I bow my head and mutter, "Sorry."
Dad looks over my shoulder and says, "I'm terribly sorry for my daughter's actions. It won't happen again." To the chief, he says, "Excuse us."
Then he presses a hand to my back and guides me out of the kitchen, out the front door, and across the street.
I know I just stepped in a giant pile of crap, but I'm more upset that I didn't find out anything new. Some detective I am.
Once we're behind closed doors, Dad turns, opens his mouth, and then shuts it. He runs a hand through his hair and turns away. He steps into his office, his sanctuary, and when I follow (because I know there's no sense in running upstairs and hiding), he faces me and lets it blow.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Obviously not that I'd get caught.
"Well?"
Here's the thing: Dad isn't really a yeller. Once in a while he'll raise his voice, but he's usually just stern when he feels like it and leaves the dramatic scream-fests to other families. So the fact that he's still the color of my favorite red hoodie upstairs, and his tone has reached an octave I didn't know he was capable of, makes me twitch and want to hide.
"Piper, I'm speaking to you, and when…"
"I wanted to find out who she was and what she was up to," I blurt out.
He clamps his lips shut and remains silent for half a minute. "You wanted to find clues as to why she died."
Dang, he's good. Or am I just predictable? I nod.
"That's dangerous. You can't do this. You're too young to investigate a murder."
Adrenaline pumps throughout my body until my hands curl into fists, and I'm practically bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Why? It's not like I was nosing around in a seedy, high-crime neighborhood. I wasn't tailing the cops and sneaking onto a crime scene. And I wasn't undercover, posing as a junkie."
He shakes his head. "Where do you come up with these scenarios?"
"TV. Where else?"
He holds out his hand. "Then it will be no television with no computer for a week. Hand over your phone."
Ohmigod, no way. "You're grounding me for trying to help?" Okay, so it's a flimsy argument, but he can't have my phone. It's my lifeline. Even if my life hasn't been very lively lately.
"That wasn't helping. That was prying. Those poor people are grieving because their daughter died and had to endure a total stranger snooping through her things. How do you think you made them feel?"
"Bad. Yes, I feel like crap, but it was for a really good reason. Knowing their daughter's killer was captured would be a relief."
"No, they'd still feel horrible because their child would still be dead." He narrows his glaze. "Can you even imagine what it would be like to lose someone you love?"
I scoff. How can he look at me like I'm a monster? "Um…Mom."
His expression softens, but he extends his arm. "Phone."
I pat the top of my long pockets, knowing darn well it's in there, and do my best acting. "I left it in Linzy's room."
He drops his arm and walks to his desk. "Fine. We'll get it back another day. I don't want to bother them anymore. Go to your room."
And just like that, he dismisses me. But as I turn and step into the hall, he says, "I'm disappointed in you, Piper. I raised you better than this."
Yeah, me too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next day I sit at my bedroom window and watch the block go on with their lives. Bridget left for work early this morning, only to return around lunch, and then leave again. She wore her red high-heels with a tight, floral dress. Hopefully she won't become my step-mommy, but if she does, I'll look great at school this year. The idea makes me shudder though.
Jazzy and Gabi are having another tea party in their front yard. This time the giant bear and a naked baby doll join them.
The gardener's truck has been parked outside the Friedman's all afternoon. And now the front door opens, and he walks out. He's dark complexioned, but I don't think black or Hispanic. He has short-cropped, black, silky hair that glistens under the sunlight. He climbs into his truck and waves to Mrs. Friedman. She waves back, with a devilish smile on her face. She's wearing a long bathrobe. Yuck!
The Quinn house has been dead quiet. Oops. Bad choice of words. There hasn't been any activity to or from, and both cars are in the driveway. No deliveries, no well-wishers, no press. It's as if the place is abandoned, all life has been eradicated, and all that's left is that shell.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Kinley and I have been texting. On appearances alone, you'd think everything was cool between us, but it's still weird. She may or may not think I like Eli, and her parents are still sending her to camp. I mentioned how we live in Disturbia, and she's talking about the movie.
@ least u havent spied a murder
No, I just see ghosts instead. Although I haven't seen much of her today.
I text back: too bad Shia LeBouf isnt in my rm 2
LOL
And then our conversation goes silent. It's been like that all morning. I'm not too upset because my battery is dying, and my charger is downstairs. I'm not allowed to leave my room, except for potty breaks. Dad delivered breakfast and lunch to my door already. Gosh, he's so unfair.
I get that what I did sucks, at least from everyone else's point-of-view. I appear to be a horrible person who's more interested in my own agenda. And maybe part of that is true. I don't have to investigate Linzy's death. I'm not certain whether her stubbornness to move on has to do with finding peace, settling old scores, avenging her death, or just plain meanness. For all I know, she can leave at any moment and lingers just to drive me crazy.
What I'd love to know is why me though? Why isn't she haunting her sister or mother? We never even met. And why is this suddenly happening now?
I stand and stretch. I've seen enough of everyone else's life today. I walk to my bookshelf and glance over all the books I've already read. The only good thing about this punishment is that I finished unpacking. None of the books jump out at me. I need to add to my collection, but that would mean leaving the house or possessing a credit card to online shop.
I flop onto my bed and stare at the sunlight on my ceiling. Before long, my eyelids start to shut, and I daydream about Troy's soft lips on mine. After he makes the first move, of course.
* * *
A soft knock stirs me. I open my eyes. The square of sunlight has moved to over my dresser. The knock sounds again. I sit up and rub my eyes.
"Come in."
How long did I sleep for?
The door opens, and I expect to see Dad with a tray of my dinner, but it's just him. Since when does he wait for me to invite him in? Something delicious smelling wafts up from the kitchen. Like tomato sauce and bread. Another pizza?
"Let's eat together at the table," he says then heads back downstairs, leaving my door open.
Freedom. Okay, so not really, but at least I'll be able to snag my charger on the way back up.
Dad sets two plates on the table, as I walk into the kitchen and sit down. There are several Styrofoam containers lining the counter.
My mouth salivates at the two-inch high piece of lasagna on my plate. It smells like cheesy heaven. "What's this?"
Dad places a large salad and a loaf of garlic bread in the center of the table and pours two glasses of milk. There's something about milk and sauce that goes so well together.
"The restaurant that makes the pizza also does dinners, sandwiches, and salads. They have a huge menu. I hope you like it."
His plate holds sausage, onions, and peppers over spaghetti. He must see me eyeing it because he asks, "Want a bite?"
I smile, and before I can respond, he says, "Or we can go halfsies."
My smile broadens. We move over the salad and bread and push our plates to the center of the table. As he cuts my lasagna in half with his fork and lifts it, I slide half of his dinner beside my lasagna chunk.
Everything back in place, I take my first combo bite. I
close my eyes and savor the blend of cheese, noodles, sauce, sausage, and veggies. When I open my eyes, there's a grin on Dad's face. He's either enjoying watching me or found his own cheese Nirvana.
Linzy appears and takes a deep, long, exaggerated breath. "I wish I could taste things," she says.
That has to truly stink. What good is hanging around if you can't eat and touch things and be seen…by more than just me?
She sits at the back side of the table and stares at the food.
"I went to the bakery and got a few Cannolis for after," says Dad.
I widen my eyes. That's my favorite dessert of all time. Suddenly I'm smacked with doom, and the cheese starts to curdle in my stomach. I set down my fork. "Are you dying?"
He frowns and chuckles. "No, why?"
"Am I dying?"
He quirks a brow. "Is it that odd that I want to do something nice for my daughter?"
"After yesterday and while I'm grounded? Yes."
He nods then wipes his mouth with his napkin. "The punishment may be a bit excessive."
Seriously? Dad's never admitted to that before.
"I still think that what you did was selfish and cruel, but I understand that you were focused on finding the truth, which in turn should be helpful."
He gets it. I can't help the smile pushing up my cheeks.
"That doesn't mean you're off punishment, just that I forgive you. Now mangi. Eat."
"Thanks, Dad."
"He's cool." Linzy tries to grab a piece of bread. Luckily she doesn't succeed. Dad will freak if he sees a slice floating across the table.
I scowl just enough for her to see and him not to get suspicious.
We devour half the food, and I'm too full for dessert, but he says I can come down later to get it. I can't leave the house, but I can move around within it. I volunteer to clean up (as if I have a choice) and he heads back to work.
After I put away the leftovers, load the dishwasher, and wipe down the table and counters, I grab my charger, which was beside the toaster, and head to the stairs. A knock on the door causes me to jump. I open it and flinch again.
It's Shayla. She's definitely the last person I expect to see.
I take a tentative step back, afraid she'll slug me.
"Can we talk?" she asks. Her tone is soft and almost pleasant. What is she up to?
"Um, I-I can't. I'm…"
"Please." She takes a step back and glances to her right.
Troy peeks around the doorframe. "Hey," he whispers.
Holy Cannoli.
"Piper?" Dad calls out.
My heart leaps into my throat. I wave Troy back and slide open Dad's door. "Dad, Shayla dropped off my phone. Can she come up to my room so I can apologize?"
He's seated but about to get up. There's no way I can sneak Troy in if Dad's in the foyer.
I wave Shayla over before he's out of his chair.
"Hi, Mr. Grimaldi."
"Hi, dear. How are your parents?"
She shrugs. "Coping."
He glances down to his desk. "Yes, it's a very hard time."
"So, Dad, please?"
He thinks for a second then nods. "Not long."
"Thanks, Dad." I shut his door and motion for Troy to enter.
I close the front door and whisper, "You two go up at the same time. He'll totally hear if there are three sets of footsteps."
I stand back and watch Troy and Shayla climb the stairs together, each step in sync, like a couple. It stabs my heart. Yes, I barely know him and can't stake a claim. And he broke up with her, but what if he feels so bad for what she's going through that he gets back together with her?
When they reach the top, I join them and lead them into my room. I shut the door, then slide my desk over a few inches so if Dad comes up without my hearing, the door will knock into the wood.
Then I position the desk chair at the foot of my bed, for Troy, and Shayla and I to take opposite sides of my bed, around Linzy. I turn on my clock radio, on low, just to muffle our voices.
When I'm all done, Troy nods his approval. "You've snuck many boys into your room in the past?"
Linzy bursts out laughing.
My cheeks immediately ignite. "No. Never. I just have a cautious mind."
"That must come in handy when sleuthing." Troy smiles, but for some reason that dimple doesn't make me feel better.
I'm on edge, waiting for the punch line of a really bad joke. "I don't know. I've never done it before."
"Before Linzy?" Shayla asks. "Troy told me this is what you've been up to."
So now they're in cahoots again? "I thought you two barely spoke anymore."
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his thighs. "With what happened after the funeral, I thought she should know the truth. That you're not some stalker fan wanting to steal a Linzy Quinn artifact and sell it on E-bay."
"Great idea," Linzy says.
I stare at Shayla. "That's what you thought I was doing?"
She shrugs.
"I'm not that kind of person."
She narrows her eyes. "How am I supposed to know that? You haven't even lived here but what…a week?"
"Ten days," Troy and I say in unison.
I giggle.
Shayla rolls her eyes.
Linzy gives another round of gut-splitting laughter. "Oh yeah, Shayla hates you. Better sleep with one eye open now. You're just lucky she doesn't live with you."
What kind of sisters were they?
I always wished I had one—an instant BFF. But now I'm not so sure.
"So, did you find anything?" Shayla asks.
I shake my head. "I didn't have enough time. Thing is, I don't know enough about your sister, and she won't tell…"
I cut myself short, realize what I'm saying, and scramble to divert suspicion.
"Nice," Linzy says with a whistle. "I bet they won't notice that slip-up."
This girl has sarcasm down to an art.
"What?" Troy asks.
"I-I mean she can't tell me anything about herself since she's not here anymore."
Linzy chuckles. "That's so stupid."
They both look confused.
"Shayla can fill you in," Troy says.
"No I can't. I didn't know her well."
"You're sisters."
"Were."
Ouch.
Even Troy seems taken aback.
Shayla doesn't notice though. She crosses her arms over her chest. "We may as well have been strangers."
Little does she realize they are just alike. Both stubborn and self-centered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It should be a lazy morning. After Troy and Shayla left, Dad said he was proud of me for apologizing. It showed I cared and wasn't a jerk. My words, not his. Of course, it made me feel worse, but I really was sorry for looking like a crazed fan. And all of this means I am no longer on house arrest, although he still doesn't want me leaving home due to the whole murderer-on-the-loose thing.
But when I open my eyes, there's nothing lazy about the sound of a high-powered jet engine. What on earth is that? I get up, walk to the living room, which is where the offensive sound is loudest, and peer out the window. It's Eli, pushing a lawn mower.
What's he doing here, and what bleepin' time is it?
I pee, brush my teeth, and throw on some clean clothes, before rushing downstairs. Dad's office door is open. Whoa. And when I peek inside, it's empty. I lift a foot and hesitate in the doorway. This would be an opportune moment to do a quick search—see what he's up to in the case…um, book. But that darn lawn mower pulls my attention away.
I hurry into the kitchen, ready to march out the back door and demand to know why Eli is here, when I nearly collide into Dad. He's carrying a cup of coffee and his tablet.
"Slow down, Piper. Are you starving? Did you go to bed hungry?"
"No, I'm fine. What's Eli doing here?" I watch the Fedora bob past the window.
"You know him too?" He sounds surprised. "I saw h
is flyer up at the grocery store, looking for yard work. And since my daughter won't learn how to turn on a mower…"
I roll my eyes and go outside, closing the door on Dad's so-called comedy. The sun blares down on my head, making me sweat instantly. Gosh, I can't wait for fall. Oh wait, then school will begin. I can't win.
Eli spots me and waves, a stupid, cheesy grin on his face.
Of all the flyers in all the supermarkets, it had to be his?
The back door opens. "I'm getting back to work. Don't forget to offer our guest something to drink."
"He's not a guest," I shout. "He's the help."
"Did he do something to you?" Dad's tone becomes serious.
"No, why?"
"'Cause you sound angry."
Dad's right. Eli may be a jerk, but I want whatever other information he stores under that ridiculous hat. He lives in this town and knew Linzy. He has to know more. I push past Dad, back inside, and head to the freezer.
"I just don't like being woken," I say.
"My grumpy daughter." Dad smiles and walks out of the kitchen.
I grab a can of concentrated lemonade and take out a pitcher. The quicker I get Eli to open up, the sooner I can ignore him. And everyone always says the quickest way to a guy's heart is through his stomach. Not that I want anything to do with his heart. That belongs to Kinley.
I pour two glasses of barely cold lemonade, despite being frozen a second ago, and take them outside.
The second Eli sees what I'm holding, he turns off the lawn mower and walks over.
I was so confused and annoyed that he woke me that I didn't realize he was shirtless. Now that his pecs are approaching, my stomach is jittery, and I want to forget this whole thing and go back to my room. Nakedness isn't something I'm comfortable or all too familiar with. Growing up without a sister, a mom or even a best friend meant learning about the physical anatomy from sixth grade health class. Dad never walks around in his boxers, and the only reason I know he doesn't wear briefs is because I sometimes do laundry.
So seeing the sweat glisten across Eli's tanned, slightly defined chest, I can't help but look away, and back, and then away again.
"Is that for me?" he asks while reaching out for the glass.
I Spy Dead People Page 14
