Splitsville.com

by Tonya Kappes

  I know he’d be able to, but I’m leaving that up to Bradley.

  Before she walks out the door, she tilts her head to the side, smiles and says, “Herbie and I are going to my house for a while.” Her hand grips the crown molding on the door and she swings back around. “The old people at the retirement community love dogs.”

  I chuckle at the fact she’s the same age as the residences.

  “Have fun.” I walk into the kitchen where Erin is propped up on one of the bar stools. She is wrapped up in Aunt Matilda’s arms.

  “Want to come?” Aunt Matilda asks Erin.

  “Where?” Erin flings her bangs out of her eyes.

  “Herbie and I are going to the home of the near dead.” Her eyes twinkle.

  Erin looks over at me with a cockeyed look. “Where?”

  I laugh at Aunt Matilda’s quirky humor. “Retirement community.”

  Erin hops off the stool and slips her flip flops on. “Sure.”

  “Let’s go.” Aunt Matilda winks and floats out of the house with Erin and Herbie in tow.

  These dumps are never going to get done. I make my way back in the office to get at least one dump done before I go to Macro Hard. Splitsville.com has taken a back seat to this sleuthing junk and that’s not what I promise as a business. Once I hear Aunt Matilda and company pull out of the driveway, I begin my calls.

  “Hi, is this Linda?” I question the older voice on the other end of the phone. I’m already agitated. I specifically ask dumpers for a number that no one other than the dumpee will answer. I don’t have time to go through parents or grandparents to get to the dumpee.

  “This is Linda.”

  I jerk my head back and hit click so I can see Linda’s photo. There she is a middle-aged woman. My first middle-aged woman.

  I’m completely taken back. “Ah, yeah.” I think about Aunt Matilda and how she’d feel if someone she dated dumped her using Splitsville.com. I quickly put it out of my mind because Aunt Matilda hasn’t dated, ever.

  I get out of my chair and look in the oval mirror hanging on the wall. My eyes stare deep into my dark pupils. Get a grip.

  “I’m Jenn from Splitsville.com and Justin hired me to break up with you.” I tap under my eyes. This night job is going to be the death of me. Oh, another plus about doing jail time, I can sleep all day.

  “I’m on a business trip and I don’t know what you are talking about.” Linda is a bit older and wiser than most of my clients. “Did you hear me?”

  “I do hear you Linda. But most importantly do you hear me?” Just being older doesn’t give her the right to be a bitch. What is it with old people? When is it okay to say, “Screw it, I’m old and I can say whatever I want to whomever I please?” Well, not today!

  “I should’ve dumped that lazy bum a long time ago.” Linda’s tone is sharp.

  I look at her middle-age photo and see the sour-puss look on her face. No wonder he wants to dump her. I’m kind of mad at myself for feeling sorry for her when I first looked at her picture.

  “He waits at home for you all week long while you’re gone on these business trips with God knows who. . .er. . .it says here Daniel. Okay,” I gather my senses. “You’re gone all week with Daniel while Justin waits around for you.”

  “He needs to get off his lazy butt and get a job. Then I wouldn’t have to go on these trips.”

  I lay my head on the desk. “So are you telling me that you and Daniel aren’t an item?” All I can think about is getting this dump complete, getting on my fancy jumpsuit and questioning Harold.

  “Whoa, whoa.” Linda is definitely smarter than most and a bit more complicated. I’m tired and I’m not on my game right now. “Justin breaks up with me and now you want to know if I’ve cheated on him. Right. I don’t have time for this.”

  “You don’t have time for this?” I jump at the chance to scream at her, “I don’t have time for this! Do you have death threats against you? Do you have to clear your name of murder? Do you? Do you Linda?! Do you understand Justin has dumped your middle aged cheating butt?” I scream in the phone waking up every little sleepy bone in my body. I’ve totally lost it.

  “Yes. Now I can move on with Daniel.” Linda got the last word before the line went dead.

  I email a dump notice to Justin and leave it at that. I bend down and turn my computer off. In the kitchen I find my jumpsuit neatly ironed, by Aunt Matilda of course, on the barstool. I open the refrigerator and pack a few snacks. Maybe I can get to Harold’s heart through food.

  ***

  The rain has given way to a chilly spring night. The town is quiet. Every business has closed up for the evening. Aunt Matilda’s truck is exactly where it should be. I stop at the red light and glance over at the retirement community. Through the window I see Erin, Aunt Matilda, and Herbie entertaining the group of residence gathered around them.

  It’s good to see Erin smile.

  With no traffic, I pull into Macro Hard and feel happy to see there aren’t any cars in the lot except one—Harold’s. I grab the files sitting on my passenger seat, all the snacks I prepared to bribe Harold, and hand lotion. I made sure to bring my own lotion because my hands are starting to dry and crack from the cleaning chemicals. But the calluses are looking much better.

  I wave at the security camera above the door before I swipe my entry card. I know Harold is watching.

  “On time tonight, I see.” Harold is already at his perch and ready to go. I stop when I see his yellow tone aura wrap around his security hat and through his soft grey wisps curls sticking out from under it.

  People who have an undeveloped psychic intuition are surrounded by yellow tones.

  “Do you think you’re going to get some other work done?” He is referring to the files

  under my arm.

  “Good evening.” His aura is telling me to be cautious, he could call my bluff. I have to get some information out of him. I plop the sack of goodies next to his sack of goodies. “I brought you some snacks since you let me eat some of yours last night.”

  “Hmm.” Harold stands up and picks through the snacks. “Veggies, bagel chips, fruit. Dip?” His thin lips turn up in a smile of approval.

  “I’m glad you like it.” I look down the hallways on either side of the desk and it’s dark and quiet.

  His grin doesn’t last long. “What’s the catch?”

  I play if off, but he knows something is up my sleeve. “No catch.” I walk over to the closet to retrieve my cart and begin filling up the bottles. I look over at Harold with an empty bleach bottle on my hand. “Ya know, they really should invest in some hand friendly products.”

  I go about my business and begin pushing the cart down to the bathrooms. I can get a jump on them while Harold settles down with the sack of food. I hope it relaxes him a bit so I can snoop.

  I look up and Harold is standing next to my cart.

  “What’s in this file?” I keep my files with me because I don’t trust that he won’t go through my things. After all, he is the security guard. “More investigating?”

  I take the bleach spray off the cart and walk into the bathroom. “Mm hmm.” I spray along the base of the toilets going from one stall to the next. “Put it back.” I don’t have to say anything else. I hear Harold shuffle out of the bathroom.

  After finishing both the men’s and the women’s bathroom, I’m ready to take a snack and find what I’m looking for.

  “Break already?” Harold looks up from the paper he’s reading.

  “I guess we can’t all read all night and get paid for it.” I smile getting a diet coke out of my cooler next to his chair.

  “Actually you’re doing much better tonight.”

  “That’s because I want to finish early. I didn’t get to nap today and I’m tired.” I take a carrot from the sack and offer one to him. I take the file from the cart and pull out Brittany’s picture.

  I’m tired of waiting around for the right opportunity to ask him questions. Either h
e’s going to tell me something or not. He can call the police, Mr. Stone or whomever he pleases on me. I won’t be back after tonight, or I hope I won’t be back.

  “Do you know this girl?” I hand him the drab photo of meek Brittany.

  “My goodness.” Harold makes a few noises under his breath. “What do you want with Brittany? Is this why you’re working here?”

  “So you know her?” I walk around to his chair and look at the picture again. That innocent smile, that neatly coifed hair and outfit to match are certainly not the images you associate with a cold-blooded killer.

  “Sure do. I’ve spent a lot of time with this girl.” He hands the picture back to me. “Little obsessive, but kind.”

  “How so?” I can’t believe he’s saying the same things Kent did about her.

  “For starters she always kept the closet tidy. Everything has a place she’d say.” He shakes his head and points back to the picture. “That girl can tell if a rag is out of place. I’m not kidding.” He clicks the computer screen to twelve images showing the outside of the building and the parking lot. “And she always filled the bottles before she left for the night. Plus I never had to get bleach for her.”

  “Why would she care about rags?” I find it strange that Brittany cared about the cleaning of the building, but I guess OCD people obsess about a lot of different things.

  He continues to scan the videos making sure all is safe at Macro Hard and doesn’t look up. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Didn’t she have to worry about her job?” I watch Harold push several different buttons and zoom in on the parking lot.

  “She did.” He zooms in on a car next to mine. “Strange.” He zooms the cameras in a little closer. “I don’t recall that car being parked next to yours.”

  I creep around to the monitor and take a closer look. Funny, because I don’t either. I distinctly remember only two cars: mine and Harold’s. I squint and make out the car. I swear it’s the BMW from Brittany’s house.

  “There wasn’t a car.” I run around the security desk towards the glass front doors and grab my keys off the cart. “Somebody is trying to get into my car.” I hear Harold’s footsteps behind me and feel a little safer. I don’t know why, he doesn’t carry a gun or anything.

  Without looking, I get my pepper spray ready and leap over the perfect manicured bushes, towards the back of the BMW speeding away. I turn to see if I can get the license plate, but it’s going too fast. My car door is open.

  “Damn!” I look in my car to find the contents of my glove box emptied out onto the floor. The list of motives why Brittany killed Dabi and Kent is stabbed into the dashboard with a Swiss army knife.

  “Are you okay?” Harold questions, with the phone attached to his ear. “I’m calling the police.”

  I’m too scared to stop him. My heart is racing, my breaths are short and quick. This investigation has gotten a little bit bigger than me. Maybe it’s time I tell the police everything.

  Within ten minutes Carl is on the scene, shortly followed by Ian. Harold is back inside keeping a very close eye on the building through the safety of his cameras.

  “Well, well.” Carl walks around my car. “What do we have here?”

  I roll my eyes. I don’t want to focus too much because everyone’s aura is colliding. Then Carl may question if I have the same “gift” as Aunt Matilda.

  Carl hands the list of motives to Ian.

  “Have you been doing a little investigating on your own, Ms. Davis?” Ian has a spark in his eyes. “Why don’t you tell us everything you know?” He opens the door to his cop cruiser for me to sit and wait while Carl looks around my car for clues.

  Strangers invading my car is where I draw the line. Obviously someone knows who I am, and with the death threats, I need to make sure I’m safe. My Blackberry goes off, signaling a dump. I look at my watch.

  2 A.M.? Who is up doing a dump at 2 A.M.? I totally bet it’s what I call a drunk dump. That’s usually the late night dump when lovers fight and using Splitsville.com is a handy tool to get back at each other.

  I thumb through it as Carl and Ian finish looking around. It’s not a dump, it’s another threat.

  Look at you sleeping so sound in your bed. Are you scared? Soon your heart will be ripped like all the hearts you’ve ripped.

  I gasp and put my hands to my mouth. “It’s not the same person,” I whisper as I reread the words.

  If BMW man was here and knew I was here, the email had to be sent by someone else, someone who thinks I’m at home—Bree.

  I put my head in my hands. I feel like the tears are going to come flooding out. Now I have two separate people to worry about.

  Carl and Ian look over. I try not to give away what’s going on in my head. Brittany can’t be the one sending death threats. But the lipstick, Erin identifying her, the motives all add up. I’m so confused.

  Carl leans onto the cop car. “You can start from the beginning. Or you can tell us who and why would someone break into your car?”

  I get out of the car. “I’ve got to finish my job.” I walk away and Carl puts his arm out to stop me. “What?”

  “Who did this Olivia?” Carl starts to ask all sorts of questions. “What do you know about Brittany that we don’t?”

  “You ask a lot of questions for the professional one here.” I jerk the note from his hands. “You know where to find me when you have a subpoena.” I walk past Ian and stare him straight in the eyes.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and open them. Ian’s aura reminds me of the sour apple jolly ranchers. I stumble forward and Carl catches my fall.

  His eyebrows narrow. “Are you okay?”

  I stand tall and brush my hands down my jumpsuit. I’m not okay, but I can’t let them know that.

  “I’m fine.” I hold my head high and keep my eyes on the door. If I can just get myself inside and sit down, I’ll be fine. I can’t risk looking back at Ian.

  Relief overcomes me once I get back into the safety of the building. Harold is still staring at the cameras.

  “Thanks for nothing.” I take the file off the cart and write down “sour apple.” “You left me out there high and dry.”

  Harold hands me a sticky note with a bunch of numbers on it.

  I read the numbers out loud. “What’s this?”

  “I rewound the security camera footage outside and zoomed in on the car. That’s the license plate number.” Harold is one sly cookie.

  I slip the piece of paper in the file. I take Brittany’s picture off the ledge of his desk and put it back in her file.

  “Does Brittany have anything to do with what happened tonight?” Harold asks.

  “I don’t know. Can you tell me anything else about her?” I pull up the other chair next to Harold and sit down. I have to get my nerves straight before I can think about looking for more clues.

  He shrugs. “Only that she was a great housekeeper.”

  “Housekeeping?” I try not to sound surprised. “I took her job?”

  “She quit and they needed a replacement.”

  “Did you know about Kent?”

  “Of course, everyone knew about her and Mr. Goodwin. Let me tell you, Mr. Stone was none too happy about Dabi not ripping up that prenuptial agreement where Mr. Goodwin gets alimony.” Harold continues to spew like a volcano, “Now it’s none of my business, but poor Brittany was left out of the big functions.” Harold uses the finger quotes around “big.”

  “What big functions?” I write down what Harold is telling me.

  “You know, dinners, awards.” He waves his hand in the air. “Mr. Stone said that the housekeeping staff wasn’t welcome.”

  That explains why Brittany isn’t in any of the event photos from Dabi’s photo albums. But it doesn’t explain why she would kill Kent. It completely explains why she’d kill Dabi. Maybe Kent had promised to marry her and she knew he’d get the alimony.

  “Whoo wee, I remember the night Mr. Goodwin came in here to see her and
they had a big fight.” Harold looks into the air like the event is playing in his head. “She accused him of going back to his ways. Especially by accepting the new white shoes Ms. Stone had given all the employees.” Harold takes a sack of grapes out of his brown bag and begins to unzip the baggie. “Dabi had given him a pair, but Brittany said he shouldn’t accept them because it looks like he’s gone back.”

  I put my hand in the air. “Stop!” Shoes? “What white shoes? Can you describe them?”

  “Mr. Stone had made a big deal with that shoe company with the cat. . .a. . .”

  I interrupt him, “Puma?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one, and Puma gave Mr. Stone shoes for his employees. Oh, Brittany hated it.”

  “Well, what do you mean when you say gone back?” I bet Brittany was talking about how Kent had taken Dabi for her money.

  Harold pops a grape in his mouth. “That’s where I draw the line of snooping.” He pops a few more to make a mouth full.

  “Do you have a list of employees?” I wonder if I will recognize any one from a list.

  “Naw, I just watch the cameras.” He smiles. “But I do know where Human Resources keeps a copy.”

  I wink at him. Harold is the eyes and ears of this place. He may have some psychic intuition that he definitely hasn’t tapped into yet.

  “Are they saying you had something to do with Ms. Stone’s and Mr. Goodwin’s death?” Harold begins to question my questions. I follow him down the hall to the Human Resources department. There is a list of employees hanging on a corkboard. I take it down. I glance through it and don’t see any familiar names.

  “Let’s say I have had some type of contact with both of them. But I didn’t do it.”

  Harold laughs, “I know. Because if you did, your finger prints would be everywhere because you sure can’t clean worth a darn.”

  Twenty-Four

  I’m happy with all the information Harold gave me about Brittany and her ties to Macro Hard. It might’ve answered a few questions, but not all of them. She knows I have to be snooping around or at least the mystery BMW man does.