Suspicious Minds

by Christy Barritt

  Carefully, I took the box out and set it on the floor in front of me. I stared at it a moment, wondering if it would be perfume. Maybe he had a fetish for wearing women's cologne. Or maybe it was a memento of his mother. Of a past lover? What would this box tell me about Mr. Hermit?

  I tugged the top off. Holding my breath, I peered inside.

  Pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

  Pictures of Mr. Hermit, I think, when he was younger and thinner and happier. His arm was draped over a thin blond. The wall behind them was lined with portraits. They looked happy. I flipped to the next picture. Mr. Hermit holding up a fish, a huge, proud grin on his face. Mr. Hermit with a little boy sitting on his lap, a Christmas tree in the background. Mr. Hermit cradling a new baby in his arms.

  Mr. Hermit hadn't always been a hermit. What happened to make him this way?

  My cell phone began singing. I jumped, then scolded myself for getting lost in the moment. I was being paid to do a job, not to daydream. I grabbed my cell from the clip at my belt.

  "Gabby St. Claire"

  "How's it coming?" I'm not great with voices, but I automatically recognized the landlord, whose name I couldn't remember. I'm sure it would come back to me when it came time to collect payment.

  "It's ... okay. I've made quite a bit of progress. I should be finished by the end of the week"

  "I'll pay you the second half as soon as you're done. I have another renter interested in the house, so the sooner, the better"

  "Understood. Time is money, right?"

  "You said it. Now, back to work"

  I took one more glance at the picture of Mr. Hermit with the pretty blond. I couldn't get rid of these pictures yet. I stuffed them back in the closet and decided to start on the bathroom.

  As I worked, my mind drifted to the other things on my to-do list.

  I needed to call Lynette Lewis, see what she was doing at Hank's show last night. I needed to go back to Ocean View and question the neighbors to find out if they'd seen anything suspicious. I needed to talk to Darnell's boss, the baloney guy.

  Most of all, I needed to keep an eye on Chad Davis to make sure he didn't steal any of my business.

  JUST AS I climbed into my van, the cell phone rang again. It was Parker. I knew because of the special ring I programmed in just for him-the tune of "I Will Survive."

  Did I want to talk to him? I still hadn't come to any conclusions about our relationship. Did I even have time for a relationship right now? I had mysteries to solve, crimes to clean up, and money to be earned. Oh yeah, and a degree to complete.

  I sighed and put the phone to my ear. "Hey, you"

  He chuckled, a mellow, throaty sound. "Hey, Gabby. Whaddya doing?"

  "Just leaving my job, heading home"

  "Let's do dinner."

  "I'm not sure if I have time" I remembered all the things I had to get done. Plus, I still didn't know what I wanted to do about our relationship, and being around Parker would only confuse me further.

  "You can make time for me"

  He sounded so convincing. "Well, normally, but I really do need to do-"

  "Need to do what?"

  I couldn't tell him about my side job. "The normal things. You know, study and stuff."

  "How was class last night?"

  I cringed. I couldn't lie. But I really wanted to. "Class?" I tried to buy time as I figured out a good way to word my excuse-my truthful excuse.

  "You know, the place you go to learn?"

  "Oh, that class. I ... um, I, well-I went to a concert instead"

  "A concert? Gabby, you've got to buckle down. You're so close to finishing."

  I know. This is the first I've missed. I won't miss any more."

  "So, about dinner?"

  I had to eat, didn't I? And it seemed like a good way to get the subject off my truancy. "Name the place"

  He threw out the name of a restaurant in downtown Norfolk. I'd have just enough time to go home and get ready before he picked me up.

  As I wandered up the stairs to my apartment, I realized how much I missed my apartment-mates. Riley's job had been keeping him busy. I didn't see him all that much anymore. Sierra was in the middle of a big "save the whales" campaign. I wouldn't see her until that was over. The conservative talk-show host across the hall from Sierra was doing a mini-tour for his radio program. And Mrs. Mystery hardly ever emerged.

  I felt like I had empty nest syndrome, and I didn't even have any kids.

  Maybe I was the one who flew over the cuckoo's nest.

  I quickly got ready. Just as I stepped from my bedroom, a knock sounded at the door. Parker. He grinned his million-dollar smile from the hallway, one arm leaning casually against my door frame. He pecked my cheek with a kiss and grabbed my hand. "You look beautiful. You ready to go?"

  Man, he was in a good mood tonight.

  "Just let me grab my purse" My sparkly purse. I snatched it from atop the TV and joined him on the stairway. A few minutes later, we pulled up to the Freemason Abby, the first restaurant we ever ate at together. Back then, it was for police business ... kind of. Let's just say no sparks flew between us. I was hung up on Riley, and Parker was convinced I was trouble for his investigation.

  After we ordered, I looked at my boyfriend from across the table. "How does a person become a hermit?"

  His lips twitched, as they always did when I amused him. "Say again?"

  "A hermit. How does someone become one?"

  "You thinking of applying for the position?"

  I played with the napkin in my lap. "No, I'm just wondering how a person goes from a life full of family and friends to dying alone with no one to mourn for them:"

  He shrugged and looked out the window. "I guess you separate yourself, for whatever reason. You stop returning calls and answering the door. You find excuses to stay home"

  "But why? Why would a person do that?"

  Parker shrugged. "Why not? Hurt, pain, embarrassment, loss. Maybe they're afraid to risk. They put up walls and rationalize that it's better to be alone than to face rejection or hurt"

  "It's so sad"

  "What's this all about?"

  I explained Mr. Hermit's situation.

  "This isn't like you, Gabby. Letting the j ob get to you" He paused. "I mean, it's like you if the job involves murder or a crime. But this isn't a crime"

  "It's worse. It's a crime against humanity."

  "Being alone is a choice everyone makes for themselves. Even the freakish people can find other freaks who understand them. It's just a matter of effort. Believe me-I could tell you about some cases I've worked that would prove that. The fetishes some people have .. " He shook his head.

  I leaned forward, curious. "Like what? Modern-day vampires? Fortyyear-olds who pretend to be infants? People who claim to be space aliens?"

  Parker sighed. "I'm not in the mood to have this conversation. Can we please talk about something else?"

  I sighed this time. "Of course we can" What else could we talk about? Oh, I had a bright idea. Brilliant to the utmost degree. "How was your day?"

  His eyes lit up, but the sparkle quickly faded, as if he were trying to hide his excitement. "I got a new partner today."

  "Did you?" I never thought I'd see Parker look happy to have a partner who could potentially steal all of his glory. That was Parker-he wanted to be a one-man show. Depending on other people? Not something he was very good at it.

  "Yeah, I think we're going to get along pretty well"

  "And your partner's name?"

  "Charlie"

  I pictured an older man with a receding hairline and oversized glasses. "Cool. I hope it works out for you:" What I really hoped was that Charlie didn't curse the day they were assigned to work together. Apparently, Parker had that effect on his partners. He'd never told me that, but somehow the information had trickled down to me when I attended Parker's birthday party two weeks ago.

  I stared across the table at Parker. Man, he was handsome. Could tota
lly be a body double for Brad Pitt, I kid you not. Brad Pitt from Ocean's Eleven, not the Brad Pitt from Fight Club.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  "Have you ever seen Fight Club?"

  "Huh?"

  "Never mind" Why boost his ego even more? Any time someone said a word like handsome, great, dashing, heck, even Mrs. Dash, Parker turned to them, assuming they were talking about him.

  The rest of dinner consisted of conversation about football, movies, and-lo and behold-video games. Were we on the fast track to a deep, committed relationship or what? I counted down the minutes until Parker dropped me off at my apartment. As soon as he did, I hurried to my van. I needed to pay Lynette another visit. Sure, the sun had set a few hours ago, but most people were still awake at nine. Right?

  I pulled up to her house, and she opened the door, wrapping a thin, hot-pink robe around her tiny waist. She blinked when she saw me, mascara still caked around her eyes.

  "Yes?"

  "Lynette, can I have a few minutes of your time?"

  "It's a little late, isn't it?"

  "I saw you at Hank Robins's concert last night"

  She blinked again. "Is that a crime?"

  "I find it suspicious that someone who's not only the president of Darnell Evans's fan club, but also his lover, would show up to see another Elvis impersonator-"

  "Tribute artist. He was an Elvis tribute artist"

  "Whatever. I find it strange you would go to his concert. I'd like to know why."

  The woman pulled the door open. "Come on in. I probably should have just told you this to begin with"

  I took a seat on the same milky white couch where I'd sat before and waited for her to begin. She wrung her hands on her way over to sit across from me.

  "Hank Robins is a vengeful man" She stared at me as if waiting for a reaction.

  "Why do you say that?" I finally asked.

  She twisted her hands again as if the motion echoed her inner turmoil. "Hank claimed that my Darnell paid off some judges so that he could win the ETA Competition in September."

  "ETA?"

  "Elvis tribute artist."

  "Of course" I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "And you went to the concert so you could confront him about his accusations?"

  She looked down at her fidgety hands. "No, not exactly" She rose, crossed the room, and pulled open a drawer atop a pine secretary. She slipped out a piece of white paper.

  "My Darnell left an overnight bag at my house. I was going through it yesterday, and I found this" She handed the folded, letterlike sheet to me.

  I glanced up at her, saw the grief on her face, and then carefully touched the note. If this was significant, I didn't want to ruin any fingerprints-if Lynette already hadn't. Trying to just touch the edges, I opened the letter and stared at the computer-printed words:

  Pay $2000

  or I'll tell the media what you did.

  I glanced back up at Lynette. She stared at me, her expression pensive.

  "Do you know what this is about?"

  She closed her eyes for what felt like hours before slowly opening them. "Darnell received two thousand dollars for winning the ETA competition. Hank thought he'd paid off the judges. Hank also thought that he was going to win the competition and it would thrust him into the spotlight. He wanted to give up his job as a delivery driver and perform full-time. Of course, so did my Darnell"

  I leaned forward. "Then why not just ruin Darnell's reputation by taking this straight to the media?"

  "He didn't have any evidence. And Hank's lazy. He figured if he could hold this over my Darnell, he'd ultimately come out on top"

  Could this be a key piece of evidence? Excitement fluttered up my spine. "Did you confront Hank at the concert?"

  "No, I saw you and decided to leave"

  I stared at the note again, at the computer-generated words. "Why were you keeping this a secret?"

  Lynette collapsed into the chair behind her and covered her face. "I didn't want my Darnell's reputation to be ruined. Dying sometimes serves to make a person more famous, more fondly remembered. If this gets out..

  "So you haven't even told the police?"

  She shook her head.

  "Are you going to?"

  She stared at me. "I don't want to"

  "You should"

  I stood to leave, even more questions circling around in my brain. Not circling as in about to go down the drain. More like hungry vultures circling their prey-their prey being my peace of mind.

  "His funeral is tomorrow at the Oak Grove Funeral Home. Three O'clock," she called, still wringing her hands.

  "You planned his funeral, correct?"

  "Yes, I did. His fan club wanted to make sure it was an event that would make him proud"

  I paused by the front door. "Lynette, where were you on Thursday, October 28, when Darnell died?"

  Her face went white. "I was planning a fundraising event that Darnell would take part in. It was for the fan club. You know, throwing in some community service never hurts one's reputation."

  "So, other members of this fan club can verify you were with them at the time?"

  She fidgeted. "No, I was planning it here at my house alone"

  I HAD a lot to chew on as I drove home. Lynette had no alibi-but did she have a motive? Hank was blackmailing Darnell. That might be a motive for killing Hank, but why Darnell? I'd uncovered some lies and had enough experience to know I needed to look closer at anyone lying. So the investigation was coming along, but not fast enough for my taste. I needed more answers. I needed to get down and dirty.

  My cell phone rang. I popped it off my belt and stuck it to my ear.

  "This is Gabby"

  "So, have you found out anything?"

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the unfamiliar phone number across the screen for a moment before responding. "Excuse me?"

  "About my husband's death?"

  "Jamie?"

  "Yeah, who else is it gonna be?"

  Uh, how about my boyfriend? Another client? My good-for-nothing dad? "No, I haven't found out anything substantial yet, but I have some good leads. Jamie, did you know that Hank Robins was blackmailing your husband?"

  "What?" Her screech was so loud that I had to pull the phone away from my ear again. "Why would that man blackmail my husband?"

  "Something about your husband paying off some judges at a competition"

  "Oh, that. That's ridiculous. My husband won on his own right. Ask anybody"

  "Don't worry, I will."

  "You talk to his boss yet?"

  "No, I haven't talked to him yet. He's next on my list, though"

  "Good. I tell you-that man had blood in his eyes"

  I hung up and glanced at the clock on my van's console. It was already eleven o'clock. No wonder my muscles ached and my eyelids felt heavy. It had been a long day, one filled with no answers and more questions.

  When I reached my apartment, I saw a note taped to the door. I hesitated before pulling it off. Last time someone had left me something at the door, I'd nearly been blown up. A note seemed harmless.

  Unless anthrax was inside.

  I froze but only for a moment. The thought was ridiculous. I tore the envelope and opened a typed letter:

  Gabby,

  Please help me. Whoever stole my identity has now racked up thousands of dollars of debt on my credit card. The police won't do anything. The credit bureau doesn't care. You're the only person who can help. You and Riley.

  Mrs. Morgan

  Wow, what was it with everyone wanting my help lately? You crack one case, and everyone thinks you're Sherlock Holmes. Not that I minded. But I didn't know anything about ID theft, so how would I even go about helping? Maybe I'd ask Parker. Surely the police could do something. Maybe Mrs. Mystery just hadn't talked to the right person.

  Out of curiosity, I pounded on Riley's door. I heard his TV blaring from the other side, so I knew he was home. When he answered, I held
up the letter. "I thought you'd helped her clear this up"

  He did the eyebrow cock. "Excuse me?"

  "I thought you'd taken care of Mrs. Mystery's ID theft"

  He folded his arms across his chest, and I noted how comfortable he looked in an oversized San Diego sweatshirt and worn jeans. "I helped her call all of the credit card companies and cancel her cards. I closed the cell phone account opened in her name. What more can I do?"

  "Well, she left me a note begging for assistance. She wants me to track down whoever is doing this. I don't get it-she's a mystery writer. Shouldn't she have some idea how to go about finding the bad guy?"

  "You'd think. But she's so reclusive. Maybe she only knows how to do these things in her fictional world."

  "Maybe"

  "Are you going to help?"

  I let out a breath. "I don't know. I have a lot on my plate right now."

  "I noticed you haven't been here a lot lately."

  "Neither have you"

  "Yeah, the law firm is taking up a lot of time. Getting all of this preliminary stuff set up is time consuming."

  "Is it going okay?"

  He shrugged, looked in the distance, and nodded. "It's going great. There's nothing like helping those who can't help themselves. The fatherless and the widows, you know."

  I tilted my head. "You're only helping the fatherless and the widows?"

  A smile brushed his lips. "No, but in the Bible, God commands us to help them. I feel really fulfilled being able to defend people who don't otherwise have the money. I'm planning some fundraisers in order to pay for the services"

  "That sounds great"

  "I can't tell you how glad I am that I left my old life behind."

  I smiled. "I'm glad you're happy. So you're telling me you don't ever miss the black-tie events, the TV cameras, the limelight?"

  "Not one bit. That chapter of my life is closed."

  His answer didn't surprise me. "Good."

  He shifted, and his hands went to his hips. "So, Gabby St. Claire, what kind of trouble are you getting into lately?"

  I glanced at my watch just for the dramatic effect. "Do you have a few hours?"