"For you, I do." He opened his door wider and extended his arm to invite me inside.
This is what I loved about Riley. He always made me feel like I was the only one in the room. Like I was important. I can't say anyone else ever made me feel that way.
I wandered into his familiar apartment, the place where we'd had numerous powwows and crime-solving brainstorming sessions. His bird, Lucky, chirped in the background. I smiled, remembering when Riley first found Lucky in a tree outside the apartment building. That day seemed so long ago, when it was really just a few months. I heard Riley shut the door behind me as I approached Lucky's cage.
"Hi, Lucky."
"Pretty girl."
I laughed. "I can see Lucky is learning some more phrases"
"I have to be careful what I say. That bird is like a tape recorder"
"Tape recorder," Lucky repeated.
Riley and I both laughed. In the back of my mind, I wondered who Riley had been talking about when Lucky learned to say, "Pretty girl" I hadn't seen any women visiting Riley at his apartment. In fact, he'd vowed not to date until he got settled in his new practice. He wanted to put space between any new relationship and his breakup with his ex-fiancee.
I settled on Riley's navy blue couch and began pouring out everything I'd learned about Darnell Evans's death. Riley listened, nodding when appropriate and asking all the right questions. Why couldn't Parker show this interest? That's all I wanted-for him to listen. It seemed to be asking too much.
"And how are your classes going?" Riley turned off the TV and leaned his elbows onto his knees.
I remembered the one I'd missed this week and shrugged. "Okay"
Riley seemed to pick up on all the undertones of that one word. "You can't ignore your education, Gabby."
I felt my shoulders tense. "I'm not. I'm going to get my degree"
"I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were doing this investigation into Elvis's death officially-with police support and backup. You'll have that when you have your degree and your job"
"I can take care of myself."
Riley didn't say anything. But I knew what he was thinking-that no one could truly take care of themselves. That we needed to depend on others, that it was healthy, that no man was an island, that we all need somebody to lean on. I could hear Bill Withers singing about it in my mind.
I stood. "Well, I should go to bed" I remembered the original reason I'd come over and smacked my forehead. "Mrs. Mystery! I forgot"
"I'll help Mrs. Mystery."
"Really?"
He shrugged. "Sure. It would be my pleasure."
"Thanks, Riley" I stretched. "Okay, I really do have to go. It's been a long day. And I have a funeral to attend tomorrow. I hate funerals"
"Need company?"
I jerked my head toward him, unsure if he was sincere. Of course, when was Riley ever not sincere? "You want to go to a funeral with me?"
"I know they're miserable to attend alone"
"But you said you have tons of work to do"
"People before projects, Gabby. People before projects"
Why did I still have the feeling that what he really wanted was to get his Sunday school badge? That I was his little project-and a person, which made it the best of both worlds for him. People were his projects. Would I ever really be able to trust this man again?
I knew I wanted to.
BACK AT my apartment, I sat down at my computer. Fatigue dragged at me, but I had more to do before I could sleep. Time to do some more research. My computer screen flashed to life, and I typed in my name and password.
The computer informed me that the information was invalid.
Huh?
I'd used the same user name and password for months now.
I tried again and got the same response. What was I supposed to do? I was no techie. But my computer is where I kept track of all my business files, my tax information, my everything. I could not be locked out of it.
I knew Riley was still awake, so I hurried back across the hall and banged at his door. He pulled it open, and a look of alarm spread over his features. "Is everything okay?"
Hype down on the drama, Gabby. Simmer. I controlled my voice, making it as even as possible. "My computer seems to be acting up, and I was wondering if you could help me?" I fluttered my eyelashes. I never did the fake thing very well.
A flash of ... something ... lit his eyes. "I thought you could take care of yourself."
My fakeness disappeared faster than Beyonce ditching Destiny's Child. "Ha ha, you got me"
I turned on my heel and marched back to my apartment. I didn't need Riley's self-righteous banter right now. Couldn't he see my over-the-top level of stress?
"Of course I'll help you, Gabby."
This was no time to hold a grudge. "Thank you." He walked across the hall and into my apartment where I nodded toward the computer as if he'd never been in my living room before. "It's right there."
He pulled the rolling desk chair under him and stared at my blue computer screen. "Your password didn't work?"
"You wouldn't be here if it did"
He patted his hands in the air as if to tell me to chill. "Easy, Gabby. I just have to ask a few questions"
I plopped onto a chair and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."
"What's your password?"
My password? Blood rushed to my cheeks. No way was I telling him my password. What had I been thinking when I asked him to come here? Of course, he'd ask for my password. And I'd never, ever tell him what it was. Ever.
"Gabby?" He waved his hand in front of my face.
I came back to reality. "My password?"
"Yes, your password."
I needed to buy time. "You promise not to tell anyone?"
He threw me a look of total frustration. "Gabby, what am I going to do with your password? I'm a lawyer, not a web-savvy criminal"
"Okay, it's ... nancydrew, all one word" I lied. Guilt washed through me, but I just couldn't tell him the truth.
He glanced back at me with what I'd call amusement. If he only knew.
He typed, then looked back at me when an error message occurred. "You sure you didn't accidentally change it?"
"How does one accidentally change their password?"
"It's happened before"
"I'm sure it has" I shook my head, trying to think of an excuse to get him off my computer without seeming suspicious. "No, I'm sure I didn't change it" I simply told you a made-up one.
He played some more on the screen, typing and bringing up foreignlooking pages. He was trying hard, and I was feeling guilty. I should confess. I should tell him. It was the right thing to do.
"Riley-"
"You realize your server isn't secure, don't you?"
I forgot about my confession. "Excuse me?"
"Your server. You have a wireless DSL, but it's not secure. So anyone who's wireless can get on to your computer"
"Repeat in English, please"
He leaned back in the chair and turned to face me. "When you don't have a secure server, anyone who has wireless can pick up on your signal and log into your account. That could be how your password got changed"
I let my head flop back until it hit the top of the couch. "Tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were."
I knew my real user name and password didn't work, so I went with my original line of questioning. "So, what do I do?"
"You hire someone who really knows about computers to come out and fix it. I don't know enough to correct the situation." He shrugged apologetically.
I thought of my dwindling checking account. Bills were coming due. How much would it cost to have someone come out? I didn't even want to think about it.
"There's a girl at my church who does stuff with computers. Would you like me to ask her if she can help?" Riley studied my face. I'd bet he knew exactly what I was thinking-financial stress! Financial stress! Why did he have to read me so well?
"Is she expens
ive?"
Riley grinned, confirming my initial thoughts. "She probably wouldn't charge unless she had to buy something."
Yes! "I'd love it if she came out. I'll offer her my services for free also, if she ever needs a crime-scene cleaner"
He cocked his eyebrow and shook his head while wearing a slightly amused grin. "I'll leave that part out. I'll call her in the morning, then"
I nodded. "Thanks"
PEOPLE WERE mourning-and loudly. They wore shirts with Darnell's Elvis-ized face across it. "Love Me Tender" played in the background. And everyone had handkerchiefs instead of disposable tissues.
At least one hundred people had shown up at the funeral home for the service. I wondered how many were members of his fan club. How many people really knew him? Did they really love Darnell Evans, or did they love the man he imitated?
I adjusted my black dress and tried to look solemn. Maybe I should have taken Riley up on his offer to come with me. I hated funerals.
The last funeral I'd attended had been my mother's. I stood up front with Dad and a few aunts and uncles. My life had changed forever. We weren't a Leave It to Beaver family, but any hopes I had of warm and cozy Polaroid moments died with my mom. She'd kept us together.
"Hey;" someone said beside me.
I glanced over and saw Chad, dressed respectably in a suit and tie. I almost didn't recognize the beach bum. "What are you doing here?"
"The same thing you are"
First he intruded on my business, and now he was intruding on my snooping? How dare he? "I'm paying my respects;' I whispered quickly, jabbing a finger into my chest.
"You're snooping."
"Don't be ridiculous:"
He grinned. "You know, you're cute when you're mad."
I felt my face turn to a very un-cute shade of red. "Very funny."
"I wasn't being funny."
Judging by the heat on my cheeks, my face was now bright crimson.
The minister walked on stage-wearing a jumpsuit and sporting sideburns. Give me a break. I rolled my eyes.
As the ceremony started, I glanced at the people gathered. I spotted Jamie in the first row, along with a few other people-brothers and sisters maybe? The next row back contained Lynette. I'm surprised she decided to show her face here, although she did plan the funeral.
How strange was that? Why had Jamie let Lynette plan the funeral? She'd probably say it was because Lynette was the president of his fan club. But still, the woman had been having an affair with her husband! Was I missing something? Or did these people live in an alternate reality?
The next row back held a large man with a round, full stomach. The sight of him triggered something in my memory. What had Jamie said? That Darnell's boss, Rodger Maloney, had a big, fat pregnant belly? I would bet my eyeteeth that the man in the third row was Rodger, solemn and rough hewn like someone who spent his life doing hard labor. What had Jamie said he was? A plumber?
I needed to talk to the man. Maybe I could grab him after the funeral. He might hold some answers for me.
A movement at the back of the chapel caught my attention. Someone slipped into the last pew. I did a double take. Mrs. Mystery? What was she doing here? I tried to get her attention, but my neighbor's gaze remained focused on the speaker up front. I'd catch her later and find out the scoop.
As the funeral continued, my thoughts drifted to my morning at Mr. Hermit's. I'd cleaned his place some more before coming to the funeral. With each box I unpacked, I found more sad evidence of how lonely he'd been. I couldn't get my mind off the man. Then on the way to the ceremony, the landlord called and told me that the state would bury Mr. Hermit.
I shifted in my seat as an idea struck. What if I had a funeral for him?
I could certainly organize something. I could try and contact those people I'd seen in the pictures with him. His body could leave this world with some dignity. If I understood correctly, the state would provide a coffin, something low-grade, but it would have to do. I couldn't afford much.
Even better, maybe we could use some of the money from selling his belongings to pay for the funeral. My brain whirled in full gear.
Before I realized it, everyone was standing so they could attend the graveside service. I stood also, and Chad beside me. I glanced back to where Mrs. Mystery had sat, but she had disappeared. Good thing I knew how to find her later.
"Figure out any leads during the ceremony?" Chad whispered as we walked outside.
I remembered Mrs. Mystery, and I shrugged. "Nothing of interest."
"What's next?"
"Next, I talk to Elvis's wife"
"At a funeral?"
"No better time than the present"
Chad smirked and shook his head. "I was just thinking no worse time than the present"
I waited for Jamie. I knew it was probably a total social faux pas to approach a grieving widow at her husband's funeral. But I did it anyway. Trying to gather some manners, I placed my hand on her bony shoulder.
"Gabby!" She smiled, and her face lit up like a police car that'd just clocked a speeder. "How are you? I'm so glad you could make it"
The woman made it sound like I'd made it to a dinner party. Not that I was surprised. The woman had a strange way of reacting to her husband's death.
I cleared my throat and tried, more for my sake than Jamie's, to appear sympathetic. "Glad I could come out and help support you during this time" I cringed at the fakeness of my words and decided to get to the point. "Jamie, do you know where Hank works?"
My lack of manners didn't seem to faze her. "Sure, he's a driver for Henderson's Delivery. Why?"
"I have a question for him"
She pursed her lips and grabbed my arm. Her sharp, two-inch nails dug into my flesh. "You gonna question Rodger still? I'm telling you, that man's full of vengeance"
I stored her response away for later evaluation and brushed her claws from my arm. "I'm going to. I just haven't yet."
She pointed a red-tipped fingernail at me. "I really need some answers, sweetheart. Darnell needs to rest in peace. I don't want his ghost coming back to haunt me"
"Of course not"
She smiled, and I wanted to buy the woman some whitening strips ... and a nicotine patch ... and a sandwich. "I knew you'd understand"
And that was that. I had no more work to do here. I walked halfway to my van before I noticed Chad trailing me. "What are you doing?"
He put a little skip in his step until he was at my side. "I'm going with you"
"Why?" I flipped my keys into the air.
"Because it's safer that way."
"Is it?"
"It's as the Beatles once said, `We'll get by with a little help from our friends.."'
I stopped. Maybe this man wasn't my nemesis. Maybe this man was the male version of me. "Fine. You can come. Some company might be nice"
We climbed into my van, I cranked the engine, and we pulled away from the weed-infested cemetery. That cemetery itself was a crime, though I supposed its inhabitants weren't the wiser for it.
"So, how's business going?" Chad asked.
"It's going"
"What's that mean?"
Great, someone else who has a knack for asking questions. Now I knew how it felt for others to be around me. "It means whatever you want it to mean. It's going fine. I'm busy. I'm getting paid."
He flicked a piece of thread from his pants leg. "You're doing a bum job, huh? Sometimes you've got to pick those up in the downtimes"
Finally, someone who understood me.
Because he was my competition, I reminded myself. The man was trying to steal my business. Didn't he know I had college loans to pay? I didn't have a hefty bank account to hold me over during ski season.
Did I like this man or hate him? I couldn't decide.
"I'm packing up some things for a man who died without family, if you must know," I finally said.
"Interesting"
"Actually, it is interesting. Piecing together this
man's life has been eye opening ... and sad. I mean, he died without anyone, not even a dog to mourn him."
"I came across a few people like that in my days at the funeral home"
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, that Beatles song still going through my head, the one about someone needing me and feeding me when I was sixty-four. "I'm thinking of giving him a funeral," I blurted. I held my breath, waiting for a reprimand. Parker would try to put me in my place. Riley would try and counsel me. What would Chad do?
"That sounds like a great idea"
My head swerved toward him. "What did you say?"
"I said that's a great idea" He glanced back at the road, as if to remind me that I was driving and his life was in my hands. Scary, if I did say so myself. "I could help. I do know a few things about funerals"
Someone to help me. That would be nice. Not someone to scold me or someone to guide me. Just someone to be there right beside me. Why did my heart lift so much at the thought? And why was I suddenly starting to think in rhyme, like I was writing a cheesy campfire song? "I just might take you up on that offer"
"I hope you do"
"DO YOU think he's at the office? I mean, he's a delivery man. He's probably on the road" Chad leaned back into the van seat like it had a built-in massaging mechanism. Totally relaxed, totally at ease, and totally in my business.
"I guess we'll find out"
"What exactly do you hope to find out?"
Argh. The questions again. I made a mental note that I needed to stop asking as many, lest I annoy people the way Chad Davis annoyed me. "Where Mr. Elvis was on the day Darnell Evans died-"
"And what day was that?"
"He was last seen on October 28, which the medical examiner's report confirms. And I'm going to ask him about the blackmail letter-"
"What?"
I sighed. Did I have to explain everything to the living, breathing book of questions sitting beside me? "Yes, Hank was blackmailing Darnell over some ETA competition"
"ETA?"
I sighed again. "Elvis tribute artist. Get with it" I snapped my fingers in his direction.
Suspicious Minds Page 9
