Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) (8 page)

I released some of the suction on my cheeks. "Really. And then his body was placed under the house?"

"No, Gabby. He was shot under the house"

I let my head fall back into the couch cushion. The man had been murdered? Why?

"Motive?"

"They don't have any yet"

This was Parker's peace offering. Most guys brought roses or chocolate. Parker gives me information on an investigation, which was really much sweeter than your traditional "I'm sorry."

"Gabby, don't you realize what this means? It means that if you get involved with this case, your life could be in danger. What if you'd been the one the homeowner had called to come out and do the work? That body discovered today could have been yours:"

I shivered. I wasn't ready to die yet.

But I wasn't ready to let this drop either.

"Do you forgive me for being stupid?"

"I haven't decided yet"

"Will you think about it?"

"Maybe."

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

"I can't promise to answer."

"I really am sorry, Gabby. I know I was a jerk. That's just what stress and lack of sleep does to me sometimes"

"I hear you:'

I started to hang up when I heard Parker's voice coming from the receiver.

"Gabby?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you:'

I hung up and purposefully knocked my head against the wall, wondering why my life had to be so complicated.

AS SOON as I hung up, the phone rang again.

I couldn't keep the irritation from my voice. "What now? I said tomorrow. You know, the day after this one:"

"Gabby?"

"Riley?" I closed my eyes, wanting to end this nightmare. I just wanted to turn off this day like you turned off the radio. If only it were that easy.

"Everything okay?"

"Just a little spat between Parker and me:"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that"

Unfortunately, he was probably telling the truth. I guess part of me wanted Riley to be jealous, to be secretly hoping that the two of us would break up so he could pursue me. Again, am I desperate? I really needed to examine that because I definitely didn't want to be desperate.

I was just calling to see if you wanted to go to church with me tomorrow. I know it's been a while since we talked about it, but I figured now was as good a time as any, right?"

"Right" I looked at my ceiling, trying to think of an excuse. Then I remembered the truth. "I have to finish a job tomorrow morning. I wanted to finish today, but I was just too tired:'

"You could go to church with me and then I could help you afterward"

"Or you could go to church without me and then help me out afterward anyway." I wanted to punch myself for being such a jerk, but I wasn't in the mood to go to church right now. I didn't want to face something else that was destined to disappoint me. I didn't want to pretend there was actually a God out there when I knew good and well there wasn't.

"I'd be happy to help you afterward, Gabby."

Why did he have to be so sweet? "Really?"

"Of course. Just tell me when and where"

I swallowed my guilt and gave him directions. As soon as I hung up the phone, I rushed out the door, down the steps, and pounded at Sierra's apartment. As soon as she opened her door, I pushed through the orange beads clacking from the frame and faced my friend.

Am I desperate?"

My Asian friend jerked her lip back in confusion. "Huh?"

"You've got to tell me the truth-am I a desperate female?"

She closed the door and glanced around the room with wide eyes. "I've never thought of you that way."

"Am I boy crazy? Because I'm feeling boy crazy lately."

"Can someone with a boyfriend be boy crazy?"

I buried my face in my hands. "I don't know. I don't know anything."

She sat beside me and, in a strangely comforting action, placed her hand on my back. "Is everything okay?"

The only thing I'd ever seen Sierra comfort was an animal. Was she equating me with one of her defenseless mammals that she fought for tirelessly? Don't get me wrong-I admire her passion. But I still hadn't completely figured my friend out. I just knew that Sierra had always been there for me and she'd be straight with me.

I began pouring out everything that had happened, and she just listened, nodding every so often.

"It's going to be okay, Gabby." Sierra held out a brownie for me. The last brownie I'd taken from her had been made from acorns. I repressed a gag and politely declined.

I looked her dead in the eye, silently begging for truth. "I don't want to be screwed up, Sierra. I've worked my entire life not to be screwed up like the rest of my family. But maybe it's inevitable"

"You're not screwed up, Gabby. I mean, not any more than anyone else"

I wasn't sure if that comforted me or not.

My shoulders slumped. "I don't know what to do about Parker"

"I've never really liked the two of you together anyway."

I swiveled my head toward her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"People usually have to find their own way. Besides, would it have mattered?"

My shoulders slumped more. "Probably not."

"You'll figure things out, Gabby."

"Why do you sound so sure?"

"Because you always do. That's what I like about you-you rise above circumstances. You're a fighter, and you always come out on top"

"Right now I'm feeling like a failure."

"I have some lactose-free chocolate ice cream. I even have some nuts to put on top. Would that make you feel better?"

I didn't even bother to ask what kind of nuts. Bring on the acorns. "Sure"

I arrived back at Mr. Hermit's house just as the sun was rising the next morning. I pulled my unmarked white van to the back of the house, so neighbors wouldn't see me. No one likes to be reminded of tragedies that they're somehow connected with. A man dying alone in your neighborhood and no one discovering his body for two weeks was the ultimate tragedy. No one wanted to think about their life ending like that. No one wants to think that they weren't a friend to someone who had no one.

I knew that I didn't want to think about my life ending like that.

As I hauled in equipment, I pictured my life, flashed-forwarded thirty years. I'd be almost sixty. As the Beatles once said, would anyone still need or feed me when I was that age? And would dear old Dad still be around? If so, what would our relationship be like? He probably wouldn't be able to afford a nursing home, so he'd come to live with me. Otherwise, he'd be a ward of the state. Like I'd let that happen. This cycle that had started when Mom died would continue. Then after Dad died, it would just be me.

Alone.

I hated being alone.

Sure, I had friends. I had great friends, friends who would risk their lives for me. But sometimes I just wanted something deeper, more permanent.

Maybe that made me desperate.

Or maybe that was just human nature. Maybe throughout the evolution of our species, we'd come to depend on others. We were like dogs-we liked to run in packs.

Of course, Riley would say we were designed with the desire to be around others. He would remind me of the story of Adam and Eve. How Adam was lonely so God created Eve as a soul mate ... or something like that. I hadn't heard that Bible story since I went to vacation Bible school as a youngster. I preferred to keep it that way.

Guilt still stabbed at me that I hadn't gone to church with Riley this morning. I had promised, and I liked to keep my word. I pushed aside the guilt to focus on my job.

Darkness filled the living room. Mr. Hermit had kept heavy brown drapes across the windows. I decided they should come down. I pulled a hefty wooden chair over to the picture window and tugged at the curtain rod. I sneezed as dust poofed from the thick fabric. Lifting the rod like a barbell, I climbed from the chair and dropped the curtains in a heap. Dim sunlight flooded the room.

The place already felt friendlier with a little sunshine brightening it.

I glanced at the huge entertainment center stacked against one wall. A monstrous TV centerpieced the unit. Shelves around the boob tube were filled with videos and DVDs. No pictures of family members hugging each other or smiling with mountains in the background. Just videos. Things to fill your day and help you forget how isolated you are, I supposed.

I needed to move the furniture out of the room in order to get the carpet up. I got the trolley from my van and began moving outdated end tables and scraped up wooden chairs and a dead house plant into the dining room. Then I piled videos-some so naughty that I didn't even want to touch them-into my arms and formed a miniature city of them on the kitchen table.

After some manipulating, I managed to get the soggy recliner where Mr. Hermit had died onto my trolley. I pushed it outside. Later, I'd put it into my van. It couldn't simply go out to the trash. I had to take it to an ECP incinerator.

The room was mostly clear now, except for the huge entertainment center. I'd move it once Riley got here. What would I have done if he hadn't said he'd help? I couldn't do this job by myself.

I sighed. I was going to have to hire another assistant. The thing was, I needed all the money for myself.

The AirScrubs I'd left in the house overnight had helped with the smell some. I'd leave them here for a couple more days to clean the interior atmosphere of the house. Today, I had to tear up the carpet. It couldn't be salvaged. The landlord would have to pay someone else to replace it if the subfloor looked decent.

I pulled thick gloves on over my disposable ones. Starting in the corner, I tugged at the carpet. The matted, pea-green floor covering peeled up like rind from a moldy orange. Cat dander, crumbs, and dirt blanketed the air and I was glad for my respirator. I worked the carpet like someone rolling cigarettesslowly and carefully, trying to keep all the grit inside the carpet wrapper.

Once the carpet in the living room was left to the side, I examined the subfloor. A few stains blotched the wood, but the floor still felt sturdy. With a new rug, it would be fine.

I grabbed a hammer from my tool chest. I would pull up the tacks and throw them away. The landlord only wanted the carpet in the room Mr. Hermit had died in replaced. The rest of the matted gold, orange, and brown carpet throughout the house was to stay, cat dander and all.

I pulled up the tack strips and glanced at a wood-encircled clock on the wall. Riley should be here any minute. I'd get him to help me haul the carpet to my van. I pulled up my respirator mask and let the hood on my Tyvek suit fall around my shoulders.

How did someone's life end up this way? Dying alone, with no one to care about the possessions dear to you.

And why did Parker have to say that he loved me? Didn't he know that's what I wanted to hear? That it made me weak?

I sighed. I couldn't think about it anymore. I'd tossed and turned thinking about it all night.

All that was left was to paint. A fresh coat would do wonders for the smell.

As I walked out the back door to my van to grab the white paint, I saw Riley's beat-up Toyota Corolla pull into the drive. I crossed my arms and leaned against the van as he approached wearing jeans and a plain gray T-shirt.

"Hey, Space Girl"

I looked down at my white suit and grinned. "I've been called worse. Although, I do prefer Teletubby."

He tugged at my hood. "Cute"

"I'm thinking about submitting a design based on this very outfit to Project Runway. What do you think? Could I be America's next big trendsetter? Will I take the fashion world by storm?" I began singing Madonna's "Vogue" as I struck various poses. I was sure I'd look back on the moment one day in embarrassment. Did I have no pride?

"You could set some trends alright" He chuckled.

At least he didn't seem embarrassed, like some other unnamed man.

"I'm at your service. What do you need?"

I pulled out another suit from my van. "Put this on first. Otherwise, your clothes will be ruined"

As he climbed into the suit, I pulled the paint cans out. I motioned for Riley to grab a couple and follow me inside.