Checked Out (A Ricki Rydell Mystery Book 1)

by Abby Matthews

  She nodded as she fished for her cellphone out of her purse. “What’s more,” she said, swiping her phone, “I took some pictures of her desk. It’s nothing earth shattering.” She passed the phone off to Becca who didn’t seem too impressed. “In the book of hers, she left clues behind. I still don’t understand what she’s trying to say, but I thought maybe you could help me by looking at it yourself to give me a different perspective. My brain is too wrapped up in it right now to see objectively.”

  “We can stop at your house after dinner to talk about it more openly.”

  Instead of finishing her wonderful salmon, Ricki stared at the picture of the truck of books Jennifer had sitting near her desk. And then the lightbulb went on. Forgetting where she was, she shouted the name of a deity in the middle of the restaurant. Everyone’s eyes turned again, curious about the crazy women sitting nearby.

  Becca kicked her under the table. “What are you doing?”

  “Hey, I didn’t kick you when you dropped your knife and fork on the plate, did I?”

  “No, but I didn’t just have an epiphany. Did you figure something out?”

  “You tell me.” She showed her the picture of the book truck. “You see anything funny about these books?”

  Becca studied the picture for a few minutes and shook her head.

  “Look at the matching numbers and letters. 345.5 BAI and 345.5 LEY. Now, take out the second 345.5 and combine the letters. It spells Bailey. 345.5 Bailey, and as you can see, on the next book it says AVE, as in avenue. 3455 Bailey Avenue. It’s an address.”

  Becca took the phone and placed it right in front of her eyes to get a better view. “Holy crap, you’re right.”

  And Ricki would almost guarantee that the other books Jennifer had sitting by her desk spelled out another address.

  Ricki was used to playing the role of designated driver whenever Becca went out for the evening, so now was no different. She kept trying to tell Ricki that because she hadn’t had a drink in over a year, it was hitting her a lot harder than it used to. “I’m a lightweight,” she said, her speech slurring. She stumbled into the passenger seat. Ricki had to fasten her seat belt for her friend. “This motherhood thing is ruining my street cred.”

  Ricki laughed. “What street cred? You live in Unionville.”

  “Don’t you steal my delusions away from me. If I want to hold onto my metal head days, I will.” She did bull horns with both hands, raising them above her head, and let out a high-pitched scream like she was at some thrash metal concert.

  “I wouldn’t dream of robbing you of your delusions, but if you’re going to get sick make sure you put the window down before you barf.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of such a wonderful dinner. Wasn’t that a wonderful dinner? I can’t remember the last time I had a good dinner like that.”

  As Becca went on and on about how great the salmon was, Ricki couldn’t seem to get across town fast enough. They were on the other side of the county from her house, and had a good forty minute drive to get there, but she really wanted to get to the bottom of Jennifer’s death. She wanted to know what Jennifer was trying to say and who she was trying to say it about. She had hoped Becca would be in the right frame of mind to help her with the clues, but it was the end of the evening and her frame of mind was floating in wine. After about twenty minutes of nonstop chatter, Becca suddenly stopped. Ricki looked over to see her head tilted backwards and her mouth hanging open. She was sound asleep which meant she was driving her friend home instead of heading straight to her house.

  “I figured this would happen,” Tony said. Tony was about 6’4” tall, muscular and good-looking in that sun-kissed, boy next door sort of way. He was the typical high school jock, but he had a good heart and a good head on his shoulders, and he was nuts about Becca. “Thanks for bringing her home. I just put the baby down for the night.”

  “Do you need any help?” Ricki asked, knowing she couldn’t do a darn thing.

  “You can get the door.”

  After Ricki was sure Becca was tucked in her bed, she drove home, fidgeting the entire way. The car couldn’t move fast enough, and the 35mph speed limit through her neighborhood didn’t help her restlessness.

  As she pulled into the driveway, hitting the remote for the garage door, she noticed the front porch light was off. Whenever she went out for the evening she left the front porch light, the living room light, and her bedroom light on. The two inside lights were on but not the porch light. She might have forgotten to turn it on. In the rush to get ready for the evening she might have skipped that light switch completely. But running through the evening in her mind she remembered that right between walking Rumpus and putting lipstick on at the hall mirror, she flipped the switch.

  Feeling a twinge in her stomach, she tried not to jump to conclusions. It might have burnt out. That was it. Yep, for sure. Burnt out. That lasted all of two seconds before she automatically thought the worst.

  Somebody was in her house. Instead of pulling all the way into the garage, she stopped in the middle of the driveway, left the car running, and ran off to the front of the house to make sure the bulb wasn’t in fact burnt out. With her eyes completely focused on the porch light, she didn’t see the rock situated right in the middle of the second step and nearly tripped over it. Under the rock, she found a piece of paper folded in half. That was when her stomach went from a twinge to a full on twist. Her knees grew weak. She opened the paper carefully. It was a letter and it read: Mind your own business or you’ll be next.

  Fourteen

  Ricki froze. Goosebumps tickled their way all over her body, giving her a sudden urge to pee. The high-pitched ringing in her ears made hearing anything else but her heart pounding in her head impossible. The only place there wasn’t any activity was in her brain. What was a person supposed to do when faced with danger? Oh yeah, run. She ran back to her car and locked the door.

  Somebody had stood on her doorstep and left a threatening note under a rock. Surely one of her neighbors saw something or someone in her yard. But considering it was on the front porch step, they might have just thought it was a visitor or someone selling home security systems, which she wished she had at that moment.

  Her house was an old bungalow situated in an established neighborhood, so most of the yards were bigger with older, more abundant landscaping. The tree in front of her house was a maple probably over a hundred years old. And if somebody actually did stop by to leave this note, it was possible that nobody saw who it was. Unfortunately, it was already eleven o’clock at night so going door-to-door to her closest neighbors was out of the question, especially since both of them were elderly couples who went to bed by 8:30 every night.

  Her head still spinning, she managed to have a moment of clarity and reached out to her brother. Back in the day, when Ricki was dating more frequently, long before Marty, they established an S.O.S. call in case she got in trouble on her dates. Her hands shook the phone violently as she tried her best to type the text: SOS, home, something strange going on, need you. If he didn’t have to work the next day, he should have been awake at that time of night. She waited for his call. It took longer than usual, but eventually the phone vibrated in her hand. She answered swiftly. “Try not to panic.”

  “You just sent a distress signal. Any time you start a phone call with the words try not to panic, I’m going to panic. Are you in trouble?” His words came rapid-fire, but he sounded breathless. Obviously, she had rattled him.

  “I found a note on my front porch step.”

  “What kind of note?”

  “Technically, it’s a death threat.”

  “I’m on my way. Call 911.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Of course you do. Somebody left a death threat. Why wouldn’t you call?”

  “It might be a prank.”

  “Fine. Just wait until I get there. Don’t go in the house. You aren’t in the house, are you?”

  “I’m n
ot that stupid.”

  “Good. Get in your car and lock it until I get there.”

  “Already there.”

  “I’ll stay on the line in case you need me.”

  “Don’t get caught by the cops for talking on your cellphone while you’re driving.”

  “At least you still have your sense of humor.”

  Her brother only lived five minutes away, but she stayed in the car nonetheless. In case she needed to make a quick getaway, she backed the car out of the driveway and parked in the street, leaving the motor running. She had lived such a boring life until she became a volunteer at the library. Receiving death threats was not as romantic and glamorous as it was in the movies or in books. It was quite frightening, actually. It was her own fault. She was the one who went into the library and did all that snooping. Once word got out why she did, it seemed only natural that something like this could happen. Jennifer had a note in her desk drawer. Did the same person leave one on her porch?

  When a set of headlights pulled up behind Ricki’s car, she exhaled in relief. Her brother jumped out of his car, ran over to hers and knocked on the window. She lowered it. “I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life.”

  “What’s going on? Don’t leave anything out.” As Ricki filled him in on all the details of her dinner with Becca, he grew impatient. He motioned with his hands for her to speed things up. “I don’t want to know what you ate for dinner; I want to know about the death threat.” But she thought it was a good idea to tell him everything that had transpired over the past few days. “But why? That’s all I want to know. Is this from one of your online stalkers or something?”

  “No, this isn’t from a cyber-stalker. I don’t have one anymore.”

  “Where’s the note?”

  Ricki pointed to the porch step. He raced over to pick it up, examining it front, back, and sideways. She walked over to meet him, checking over her shoulder and scanning the hedges for a possible intruder.

  “Did you see anything suspicious when you pulled into your driveway, like a person running away?”

  “Nope. Rumpus wasn’t even barking when I came in.” At the mere mention of his name, she panicked. “Oh my God, Rumpus. What if somebody broke in the house and stole him, or worse, hurt him?” She fumbled for her keys to unlock the front door but remembered the screen door was locked. Since she always went in through the side door, she never carried that key with her. She took off toward the garage, but her brother grabbed hold of her arm to hold her back.

  “Wait a minute. Let me do a quick perimeter check to see if everything is okay. You didn’t leave any windows or doors unlocked, did you?”

  “No.” As a slightly famous public figure, she knew better than to leave anything unlocked even when she was there in her house. Her brother suggested waiting in the car until he came back around. Ricki did so, eyes focused on the opposite side of the house, waiting for her brother to reappear. He came around front, giving her the okay and that he was going to check inside before she went in. As soon as he opened the door, Rumpus came running out straight toward Ricki’s car, jumping and scratching at the door. She jumped out to an excited dog, wanting to be picked up.

  Out of breath, Chris said, “Okay, you can go inside, but I’m coming with you. You might as well get used to the idea, but I’m going to stay the night, just to be sure you’re safe.”

  “A sleepover? Rumpus is going to love this.” Inside, Ricki did her own investigation to make sure everything was right where she left it. Even if he was her brother, Chris didn’t live there and didn’t understand all the nuances of her house. Nothing was out of place, nothing looked touched, nothing broken into.

  After Chris got settled with a glass of water, he parked himself at the kitchen table and studied Ricki with his piercing eyes. “Okay, now tell me what really happened.”

  Just like her mother, Chris had a sixth sense and knew when someone was lying. And that someone just happened to be Ricki. She was going to try her best not to tell him what was really going on because he would worry and cause a lot of trouble for her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m like your right arm and know more about you than you do yourself.”

  Ricki paced the floor in the kitchen. “Oh, stop. You do not. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “For starters, the truth. Unless this is from some rabid fan of yours, I don’t understand why you would receive a death threat out of the blue. That just doesn’t happen to people.”

  “I don’t know why I got it. It’s not like I’m dealing drugs or handling large sums of money or taking a hit out on somebody or anything shady, so I don’t know.” It wasn’t much of a lie, as Ricki let the words slip out of her mouth, she realized she didn’t know why she would receive a death threat. She only snooped through Jennifer’s desk. That wouldn’t warrant getting a death threat. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me like that.”

  “Whatever. Have you gotten any unusual phone calls? Or has anyone followed you home or around town? I need to know these things. I still say you’re not being straight with me.”

  Ricki busied herself around the kitchen, folding and unfolding a dishtowel. The longer he sat there staring at her the weaker she’d grow and eventually she’d break down and tell him everything. She was just going to focus on getting this imaginary spot out of the countertop.

  “Do you know how I can tell when you’re lying?”

  Well, it looked like she was about to get schooled by her brother. “Do tell.”

  “Even as a kid I knew you were lying if you started doing something to distract me from finding out the truth, sort of like what you’re doing now.”

  “What makes you think I’m not telling you the truth?”

  “Because your countertop is spotless and you’re cleaning it like it’s dirty. Does this have anything to do with that Barnes woman getting killed?”

  Her ears pricked up. “So, you are saying she did get killed.”

  Her brother’s jaw dropped open but no sound came out.

  “Now who’s the one not telling all the truth?”

  “But I’m a police officer, so if I know something I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

  “Dude, you’re a patrol officer.”

  “Don’t pull that crap on me. Just because you make almost a million dollars a year doesn’t mean you have to look down on someone who doesn’t.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be insulting, and I don’t even make close to that a year. All I’m saying is that you’re not a homicide detective. If you know something there’s no reason why you can’t tell me.”

  “And vice versa. What do you know, Ricki?”

  The benefit of telling him everything: she could find out even more because he’d open up and share his inside information. The bad thing in telling him everything: he would probably tell her to mind her own business or she’d end up hurt. Even if they were twins, and she was technically the older one, he always acted like the protective older brother. She wasn’t going to get out of this without confessing everything, so she did just that. She told him everything back to when she first met Jennifer and even to the most embarrassing part about getting let go as a volunteer.

  “You got fired from being a volunteer?”

  Ricki let out an exasperated sigh. “Can we end this running joke now, please?”

  “I just heard about it,” he said, laughing. “You have to give me some time to enjoy it.”

  She snapped her fingers in his face. “Remember that cryptic note on my front porch?”

  “Right. You can’t do your own investigation. It’s obvious you already messed around with the wrong person, and you don’t even know who it is. You’re the only sister I have, and even if you are a pain in the butt sometimes, I don’t want anything to happen to you. Not to mention you might be hindering an investigation.”

  “Aw, that’s touching. But I don’t care if I am hindering an investigation.” She
tapped her fingers on the countertop. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me what you know.”

  “I told you I can’t.”

  “Fine, I’ll do my own deduction. You already hinted that something wasn’t right about the autopsy. Knowing what I’ve learned about Jennifer, it’s possible that with all the herbal supplements she was taking that maybe she caused her own death, but I don’t think so. And considering you are so concerned that I mind my own business, I’d say she was murdered. If I make another assumption—because I’ve read so many Agatha Christie novels lately—I’m guessing she was poisoned. If she had a healthy heart and then all of a sudden dropped dead, what else could be the reason?”

  Chris narrowed his eyes and looked away. She was on the right track. In case she was, she showed him the corkboard she had created with all of the clues and pictures she picked up along the way. “You’ve been busy, I see.” He studied each piece of evidence carefully, but he seemed more interested in the bottle of liquid sitting on her desk. “What is that?”

  “A half-empty bottle of one of those sports drinks. The day they let me go, however, her desk was already cleared off. The bottle is now gone.”

  He pursed his lips. “Cleared the desk off already?”

  “It looked like they were in a hurry to get rid of any memory of her. She had a lot of enemies, so it’s not really a surprise if you think somebody was trying to kill her.”

  “This changes everything,” he mumbled under his breath.

  Not one to pass up a hint, Ricki pounced on that. “It brings the investigation closer to where she worked. Someone at the library killed her.” She tapped her fingers on her chin. “That would explain a few things. So why would they take Grace Rossini in for questioning?”

  “Grace has a history with her.”

  “From what I learned, everyone has a history with her, if you know what I mean.” Ricki was letting her personal history color her opinion of Jennifer. That wasn’t like her to say something so offhanded and judgmental. “But seriously, why can’t we just work together on this and stop fighting with each other?”