Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) (12 page)

The next morning, I pulled another box out of Mr. Hermit's closet. So far, I'd found a box full of pink flamingos, a rock collection, and tons of comic books. Some of the stuff could probably be sold on eBay for a good chunk of money. But who would get the cash?

This was the last box in the closet of the master bedroom. I blew dust off the top of the two-by-three-foot box. What kind of treats would I find in here?

I'd already packed up all of the man's clothing and shoes. A thrift store was coming to pick them up in a couple of hours. A charity would get his furniture to auction off for the less fortunate. His food had been thrown away. It was all bad-for-you junk food anyway and better if no one ate it, even the homeless. Tomorrow, I'd start on the nonfood portion of the kitchen.

I plopped on the floor and stared at the top of the box, at the sides that were neatly tucked into each other. Would this be another fun collection? Maybe butterflies or postcards or stamps. Was it only reclusive people who collected things? I paused. Maybe I should ease up on my T-shirts and flip-flops.

I pulled the ends out from each other. Inside, I stared at another box, this one with a floral print decorating the fabric around it. This was the first feminine-looking item I'd seen in his house. My pulse raced in curiosity. What would be inside?

Carefully, I took the box out and set it on the floor in front of me. I stared at it a moment, wondering if it would be perfume. Maybe he had a fetish for wearing women's cologne. Or maybe it was a memento of his mother. Of a past lover? What would this box tell me about Mr. Hermit?

I tugged the top off. Holding my breath, I peered inside.

Pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

Pictures of Mr. Hermit, I think, when he was younger and thinner and happier. His arm was draped over a thin blond. The wall behind them was lined with portraits. They looked happy. I flipped to the next picture. Mr. Hermit holding up a fish, a huge, proud grin on his face. Mr. Hermit with a little boy sitting on his lap, a Christmas tree in the background. Mr. Hermit cradling a new baby in his arms.

Mr. Hermit hadn't always been a hermit. What happened to make him this way?

My cell phone began singing. I jumped, then scolded myself for getting lost in the moment. I was being paid to do a job, not to daydream. I grabbed my cell from the clip at my belt.

"Gabby St. Claire"

"How's it coming?" I'm not great with voices, but I automatically recognized the landlord, whose name I couldn't remember. I'm sure it would come back to me when it came time to collect payment.

"It's ... okay. I've made quite a bit of progress. I should be finished by the end of the week"

"I'll pay you the second half as soon as you're done. I have another renter interested in the house, so the sooner, the better"

"Understood. Time is money, right?"

"You said it. Now, back to work"

I took one more glance at the picture of Mr. Hermit with the pretty blond. I couldn't get rid of these pictures yet. I stuffed them back in the closet and decided to start on the bathroom.

As I worked, my mind drifted to the other things on my to-do list.

I needed to call Lynette Lewis, see what she was doing at Hank's show last night. I needed to go back to Ocean View and question the neighbors to find out if they'd seen anything suspicious. I needed to talk to Darnell's boss, the baloney guy.

Most of all, I needed to keep an eye on Chad Davis to make sure he didn't steal any of my business.

JUST AS I climbed into my van, the cell phone rang again. It was Parker. I knew because of the special ring I programmed in just for him-the tune of "I Will Survive."

Did I want to talk to him? I still hadn't come to any conclusions about our relationship. Did I even have time for a relationship right now? I had mysteries to solve, crimes to clean up, and money to be earned. Oh yeah, and a degree to complete.

I sighed and put the phone to my ear. "Hey, you"

He chuckled, a mellow, throaty sound. "Hey, Gabby. Whaddya doing?"

"Just leaving my job, heading home"

"Let's do dinner."

"I'm not sure if I have time" I remembered all the things I had to get done. Plus, I still didn't know what I wanted to do about our relationship, and being around Parker would only confuse me further.

"You can make time for me"

He sounded so convincing. "Well, normally, but I really do need to do-"

"Need to do what?"

I couldn't tell him about my side job. "The normal things. You know, study and stuff."

"How was class last night?"

I cringed. I couldn't lie. But I really wanted to. "Class?" I tried to buy time as I figured out a good way to word my excuse-my truthful excuse.

"You know, the place you go to learn?"

"Oh, that class. I ... um, I, well-I went to a concert instead"

"A concert? Gabby, you've got to buckle down. You're so close to finishing."

I know. This is the first I've missed. I won't miss any more."

"So, about dinner?"

I had to eat, didn't I? And it seemed like a good way to get the subject off my truancy. "Name the place"

He threw out the name of a restaurant in downtown Norfolk. I'd have just enough time to go home and get ready before he picked me up.

As I wandered up the stairs to my apartment, I realized how much I missed my apartment-mates. Riley's job had been keeping him busy. I didn't see him all that much anymore. Sierra was in the middle of a big "save the whales" campaign. I wouldn't see her until that was over. The conservative talk-show host across the hall from Sierra was doing a mini-tour for his radio program. And Mrs. Mystery hardly ever emerged.

I felt like I had empty nest syndrome, and I didn't even have any kids.

Maybe I was the one who flew over the cuckoo's nest.

I quickly got ready. Just as I stepped from my bedroom, a knock sounded at the door. Parker. He grinned his million-dollar smile from the hallway, one arm leaning casually against my door frame. He pecked my cheek with a kiss and grabbed my hand. "You look beautiful. You ready to go?"

Man, he was in a good mood tonight.

"Just let me grab my purse" My sparkly purse. I snatched it from atop the TV and joined him on the stairway. A few minutes later, we pulled up to the Freemason Abby, the first restaurant we ever ate at together. Back then, it was for police business ... kind of. Let's just say no sparks flew between us. I was hung up on Riley, and Parker was convinced I was trouble for his investigation.

After we ordered, I looked at my boyfriend from across the table. "How does a person become a hermit?"

His lips twitched, as they always did when I amused him. "Say again?"

"A hermit. How does someone become one?"

"You thinking of applying for the position?"

I played with the napkin in my lap. "No, I'm just wondering how a person goes from a life full of family and friends to dying alone with no one to mourn for them:"

He shrugged and looked out the window. "I guess you separate yourself, for whatever reason. You stop returning calls and answering the door. You find excuses to stay home"

"But why? Why would a person do that?"

Parker shrugged. "Why not? Hurt, pain, embarrassment, loss. Maybe they're afraid to risk. They put up walls and rationalize that it's better to be alone than to face rejection or hurt"

"It's so sad"

"What's this all about?"

I explained Mr. Hermit's situation.

"This isn't like you, Gabby. Letting the j ob get to you" He paused. "I mean, it's like you if the job involves murder or a crime. But this isn't a crime"

"It's worse. It's a crime against humanity."

"Being alone is a choice everyone makes for themselves. Even the freakish people can find other freaks who understand them. It's just a matter of effort. Believe me-I could tell you about some cases I've worked that would prove that. The fetishes some people have .. " He shook his head.

I leaned forward, curious. "Like what? Modern-day vampires? Fortyyear-olds who pretend to be infants? People who claim to be space aliens?"

Parker sighed. "I'm not in the mood to have this conversation. Can we please talk about something else?"

I sighed this time. "Of course we can" What else could we talk about? Oh, I had a bright idea. Brilliant to the utmost degree. "How was your day?"

His eyes lit up, but the sparkle quickly faded, as if he were trying to hide his excitement. "I got a new partner today."

"Did you?" I never thought I'd see Parker look happy to have a partner who could potentially steal all of his glory. That was Parker-he wanted to be a one-man show. Depending on other people? Not something he was very good at it.

"Yeah, I think we're going to get along pretty well"

"And your partner's name?"

"Charlie"

I pictured an older man with a receding hairline and oversized glasses. "Cool. I hope it works out for you:" What I really hoped was that Charlie didn't curse the day they were assigned to work together. Apparently, Parker had that effect on his partners. He'd never told me that, but somehow the information had trickled down to me when I attended Parker's birthday party two weeks ago.

I stared across the table at Parker. Man, he was handsome. Could totally be a body double for Brad Pitt, I kid you not. Brad Pitt from Ocean's Eleven, not the Brad Pitt from Fight Club.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Have you ever seen Fight Club?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind" Why boost his ego even more? Any time someone said a word like handsome, great, dashing, heck, even Mrs. Dash, Parker turned to them, assuming they were talking about him.

The rest of dinner consisted of conversation about football, movies, and-lo and behold-video games. Were we on the fast track to a deep, committed relationship or what? I counted down the minutes until Parker dropped me off at my apartment. As soon as he did, I hurried to my van. I needed to pay Lynette another visit. Sure, the sun had set a few hours ago, but most people were still awake at nine. Right?

I pulled up to her house, and she opened the door, wrapping a thin, hot-pink robe around her tiny waist. She blinked when she saw me, mascara still caked around her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Lynette, can I have a few minutes of your time?"

"It's a little late, isn't it?"

"I saw you at Hank Robins's concert last night"

She blinked again. "Is that a crime?"

"I find it suspicious that someone who's not only the president of Darnell Evans's fan club, but also his lover, would show up to see another Elvis impersonator-"

"Tribute artist. He was an Elvis tribute artist"

"Whatever. I find it strange you would go to his concert. I'd like to know why."

The woman pulled the door open. "Come on in. I probably should have just told you this to begin with"

I took a seat on the same milky white couch where I'd sat before and waited for her to begin. She wrung her hands on her way over to sit across from me.

"Hank Robins is a vengeful man" She stared at me as if waiting for a reaction.

"Why do you say that?" I finally asked.

She twisted her hands again as if the motion echoed her inner turmoil. "Hank claimed that my Darnell paid off some judges so that he could win the ETA Competition in September."

"ETA?"

"Elvis tribute artist."

"Of course" I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "And you went to the concert so you could confront him about his accusations?"

She looked down at her fidgety hands. "No, not exactly" She rose, crossed the room, and pulled open a drawer atop a pine secretary. She slipped out a piece of white paper.

"My Darnell left an overnight bag at my house. I was going through it yesterday, and I found this" She handed the folded, letterlike sheet to me.

I glanced up at her, saw the grief on her face, and then carefully touched the note. If this was significant, I didn't want to ruin any fingerprints-if Lynette already hadn't. Trying to just touch the edges, I opened the letter and stared at the computer-printed words:

Pay $2000

or I'll tell the media what you did.

I glanced back up at Lynette. She stared at me, her expression pensive.

"Do you know what this is about?"

She closed her eyes for what felt like hours before slowly opening them. "Darnell received two thousand dollars for winning the ETA competition. Hank thought he'd paid off the judges. Hank also thought that he was going to win the competition and it would thrust him into the spotlight. He wanted to give up his job as a delivery driver and perform full-time. Of course, so did my Darnell"

I leaned forward. "Then why not just ruin Darnell's reputation by taking this straight to the media?"

"He didn't have any evidence. And Hank's lazy. He figured if he could hold this over my Darnell, he'd ultimately come out on top"

Could this be a key piece of evidence? Excitement fluttered up my spine. "Did you confront Hank at the concert?"

"No, I saw you and decided to leave"

I stared at the note again, at the computer-generated words. "Why were you keeping this a secret?"