The Root of All Trouble (8 page)

Mario was apparently in the midst of a long-winded lecture. "And what about the master bathroom? The pipe? It's not fixed, which means we don't have water. And the tile still needs grout, oh! And the washer and dryer hookup? Who's going to do that now? How am I supposed to wash my clothes? Never mind all the finish—"

"
Make him stop!" Perry pleaded.

"
—details. The painting, the trim work, the—"

Maria threw a piercing look over her shoulder.
"Shh! Can't you see we're in the middle of something important here?"

They both immediately quieted. Maria had that effect on men.

Mario flicked a look at the TV. "Christian wins."

Riley groaned and stood up.
"On that note, it's time for me to go." He headed for the side table by the door to get his car keys.

Maria let out a frustrated cry.
"Way to ruin it, Mario!"

Dropping an overnight bag on the floor, he sat in the recliner Riley just vacated.
"Do you want me to tell you about how my day was ruined?"

I eyed that bag.

Perry sandwiched himself in between Maria and me. "Oh, please do. Because we haven't heard enough about it yet."

Mario flipped him off.

"What's with the bag?" I asked.

"
Kevin kicked us out," Perry said. "The police need to process the house to determine if Joey Miller got the old," he drew a line across his neck, "inside."

Mario said,
"Let it be known that I didn't want to move to that house in the first place. It was Perry's idea."

"
We know," Maria, Riley, Perry and I said in unison.

I was grateful that Gracie had slept straight through their arrival—Mario usually sent her into a tizzy. Probably because she didn
't like nipping competition.

"
Where will you stay?" I asked. "A hotel?"

"
Kind of," Perry said. "It's more like a halfway house." He blinked at me.

"
Something in your eye?" I asked.

"
We're staying here," Mario said bluntly, his gorgeous black eyes daring me to say no to him.

"
What?" They were joking, right? There was no more room at this inn.

"
We're. Staying. Here." Mario folded his arms.

Maria put her hands on her hips and said,
"Do you want me to kick his ass, Nina? Don't let this big belly fool you, Mario Gibbens. I can still take you down."

She could. And would. Which probably wouldn
't be best for her blood pressure or the baby.

"
It's not that big," Mario said.

Maria smiled at him, pleased with his statement, then shifted her gaze to me.
"They can surely stay one night. Two, max."

"
Where?" I asked. "You're sharing my bed, and Riley's home for the weekend."

"
I can bunk on the couch," Riley said. "The guys can have my room."

Perry blinked at me again.
"Please, Nina?"

"
Fine," I said. "But try and stay out of Gracie's way."

Mario lifted his feet onto the chair.
"She's here?"

I pointed under the couch.

"Maybe we should get a hotel," Mario said. "Do you remember what she did to my Gucci loafers?"

We all grimaced. His
loafers hadn't stood a chance.

Mario was an interesting juxtaposition of a man. He loved the finer things in life like designer clothes and ni
ce restaurants, but he was also cheaper than Brickhouse, and that was saying something.

Riley headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. At sixteen, he
'd perfected the eye roll. "Out."

"
Out where?"

"
To a friend's."

"
Which friend?" I asked.

He sighed. He
'd mastered that, too. He'd obviously taken lessons from Maria.

"
Well," I added, "you can either tell me, or you can stay here and take care of Maria for the rest of the night."

"
Hey!" she said, struggling to stand up. "I don't need a babysitter." She tossed a look at Perry. "Can you give me a little help here?"

Riley had hit a growth spurt over the winter and was closing fast on Kevin
's height at a little more than six feet tall. He looked a lot like his dad, with his dark hair, full mouth, and strong chin. His eyes, however, had come straight from his mom, who'd died when he was still a little boy.

He clenched his teeth and said,
"I'm going to Layla's."

Maria, Perry, Mario and I said in perfec
t sing-song unison, "
Lay-la's
?"

With cheeks flushing a bright red, he choked out,
"I'll be back at midnight." He slammed the door behind him.

"
Layla?" Maria asked me as she absently rubbed her belly.

"
First I've heard of her," I said, watching as Riley's headlights swept across the windows. I wondered if Kevin knew about her.

"
She's a junior, five-ten, plays volleyball, has short blond hair and eyes as deep blue as a midnight sky," Perry said on a dramatic sigh.

We all stared at him.

"What?" he asked. "He talks. I listen."

"
When does he talk? When do you listen?" I questioned.

"
When I cut his hair," Perry said as if it was the most reasonable answer in the world.

I supposed it was. Perry was a master at weaseling information from his clients.

"We need to meet her..." Maria said as she wandered into the kitchen.

I didn
't like the dreamy look in her eyes. She'd been cooped up a long time on bed rest. She was itching to throw a party. But I didn't think Riley would be so keen on the idea.

Mario said,
"We have a bigger issue than Riley's new girlfriend."

"
Joey's murder?" I asked.

His cheeks pinked up.
"I was thinking about the state of our house, but I suppose that relates to the murder. Who's going to finish our house? And when? I certainly don't want to stay here long term."

I threw a panicked look at Perry.
"I thought you said one night?"

He had the grace to look guilty.
"Give or take a week or three."

"
No," I said.

"
But, Nina, the water line..." Perry said.

"
Noooo." I stood up.

"
The washer hookup," Mario pleaded.

I stuck my fingers in my ears and headed for the stairs.
"I'm taking a bath and going to bed." Even though I knew I'd lie awake until Riley came in.

"
Um, Nina?" Mario asked.

"
What?"

"
Don't use all the hot water, okay? I need to take a shower."

"
What's that?" I asked. "You want me to sneak into your room tonight, steal your loafers and give them to Gracie to use as a wee wee pad?"

As if she actually heard her name, Gracie toddled out from beneath the sofa, growled low in her throat at Mario (who still had his feet on the chair), then went back into hiding.

Mario frowned. "I'll just shower in the morning."

"
Good choice," I said. "Good choice."

Chapter Seven

E
arly the next morning, I left Maria in my canopy bed, threw on my robe and slippers, and scooped up a whimpering Gracie before she left a puddle on my bedroom floor.

The sun was barely creeping up over the horizon as I stealthily made my way downstairs, trying not to make too much noise.

There was just enough murky light coming in the front windows to see that Riley was tucked into a sleeping bag, sound asleep on the living room floor. I tossed a look at the sofa, wondering why he wasn't there, only to realize it was already occupied.

I edged closer. Surely he hadn
't brought his new girlfriend home for a sleepover...

Peeking over the edge of the couch, I braced myself to see the face of the mysterious Layla and nearly jumped out of my slippers to find two brown eyes, hooded with thick unruly white eyebrows staring up at me.

"Mornin', Miz Quinn," Mr. Cabrera whispered.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. He was still there.

"I'd get up," he said, "but my head hurts too bad."

I had questions. So many questions. But first, Gracie.
"I'll be right back."

"
I'm not goin' anywhere," he said wistfully.

It was a warm morning, the humidity high. I set Gracie on the grass and took a moment just to breathe in the scent of spring. It was a special smell, one full of renewal and hope and...murder?

My gaze had skipped to the bright yellow crime scene tape across the street, which looked as unnatural in this landscape as a prickly pear cactus.

Gracie sniffed around while I stepped over my work boots (they hadn
't disintegrated overnight) and walked the stone path toward the front of the house. Birds chirped loudly as I spotted Brickhouse's car parked in Mr. Cabrera's driveway.

If she was there, what was he doing here?

Or maybe that explained
why
he was sleeping on my sofa.

But would Brickhouse really kick Mr. Cabrera out of his own house?

I smiled. Yes, yes she would. Absolutely.

Across the street, all the emergency vehicles were long gone, leaving behind the bright tape and a sense of violation. I could just barely make out the fallen tree in the back
yard and noted that it had been cut into sections—probably by the coroner's office.

I tried to imagine myself stuffing Joey Miller
's body into that tree hollow and realized that it wasn't impossible. Sure, it would be a struggle for someone my size—or Delphine's—but not too much for someone taller. Like Bear, Ethan, Plum. But with the hollow's opening a good three feet off the ground, whoever had killed him had to be strong enough to lift one hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight.

Dead weight
.

I shuddered at the term, but it was accurate.

If Joey had been killed inside the house, someone had to drag or carry him to the tree, heft him up, and finagle him inside the trunk.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that Joey
's killer had to have put him in the tree at night. There's no way shoving a dead man into a tree during broad daylight would go unnoticed in this neighborhood.

But that didn
't jibe with what I knew of Joey's disappearance. He'd walked off the job at lunchtime...

Gracie pressed her wet nose to my ankle, and looked up at me with eyes filled with cataracts. I lifted her up and let her lick my chin.

We had our good moments, Gracie and I.

Not often, mind you.

I turned to head back into the house when I caught sight of Brickhouse Krauss headed my way, marching across the lawn separating my house from Mr. Cabrera's like she was on a seek-and-destroy mission.

There was fire in her blue eyes as she said,
"Ach! He's gone. Gone! Snuck out like a thief in the night."

"
He's on my couch."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She clucked loudly and mumbled something in German I was sure I didn
't want translated. She did that a lot—clucked. Especially when she was angry...like she was right now. Steam practically spiraled from her ears.

She
'd earned the nickname "Brickhouse" way back when I was in high school because, fittingly, she was shaped like a brick. From her short platinum blond spiky hair right down to her Fred Flintstone feet, she was a short rectangle. For a while, over Christmas, she had developed more of a pear shape when she'd lost weight due to pneumonia, but she was back to her normal size now that she was healthy.

"
What did he do?" I asked. "Is this about the gin and tonics yesterday?"

I edged closer to the door to put myself between her and Mr. C. Anything to prevent another murder in the neighborhood.

"What happened? I'll tell you what happened."

She clucked so hard I thought for sure an egg was forthcoming.

"The liquor loosened his lips, that's what happened."

Uh-oh. This couldn
't be good. Not after all his "I'm a catch" chatter yesterday.