by Erin Huss
The cat returned and rubbed up against my back. I shooed it away and wiped my eyes to read better. The fundraiser was the week before at The Grove and promised special appearances by Jessica Wilders and Lance Holstrom. I shook the notebook, and out fell adoption papers for a terrier mix and an orange tabby cat, which Shanna had adopted at the fundraiser.
I conjured up the scene in my head. Jessica and Lance were there to promote animal adoption. They were surrounded by pens filled with dogs and cats in need of a home, along with a dozen security guards. No doubt their presence drew a crowd. Ghost Confidential was a hit television show, and Frank and Lola were the Derek Shepard and Meredith Gray of the paranormal romance world. Everything was going well. Dogs and cats were off to good homes. Lance and Jessica posed for pictures with the newly adopted animals. Then here comes Shanna. She had her new dog and cat with her. She wanted her picture taken with Jessica and Lance as well. But Jessica wanted nothing to do with Shanna. She called security to have her removed. Shanna caused a scene. Maybe she cried, screamed, kicked, told everyone her sister had emotionally abandoned her. People gathered around, confused as to why Jessica Wilders, who was known for her love of animals, was being so mean to this poor young woman, who'd just adopted two animals.
Of course, I could be completely off. But my gut told me I wasn't. Still, it didn't mean Shanna killed her sister.
A picture from last season's cast of Ghost Confidential fell out of the notebook and landed at my feet.
Both Lance and Jessica had an X etched over their faces.
OK, so it looks like we're going with Theory A.
I opened the notebook. Pasted to the inside cover was an email from Jessica sent one month ago.
Shanna,
Please stop contacting me. This is bordering harassment. You're lucky I haven't called the police yet. I will not give you pointers for your acting career. I will not have lunch with you. I will not let you have the urn. I do not want to pursue a relationship. Please keep your distance. If you contact me again, I will have you arrested. No one in the family wants to deal with you.
Well, there was a motive. Shanna wanted a relationship with her big sister. Her big sister didn't want a relationship with her. And Jessica had the urn. How it ended up in Steph's carport was beyond me.
I took a picture with my phone and tried to send it to Chase, except, of course, it wouldn't go through. Freaking Tom! If he hadn't scared me, I wouldn't have dropped my phone, and I would have spoken to Chase earlier, and I wouldn't be sitting in a pile of cat hair. I lifted my phone above my head, as if that would help—like being closer to the satellite would make it work.
For the record: it doesn't.
I sent him a text message instead.
I'm in Shanna Roberts' apartment. 15. She is Jessica Wilders' sister. It looks like she might have had something to do with Jessica's murder. You should come quick.
I hit Send but was unsure if it went through or not. With a sniffle, I continued to flip through the notebook. Pages and pages of nonsensical ramblings. Shanna had blamed Jessica for her going to foster care. She was jealous of her sister's acting success. She blamed Jessica for her inability to land an acting gig. The more I flipped, the messier the writing became, until I made it to the last page. There was something about a cousin Shanna was unable to reach. Written on the side margin below I hate Jessica, was written Cambria Shampoo.
I squinted and re-read it. Cambria Shampoo!
What did she do to my shampoo? And there was a checkmark. Good thing I hadn't washed Einstein in…Sunday…Monday…four days.
Note to self: throw away all hair products.
Sub-note: throw away all beauty products to be safe.
Sub-sub-note: Throw away everything. Shanna was in my apartment!
Or maybe that was why she broke in to my apartment. To get my shampoo?
Freaking Tom. I knew I should have set the alarm last night.
That man was really on my hit list.
I took pictures of everything and felt around behind the water heater to see what else might be back there. I pulled out a black flip phone, a T-shaped wrench, a box of gloves, and a funnel.
I gasped. Tom's car!
Clearly this was a crime scene, and I had to keep it credible by not touching anything. Except I'd already touched everything. But no one had to know that. I shoveled all the papers back into the notebook and stuck everything behind the water heater, when my hand landed on something leathery. I pulled out a wallet. Not just any wallet. It was Tom's wallet and his phone!
I couldn't believe Shanna had left so much incriminating evidence behind before she moved. It was like she'd wanted to get caught. If it were me, I would have burned it all before I moved. Chase did say there were stupid killers, but this seemed…too stupid to be true.
Oh no.
A thought trotted into my head. With a gulp, I opened the notebook and flipped to the last page. It was written in sloppy, nonsensical, heartbeat scribbled writing. Like the money order…for…the…one…bedroom. Crap!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
See also: Intruder
My heart heaved. Shanna didn't skip. She didn't move. Shanna paid her rent. The wind must have blown her door open. I was currently breaking and entering.
One could make the argument that she was breaking the law more. But this wasn't a competition. The apartment might have been empty of furnishings, but she did pay her rent, and I had no right to be in there. Shanna still had possession of the apartment.
I scrambled to my feet, stumbled backwards, and stepped on the cat's tail. He hissed.
"I'm sorry," I said.
The cat didn't accept my apology and rubbed his hair along my leg.
My body felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, except for my head. My head was heavy. Like it was stuffed with rocks. And my chest burned. I staggered down the hallway and ran my hands along the wall to keep myself upright.
The front door opened, and Shanna walked in with a bulging reusable grocery bag in her hand. She looked about as shocked to see me as I was to see her.
"What are you doing in my apartment?"
"There was a…" Think. Think. Think. Think. "Leak!" I almost sang, impressed my weight-filled brain was able to conjure up such a good lie on a whim. "There was a leak, and I had to get in here right away. I left you a message."
Shanna looked at her phone. "I didn't get it." She pressed her brows together. "You don't look so good."
"Allergies." I coughed. "You know, the wind."
Her eyes darted around the room. "How'd you know there was a leak in my apartment?"
That was an excellent question.
I sneezed. "Water dripped from the ceiling below."
"Oh…yeah…makes sense…" She paused to adjust the bag in her hand. "Did you…um…fix it?"
"Yeah, it was a faulty…pipe. Faulty pipe. All is well now." I had no idea if she was buying it or not. My right eye had swollen shut.
"Did you go in the closet?"
"Just the bathroom. I better get going. My boss is outside waiting for me."
"Oh…yeah…OK…um…cool." She went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and unloaded her groceries like nothing was amiss in her world.
I blinked my left eye a few times, coughed twice, and walked out of the apartment, trying not to appear rushed. If Shanna wasn't suspicious, then I should be able to make it back to the office before she realized Munch was gone and I'd been in her closet.
What I failed to take into account was that my body was made of cotton and that the closet would be the first place Shanna would look after I left.
I made it as far as the pool before I heard the footsteps fast approaching. Shanna grabbed the cutout in the back of my shirt and pulled me to the ground. "It's against the law to enter an apartment and go through the tenant's things," she said, standing over me.
"I thought you had moved. The door was wide open," I said in a panic.
"Why would I move?" She took a seat
on my chest. "You took my dog, and I know you have my mom on your desk. I saw her through the window when I went to pay my rent. Why do you hate me so much? I never did anything to you."
"I don't…I don't hate you." I gasped for air. "I didn't know the urn was yours. I found it in the carport and thought it belonged to Apartment 17."
Shanna peered down at me. "So go into my apartment and look through my stuff?"
"I…I didn't. It was a…" Oh hell. This wasn't going to end well for me. Not when I was stuck under Shanna's bony butt. I punched her in the stomach, and she fell over.
And Tom made fun of me for watching WWE.
Shanna landed on her back and kicked me. I kicked her. We did this for a while, me kicking her, her kicking me, until she grabbed hold of my leg and dragged me toward her. We rolled into the pool fence, and I was able to get on top of her.
"Did you kill Jessica?" I asked her.
"I didn't kill anyone."
She spat in my face and pushed me down. Gross.
We rolled again, her on top of me, me on top of her. She clawed at my face. I clawed at hers. I'd never been in a physical fight before, and I had a hunch neither of us was doing it right. We wrestled for the upper hand until we rolled into the pool. Under the water Shanna was able to break free. I kicked to the surface, wiped the chlorinated water from my eyes, and watched Shanna climb out.
I doggy paddled to the ledge and hoisted myself up and out of the pool. Shanna stole one glance back then took off running. I chased after her, all the while begging my legs and lungs to hold on for me. My soaked clothing didn't make the situation any easier. I was more than fine letting Shanna run away, but she was headed right for the office, and I wouldn't allow her to hurt Mrs. Nguyen. I grabbed hold of Shanna's waist, and the two of us landed in a bush. Einstein clung to a thorny branch while Shanna was able to get up. She bolted into the lobby.
I scrambled free and rushed after her. Shanna grabbed the urn from my desk and tucked it under her arm, like a drenched football player about to run in for a touchdown. She snatched the letter opener and held it up.
"Don't take another step," she said.
I held up my hands. "If the urn was so important to you, why did you put it in Apartment 17's carport?"
"It's none of your business. Now, where's my dog?"
I didn't want her in my apartment. "He's staying at a friend's house. I'll call and have him returned."
Shanna shook the letter opener at me. Her makeup dripped down her face, and her eyes were encircled in black smudges from her mascara. "No. You can take me to him. I want my dog so I can get out of here," she said.
I was feeling a little weird, standing there dripping wet, being held at letter-opener-point by a woman, also dripping wet, with an urn tucked under her arm. Pretty sure an episode of Ghost Confidential started this way.
Confession: I hated the show. I only watched because Amy was on it, and I fast-forwarded to her parts. Had I known I'd be starring in my own real-life episode, I would have not only watched, but taken notes.
I was hoping to distract Shanna with conversation and create an opportunity to snatch the letter opener away. That sucker was sharp. It could easily penetrate an organ or two. She didn't look comfortable holding it, which begged the question of whether she was capable of holding a gun and shooting someone.
"You don't have to threaten me with office supplies," I said. "I never wanted the urn to begin with, and I'm allergic to animals. I have no problem giving either back."
Her eyes welled up. "Yeah, but you think I killed my sister."
"Are you sure you didn't?"
"I'd never hurt anyone."
"You threw me on the ground, and now you're holding a sharp object at me," I pointed out.
"That's different. You went through my apartment. I heard you were nosy, but I never expected you to be a criminal."
"Where did you hear I was nosy?"
"On Rent or Run dot com. Also, you have sex with old people."
I rolled my good eye. "You can't believe everything you read on the internet."
Shanna's hand trembled, and she blinked back tears. "No, you can't believe everything you read. Jessica was a horrible person who treated me like dirt, but I didn't kill her."
I caught a glimpse of motion outside the window. It was so fleeting I thought I'd imagined it. "If you didn't, then who did?" I asked Shanna.
"Why…why don't you ask your friend, Amy Montgomery? She hated Jessica. Everyone knew it."
"Yeah, that ship has sailed. The police know someone planted evidence in her car."
Shanna's lower lip trembled. "I…I don't know what you're talking about."
The door leading to my apartment opened, and Chase appeared with his gun drawn and pointed at the back of Shanna's head. "Drop your weapon," he said.
Shanna let go of the letter opener, and it fell to her feet.
"Put down the box, and put both hands in the air," Chase ordered.
Shanna set the urn on the desk and raised both hands high above her head. "I didn't kill anyone," she said with a whimper. "It wasn't me. I'm not a murderer."
"We'll talk about it at the station." Chase cuffed Shanna.
Hampton came running in. The two men worked in unison. One patted her down while the other read her the Miranda rights. I took the opportunity to fall to the ground and curl into a ball.
Hampton directed Shanna out the back lobby door. She maintained her innocence the entire time. If I hadn't read the notebook, I would have believed her.
To be honest, I had no idea what to think.
Chase helped me to my feet and pulled a twig out of Einstein. "Are you hurt?"
"Probably." I was too pumped full of adrenaline to feel any serious injuries.
"Why are you wet?" Chase asked.
"I fell into the pool."
"What happened to your face?"
I touched my puffy eye. "Allergic reaction."
"To the dog that's in your apartment?"
"It's Shanna's dog. Did you see Mrs. Nguyen in there?" I asked.
"I sent her and the dog into your room for safety," he said.
I shivered, and Chase disappeared into my apartment and returned with a beach towel. Luckily, it wasn't the one I'd used for Munch's bed. He wrapped it over my shoulders and rubbed them to bring back the warmth.
"Did…did you get my text?" I asked through chattering teeth.
"I'm here, aren't I?" He smiled.
Good point.
"Pretty sure my phone is officially dead. I dropped it this morning, and it was in my pocket when I fell into the pool."
"Did she push you into the pool?"
"No. We were fighting and landed in there."
Chase looked heavenward and sighed. "So I have this straight," he said. "You somehow ended up in Shanna's apartment with a notebook, and you think she killed Jessica. You two got in a fight. Ended up in the pool, and Shanna's dog is with Mrs. Nguyen."
"That's a fair synopsis of the situation."
"How did you end up in her apartment?" he asked.
"I thought she'd moved out."
"How did you end up with her dog?"
"I thought she'd moved out."
He pointed to Mom. "And the urn?"
"I thought it belonged to a move-out."
Chase thunked the heel of his hand against his forehead. "You kill me."
"I-I appear to have that effect on men."
He gave me a curious look. "Huh?"
"Never mind." I coughed, sneezed, sniffled, scratched my face, and shivered.
"You should take something for the allergies."
"I'm already maxed out on meds."
Chase cut his eyes to the window to be sure no one was watching. The coast was clear. He wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed me. "I'm glad you're not hurt." He went back to rubbing my arms.
Warmth returned to my limbs, enough that my teeth stopped chattering.
"Did you know the entire time that Shanna
and Jessica were sisters?" I asked.
Chase shook his head. "We found out yesterday. Not public knowledge, but her assistant told us. This isn't Shanna's address though. She has a studio in downtown, but we saw that Elder Property Management had run a credit and background check on her last month, which didn't make sense. That's why I called you. To see if you remembered her coming in and filling out an application. We were talking to her apartment manager when I read your text. When I got here, I saw her holding you at knife point."
"Letter opener," I said. "So basically what you're saying is that I solved this case for you."
"Nothing has been solved yet. And I thought I told you to stay out of it?"
"I did…until I didn't. You're welcome."
Chase thunked his forehead again. "This is far from over. Stay right here, and don't touch anything. I'll be right back."
I agreed and watched Chase walk out to the carports through the window. My body felt all jittery, and I fell to the chair and put my face into my hands. I was already feeling the adrenaline letdown when the door chimed. Patrick, Trevor, and Mr. Nguyen walked inside.
"That was a wonderful walk-through, Mr. Nguyen. Thank you." Trevor stuck his finger in his ear and gave it a wiggle. "Very loud and very thorough. Attention to detail. That's what I like."
"It's what we strive for." Patrick looked at me and made a face.
I imagined I looked about as awful as I felt.
"Did you go for a swim?"
I had no words. Patrick was clueless, utterly clueless as to what just happened. I shared a glance with Mr. Nguyen. I owed him a cake, or a hug, or more overtime, or a kidney, or something.
"No, I fell in," I said. My eyes went from Trevor to Patrick. Their expressions were unreadable. "I was helping a resident?"
A smile spread across Trevor's face, and he looked at Patrick. "I like her. She's dedicated."
That was one word for it.
"Cambria, I have to apologize," Patrick said. "Mr. Nguyen told me you were in a car accident last night. Is that what you tried to tell me when I got here?"
