Six
Ricki dropped Jennifer’s book to the floor at her feet. She just saw the woman less than an hour ago, and now she was dead. Her brain was caught in a hitch and no amount of nudging from Rumpus could unhitch it. But he wanted to go for a walk and wouldn’t leave her alone.
What a strange turn of events.
She hardly knew Jennifer, and what she knew she didn’t care for, but that didn’t stop her from feeling weirded out by her death. Jennifer was dying right in front of her as they talked about the very book that just slipped from her arms.
A few days ago, when she first met her, she was the picture of perfect health. Tanned skin, fit physique, full of life and vitality, if not inappropriate behavior, but she was alive. Heart attacks did strange things to people—alive one moment, dead the next. But while Jennifer’s untimely death unsettled Ricki, there was something else that bothered her. Not one single person seemed shocked that she died. Not one single person expressed any kind of remorse that their coworker bit the dust. Except Jon. But his reaction was more due to shock. Considering his meek personality, it wasn’t surprising that he would react the way he did.
Ricki figured he probably was a little on the squeamish side. He was young and a little different from most twenty-something-year-olds she had ever met, so she couldn’t put too much stock in his reaction. Victoria, the volunteer coordinator, who seemed like a really nice person, said some rather mean things about her behind her back after she was taken to the hospital. Who knew what she said about Jennifer when she was alive? It would probably shock Ricki. She didn’t get a chance to see who Victoria was speaking to and couldn’t place the voice, but her words and reaction were the same as everyone else’s: no remorse, didn’t care, glad she’s gone, had it coming, good riddance.
This would be the moment where her mother would step in and tell Ricki to get out of her head and quit imagining things that weren’t there. But if everyone had acted differently, had acted sad, maybe she wouldn’t let her imagination run wild and think more sinister things were at play.
Rumpus couldn’t hold it in any longer, and a lap around the block would help clear her head from thinking the worst. But it didn’t work. As he had her zigzagging through the neighborhood from tree to fire hydrant to tree to bush to the small dog in the window barking at him, she convinced herself even more that something was amiss. As soon as Rumpus finished his business, she texted her brother to tell him they were coming over for a visit. Luckily, it was his day off so she didn’t have to drive all the way downtown to the police station to see him or track him down on the highway. He may have only been a Highway Patrol officer, but at least she could tell him her suspicions. She knew he was going to say he didn’t know anything about it before she even got there, but she wouldn’t let that deter her from at least asking.
“You hardly ever come to see me during the day,” Chris said, eyeing her suspiciously. “What’s going on? And don’t try to tell me nothing because I can see it written all over your face.”
Her brother had the same sixth sense their mother did, always seeing right to the heart of her motivation. It didn’t help that Ricki was a horrible liar. “What? Don’t I even get a glass of water?” Rumpus raced over to the bowl of water in the kitchen that her brother always left out for him and helped himself. “No, I’m serious. Can I have a glass of water?”
“Since when do you have to ask. Okay, what happened?”
“What makes you think anything happened?”
“Because I have a police scanner and can hear everything that happens in this town.”
And just as he said that, she heard the crackling sounds of an official call for backup in the far section of Unionville, the not so good neighborhood. Her cheeks grew warm. “So I guess you heard about Jennifer Barnes, then.”
“Is that why you came over to see me?”
Ricki took a glass out of the cupboard and helped herself to a gorgeous pitcher of iced tea sitting in the refrigerator. “Before I get to any of that, let me ask you a question: Did you know her?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I knew of her. She’s about ten years older than us, so we never ran in the same circle. Get to the point, Ricki.”
He was starting to lose his patience with her, she could tell. He was the polar opposite of her. Where she was the creative one with the wild imagination, he was the stoic one with no imagination at all. He stuck to facts, numbers, logic, and that made him boring as a piece of toast, plain, no jelly. He was interested in sports; she was interested in books. She was the goofball, he wasn’t.
“All right,” she said, giving in. “What do you know about what happened to her?”
“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. Besides, the only thing I heard was that she died on the way to the hospital.” He leaned against the sink and folded his arms across his chest. “Why are you so interested in this woman? Were you friends?”
“I was talking to her right before she passed out in the bathroom. I’m the one that found her on the floor.”
“You found her?”
She nodded, wide-eyed. She could see the light slowly coming on in his head.
“Then you probably know more than I do.” Chris poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat at the table. “Why are you asking me? I’m Highway Patrol, not hom—”
“Not what? Homicide? Is that what you were going to say?”
A loud knock came at the door, saving Chris from worming his way out of answering the question. She knew he was buddies with a few cops in the homicide division, but it was possible he didn’t know anything yet. Jennifer had been dead only a few hours.
As her brother answered the door, she trained her ears in the direction of the living room. His visitor was a man, his voice unfamiliar, but her brother was happy to see whoever it was. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard backslapping. Maybe it was one of his old friends. Oh no, it was his old friend, Damon, from high school. The one who just moved back to town to start his own construction company. The one who was full of pimples and braces and glasses and greasy hair in high school. And the one her friend Becca thought Ricki might be interested in getting to know again. That was a big fat no.
“Ricki, get in here,” Chris called out. “I want you to meet someone.” As she pushed herself away from the table, taking a deep breath, she heard her brother say under his breath, “Let’s see if she recognizes you.”
To be the smart aleck she often was to her brother, she waltzed into the living room and said, “Damon Evers, how are—?” Ricki stopped dead in her tracks, distracted by the handsome man who stood in front of her. This wasn’t the Damon Evers she remembered from high school. He was much taller, much stronger, no glasses, braces, zits, or greasy hair. As a matter of fact, he looked like he could have been a model for some home improvement magazine. She pictured him standing there with his leather tool belt dangling from his waist, gripping some power tool that showed off his flexing, bulging bicep. But, all that aside, it was still Damon.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Damon said, his voice soothing and charming.
It was almost an out of body experience looking at him and remembering who he was in high school. It was going to take some time to get used to this new version to replace the old one she had in her brain. And her brain had this horrible habit of getting an image of someone or something and not being able to let it go when it shifted. In this case, maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult.
“I can’t even remember the last time I saw you. What was it? Right after graduation before I went to college, I think.”
“That sounds about right.” She folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs at the ankles. “It seems strange that I haven’t seen you since high school. What have you been up to?”
“I went to college for a couple of years, decided I hated it, and moved to California where I worked in construction. Now I’m here, as a contractor, ready to start my own business in my hometown. I’ve missed it.” He
checked her out, eyeing her legs a little longer than she would have liked. “I missed a lot of people, too.” He winked at her.
“I’m sure your mother is happy to have you back,” she said, trying to shift his focus away from her.
“My mother died four years ago,” Damon said, solemnly.
Ricki’s mouth formed the letter O, but no sound came out. Her brother gave her a look that said to knock it off. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said quickly to cover up her gaffe. She looked to her brother for help. He had to get her out of this or he was going to hear about it later.
“Maybe we could get together for dinner one night, just the three of us,” Chris said. He must have confused her look of desperation for a look of wanting to hook up with his friend.
“I’d love that,” Damon said.
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Ricki said, backing out of the room, searching for Rumpus. Naturally, he was on the floor licking himself. His favorite pastime. “Well, I better be going. It was really nice seeing you again, Damon.” As she skated out of the living room and snatched Rumpus’ leash, Chris followed her into the kitchen. She turned on him. “Don’t you dare set me up with him.”
“Why not? I thought you might like him, and it’s been a while since…” The hard stare from Ricki’s eyes made him stop before he even finished the sentence.
“I’m not desperate for a boyfriend. And I don’t need you to fix me up with anyone.” Jennifer’s adulterous reputation stirred up a lot of memories of Marty, so this sentiment coming from her brother felt like a slap in the face. “I’ll find my own man, thank you very much.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
“We never did get to finish our conversation, you know, the reason I came over here.”
“So you admit the only reason you came over here was to pump me for information.”
“You’re a cop. Don’t you guys have your own secret language you use to communicate with each other?”
“I have a guest waiting for me.” He stood with his hands on his hips, studying her face. “Don’t get involved. That’s all I’m saying. I’ll see you later.” He went to the refrigerator. “Damon, can I get you a beer?” Eyebrows raised, he watched his sister as he opened the beer bottle. “Listen to your brother. Got it?”
She got it, all right. Something was going on, and it wasn’t only her imagination. Jennifer Barnes died under suspicious circumstances, and he was telling her not to get involved. Too late. She was already involved.
Seven
Over the weekend, no matter how hard she tried, Ricki couldn’t stop thinking about what her brother had said to her. It wasn’t so much what he said but how he said it and the look in his eye as he said it. Don’t get involved. Listen to your brother. Not that she really expected him to reveal the police department’s darkest secrets, but she knew how to put one and one together and come up with a whopper of a story. But, in an effort to get out of her head and stop creating catastrophes where there might not be any, Ricki decided to spend time with Jennifer’s manuscript. Before going to The Bean, she stopped at the library to drop some books off and found a sign posted on the door: Closed due to funeral. Will reopen on Wednesday.
It seemed odd to close the library for three days just for one person, but it was probably out of respect for Jennifer’s family. And that she nearly died in the employee bathroom. Trying not to let her imagination run wild, Ricki shrugged and dropped the books in the book return slot.
She ordered her usual cappuccino, double shot, and an almond croissant and found a table in the corner where she could curl up with Jennifer’s hefty masterpiece. Before she started she thought she would have to quiet her inner editor in order to get through it, but as she finished the first chapter she realized Jennifer had a talent for storytelling. She even had a good grasp on the mechanics of fiction writing: no info dumps of backstory, no extraneous exposition, a good balance between show and tell. Overall, she had the beginning of a really good story.
From what she could gather, it was a romantic suspense. The major flaw so far was that the hero and heroine were both married and had fallen in love. In romance, cheating wasn’t allowed, but since this was a romantic suspense, she might be able to get away with it. But only if it was the set up for the mystery. She would have to wait until getting deeper into the story to find that out.
As she took the final bite of her croissant, she looked up to find Jon, the library associate, standing in front of her, all smiles and politeness. “I thought that was you,” he said, fidgeting with the lid of his coffee cup. “You survived the drama, I see.”
Ricki invited him to sit down. “I did, but a few moments were sketchy. I’ve never had something like that happen to me. It was unnerving. And how are you handling it?”
“Still a little shaken up, to be honest.” He took a large gulp of his coffee, wincing as the heat bit his tongue. “It’s a real shame.”
“What is?”
“Well, when anyone dies it’s a shame, but um… I don’t have the best social skills, so you’ll have to forgive me.”
She leaned forward and whispered, “Neither do I.” As she watched him squirm in his seat, she realized that maybe he knew a good deal about Jennifer considering he worked with her. If what her brother was hinting at was true, pumping someone in the know was a good way to gather clues. But as timid as he was, coming right out and asking would probably scare him off. “How well did you know her?”
“She didn’t talk to me unless it was about books or library business.” Lips tightened, he stared off. “We only knew each other from work.”
“So you got along with her, then?”
“I guess so.”
For such a young man, she couldn’t shake the feeling he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Quite different from the first time she met him. He was warm and receptive and looked genuinely happy, but now, not so much. He seemed distracted, almost like he was carrying a secret, a secret he wanted to tell someone. She had to find out what it was. “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”
“Actually, I was just heading over to the library to—”
“I thought it was closed.”
“It is, but I have to go and discharge all the books from the book drop before they pile up and overflow. We do that when we close the library for holidays or cleaning days or training days. Someone will come in and clean out the drop box so the next person who opens the library isn’t slammed with a lot of work. It’s a courtesy.”
She cleaned up her plate and coffee cup before passing it off to a barista walking by, busing the tables. “It seems like you have something on your mind. You want to talk about anything?” She waited, reading his face, hoping he would let her in on his secret. She didn’t get her hopes up. She knew how she felt about a complete stranger trying to get her to open up. “I know I don’t know you very well, but if you need to talk about what happened, I’ll gladly listen.”
“What makes you think I have something to talk about? I don’t have anything to talk about. I don’t know anything. What makes you think I know anything?”
She smiled. “So you do know something, something about Jennifer, maybe.” When he didn’t say anything to her line of questioning, she decided to come right out and ask him. “You don’t believe Jennifer died of a heart attack either, do you?”
He swallowed hard and looked away. Finally, he gazed into her eyes for a split second before staring down at his hands. He leaned forward and whispered. “It does seem kind of strange for someone like her to die of a heart attack all of a sudden.”
“Yes it does. Do you know something?”
“I wouldn’t call it know, but…”
“But you would call it something like a hunch maybe.”
“Something like that. But what am I supposed to do with that? No one will believe anything I say, anyway.”
“I know the feeling. It seems you and I have a lot in common, and that’s good. We
can work with each other.”
“You mean like at the library.”
“Besides the library. In fact, speaking of the library, I know a way we can help each other right now.”
He sat up straight and cocked his head to the side. “Really, how?”
“You have your suspicions. I have my suspicions. Jennifer might’ve had her suspicions but didn’t tell anyone. I know of one way we could find evidence to support our suspicions.”
He knitted his brows together, studying her. “How?”
“Well, you’re on your way to the library, by yourself, I’m assuming.” He nodded. “If the library is closed, I could come there with you and help out with the books.”
“Felicity doesn’t want anyone but employees in the library. No volunteers. Sorry.”
She had to try this from a different angle. It seemed a more direct approach would work better with someone like Jon. “I don’t think you understand what I’m getting at, so let me explain. The library closed after they took her to the hospital, I’m assuming, so that means no one had a chance to search for clues. And since the library is closed right now, it would be a perfect time for you and I to work together to find those clues.”
The light bulb went on, although it did seem to flicker a bit. “I can’t do that. Felicity made me promise not to let anyone in.”
“But what Felicity doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” She raised her eyebrows a couple of times. “While you’re taking care of the books, I’ll be looking for clues. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“If I do this, Ricki, I could get in a lot of trouble, and I don’t like trouble.”
“Neither do I, believe me, but look at it this way. You might be helping to find a murderer.”
Jon scanned the coffee shop nervously. Not surprising, considering she probably said the word murderer a little too loud. He stood to leave, but she grabbed hold of his wrist. “Like I said, I don’t want any trouble.”
Checked Out (A Ricki Rydell Mystery Book 1) Page 5
