by Erin Huss
"How is Antonio doing?" I asked.
"He took the news hard. I think we were all holding on to hope she'd return."
"Is there anything we can do for you?" Chase asked.
She refused to make eye contact with him, which didn't seem like her. She'd about imploded when she found Kevin on my…gawk!
No wonder Stormy appeared confused. The last time she saw me, I was with a shirtless Kevin and he'd declared we were having…
I choked on my own spit and hunched over in a coughing fit. Struggling to catch my breath. Chase patted my back, and Stormy scooted off to the Wow Fridge and returned with a bottle of Cedar Creek water. She twisted off the lid and held it up to my mouth. Bless her heart, she figured me as a two-timing hussy and didn't say a word to my real boyfriend.
The water helped ease my lungs. I pounded my chest with my fist, swallowed a few times, took a few breaths, and gulped a bit more water. Then I spoke. "There was a misunderstanding the other night," I started. "Kevin, the man you met, we weren't…you know."
Now both Chase and Stormy stared at me.
Oh geez.
"I mean…it was all…just a…" What was I supposed to say? Kevin lied so she'd leave? There was no winning here. I polished off the water bottle instead.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about." Stormy winked.
Oh hell.
"What are you doing?" I pointed to the empty boxes, to change the subject.
She glanced down at her desk, as if just remembering, and re-slumped into her chair. "I'm packing."
"Did you get fired?"
"Not yet. But with everything that happened with Violet, I doubt they want me to stay on. I doubt I want to stay on. I thought property management would be fun and, honestly, easy. I had no idea it was so…so…"
"Stranger than fiction," I finished for her.
She gaped at me. "Yes! I don't know if I can sit across from Violet's desk without thinking about what happened either." She shuddered.
I grabbed one of the empty boxes and placed it on the floor. "I wouldn't start packing right now if I were you. You've kept this place going during this horrible time, and you should stay on, at least until the owners replace Violet. That way you can get a reference. You could get a job at a smaller community to start. One like mine."
Stormy picked up her coffee. "Like yours? Are you quitting?"
"No, it was an example. Mine's only forty units. Then I also manage another place in Burbank that is only…" Crap! Fox! I never finished his application!
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
However, in my defense, the dead body I'd found distracted me.
Patrick was reasonable. He shouldn't be upset.
However, in his defense, this was the second dead body I'd found since I began working there.
Perhaps I should be the one packing file boxes?
"Anyway." Stormy dropped her chin into her palm. "I better get back to work."
"Of course." I gave Stormy a hug. "Call and let me know how you're doing."
"I will," Stormy promised.
Chase placed a hand on the small of my back and led me toward the door. Oh! Wait! I spun around. "Do you mind if I take a picture of the Wow Fridge to show my boss?"
"Be my guest," she said.
Chase heaved a sigh.
"What's your deal?" I asked under my breath. It wasn't like him to be so pushy.
"Sorry. I'm hungry."
"This will only take a minute." I opened the fridge.
"Wow," Chase said from over my shoulder.
"Exactly." I pulled the water bottles forward to make a perfect line and turned my phone vertical to snap a picture. "When this case is all done…" I turned around to be sure Stormy couldn't hear. She was secluded in the office, filling her boxes, out of earshot. "I was thinking about setting Stormy and Hampton up." I turned my phone horizontal and adjusted the lighting. "Don't you think they'd make a cute couple?"
Chase shrugged. "She looks too young to be having hot flashes."
"What do you know about hot flashes?"
"When you're a detective, you learn things you don't want to know," he said. "Are you almost done?"
"Almost." I swiped through the pictures to make sure I captured the wow. Because I'd have to wow Patrick in order to get a Wow Fridge added to the budget.
"What's Stormy's story?" Chase asked.
"Same ole', same ole'. Moved to Los Angeles to become an actress, settled for a mediocre paying, soul-crushing job instead."
"How'd she have no idea Violet was embezzling money if she's the assistant manager?"
"Violet wouldn't allow her to do any of the managing." I placed my hand in his and intertwined our fingers. "We can go now."
Chase opened the whimsical door for us. We stepped into the summer air and strolled down the walkway.
"Now that we're alone, can we go back to the kid thing?" Chase asked.
Oh, right. "What are your thoughts? Not that I want to have a baby right now. It's just that we've never talked about it."
Chase came to a stop at the red curb and massaged the back of his neck. I braced for the bad news soon to follow. "I need to tell you about my special assignment."
"Crap. You got someone pregnant!"
"What? No."
"You found out about a secret love child in Texas?"
"What? No."
"You—"
He pressed his finger to my lips. "I applied to the FBI."
"What's that have to do with kids?"
"If we're talking kids and marriage, we need to be completely honest with each other."
My heart lurched. Marriage.
Who said anything about marriage?
Well…I guess I did, when I mentioned more children.
I supposed matrimony would be the logical first step.
A step I skipped over the first time.
Chase wasn't a skipping (or falling) over steps kind of guy.
"I can tell you're angry," Chase said.
Angry? I wasn't angry. I should be angry he didn't tell me about applying to the FBI. But life is short. People die. A lot. Specifically around me.
No time to be upset over career advancements.
"It's incredibly competitive, and I didn't know if I would get in," Chase explained. "Or if I wanted to get in. That's why I was in Texas. It was phase three of my interview process."
"Phase three? Why didn't you tell me about phases one and two? How many phases are there?" And also, "What's a phase?"
"I applied before you and I began dating. I didn't hear anything until about three months ago. I got a call to meet with an agent in LA. Then I took the test, and this past weekend I flew out to do a meet-and-greet and final interview. I should have told you, but I didn't want to worry you."
I shook my head, trying to understand. "When do you find out if you got it?"
"I did. Now I wait to see when I start training. It could be three months. It could be ten months. I've heard for some it takes over a year."
I didn't know much about phases or what exactly it meant for him to be in the FBI, but it sounded exciting. I was about to give him a hug and tell him congratulations—
"Nothing has to change between us," he quickly added before I could get the words out. "I plan to keep working until I get training orders. I had no idea how badly I wanted the job until I was at the final interview yesterday." Two creases appeared across his forehead. Two I'd never seen before. And I realized, Chase was worried that I'd be upset he kept this from me.
And my stomach lurched again.
I need to tell him about Tom.
But first.
I swung my arms around his neck and kissed him. My heart pattered in my chest, and my cheeks went hot, and my legs went goo.
I'll kiss him once. Then I'll let go. Then I'll tell him about the kiss I shared with Tom in the bathroom.
He shouldn't be too upset. After all, it was Tom who kissed me.
Mostly.
Also, Chase
and I hadn't been a serious couple at the time.
Mostly.
Denial can be a powerful thing.
Almost as powerful as the connection Chase and I shared.
Oh my.
"I take it you're not upset with me," he said against my lips.
"I guess not. FBI agent sounds kind of hot.
"Good." He sighed, and the creases disappeared. "I've been wanting to tell you since I got home."
"Is that why you were so anxious to leave?"
"Yes, and it's like ten degrees in there."
I let out a laugh. "Are you still taking me to dinner?"
Chase snaked his arm around my waist. "Anywhere you want to go."
Anywhere?
Hmmmm…
If I had my choice of any restaurant in Los Angeles, I'd pick Bottega Louie. Avocado and Chorizo toast on fresh, homemade bread, along with a variety of melt-in-your-mouth macaroons.
But tonight wasn't about me. Chase was now, or was about to be, in the FBI, and I had to tell him I kissed my baby daddy. So, "Hollywood Pizza."
Chase gave me a look. "You want to go to Hollywood Pizza?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"The last time we ate there, you said the crust tasted like tree bark and you were one hundred percent positive the sauce was Ragu."
That sounded like something I'd say. But still, "I feel like tree bark Ragu tonight. Plus, there's something I want to talk to you about too."
"Does it have to do with kids again?"
"Not necessarily." Though, when he said kids, it reminded me. "Shoot. They have the cutest kids' corner at Cedar Creek, with coloring books and toys. I want to re-create something similar, and I forgot to take a picture of it to send to Patrick along with the Wow Fridge."
"Can't you Google kids' corner and send the link to Patrick?"
I paused.
Sure.
But…
"If he sees what our next-door competitors have, it will have a bigger impact. I'll be right back. Get in the car, and I'll meet you in there." I kissed him on the cheek and ran back to Cedar Creek, skipped over the step, and my knee buckled.
Son of a… I hobbled around, muttering to myself, until I was able to move my leg again.
Note to self: see a doctor, woman!
I didn't want to bother Stormy, so I used the code Dolores had given me.
Access Denied
Weird.
I tried a few more times without success. Lucky for me, a resident exited, and I was able to slip right in. The office was empty. I snapped a picture of the kids' corner from a few different angles, then swiped through my pictures to see if I'd done it justice. The pics were dark, and I looked up. The track lighting over the table had two light bulbs out.
I sent Antonio a text and snapped one more picture.
He replied back almost instantly: Who is this?
Me: Cambria. I'm in the lobby.
Antonio: I think you have the wrong number.
Me: No, this is Cambria Clyne, from next door. Two light bulbs over the kids' corner are out.
Antonio: Cambria Clyne the apartment manager?
Geez. The man had short-term memory.
Me: Yes.
Antonio: You manage the place off Sepulveda Blvd?
OK, this was getting ridiculous.
Me: Yes
Antonio: I don't do light bulbs. How's the new window?
I checked the front window.
Me: The window looks good.
Antonio: If you ever need another let me know. I gave Mr. Nguyen a quote to put new windows in every apartment if you're interested.
I was confused, so I called him.
"Hey there, Cambria." It didn't sound like Antonio at all.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"It's Antonio from MM Glass Repair."
I looked down at my phone. Mr. Nguyen had sent the contact as Antonio MM, and I assumed MM meant maintenance man. He'd obviously sent me the wrong Antonio.
"Did you get a message from me a few days ago?" I asked.
"You're right. I did. I didn't recognize the number, and the message didn't make any sense so I figured it was a mistake. Do you need a new window for an apartment with a leak?"
"No…but if I called you then, how did Antonio know to meet me at Violet's apartment?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about."
"Sorry. I'm thinking out loud."
"We have a special on double pane right now…"
Antonio MM continued his sales pitch, and I mentally put him on mute. If Antonio at Cedar Creek didn't get my message about the leak in Violet's bathroom and Dolores was unable to get a hold of him, then why was he on his way to Violet's apartment to fix it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
—Things are never quite what they seem.
Monday night I'd been so consumed with the leak, and my knee, and Larry who had just fallen off the roof, and David who had just run me over in the stairwell that I didn't pay attention to much else. But when I closed my eyes and removed all other distractions from the equation, I was able to pick up on few things.
1) Dolores did say when we talked on the phone that her son was with her, helping her collect the water dripping from the ceiling.
2) It's unlikely David would flood his own mother's apartment. Even more unlikely Dolores would involve me if her son had just killed the manager. When we spoke, she sounded genuinely desperate to stop the leak. However, it was possible she didn't know her son had killed Violet until after we hung up.
3) David could have called his mother after he kicked in Violet's door, suspecting he was standing in a crime scene. That was when they decided they didn't want to risk being involved at all, since David already had a record.
4) I had run into Antonio. In such a hurry, I never did ask if he received my voicemail. I assumed he had, since he was there. And Dolores said she didn't have his number. How else would he have known?
Crap.
Stormy!
She still wasn't in the office. The boxes were half full, and her ice coffee sat atop the desk—a condensation ring formed around the bottom. I ran down the hallway and
checked the storage closet and the bathrooms. She wasn't there, but the door to Antonio's office was cracked open.
I crept along with my back against the wall and peeked into the sliver of an opening. Antonio had a tight grip around Stormy's arms and had her pressed against a filing cabinet. She let out a yelp.
I started to call Chase, then hung up. Figuring I should take my own advice.
In case of emergency…
"9-1-1 what's your emergency?"
Antonio's office fell silent. He had his hand pressed over Stormy's mouth, and his ear pointed in my direction.
I hid behind the blue cabinet in the hall and pulled my knees to my chest. The door opened, and I imagined Antonio poking his head out. Afraid he'd hear the operator, I hung up the phone and curled into a tighter ball.
"Hello?" Antonio called out. "Hello?"
I bit my lip. Afraid I'd answer.
Per Hampton: people don't think clearly when they're in a life or death situation.
This felt very life or death-ish.
The door closed. I remained in a ball and composed a text message to 9-1-1, giving the address, description of the suspect (Antonio), and the hostage (Stormy). I had no idea if 9-1-1 received text messages or not, but in a day and age when people used their phone more as a flashlight than to make actual phone calls, you'd think texting would be an option.
Placing my palms on the fancy rug, I went to my knees and crawled toward Antonio's office. I couldn't leave Stormy. I couldn't barge in either and risk getting killed. I was a mother. I had a kid and a boyfriend who wanted to marry me…someday. Maybe. Hopefully.
A loud crash came from the room. It sounded like a large piece of furniture had been thrown to the floor. I pictured Stormy fighting for her life, and my brain abandoned all sense of reasoning. I rose to my feet and…crap.<
br />
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
—Gravity is not my friend.
I hit the floor with a thud and got a rug burn along the palms of my hands on the way down. It wasn't even my knees' fault. I'd tripped.
On air.
Up again on two feet, I charged toward the office and turned the knob as I rammed my shoulder into the door, thinking it would be locked, thinking I possessed the superhuman ability to bust open a locked door.
PS: I don't.
I do, however, have the ability to bust open an unlocked door and send it crashing against the wall. Having used all my strength, the momentum propelled me forward, and I slid across Antonio's desk like it was home plate.
Smooth.
I scrambled to my feet and…holy hell.
No. No. No
I covered my eyes and screamed. "Doesn't anyone have sex in the privacy of their own home anymore!"
"Oh my heavens. Don't you know how to knock?" I heard the distinct sound of a zipper being pulled up.
I turned around and faced the opposite direction. An old poster of Cindy Crawford holding a Pepsi can plastered one wall. I concentrated on Cindy.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Antonio asked.
"Errrr…" Blinded by naked Stormy and Antonio, I'd completely forgotten why I barged in.
Ummm…cell phone…wrong number…how did Antonio know about Violet's apartment…right
Since Stormy was obviously not in harm's way.
Since Antonio was obviously busy.
Since I was obviously not needed in that moment, I backpedaled toward the door, fidgeting with my fingers.
"Wait, Cambria." Stormy stood in front of Cindy. Her shirt on backward, pants unbuttoned, lipstick smeared across her mouth. "What's wrong?"
"Errrr…I heard a crash."
"Oh, you sweet thing." She smoothed her hair back into place. "That must have been the toolbox." She giggled. "We got a little carried away, and it tipped over. See, I was feeling so sad about Violet. Antonio was feeling so sad about Violet. I came to comfort him and—"
"Don't need specifics."
"Let's just say there actually are men my age who can keep up." She winked.
