Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) (30 page)

I couldn't imagine her running anywhere. Twenty minutes later, she appeared back at my apartment, waving a sheet of paper like a surrender flag.

The bill was for more than six hundred dollars. Yikes. Someone had had a shopping field day in her name.

I looked the bill over. The charges were listed, as well as the stores and the dates. "These are local businesses"

"But I didn't go to any of them" Her face wrinkled as if I'd just accused her of murder.

"I know. But we can check them out. See if the clerk remembers anything about it. Maybe they even have a security video" I looked at the bill. "This last purchase was only a few days ago"

"When do we go?"

I glanced at my watch. Did this mean she was going with me? "How about now?"

"Let's roll"

Mrs. Mystery wrung her hands together as we stood outside the seedy video game store. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I'm just going to ask a few questions." I put my hand on her bony shoulder, trying to reassure her. But the woman kind of felt like a corpse, which made me wince. So much for the reassurance.

"I have a lot of good years left, you know. I don't want my life to end ... tragically." She shuddered.

"No one was ever killed for asking questions" I remembered several attempts on my life and questioned the validity of my statement. No need to share that with Mrs. Mystery, though. She was nervous enough already.

I pulled the glass door open and ushered her inside. A kid with thick glasses and a trucker hat stood behind the counter, reading the back of a game box. He raised his chin to acknowledge us.

«,„Sup?.

"Not much, dawg" I cringed as I heard myself trying to be hip. I was way too old and neurotic for that. I tried a new approach: helpless and confused. "We desperately need your assistance:"

He straightened and flashed a mouthful of braces. "Looking for a game for your little brother?" He glanced at Mrs. Mystery. "Grandson?"

"No, not quite" I plopped down the credit card statement on the peeling, sparkle-top counter. "I'm looking for any information on the person who made this purchase"

His eyes darted from me to Mrs. Mystery, then down to the paper I shoved at him. Dealing with people like me wasn't something you learned by playing Halo. Poor kid had a lot to learn. Glad he's the one working at the store tonight.

"Is this your statement?"

"Officially, it's hers." I nodded toward my neighbor. "But it's not hers, if you know what I mean."

His top lip arched. "Huh?"

"Someone stole my identity!" Every visible inch of skin on Mrs. Mystery seemed to vibrate as her arms flew through the air in wide gestures. "And we're here to find out whom."

Great, everyone wanted to be an amateur sleuth. Why couldn't they just leave that to me? I was about to step in, when the boy spoke.

"How can I help?"

"Who was working on"-I grabbed the paper from his hands and found the right line-"November 8?"

"I'd have to check the schedule"

"Great, we'll wait" Mrs. Mystery put her fragile hands on the counter with more force than I thought possible.

The boy disappeared through a door labeled "Employees Only."

I leaned toward my neighbor and lowered my voice. "You're better at this than you let on"

"I'm just pretending I'm the heroine in my latest novel" She said the words as if her thought progression was the most normal thing in the world.

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I tapped my toe against the vinyl floor instead and waited for the employee to return. A few minutes later, he emerged, squinting at a paper in his hands as if his glasses needed a redo.

"I was working on that date."

I shoved Mrs. Mystery's statement toward him again. "Can you check this credit card number and find out what the purchase was?"

He looked like I'd just asked him to give up his Wii for a year. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really"

He threw his head back and closed his eyes, as if with that one question I'd ruined his day. Then he brought his head forward and frowned, long and hard. I wanted to tell him that if I couldn't be deterred by a bullet wound, then his pout had no chance.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I can check an itemized list of the day's totals, I guess. It's going to take a while"

"It's a good thing no other customers are in the store then," Mrs. Mystery said.

I remembered my investigative techniques class and all the extra lab work I was scheduled to do-I checked my watch-in forty minutes. Yet I was here, and Mrs. Mystery was here, and she was being forceful. Plus, I didn't want the woman to have to sell her typewriters. Heaven forbid she ever upgrade to a computer.

The sales boy stomped to the back again. Thirty minutes later, he came back out with a stack of papers in his hands. "It looks like you purchased a new Xbox"

"I would never-"

I placed my hand on Mrs. Mystery's arm, urging her to remain calm and quiet.

"Is there a time listed?" I asked.

He flipped some sheets of paper. "Yep, 2:15"

I glanced up. Saw a ceiling tile that wasn't really a ceiling tile. I bet a camera recorded each moment underneath. "How long do you keep your security videos?"

"Two weeks. Why?" Realization appeared to strike the employee, and he slowly shook his head. "I'd have to get manager clearance for that"

I nodded. "Okay. We have time. In fact, why don't you just send the manager out, and we'll talk to him ourselves"

"He doesn't like to be disturbed. One employee got fired for bothering him" The teen shrugged. "He's a really busy man."

"So is the person who's opened a false credit card account in this woman's name.

He sighed. "If I get fired, you're finding me a new job."

I knew of some portable potties that needed cleaning. I'd be more than happy to put his name in for the position.

He returned with a man who could be his father. The old grump sighed and grumbled and mumbled excuses about why he couldn't show us the video. Finally, I leaned forward and put on my best stern expression.

"Do you know who this woman is?"

His eyes widened sarcastically-if that's possible. "Your grandmother?"

I put my arm around Mrs. Mystery's shoulders-without flinching this time. "This is a famous mystery writer. She knows forty-three different ways to kill someone without the police ever finding out."

Mrs. Mystery stepped forward and jabbed me in the chest with a pointy finger. "And she's a crime-scene cleaner, so she'll get the evidence cleaned up before the police ever know what happened"

So Mrs. Mystery did know a little about me. Imagine that.

I flashed a devious smile at the manager.

"Plus, I'd hate for the police to find out about your little habit" I waved my hand in front of my nose. "Possession of marijuana could send you to prison, you know. I can smell the stuff a mile away"

"Yeah, and she's dating the police" Mrs. Mystery nudged me and smiled.

I lowered my voice, hating to break the news. "Actually, Parker and I broke up."

"I'm sorry to hear that" Her voice took on a grandmotherly tone.

"It's all good" I cut my gaze back to the manager and ditched the Chatty Cathy act. "So, how about it?"

"Will you two leave me alone if I show you the security video?"

We both nodded.

"And you'll keep your mouth shut about the pot?"

I didn't break eye contact. "As long as you cooperate"

He harrumphed toward the back, motioning the two of us to follow with one wide sweep of his arm. Once in the office, he pointed to the TV/ VCR combo in the corner.

"Have at it"

I stared at the stack of unmarked tapes that formed a tower next to the TV. "Which tape is it?"

"You'll have to figure it out. The date and time will be at the bottom of the screen"

I sighed. I definitely wouldn't be making it to class tonight.

Maybe not even tomorrow.

"OKAY, THIS is the date. It looks like we just need to fast forward it a few hours" I hit the Forward button on the VCR and leaned back. This would take a while. It already had.

This place had a bad vibe. Marijuana plant stickers covered almost every surface. I could still smell the pot the manager had been smoking, and a mask in the opposite corner had a bong sticking out from it.

I found an odd comfort in having Mrs. Mystery with me.

Like she'd be any help should trouble arise.

Maybe she really did know forty-three ways to kill someone.

"I didn't know that you and the handsome detective had broken up."

I glanced at the elderly woman, sitting so pretty in the chair, and shrugged. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. Not really. We weren't meant to be together:"

She nodded. "Because you're meant to be with Riley"

I straightened. "I am?"

"Everyone can see it"

I shook my head. "No, Riley needs someone cultured and classy."

She leaned so close that I could smell the plaque on her breath. "You don't even realize the treasure you are, do you?"

Blood rushed to my face, and I pulled away from my neighbor-mostly to get away from the fumes. I didn't know what else to say, so I laughed. Chuckled, you'd probably say. Tried desperately to think of a response, preferably something sarcastic and witty.

Nothing.

"I'm serious, Gabby. You're a special girl. And I think you've yet to realize your potential" She patted my hand. Her eyes bored into mine so intensely that I had to look away.

"Wow. Thanks," I mumbled.

She sat primly on a metal folding chair with a Metallica sticker on the back, her purse resting securely in her lap and her ankles crossed daintily. "I was in love once, you know."

I perked. Hearing her story could be a good way to spend the time. "What happened?"

"I picked work over him."

I stared at my neighbor, trying to imagine her as a young, dewy-eyed woman. The picture just wouldn't materialize, and I usually had a great imagination.

"Tell me more. Please"

"I was at the height of my career. I thought he was slowing me down. I thought if I married him, I'd have to give up my writing in order to have children and keep house. I couldn't bear the thought"

"Couldn't you do both?"

She shrugged. I could see sadness in her eyes. "Maybe. But I was prideful. I wanted people to recognize my name"

Had people ever recognized her name? I'd yet to see one of her books in print, and I'd even checked Barnes and Noble once.

"So you decided to keep writing mysteries?"

She smiled, light returning to her eyes. "Romances"

"I thought you wrote mysteries"

"I do now. But I didn't then."

I continued fast forwarding, watching as a blur of video swept the black-and-white screen. "Why'd you switch genres?"

"All the romance in me died when Peter married someone else"

My heart panged, and I paused from my video search for a minute. "I'm sorry."

"I had some best-sellers, you know."

I studied her face, realizing that I didn't have Mrs. Mystery figured out, after all. "I didn't. I'd love to see a copy of your books sometime"

"I'm sure you've seen them before"

"I don't think so"

She smirked. "I write under a pen name."

"Why?"

"Because I like to live in anonymity."

"Why?"

"People might use me if they know who I am"

I let the conversation sink in. Or I tried to let it. Really, her admission was too much to comprehend. Was she some kind of best-selling novelist? If so, why was she having money troubles? And she was afraid of her success buying her friends who were only using her position to climb some kind of ladder themselves?

"Are you lonely, Mrs. Morgan?"

"I have my characters to keep me company."

"But they can't really keep you company."

"I'm happy, Gabby. I've never preferred being around crowds of people. I like the simple life"

So maybe her isolation wasn't isolation at all-maybe her aloneness was the solitude she needed in order to create her stories. Maybe the time helped her to recharge.

She patted my hand. "Besides, I've got a great neighbor like you, don't I?"