The Sweetheart Game

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “Then I’ll see you Monday. Have a safe trip.”

  Jason watched her go and wondered if it was a mistake to give her a key. There were a lot of secrets in this old house that he wasn’t ready to share.

  There was no doubt she’d snoop. Hell, he’d be shocked if she didn’t.

  He glanced toward his office. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he grabbed his wallet and headed off to the hardware store for supplies.

  * * *

  Summer clutched the key and hurried back to her house. Once inside, she removed the pepper spray and dug her phone from her back pocket. Excitement welled. It was time to take action and she knew just who to call.

  “Taryn. He’s leaving town,” she said when her friend picked up. She dropped the spray on the kitchen table, pulled the fridge open, and grabbed a berry-flavored water.

  “Who’s leaving town?”

  “Jason. He has a business trip to Minnesota. Do you know what that means?” At the silent pause, she pushed ahead, “You can help me dig up a body!”

  “Are you crazy?” Taryn sighed, waited a heartbeat, and then said, “Count me in. I’m bringing Jess.”

  Summer untwisted the cap and took a drink. “Jess has been kind of cranky about this. About everything.” Her friend hadn’t been herself lately. When questioned by both Summer and Taryn, Jess had brushed them off. “I’m not sure I want her here while we do this. She’ll just make fun of me.”

  “Nonsense. She only wants the best for you and needs our patience. She’ll tell us what’s wrong eventually.”

  “True.” Taryn was right. Jess was a dear friend. Like a married couple, they were all in this friendship in good times and in bad. Jess’s secret had strained their relationship. However, Summer would do anything for her.

  Besides,” Taryn continued. “Without her voice of reason, you and I might end up in jail, or selling Made-in-China necklaces to tourists in Palm Beach.”

  Summer remembered the time several nights after they’d first become NFL cheerleaders, when they bonded over late nights in the bus with lack of sleep, gossip, and booze-soaked brains; which fed crazy dreams and hijinks. Selling trinkets to tourists on a beach in Florida, while living in grass huts with surfers called Bart, Dawg, and The Dude, was one of those dreams.

  They had become like sisters then. Not even Willard and Alvin could break them up. So she had to be patient, understanding, and a good friend. Besides, Jess was the fittest. They’d make her do the shoveling.

  “Bring Jess,” Summer said. “I’ll provide the wine.”

  * * *

  Spring crept toward summer, making the days longer and warmer. And only Summer’s yard remained to remind everyone who passed her house what fall leaves looked like.

  It was almost eleven and a cool sixty degrees out when Summer, Jess, and Taryn—each fortified by a glass of white wine—donned dark clothes and headed out the back door. Crunching around the house on a carpet of dead and dried foliage, they weren’t exactly stealthy. Like movie spies, Jess and Taryn nervously glanced around for possible witnesses to the racket as Summer sent apologetic glances their way.

  Where was her rake anyway?

  Noting nothing but the shadowy figures of ten thousand sightless gnomes—a slight exaggeration—Summer led them around the wooden fence and through the gate to Jason’s backyard. His back porch light was out and only one light burned in the house. The property was blissfully dark.

  “Yuck,” Taryn said. “I think I just stepped in something.” She aimed her penlight at her boot. There was a brown smear on black leather. “Gross.” She dragged her boot through the grass to dislodge it. “You didn’t tell me he had a dog.”

  “He doesn’t,” Summer said. “Old man Duffy up the street has trained his beagle to poop in any yard but his. It’s probably Champ’s doing.”

  Jess checked her running shoes. “I hate when people let their dogs poop on the sidewalks. They should serve jail time.”

  Jess ran almost every day.

  “Yeah. Dog poop prison,” Summer said. Both Taryn and Jess scowled at her. “Sorry.”

  “The city needs to fine Duffy,” Taryn grumbled.

  “They have. He doesn’t care.”

  Flicking on her flashlight, Summer waved the beam back and forth across the ground. There were no more poop piles. “All clear.” They went on. “Watch for tomato cages.”

  She led them to the garden. In years past, the patch had been enclosed by a low critter-proof fence to keep out rabbits. Now it was just a grass- and weed-covered patch of dirt—a perfect place to hide body parts.

  The light skimmed over a half a dozen fresh graves and she shuddered. The graveyard was creepier up close. “See what I mean? Graves.”

  A car drove past the house.

  “Turn off the light,” Taryn hissed at the same time Summer flicked off the flashlight. Summer had only brought the light to investigate the holes, not to attract the attention of neighbors.

  It was bad enough that they were trespassing. They didn’t need the police called before they had actual evidence of a crime.

  “I’ll get the shovel.” Summer used the sliver of moonlight to guide her to the shed where she found the recently purchased garden tool. The price scan sticker was on the handle.

  “Maybe he’ll loan me a rake. He has three,” she mumbled and walked to the smallest grave. “I think the torso is over there, so I’ll start here.”

  “If they are graves,” Jess said, always the reasonable one. “He could be planting spring seeds.”

  Taryn appeared to concede her point.

  Summer bristled. “In large garbage bags? Tell me what kind of seeds require a plastic wrapper?” Jamming the spade end into the recently tilled dirt proved easy. “If we find a something human, you both owe me an apology.”

  “She’s right,” Taryn said, swinging back to Summer’s side.

  “If you find something human, I’ll do your laundry for a month,” Jess said with humor in her words.

  “We both will.” Taryn stepped closer and readied her flashlight as Summer shoved a second scoop of dirt out of the hole. A crack of a breaking stick froze the trio in place. The beam from a high powered flashlight blinded them and caused a trio of startled cries.

  “Looking for something, ladies?”

  Summer stumbled backward, tripping over a dried pumpkin vine and almost landing on her butt. The shovel clutched in her hand acted as a tripod with her legs and kept her upright. Barely.

  Jason watched the other two knock together in a case of fight or flight, the trio like a Three Stooges comedy skit as each tried not to look like they’d been caught stealing cookies from his jar.

  After a few seconds of mayhem, they didn’t choose flight but quickly collected themselves and stepped together into fight mode while his neighbor wielded the shovel like a light sabre.

  “Jason?”

  “Summer.” He worked up the appearance of righteous indignation, scanned the three faces and then focused on her. Her wide owlish eyes stared back. “What are you doing here? Are you stealing my shovel?”

  Squashing a smile, he knew exactly what she and her friends were up to and that their motivation to trespass had nothing to do with garden tools. She was looking for a way to hang him for murder and brought reinforcements.

  “We, ah, were just walking past and thought we saw a prowler in your yard,” she said. “There are over two million burglaries a year and you did ask me to watch your house.”

  “Is that so? Were you planning to clock him with my shovel?”

  She gingerly held it out. He took it from her while she managed a weak smile. “Something like that. You can never be too careful with burglars.”

  “They could be armed,” said the woman with the black knit cap and skintight black jeans.

  “Summer takes house watching seriously, as any good citizen would,” piped in the taller woman with the mussed dark hair. “I’m Jess and this is Taryn. Summer called us for backup.”<
br />
  “Yes.” Summer nodded. “Sadly, he got away.”

  “He ran that way,” Taryn said and pointed toward the street. “If you hurry, you might catch him.”

  Right.

  Of note: Summer had attractive friends.

  “Uh, huh.” He stabbed the shovel into the grave.

  “I thought you were in Minneapolis?” Summer said in an accusatory tone as if he had no right to be in his own yard. “You said you’d be back on Sunday.”

  His neighbor clearly thought a topic change was a way to distract him from the bogus prowler bullshit.

  “My flight was canceled due to fog. I’m booked to go out at five a.m. tomorrow.” He walked over to return the shovel to the shed. It was time to come clean before they tore up his yard, and his house. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

  Summer hesitated. Jess finally nodded.

  The women followed him inside. He flicked on the lights as they passed though the kitchen, into the living room, and down the short hallway to the spare bedroom. Low whispers followed behind him. Hopefully, they weren’t plotting to Mace and hog-tie him for the police.

  Seated in front of the door was Mrs. Kravitz. The hair on her back stood up and her fluffy cream tail was puffed to double its normal size as it twitched back and forth.

  A low growl rumbled from her.

  Jason stopped and turned to face the women. They stared ominously at the cat. It was easy to picture the images of the room filled with evidence of bloody slaughter going through their imaginations. Yet, not one of them appeared ready to flee.

  Curiosity was stronger than fear.

  “Before I open this door, Summer,” he said. “Is there something you’d like to confess?”

  Their eyes met. She said nothing.

  “I know you’ve been watching me from your tower room and that you think I’m a serial killer.”

  In sharp contrast to her dark blue turtleneck, her face went bright red. “T–that isn’t t–true.” She blinked and pulled in a deep breath. “Okay, you have been acting suspiciously. What was I supposed to think?”

  “You could have asked.”

  “Sure. What if I was right? You might kill me, too.”

  Taryn pulled her attention from the hissing cat. “She’s correct. Confronting a killer is dangerous.”

  “It’s better to let the cops do it,” Jess added.

  How had this turned around to make him look like he was wrong? How had he thought he could win an argument with three-to-one odds? Of course they’d stick together. “Fine.”

  He pulled out his keys and reached for the deadbolt he’d installed this afternoon for this exact eventuality. The cat stayed put. If possible, she got puffier and her growl got louder. The noise was unnerving.

  Click.

  The three of them jumped. So did the cat.

  Shaking his head, he shoved the door open and stepped inside. Mrs. Kravitz took one look into the darkness and darted down the hall for the living room.

  The trio moved in behind him as one. He was pretty sure at least one of them was armed with pepper spray. Or a gun.

  They carried themselves like a Special Forces team, but how would they react to what they were about to see?

  Slowly, he flicked on the light.

  The women gasped.

  Chapter 10

  “This is just creepy,” Summer said without thinking as Jess slowly moved into the room. Taryn stood by, keeping a suspicious eye on their host. If he tried anything funny, she was ready to fight. Taryn could kick butt like an Amazonian warrior, but without the leopard skin bikini.

  As she looked around the scene, Summer felt like she and her friends had fallen into an old cult thriller. Everywhere, stuffed animals stared blankly back at her from the floor, the shelves, the desk. The room was filled with them, waiting and watching, ready to pounce. If she looked in the corner, or behind the bookshelf, would she find a stuffed human?

  “You are a killer,” she said, disturbed. Her eyes darted toward Jason, who made a face. She wasn’t sure what his story was, but he didn’t seem like the sort to collect and stuff animals.

  This ended her crush. He was a wacko. “I guess everyone needs a hobby,” she said, disappointed. She’d wanted him to be normal.

  He scowled. “They aren’t mine.” He recounted the story of his grandfather and the family history. By the time he finished, none of them looked ready to shoot him. “I’m just respectfully laying them to rest.”

  Thank goodness. Relief unknotted her stomach. He might still be an international arms dealer, but at least he wasn’t fertilizing his garden with body parts. She could stare at his hunky self without guilt.

  “You could have told me what you were up to,” she said as Jess poked an owl with a fingertip. “Instead you led me to believe you were a killer.”

  “Again, you could have asked instead of sneaking around my garden.” He glanced back at Taryn, who seemed more relaxed, and Jess, who moved on to a rabbit. “How do you think I feel living with them? It’s unsettling.”

  The man had a point. “I concede. I had plenty of openings. Although, if you were a murderer, that would be dangerous.”

  Teeth flashed. “Touché.”

  Summer smiled back. He did have a nice smile, just the right blend of humor with a touch of cocky. In fact, his mouth had been an object of speculation for some days now. A man with so much confidence had to be a good kisser. Right?

  “Feel free to take one if you’d like,” he offered Jess who was fascinated by the animals. “I have some duplicates.”

  Summer shook her head. “I’d be more troubled by this if they weren’t all already deceased when the taxidermist found them. I think that toad over there is endangered.”

  Jess stepped forward and held out a hand. “Don’t bury the rest of them. I have an idea.” She leaned to look at a chipmunk and ran her hand over its little head. “There’s a nature center out near Brighton that might take them. They use stuff like this to teach kids about nature and conservation.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Summer said.

  Jason grinned. “I’m sure my grandfather would like that.”

  With the mystery of the burials solved, Jess and Taryn called it a night and left. Quiet descended over the house.

  “Would you like a drink?” Jason offered.

  Summer hesitated. Mrs. Kravitz changed her mind. The cat walked over and bumped her face against her shin. Obviously, she’d moved on from her dead-animal freak-out. Summer reached down and scratched the cat’s bunny-soft head. “I’d like that.”

  Why not? They were co-parenting a cat. Why not get to know him better now that one of his mysteries was cleared up?

  As Jason went off to the kitchen, she looked at him through new eyes. Yes, he was handsome, although until now, she’d been concerned about his nightly activities. Now she could see him as a man and not a psycho.

  Not that she was interested in a romantic connection. She knew nothing about him, and there was that video photo. Besides, she wasn’t looking for a man. The couple of times she’d tried relationships had been disastrous. Weeping, begging, calls at all hours after the breakups; it was just too hard for some men to move on. So she decided to put off romance for now.

  Since Mrs. Kravitz was about to have several kittens, Summer could slip into crazy cat lady mode in one fell swoop. She didn’t need a man.

  Jason returned, twisted off the cap, and handed her the beer. “You must be disappointed that I’m not Ted Bundy.” He flopped on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table. “That would have been one hell of a solve on your record.”

  She perched on the edge of a chair.

  “I am not disappointed. I am, however, happy the citizens of Ann Arbor are safe.” She sipped her beer. “I’m pleased that your grandfather’s collection might find a home, and that you are not a complete weirdo.”

  That didn’t sound right. “I mean, not dangerous. You still might be weird.” Not bet
ter! “I mean, I’m sure you aren’t weird. You’re probably normal. Like a normal person.”

  Okay, she should shut up now.

  Jason chuckled. “Thank you. I think.”

  “Did you know that preserved animals were found with Egyptian mummies?” Uh-oh. Here comes the nervous blabbering. She tried to hold back but couldn’t. “Were they pets or for food in the afterlife? Who knows for sure?”

  Here came the uncomfortable silence. Yes, another reason why she hated dating. Usually one of her nervous bouts of random facts was met by her dates spending an inordinate amount of time looking at their fingernails. Or phones. Or her chest.

  “Maybe both,” he said, cutting the awkward silence. “Say King Tut takes his dog, Bobo, with him for stick-throwing play and a few partridges yanked out of their pear tree for dinner? Every mummy loves him some roasted partridge in the afterlife.”

  For a moment, she sat there, gawking, not sure what just happened. He hadn’t stared at his hands, the light fixtures, or the painting over the fireplace. He’d actually come back with something clever.

  Laugher bubbled up. “With some boiled asp stew sprinkled with frankincense served on the side. Yummy.”

  Jason laughed and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. “You’re pretty funny Ms. O’Keefe. Even Mrs. Kravitz is laughing.”

  Smiling and happy over the compliment, she looked down. The cat was sprawled on her back on Summer’s boots, her back feet outstretched, and snoring. Her heart squeezed. “She’s so cute.” Then the cream-colored belly twitched.

  Summer’s breath caught. “Jason. I think a kitten moved,” She pointed to the spot and waited. After a few seconds, it moved again. “See?”

  “I see it.” Jason silently moved over and sat by Summer. “Wow. We’re about to be grandparents.”

  Her smile flatlined. “Make jokes, grandpa, but you’re excited, too. I see it in your eyes.”

  “What you see is too much beer.”

  “Considering you’ve only drank less than half, I think you’re covering your heart tug with an excuse. You’re as excited to meet the kitties as I am.”

  “Is that so?” He nudged her with his shoulder.