Euphoria Lane (8 page)

“I see he lived through the accident,” Andi stated as she rubbed at the reddish marks on her wrist.

“According to the Water Guppies, he was released from the hospital this morning.” Meg sounded as irritated as she felt.

Harry carried a camera with a telephoto lens, and Valerie followed him with her clipboard.

“Meg, his camera is bigger than yours.”

“He’s compensating for his—”

“Lack of hair.”

“Okay.” Meg giggled. “His hair.”

“Are they documenting violations?”

“That’s what they call it, but I know better,” Meg whispered. “They’re taking advantage of the opportunity to flirt and talk dirty.”

Harry aimed his camera at a sedan parked an inch off a driveway, on a border of gravel. The rules stipulated parking on paved surfaces, not on the grass or gravel in the common areas. While Valerie wrote on her clipboard, he glanced about, as if making sure they were alone. He then looked down at whatever she’d written and rubbed her arm.

“Y-u-ck,” Andi moaned. “I wouldn’t want that man touching me.”

“Even thinking about it creates a nausea no antacid could ever cure.” The nurse shifted her weight onto her other knee. “I wonder if Valerie’s husband would be interested in how dedicated she is to her volunteer work.”

“Volunteer work? You make it sound like she’s saving the planet.”

“She’s saving herself from a middle-class lifestyle,” Meg announced. “They say charity begins at home.”

The two board members strolled casually around the corner.

Andi dashed to the safety of the closest building, keeping them in sight. Her heart pounded with excitement. “I think I’m getting the hang of this spy stuff,” she whispered, then hummed the theme music to
Mission: Impossible
. “Da, daaa da da . . .”

“Da da da . . .” Meg joined in, flattening herself against the wall.

Andi sneaked a peek around the corner.

Meg dropped and rolled to the next bush.

Unwilling to drop and injure herself, Andi quickly walked to the bush. “We already have pictures of both of them breaking the rules,” Andi whispered. “Why are we following them now?”

“Because it’s fun.” Meg bent low and ran to the next building with Andi close behind. “Besides,” Meg continued, “sending Luke the pictures felt great, but he’s not going to send Harry a violation letter for running over the fire hydrant.”

“But we sent him evidence,” Andi protested. “He
has
to.”

“When a violation is iffy, like parking on a hydrant because someone cut your brakes, it’s his job to take the case to the board to decide.”

A feeling of defeat settled in her gut. “The board will defend Harry. Luke failed to mention that particular loophole.” Andi leaned away from the wall to see what Harry was doing now. “Come
on
! He’s busy taking a picture of a potted plant.”

They ran and hid behind a truck.

“You’re not allowed to have a potted plant near your front door,” Meg shared. “Only on your back porch.”

“That must be rule number two hundred fifty-three,” Andi said sarcastically.

Pressed flat on the cement driveway, both women peered underneath the truck’s running board to watch the board president snap a picture of Roxie walking her Chihuahua without a leash.

The aging woman wore leopard-print spandex pants and a matching shirt. Her dog, wearing a rhinestone-studded collar, barked incessantly at Harry.

Roxie flipped the man off between puffs of her filtered cigarette. “Get a life, prune face!”

Harry snarled and snapped more pictures.

Roxie turned, yanked the back of her pants down, bent over, and mooned the two board members. Valerie screeched, Harry yelled obscenities, and Andi’s jaw dropped.

“It’s fake.” Meg elbowed Andi and chuckled. “Her tush is fake.”

The older woman shot a devilish grin at the spies before pulling her pants back up. The barking grew louder as the miniature pet followed its owner down the path leading to the pool. Harry must have been in shock; he hadn’t snapped a single photo.

“Oh, my!” Andi shifted away from the truck, hoping Harry and Valerie couldn’t see them.

Meg snorted between giggles.

“How can Roxie’s tush be fake?” Andi whispered.

“She ordered a plastic, strap-on derriere online to fill out her spandex pants. Her real bum is as flat as a pancake.” Meg’s grin lit up her eyes. “Harry only saw plastic, but he doesn’t know that.”

“He’ll never recover.” Andi snuck a peek at Roxie and her dog, ambling along in the opposite direction. “Roxie saw us,” she whispered. “Do you think Harry figured out we’re here, too?”

“Nah,” Meg answered. “When Valerie’s around, he thinks with his—”

“Toupee,” Andi finished, sneaking another peek in his direction.

Harry leaned toward Valerie for a kiss. The gold digger glanced about for witnesses, then apparently, satisfied there were none, planted a kiss on his cheek.

Andi slapped her hands over her eyes and moaned. “How can she kiss him? I don’t care how much money he has.”

“Does the word
gross
come to mind?” Meg stepped away from the side of the truck. “Come on. They’re going into Harry’s condo. The coast is clear.”

Andi breathed a sigh of relief. “I never want to see anything that revolting ever again.”

“Too bad. You will as long as we keep spying on Harry. Let’s check on Helen. She’ll break at least one rule now that they’ve finished their rounds. I’m betting on two or three.”

“So all of these board members break the rules they push on the rest of us?”

“Behind Harry’s back,” Meg stated flatly.

Disgusted, Andi shook her head and then followed her new friend down the street. “Does the reverend break the rules, too?”

“Not usually. He’s too busy feeling sorry for himself and regretting what happened when he fell in love with Helen.”

“Helen? The board member we’re about to spy on?”

“Yep. She was the member of the congregation he was caught kissing. Ministers are allowed to date and marry, but it becomes a scandal if the woman just broke up with the wealthiest member of the church. The gossips accused the reverend of coming between the couple and causing their separation, which placed their church in financial jeopardy. Helen claims she never let on to Reverend Nichols that she was in love with him until after she broke up with Mr. Millionaire. I believe her.”

“What happened?”

“Bernice convinced Helen to leave him.”

“Why?”

“Too many theories to discuss now. We have a job to do.” Meg quickened her pace.

“Bernice sure knew how to make enemies.” The number of murder suspects continued to grow. Andi glanced around her, wondering which condo hid the neighbor who had killed the former board president. An involuntary shudder traveled across her shoulders and upper back.

She realized she had fallen behind and rushed to catch up with Meg as she rounded another condo building. Out in the open, they strolled nonchalantly, side by side across the grass in the neighborhood’s common area.

One moment Meg was walking beside her, then the next she was gone. Andi twisted and found her friend hiding behind another bush and pointing toward a woman washing her cheery yellow Smart Car in her driveway.

Afraid to be caught, Andi bent her knees and waddled like a duck behind the bushes to Meg’s side. Spying was giving her quads a workout.

“That’s Helen,” Meg mouthed.

The rail-thin woman, most likely in her mid-thirties, squeezed a sopping wet sponge over the roof of her car, then stepped back out of the way as water cascaded over the side. She wore orange Capri pants with a matching floral, sleeveless top and flip-flop sandals. The outfit said, “Going on a spring picnic.”

Meg lifted her camera. “Washing your car on the property is against the rules.”

An earth-tone, midsize sedan drove down the street, approaching the condo. With a hesitant smile, Helen lifted her open palm in a weak wave. The driver ignored her. She lowered her gaze, rejection written all over her sullen face.

“She was waving at the reverend,” Meg said. “He drives by her condo on the way home from his new job and she
just happens
to be out front so she can wave hello, but he pretends not to see her. He rejects her day after day after day.”

“How sad.” Andi’s heart ached for the woman, even though she had never met her.

Helen slowly turned off the water, tossed the sponge into a plastic, gray bucket and carried it away by the handle. Before she reached her door, Meg began clicking pictures of the car wash scene.

After Helen disappeared behind her front door, they both left their hiding place.

Andi couldn’t forget the look on Helen’s face when the reverend drove off without acknowledging her. She knew how it felt to lose the man you love. “Maybe we should leave this poor woman alone. She’s been through enough already.”

Meg leaned close to the wet car and snapped a picture. “Helen hands her proxy over to Harry whenever he asks for it. She’s not lifting a finger to stop him or help her neighbors. That makes her guilty in my book. Besides, all she’ll get is a warning. She’ll stop washing her car on the property and the daily rejections will stop. We are actually doing her a favor.”

“I guess you’re right,” Andi said, hoping Helen would stop torturing herself.

Meg zoomed in on an oil drop the size of a nickel. “I can blow this up to look like the inside of a mechanic’s garage.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Andi encouraged, still not comfortable recording evidence against Helen.

Meg hid the camera in her pocket and the two of them power-walked down the street, following the trail of water leading away from Helen’s driveway.

“Once I e-mail these pictures to Luke, the entire board will know we are out to stop them.” Meg slowed her pace after they turned the corner. “I can’t wait to see the look on Harry’s face. He’s going to explode, and I’m going to catch it all on film.”

Andi pictured Harry throwing a fit. “A temper tantrum would break the excessive noise rule.”

“I have to admit, at first the idea of this whole war scared the nail color off my toes, but now it feels good to be doing something to fight back.” Meg grabbed Andi’s arm. “Stop.” She pointed to a squad car up ahead. “They have Bernice’s son.”

Two officers were escorting a tall, lanky man to their police cruiser.

Andi watched them fold his thin body into the backseat.
Bernice’s son?

“They’re arresting the reverend?”

Andi adjusted her eyes to the dim lighting of the bar down the street from the diner where her sister worked undercover. They couldn’t talk at the diner and Jessie didn’t have time to go home, so they met at a bar owned by their uncle Max, the black sheep of the family. The heavy aroma of stale beer made Andi gag. Nearby a leather-clad biker with a scraggly beard leaned back to follow her movements.

Max’s longtime girlfriend tended bar during the less-crowded hours of the day. Clad all in black and sporting more tattoos than most men, Agnes could put the fear of God into any man with just a look. She set her evil snake eyes on Scraggily Beard and he took his sights off Andi.

“Your sister’s in the back, sweet thing,” Agnes said. She pointed the way with a whiskey bottle.

“Thanks,” Andi mumbled with a half smile. Clutching her purse to her chest like a shield, Andi rushed past the empty bar stools in search of her sister. Not that anyone would mistake her for a single woman on the prowl for a one-night stand—after Jessie called and pleaded for her to come right away, Andi had pulled an oversize, gray sweatshirt on over her clothes.

A man occupying the last stool leaned toward her, then passed out cold on the peanut-shell-littered floor. Andi gasped. A drunk stumbled over him on his way to the john. She spotted a bulky bouncer and pointed to the man on the floor. He nodded and sauntered over.

“You came!” Jessie slid out of a dark booth. Her undercover outfit of the day, a tie-dye top, a peace-sign-print miniskirt, and white go-go boots caught the attention of every man in the bar.

Andi shook her head with a smirk. “Nancy Sinatra called. She wants her boots back.”

Jessie turned in a circle to model her ensemble. “You like? Sixties night. Of course, I hear if you remember the sixties, you didn’t experience the decade.”

Impatient and wanting to escape, Andi changed the subject. “So what was so important it couldn’t wait until you got home?”

Her sister’s expression turned serious. “Bathroom. We need to hurry. I have to be back at the diner in ten minutes.” She pulled Andi by the hand.

“Here we go again.” Lately she’d been dragged from one bizarre situation to another. As far as restrooms go, this was one of the worst. It smelled like someone had dropped a case of cheap perfume on top of a mixture of hair products and citrus room freshener. Andi chose her steps carefully, doing her best to avoid the trail of toilet paper that had unrolled from the stall without a door. Her sister marched over the stained, scuffed, gray linoleum that bubbled beneath a scum-coated, leaking sink.

Jessie checked to make sure they were alone before locking them inside the bathroom. “I have good news. Lenny lowered the price on his agency.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“We’re meeting tomorrow morning to sign papers.” Her smile finally reached her eyes. “I own a detective agency!”

They screamed with joy while jumping up and down like teenagers.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Occupied!” Jessie yelled.

“Open up!” a woman’s shrill voice pierced the door. “Stop making out with your girlfriend and let me in. I have to go bad.”

Jessie kicked the wall. “Stop whining! I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Why didn’t you tell me over the phone?” Andi asked.

“I’m in a bind.” She lowered her voice. “Lenny just took on a new client, and he’s already cashed the man’s check.”

Understanding dawned on her. “You can’t work the case, can you?”

Jessie shook her head. “It would jeopardize my undercover assignment at the diner.”

“What do you need me to do? Play
Charlie’s Angels
for you?” She laughed, but her sister didn’t. “Jess, I’m joking. I can’t play detective. I wouldn’t know what to do.”