Death Wore Brown Shorts (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 1) Page 6

  “Here, try this,” she said.

  He eyed her with suspicion and then took it. Annie had no idea why he would look so distrustful. Most women carried tissue in their purses, didn’t they? The water wasn’t so weird either.

  After he cleaned up the car, he threw away the trash and climbed in beside her. The engine roared to life. “Do you always carry rubber gloves in your purse, Annie?”

  She froze. He’d seen them in the moment it took her retrieve the tissue and water.

  Darn his eyes!

  Her respect for his sleuthing skills multiplied. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Her cell phone rang before he could answer, and Annie stabbed the button as fast as she could.

  “Aunt Annie?”

  “Paisley, what’s happening, sweetheart?”

  “Say I was hanging out with you for the last couple of hours, okay?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Come on. You always look out for me when I get in trouble.”

  “Correction, I’ve picked you up twice when you needed me to. You’re fourteen. Shouldn’t you be into romance novels or Disney movies, or…” She ran out of ideas. Actually, she had no idea of what a fourteen-year-old liked these days. Maybe the Disney movies thing was Ben.

  “Okay, how about this? You come get me and drop me off at home, and I’ll tell Mom I was with you. That way you’re not lying to Mom, but you don’t tell her it was like five minutes or whatever.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Annie sighed. Paisley pulled her into this position every time, and Annie kept telling herself to be tougher, but she couldn’t muster the strength.

  “I’m not at home, and I don’t have my car.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of it, but don’t say anything to Mom if she calls. Deal?”

  Annie groaned.

  “Aunt Annie, please?”

  “Okay, but I want to know the details.”

  “You got it.”

  She hung up. Guilt assaulted Annie, and she played with the phone in her lap for a few minutes. Since Paisley hit her preteen years, Annie had never ratted her out. No, it was before then, the girl manipulated Annie with a just a few words.

  She couldn’t blame Paisley. Annie let the kids get away with far more than Jane ever would, but she didn’t spend all that much time with them either to lead them down a dark path. Realizing this little truth helped her feel better, and she dismissed the worry.

  “Tomorrow I’m visiting my cousin’s apartment. Would you like to tag along?” Flynn offered.

  Annie clapped her hands. “Yes, absolutely. I can be a big help since I’m pretty good at detective work too—at least on paper I am.”

  “I’ll handle it. I’m bringing you because I want you close.”

  Warmth stole over her. “Oh.”

  “I haven’t ruled you out as a suspect.”

  “Oh.” Her ego deflated. The gloves had done it. She was sure. “Well, I’ve already decided I’m going to find out what happened to Paul. You can tag along with me, and we’ll compare notes.”

  One side of his mouth rose. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at nine.”

  “Make it one, and you’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter Nine

  “You’re guilty, and I’m going to prove it.”

  “Not if I kill you first!”

  Annie frowned at what she typed and sat back in her chair. She didn’t like it. So often, her impulsive nature appeared in her work, and she jumped ahead to reveal the killer too early. Then she had to double back, delete a bunch of brilliant prose—if she said so herself—and go in another direction.

  “I need to get it right the first time,” she grumbled.

  Her brain remained blank however, and she leaned across the desk to reach for the candy jar. Peanut M&Ms should jog the creative juices. She liked to push the jar farther away to make it harder to eat them one after another, but then the symmetry of her desk top was thrown off.

  “Drat it, a handful more won’t hurt.” If she put the candy in the living room, she might not eat it. Making the trip down the hall to get them would break her flow. She munched on a second handful and then checked the time. Crap, it was almost time for Flynn to pick her up, and she hadn’t talked to Evie yet.

  Annie dressed in a hurry, throwing on whatever curled into her fingers first. At least she had the peace of mind the items were clean. She had done laundry the day before. Sixties throwback dress encasing her generous figure and flat sandals on her feet, she scuttled out of the house to her car.

  When she slammed the door shut and fired up her engine, the thought of shaving her legs popped into her head. She dismissed it. Who would look, and she didn’t care if they did.

  The vet clinic where Evie worked was no more than a mile from where they lived. Annie slipped into the last parking slot of three and hopped out of the car. She paused to suck in a steading breath and entered the clinic.

  A symphony of barking dogs sounded from the back. Annie approached the counter. “Good afternoon, is Evie in?”

  “Just a second.”

  The woman behind the counter was new or rather Annie hadn’t seen her before. She visited and spent some time at the clinic not long ago for one of her books. Turned out, she loved animals, but the shedding was a trial to her sanity. Not to mention washing her hands after each stroke of their fur.

  “Evelyn, you have a visitor,” the woman called on the intercom. Annie questioned whether the clinic was so big they needed a speaker. She didn’t think so. Then again, maybe the customers considered it rude to just yell to the back. She had an urge to shout just because, but resisted.

  Evie stumbled to a halt when she spotted Annie. Not to be put off, Annie hurried over to her. “Evie, are you okay? You look pale. Are you feeling all right? I know Paul’s death was a shock to everyone.”

  “Um, yeah, I’m fine. Just a shock,” she mumbled.

  Annie jumped straight to the chase. “I heard you stopped by Sam’s and ran off when you saw Flynn. Why would you do that?”

  “Flynn? Is that his name?”

  “Yes, Paul’s cousin.” Annie winked. “If you get really close, you see the resemblance. He’s a nice man, and I bet you’d like him.”

  “I don’t want to like him.”

  “Why?”

  Evie reddened. She huffed a few times, looked around at the woman behind the counter, and then grabbed Annie’s arm to pull her out of earshot. “Look, Annie, I don’t want to be accused of murder. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Why would you assume you would, sweetie?”

  Evie ground her teeth. “Because everyone’s saying… They’re…”

  “Those ladies always talk. Sometimes they’re right, and sometimes they’re just making up nonsense to alleviate boredom. You know that.”

  Annie studied Evie’s face. She didn’t appear comforted by this prospect. In all honesty, neither would Annie if everyone accused her. She’d felt bad enough when Flynn had the audacity to imply she might be guilty based on a pair of gloves in her purse. Now if it were a belt—wait, did she have a belt in there? She’d better check before meeting him.

  “I was the last person to receive a package the night before,” Evie admitted. “The police came by to question me. They had Paul’s schedule.”

  She swayed, and Annie reached out to steady her.

  “Detective Lawson asked about Gary.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  Evie clamped her lips together.

  “I haven’t spent much time with the ladies lately, but I can guess what kind of rumors are flying around. Were you having an affair with Paul? Is that what you’re afraid will come out?”

  “No!”

  The vehemence could have been an act, but Annie believed her. She patted Evie’s arm. “Well, then you have nothing to worry about. The police won’t just lay a crime at your feet just because they don’t have anyone else to blame. Detective Lawson wi
ll do his job. He seems…capable. Besides, Flynn and I both are looking into it.”

  Evie squeaked. “You are?”

  Annie wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut about that part. Evie’s initial fear came from thinking Flynn suspected her, as if he had some kind of power. Her fears were irrational. Yet, Annie didn’t doubt Jason or even Marianne had happily shared with the police how Evie and her husband had a big fight just before he left. The fight didn’t prove anything, but suspicion would arise nevertheless.

  Something brushed Annie’s leg, and she let out a little yelp. When she glanced down, her gaze settled on the reflective eyes of the meanest dog she had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat, and instinct told her to double time it out of there. Unfortunately, the owner blocked the escape route and was busy untangling herself from a long leash.

  Perhaps sensing Annie’s terror, the dog growled, and huge front paws landed on her thigh. All she saw were the sharp teeth ripping into her meat and leaving her scarred for life.

  “Killer,” Evie snapped, her tone of voice firm and serious. “Heel, right here. Now.”

  Killer. Seriously?

  To Annie’s surprise, the dog turned meek. He jumped down from Annie’s leg and moved to Evie’s side. When the animal turned hopeful eyes toward Evie, begging for approval, Annie shook her head.

  “Unbelievable. That was amazing, Evie. You’re good with him.”

  “I have a small dog training business on the side,” Evie explained. “If you don’t teach them, they will rule you. Killer tries to get attention way too often, and despite my training his owner spoils him.”

  “I heard that, Evie.” Killer’s owner chuckled. “I’ll try harder. I promise, and I’m sorry, young lady. Killer just likes to make friends.”

  Friends, she says. More like he wanted a chew toy.

  “Evie, I have to go,” Annie said. “And don’t worry. I’m sure everything will work out fine.”

  Evie spun away from her without saying good-bye. She made a hand gesture at her side, and the dog followed. His owner dropped the leash and let her dog abandon her for Evie. Annie left the clinic soon after to hurry home and wait for Flynn to arrive. Before he pulled into her driveway, she scoured her handbag. The gloves stayed inside, but she was happy not to find a belt among the assortment of other items.

  Chapter Ten

  Annie climbed out of the car and looked up at the apartment building. Someone lived on the first floor judging by the flowery curtains. Flynn told her his cousin lived alone, and she didn’t think he would choose those.

  “I forgot he said he has a girlfriend. Did you talk to her?”

  “No girlfriend that I know of. Paul used that excuse to keep the women he didn’t want to encourage at a distance.”

  “He was okay looking. It’s possible.”

  “Maybe. I’ll check it out, but he bragged to me about his conquests. I doubt he left out the girlfriend part.”

  “Because you never judged him?”

  Flynn smiled. “Are you asking if I have a girlfriend or if I have lovers?”

  “Neither. How are we getting in?” Annie felt his eyes on her as she climbed the stairs to the side-by-side front doors. She assumed one led to more stairs on the inside up to Paul’s apartment.

  “I was thinking of convincing the landlord to let us in. He lives a couple doors down. If that doesn’t work, there are other means.”

  She widened her eyes. “You don’t mean breaking and entering, do you?”

  “I’m next of kin. Technically, everything inside belongs to me.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to land in jail, because technicalities don’t keep you free.”

  “Are you scared, Annie?”

  He leaned an elbow on the banister from the base of the steps, the very picture of tranquility. She considered her options. Nothing ever stopped her from getting the information she wanted, but up until now she remained within the bounds of the law. For some reason, Flynn seemed to think he knew about her stubborn streak.

  “I’ve read about how to pick locks,” she said. “Not every kind.”

  He smirked and held up a ring of keys. “I was only teasing. I already spoke to the owner, and he dropped the keys with me yesterday.”

  “That wasn’t funny.”

  He moved past her and stuck the key into the lock. “It so was, Annie. You’re an interesting woman. It’s good to know the lengths you’ll go to.”

  “Is that two strikes against me?”

  “I’m joking.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

  He laughed and led the way into the apartment. After puffing up the stairs to the second floor, Annie paused to take a look around. She ran fingers under her chin to wipe away some of the moisture. The apartment was sweltering. Paul either didn’t like A/C, or he turned it off when he left each day.

  The studio apartment contained a sleeping area, an office area, which might originally have been intended to be a dining and living room, and a tiny kitchen nook. Off the kitchen lay another door Annie figured was the bathroom. One could stand in the middle of the floor and reach everything. Okay, that might be an exaggeration.

  A load of what looked like dirty laundry lay piled on an unmade bed. At the foot of the bed stood a wardrobe with the door cracked open a couple inches. A previous tenant, or maybe Paul, must have owned a pet, because the corner at the wardrobe’s bottom had been chewed.

  Annie scratched her arm and continued to take in the surroundings. Piles of small boxes next to the computer stirred her curiosity. Did Paul have a small side business? The boxes were unmarked and the lids closed. She hesitated to go digging through them, but the same conviction didn’t stop Flynn from heading that way. She left him to it.

  Paul had hung a whiteboard over his computer table. Tilting her head and squinting, Annie tried to make heads or tails of what the scribbling meant. “Two dash Overton? Huh?”

  Flynn followed her line of sight. “Code? Maybe he was a bookie and took bets to make extra cash.”

  “You’re pretty imaginative. Maybe I should call you the next time I have plotting trouble.”

  He winked.

  Annie spun away and dared to look through the clutter on the kitchen counter. Paul used it as a dresser going by the lotion, the shaving kit, a roll of socks, and the box of spaghetti among other items.

  She picked up a stack of papers more to fan herself than to take a closer look. As she waved the papers before her face, she gazed around the room searching for the thermostat. A little A/C couldn’t hurt. She spotted the window beside the wardrobe first. If she didn’t get a breath of fresh air now, she would pass out.

  Annie wrestled the window open an inch. She frowned and tried again. “Come on, you stubborn thing.”

  “Need a little help?” Flynn called. He stood before the computer booting it up.

  “I’ve got it. I think.”

  Something thumped behind the wardrobe wall. She froze.

  “Annie?”

  “Flynn, did you hear something?”

  “Like what?”

  Her throat dried. She swallowed. Must have been her imagination. The apartment was too small for anyone other than them to be there without them knowing it. In her enthusiasm to get the window open, she must have bumped the wardrobe.

  Annie managed to get a bit more height on the window and clutched the papers in her hand as she leaned on the sill. “Better,” she moaned.

  A creak preceded the wardrobe door opening in degrees. When fingers curled around the edge, Annie screamed. Her hand spasmed in her fear, and she threw the sheaf of papers out the window.

  Flynn spun around just as the person inside the closet made a beeline for the door. Rather than the masked murderer Annie expected, a young boy popped into view.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Flynn shouted and pursued. The two disappeared down the steps to the street.

  Annie leaned over the windowsill and looked down. The window overlooked
an alley and a cemented square of yard space. She frowned at the papers scattered every which way.

  “I guess I better go get them.”

  For a moment, she paused to see if there were any other hidden spots someone might jump out at her. The bathroom maybe, but from her vantage point, no one occupied it, and there was no shower curtain to hide behind.

  Annie descended to the street and headed around to the back of the property. She gathered the pages and examined the one on top. “Overton, forty-five millimeter. A camera maybe? If this is code, surely the pages wouldn’t be lying around.”

  Annie started to turn back the way she came when she noticed another sheet caught in the narrow space between Paul’s apartment building and the next. She judged the width and wondered.

  “One way to find out.”

  She sucked in a breath and squished her boobs as much as possible. The side movement was slow going.

  “I’m not claustrophobic. I’m not claustrophobic,” she chanted.

  Paper rustled under her foot. Dang it. She had stepped on it, and how in the world would she bend to grab the page?

  “What are you doing?”

  Annie stilled. Flynn stood in the opening of the passage with a firm hand around the boy’s nape. Both of them looked at Annie as if she’d lost her mind. Her face flamed. “Oh, catching a little sun.”

  Flynn glanced over his shoulder. The sunlight started several feet away from the building.

  “Shade,” she corrected.

  “Come on. We’re going to see what this one has been up to.”

  Annie shuffled out of the passage and straightened her dress. She left the single page behind and followed Flynn and the boy back up to Paul’s apartment. This time rather than fiddle with the window, she located the thermostat and turned it down. Cool air blew from the vents, and she found a chair to flop down in.

  After Flynn had shut and locked the door then leaned on it with his bulky figure, he released the boy. Annie eyed the window and hoped the trembling fellow didn’t get any bright ideas in that direction.