Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) (13 page)

Lynette collapsed into the chair behind her and covered her face. "I didn't want my Darnell's reputation to be ruined. Dying sometimes serves to make a person more famous, more fondly remembered. If this gets out..

"So you haven't even told the police?"

She shook her head.

"Are you going to?"

She stared at me. "I don't want to"

"You should"

I stood to leave, even more questions circling around in my brain. Not circling as in about to go down the drain. More like hungry vultures circling their prey-their prey being my peace of mind.

"His funeral is tomorrow at the Oak Grove Funeral Home. Three O'clock," she called, still wringing her hands.

"You planned his funeral, correct?"

"Yes, I did. His fan club wanted to make sure it was an event that would make him proud"

I paused by the front door. "Lynette, where were you on Thursday, October 28, when Darnell died?"

Her face went white. "I was planning a fundraising event that Darnell would take part in. It was for the fan club. You know, throwing in some community service never hurts one's reputation."

"So, other members of this fan club can verify you were with them at the time?"

She fidgeted. "No, I was planning it here at my house alone"

I HAD a lot to chew on as I drove home. Lynette had no alibi-but did she have a motive? Hank was blackmailing Darnell. That might be a motive for killing Hank, but why Darnell? I'd uncovered some lies and had enough experience to know I needed to look closer at anyone lying. So the investigation was coming along, but not fast enough for my taste. I needed more answers. I needed to get down and dirty.

My cell phone rang. I popped it off my belt and stuck it to my ear.

"This is Gabby"

"So, have you found out anything?"

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the unfamiliar phone number across the screen for a moment before responding. "Excuse me?"

"About my husband's death?"

"Jamie?"

"Yeah, who else is it gonna be?"

Uh, how about my boyfriend? Another client? My good-for-nothing dad? "No, I haven't found out anything substantial yet, but I have some good leads. Jamie, did you know that Hank Robins was blackmailing your husband?"

"What?" Her screech was so loud that I had to pull the phone away from my ear again. "Why would that man blackmail my husband?"

"Something about your husband paying off some judges at a competition"

"Oh, that. That's ridiculous. My husband won on his own right. Ask anybody"

"Don't worry, I will."

"You talk to his boss yet?"

"No, I haven't talked to him yet. He's next on my list, though"

"Good. I tell you-that man had blood in his eyes"

I hung up and glanced at the clock on my van's console. It was already eleven o'clock. No wonder my muscles ached and my eyelids felt heavy. It had been a long day, one filled with no answers and more questions.

When I reached my apartment, I saw a note taped to the door. I hesitated before pulling it off. Last time someone had left me something at the door, I'd nearly been blown up. A note seemed harmless.

Unless anthrax was inside.

I froze but only for a moment. The thought was ridiculous. I tore the envelope and opened a typed letter:

Gabby,

Please help me. Whoever stole my identity has now racked up thousands of dollars of debt on my credit card. The police won't do anything. The credit bureau doesn't care. You're the only person who can help. You and Riley.

Mrs. Morgan

Wow, what was it with everyone wanting my help lately? You crack one case, and everyone thinks you're Sherlock Holmes. Not that I minded. But I didn't know anything about ID theft, so how would I even go about helping? Maybe I'd ask Parker. Surely the police could do something. Maybe Mrs. Mystery just hadn't talked to the right person.

Out of curiosity, I pounded on Riley's door. I heard his TV blaring from the other side, so I knew he was home. When he answered, I held up the letter. "I thought you'd helped her clear this up"

He did the eyebrow cock. "Excuse me?"

"I thought you'd taken care of Mrs. Mystery's ID theft"

He folded his arms across his chest, and I noted how comfortable he looked in an oversized San Diego sweatshirt and worn jeans. "I helped her call all of the credit card companies and cancel her cards. I closed the cell phone account opened in her name. What more can I do?"

"Well, she left me a note begging for assistance. She wants me to track down whoever is doing this. I don't get it-she's a mystery writer. Shouldn't she have some idea how to go about finding the bad guy?"

"You'd think. But she's so reclusive. Maybe she only knows how to do these things in her fictional world."

"Maybe"

"Are you going to help?"

I let out a breath. "I don't know. I have a lot on my plate right now."

"I noticed you haven't been here a lot lately."

"Neither have you"

"Yeah, the law firm is taking up a lot of time. Getting all of this preliminary stuff set up is time consuming."

"Is it going okay?"

He shrugged, looked in the distance, and nodded. "It's going great. There's nothing like helping those who can't help themselves. The fatherless and the widows, you know."

I tilted my head. "You're only helping the fatherless and the widows?"

A smile brushed his lips. "No, but in the Bible, God commands us to help them. I feel really fulfilled being able to defend people who don't otherwise have the money. I'm planning some fundraisers in order to pay for the services"

"That sounds great"

"I can't tell you how glad I am that I left my old life behind."

I smiled. "I'm glad you're happy. So you're telling me you don't ever miss the black-tie events, the TV cameras, the limelight?"

"Not one bit. That chapter of my life is closed."

His answer didn't surprise me. "Good."

He shifted, and his hands went to his hips. "So, Gabby St. Claire, what kind of trouble are you getting into lately?"

I glanced at my watch just for the dramatic effect. "Do you have a few hours?"

"For you, I do." He opened his door wider and extended his arm to invite me inside.

This is what I loved about Riley. He always made me feel like I was the only one in the room. Like I was important. I can't say anyone else ever made me feel that way.

I wandered into his familiar apartment, the place where we'd had numerous powwows and crime-solving brainstorming sessions. His bird, Lucky, chirped in the background. I smiled, remembering when Riley first found Lucky in a tree outside the apartment building. That day seemed so long ago, when it was really just a few months. I heard Riley shut the door behind me as I approached Lucky's cage.

"Hi, Lucky."

"Pretty girl."

I laughed. "I can see Lucky is learning some more phrases"

"I have to be careful what I say. That bird is like a tape recorder"

"Tape recorder," Lucky repeated.

Riley and I both laughed. In the back of my mind, I wondered who Riley had been talking about when Lucky learned to say, "Pretty girl" I hadn't seen any women visiting Riley at his apartment. In fact, he'd vowed not to date until he got settled in his new practice. He wanted to put space between any new relationship and his breakup with his ex-fiancee.

I settled on Riley's navy blue couch and began pouring out everything I'd learned about Darnell Evans's death. Riley listened, nodding when appropriate and asking all the right questions. Why couldn't Parker show this interest? That's all I wanted-for him to listen. It seemed to be asking too much.

"And how are your classes going?" Riley turned off the TV and leaned his elbows onto his knees.

I remembered the one I'd missed this week and shrugged. "Okay"

Riley seemed to pick up on all the undertones of that one word. "You can't ignore your education, Gabby."

I felt my shoulders tense. "I'm not. I'm going to get my degree"

"I'd feel a lot better if I knew you were doing this investigation into Elvis's death officially-with police support and backup. You'll have that when you have your degree and your job"

"I can take care of myself."

Riley didn't say anything. But I knew what he was thinking-that no one could truly take care of themselves. That we needed to depend on others, that it was healthy, that no man was an island, that we all need somebody to lean on. I could hear Bill Withers singing about it in my mind.

I stood. "Well, I should go to bed" I remembered the original reason I'd come over and smacked my forehead. "Mrs. Mystery! I forgot"

"I'll help Mrs. Mystery."

"Really?"

He shrugged. "Sure. It would be my pleasure."

"Thanks, Riley" I stretched. "Okay, I really do have to go. It's been a long day. And I have a funeral to attend tomorrow. I hate funerals"

"Need company?"

I jerked my head toward him, unsure if he was sincere. Of course, when was Riley ever not sincere? "You want to go to a funeral with me?"

"I know they're miserable to attend alone"

"But you said you have tons of work to do"

"People before projects, Gabby. People before projects"

Why did I still have the feeling that what he really wanted was to get his Sunday school badge? That I was his little project-and a person, which made it the best of both worlds for him. People were his projects. Would I ever really be able to trust this man again?

I knew I wanted to.

BACK AT my apartment, I sat down at my computer. Fatigue dragged at me, but I had more to do before I could sleep. Time to do some more research. My computer screen flashed to life, and I typed in my name and password.

The computer informed me that the information was invalid.

Huh?

I'd used the same user name and password for months now.

I tried again and got the same response. What was I supposed to do? I was no techie. But my computer is where I kept track of all my business files, my tax information, my everything. I could not be locked out of it.

I knew Riley was still awake, so I hurried back across the hall and banged at his door. He pulled it open, and a look of alarm spread over his features. "Is everything okay?"

Hype down on the drama, Gabby. Simmer. I controlled my voice, making it as even as possible. "My computer seems to be acting up, and I was wondering if you could help me?" I fluttered my eyelashes. I never did the fake thing very well.

A flash of ... something ... lit his eyes. "I thought you could take care of yourself."

My fakeness disappeared faster than Beyonce ditching Destiny's Child. "Ha ha, you got me"

I turned on my heel and marched back to my apartment. I didn't need Riley's self-righteous banter right now. Couldn't he see my over-the-top level of stress?

"Of course I'll help you, Gabby."

This was no time to hold a grudge. "Thank you." He walked across the hall and into my apartment where I nodded toward the computer as if he'd never been in my living room before. "It's right there."

He pulled the rolling desk chair under him and stared at my blue computer screen. "Your password didn't work?"

"You wouldn't be here if it did"

He patted his hands in the air as if to tell me to chill. "Easy, Gabby. I just have to ask a few questions"

I plopped onto a chair and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"What's your password?"

My password? Blood rushed to my cheeks. No way was I telling him my password. What had I been thinking when I asked him to come here? Of course, he'd ask for my password. And I'd never, ever tell him what it was. Ever.

"Gabby?" He waved his hand in front of my face.

I came back to reality. "My password?"

"Yes, your password."

I needed to buy time. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

He threw me a look of total frustration. "Gabby, what am I going to do with your password? I'm a lawyer, not a web-savvy criminal"

"Okay, it's ... nancydrew, all one word" I lied. Guilt washed through me, but I just couldn't tell him the truth.