. Belinda called him immediately, panic in her voice when he answered.
"He's not dead." Jonas laughed lightly as she talked over him while he tried to explain. "It's not my place to give you specifics, but you need to go see him."
Belinda didn't like the sounds of that. What wasn't his place to tell her? She promised she was headed that way and hung up. After a quick detour home, she rolled onto Bennett's street.
Chapter 5
Bennett's garage door was open, but she went in through the front to leave some leftover cupcakes on the kitchen counter. She passed the door that opened into the garage, and saw Tempest sitting in the doorway, watching something transpire in the garage.
Belinda tiptoed over to peek. Maybe she could scare Bennett for once. But as soon as she saw what he was doing, there was no chance that was happening. He'd already scared her.
His car was parked in the driveway and Bennett sat on all fours on the garage floor, scrubbing the ever-loving life out of the concrete with a toothbrush.
A toothbrush.
Tempest meowed up at Belinda as if to say, "HELP!"
"Bennett," she said, about to take a cautious step forward.
"Don't move!" He shot up onto his knees, holding his hands out in a STOP EVERYTHING gesture. "I'm not done yet. Just stay inside."
Belinda's mouth gaped as she looked from the ceiling to the floor. Every inch gleamed. Garages never gleamed. For goodness' sake, Belinda's house never gleamed!
"Why...what are you doing?" she got out.
"Cleaning," he said with a definite "duh" tone to it.
"I can see that." Her eyes settled on his worktable, even more meticulous and clean than usual. His used car sparkled in the sunlight outside, and now that she looked more closely, even Tempest looked fluffier than usual. She meowed again and Belinda cradled her, stroking her head. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad.
"Why are you scrubbing the garage floor with a toothbrush?" she said.
"Because it was dirty." He looked up at her for a moment, then returned to his task.
Oookay. She watched in shock for several minutes. This was serious. Bennett needed work. Something to do. Anything to do but clean his garage floor with a toothbrush.
That was it. Belinda stood–on the concrete–ignoring his outburst of disapproval, and tug-of-warred the toothbrush out of his clenched fist. She yanked on his arm until he started moving out of the garage.
"I'm not done yet!" he protested.
"Oh, yes, you are." Belinda opened the passenger door to her Mini, pushing him to get inside. "Where's your camera?"
"Why?"
"Just tell me where it is."
Bennett waved in the general direction of his house. Okay. He was in a bad mood. She could deal with that.
His house was in such good order that she found the camera quickly without any help from him. She locked up the house and shut the garage door, so no one could muddy up his floor, and set the camera bag in the back.
"I don't feel like taking photos right now," he said.
"Well, I'm not letting you clean like a maniac. If you don't want to do take photos, what about kayaking or kitesurfing or something?"
Bennett stared out the window. He'd refused to meet her eyes since she got in the car, which left her with an ominous feeling.
"I sold my equipment." He spoke to the window.
"Oh." Belinda felt stupid. If he'd downgraded his truck, maybe he'd traded in other things, too. Like his water sports stuff.
She thought again about her designer shoes from the wedding, and many other things in her closet that might be worth something in consignment.
"What would you like to do?" Belinda wasn't just leaving him depressed like this. There had to be something that would make him happy. "Just name it."
He threw his hands up in the air, letting them flop back to his lap. But he didn't answer her, or make eye contact.
Belinda was afraid to ask if he was okay. He seemed...fragile. It was a small question, but it might break him.
So she did the hard thing and stayed quiet instead of rattling off questions. They sat in the car in total silence for what felt like a very long time to Belinda, until Bennett actually broke it.
"I don't think they're going to drop the charges," he said.
Belinda's heart dropped into her stomach. "What?"
With little emotion in his voice or face, Bennett offered a brief review of his lawyer's visit that morning. He didn't say why his lawyer thought they weren't dropping the charges, or maybe he didn't know. Belinda might have to call up Russell Carmichael, her lawyer friend, to see what he knew.
She placed a hand on his arm, wanting to say something reassuring. But everything she thought of sounded small and useless. And she didn't think he wanted to hear it. At least, not from her.
Before she left, with a promise that he wouldn't go back to scrubbing the garage floor, Belinda managed to convince Bennett to eat a cupcake, which took more urging than it should have. She knew he was depressed with everything going on, but now she was really worried. Worried about the charges not being dropped, and worried how Bennett was handling it.
But deep down, what she was really worried about was how this affected the way Bennett saw her. And she didn't know what to do about it.
She rode back into town to talk to Carmichael, who'd recommended Bennett's lawyer, to find out what on earth was happening. He had no idea, but promised to try and find out. She'd asked Jonas if he could meet her, and he was waiting on the sidewalk when she came out of Carmichael's office, resting against the blue Colonial townhouse.
"Did you go to see Bennett?" Jonas said, falling into step with her as they plodded uphill.
"He was scrubbing the garage floor with a toothbrush."
Jonas stopped walking and stared at her. "Wow. That's...insane."
Belinda sighed and kept moving. "I think I snapped him out of it, but I don't know what to do. He won't talk to me. He did finally crack and tell me about the charges. That's why I'm over here, to find out what Carmichael can learn. But Bennett's freezing me out."
Jonas' green eyes were more ponderous and less jovial than she was used to. "Just...hang in there. He needs you right now, even if he doesn't act like it."
Belinda promised to take that to heart, then mentioned briefly how she visited Elena's sister.
Jonas nodded along to her story. "The poor woman didn't know Elena had just been fired. Isabel called Elena sometime in the afternoon, but Elena didn't answer and never got back to her. Isabel's convinced she didn't want to tell her she'd lost her job."
Isabel had ignored that fact, but Belinda couldn't blame her. It was probably painful to realize she'd missed talking to her sister because Elena was afraid to tell her something.
"Why was she fired?"
"Elena was a former drug user. Portside House Cleaning has a strict policy against hiring anyone with any kind of criminal or drug background."
"Then why was she hired in the first place?"
Jonas suppressed a smile. "I can't tell you that. I will say the company may have some problems on their hands."
"Maybe I should mention switching companies to my grandmother."
"You use a cleaning company?"
"My grandmother's idea, which I wasn't opposed to."
"Who cleans normally?"
"Some girl named Christina."
Jonas nodded thoughtfully.
"So what about the thefts?" Belinda said. "Could that be connected to Elena's death? I read you found jewelry in her pocket." That detail bugged her, too. Who left valuable jewelry behind for months in an unused house?
"So far, there's nothing concrete connecting the cleaning company to the thefts–or Elena."
"Maybe her partner killed he
r, and texted her to meet there."
Jonas gave her a sly look. "I've gotta keep on my toes around you. You don't forget anything."
"Well, it's not as emotionally jarring as my own life right now, so I'll take it."
Jonas seemed to agree with her there. "The number belonged to a prepaid phone, so it's not much help. And Elena only ever set up meeting times and places with the other person. Except for one text she sent the day before she was fired. They hadn't been in contact for over a week, and Elena asked if they could meet."
"Then she gets a text the next day to meet at the Wolman's house." Belinda's forehead scrunched in thought. "Was that a typical meeting place?"
"Not really. Though we don't know what they were meeting about. The previous engagements could have led up to that."
Especially if it had something to do with stealing. "I read there were no signs of a break in."
"Nope. Nice and clean, except the side door was left open. The killer may have been in a hurry, or left a different way."
"That's not in the cleaning company's favor."
Jonas just slipped her a look, but wouldn't comment.
"Fine, Detective. Keep some of your secrets." It did make her wonder if leaving the house key in the cleaning company's hands was a good idea. "So that was Elena's day. She loses her job, and then she's killed."
"With a trip to the beach in between. She still had sand under her toenails."
Belinda's face fell, and Jonas smiled apologetically. "Sorry," Jonas said. "I shouldn't have told you that."
"It's fine. It's...real. She was real." Elena was digging her toes into the sand, the way Belinda always did. Belinda could have seen her at the beach and never known it.
Jonas' phone blipped with a new text, and Belinda sensed the chitchcat was over.
"I've gotta run," he said. "But remember what I said about Bennett. Just hang in there." He patted her shoulder, and she waved him off as he dashed the rest of the way up the road.
Left to her own thoughts, Belinda had to wonder what it was like in Elena's last moments. Did she see what was coming? Did she regret not talking to her sister and telling her what happened?
