Home Strange Home

by CeeCee James

  “What’s wrong with that?” I raised my arm, and pulled open my shirt sleeve, flashing her my pit.

  “See what I mean!” she shrieked.

  I laughed. “I’ve had boyfriends. This is the winter coat.” Actually, I generally liked to keep things smooth. I just happened to need a new razor and was sick of getting nicked. It was a good opportunity to yank her chain.

  “Oh, my gosh!” she huffed and stormed out.

  I was still grinning as I strolled to my desk. I filed my paperwork and then checked my email for messages.

  “Anything?” Uncle Chris asked, sauntering out of his office. He was looking pretty sharp in a blue suit and purple tie.

  I shook my head. “I’m thinking they’re going to want to put in an offer though. They really liked the house.”

  “All right, sounds good. Let’s get them buttoned up and under contract.” He stuck his hands into his pocket. “You eat yet? I’m about to go grab some lunch. Want to come with?”

  My jaw dropped at his suggestion. Was this it? Was this the moment where he finally was going to tell me the news that he’d hinted at during the drunken phone call?

  16

  I wasn’t sure what Uncle Chris was going to say, and my expression must have shown it.

  “Why’s your mouth open like that?” he asked, scowling. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m not that much of a cheapskate.”

  “No, you just took me by surprise,” I said, scrambling for my purse and my jacket. I shrugged into it as I followed him out to the parking lot. “Where we going?”

  “Just back here. One of my favorite places.”

  He led me around the building to a taco vendor parked in the empty lot behind the realty.

  “Wow! When did this show up?” I asked. There were a few people in line ahead of us. The delicious scent of melted cheese and fresh salsa promised a tantalizing meal.

  “Isn’t this great? They always come around this time of year. You want a taco? Their taquitos are the best.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I nodded. I wondered how they’d compare to the ones I’d grown up with around Seattle. We had some of the best back in Washington.

  Finally, it was our turn. Uncle Chris ordered and gave her a twenty. A minute later, the woman handed over paper plates wrapped in tin-foil.

  “Come on, let’s sit over here.” He headed over to about a half dozen picnic benches, zeroing in on one like it was his spot. I figured that proved he’d been here a time or two.

  A gusty sigh eased out of him as he sat down. I sat across from him. Carefully, I picked off the foil and took a bite.

  Delicious.

  “Good food, right?” he grunted.

  I nodded. “So, how are you doing?”

  “I’m confused,” he confessed. “I’ve been going over in my mind who I think could have done it. The cops seem to be hinting that it must have been his wife.”

  I thought about the blonde, petite woman. “Why Jasmine?”

  “Well, she kind of married him in a weird way.”

  “Really? How’s that?” I took another bite and hummed in satisfaction.

  “He met her at the Cowboy Bar and Grill. She had this big sob story. Something about her rent being due, and the manager of the restaurant hitting on her. She was crying to Ian because that dirt bag wouldn’t leave her alone.”

  That actually really did sound like a terrible situation. “Okay.”

  “Ever since I’ve known him, Ian always fell for that damsel in distress act.”

  I picked at a piece of lettuce. “So she’s probably the sole inheritor, right?”

  “Seems that way.”

  I chewed and thought some more. It really didn’t make sense to me. She had what she wanted, at least on the outside. A lovely life, clothing, jewelry. Friends and traveling.

  Not to mention the few times that I’d spoken with her, she’d come across so meek. It was hard to imagine her swatting a fly, let alone cold-bloodedly poisoning her husband and leaving him to die in the bathroom.

  Still, I wasn’t the best judge of people.

  “What about the neighbors?” I asked.

  “Neighbors?”

  “Yea, that Gordon guy just showed up, and they brought that wine. From what I’m hearing, they couldn’t stand each other. You remember how you were worried they were going to cause trouble when we put the sign up? Plus, I’ve heard that Gordon has mob ties.”

  “What? Who are you hearing this from?”

  I blushed. I really didn’t want to say Oscar. “Mmm, maybe Jan from the post office. You know how gossip is.”

  “Jan from the Post Office?” His eyebrows lifted.

  I nodded.

  “Are you referring to that lady who talks to her cat all day? That’s your great source of information?”

  I’d forgotten about her orange tabby, Skittles, that lived behind the counter. I bit a hangnail and nodded. “She watches out the window and really knows stuff. And…” I didn’t want to say any more. The incredulous look on his face had dropped into an expression of hilarity. He rubbed his mouth with his hand, struggling to contain it. I was afraid just one more word would push him into a burst of laughter at me.

  “Never mind,” I said, focusing on my food.

  He shook his head. “As far as I know, Ian Stuber and Gordon Taylor were friends at the end. Sure, there was some trouble over garbage cans and dogs barking, but they were both mature enough to let by-gones be by-gones.”

  “What if that was an act? Like maybe Gordon poisoned him to get revenge. Both he and his wife did show up at the party uninvited and gave Ian wine that only he drank.”

  “How on earth would they know that he would drink it?” He frowned. “Besides, from what the coroner said, it was topical.”

  Topical, huh? I chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “Maybe the neighbor jabbed him with a needle.”

  “Stella, don’t you think Ian would have said something if that happened? At least yelped? Not to mention, what would the Taylor’s have to gain by such a risky action? The guy was moving.”

  I rubbed my temple. “I don’t know. It makes little sense.” After a second, I tacked on, “What about Ian’s brother? What was his name? You said he had a hot temper.”

  “Jordan. And that feels like even more of a stretch. That was his brother, after all. And he wasn’t at the party.”

  I nodded. “I guess so. But somebody must have done it.”

  We both continued eating until it became apparent that Uncle Chris was allowing the silence to grow. He shifted uncomfortably. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, sensing it was time to give him space.

  “Hey, Stella.” A serious expression settled into the lines around his mouth.

  I held my breath. This was it. The moment he was about to spill his guts. I could feel it. I tensed in preparation.

  “I—ugh—I have a favor to ask.”

  A favor? I was caught off guard with the possibilities. “What is it?”

  “I was wondering if you’d accompany me to Ian’s memorial service. It’s this weekend.” His countenance was conflicted.

  “Oh.” Many thoughts raced through my mind, with HECK NO leading the pack. I barely knew how to comfort people as it was, let alone leave me in a room full of grieving strangers. And, for some reason, my discomfort wasn’t obvious, and I always became the magnet that people wanted to hug. I never knew what to say and ended up sounding like an idiot by mumbling, “There, there,” while uncomfortably patting their shoulder. Despite my best efforts, I think I was more like the anti-comforter. Uncle Chris wanted me to come?

  Still, it wasn’t often he’d ask me for something. I mean, yeah, he did ask me to grab him a coffee a few times, and he’d asked me to put the sign up the other day. There was that one time he asked me to get his dry cleaning.

  But not really ask me something. Something that caused his eyes to crinkle in pain while he frowned.

  I nearly gasped at my next thought. Uncle Chris was relyi
ng on me like family. This was probably new for him as well, what with being estranged from Oscar and not having the greatest relationship with my dad. I bet the nearest thing he’d had as family all this time were his old racing buddies.

  Suddenly, I felt honored. I felt like a pillar he was leaning on, and I was determined to be strong for him.

  “Absolutely,” I said with an emphatic nod.

  “You will?” His face relaxed, even as his voice sounded surprised.

  “Of course.”

  “It’s just that with his brother there and his mom…his wife. I feel overwhelmed.” His face fell into a frown again. “Even worse, they asked me to speak at the memorial.”

  “Aw, you’re going to be great!” I said. “Who better to say who he was than one of his best friends.”

  “You think so?”

  I was taken back by this glimpse of his insecurity. He always appeared so confident to the point of blustery.

  “Yes, I absolutely do. Besides, this will give me a good opportunity to watch for any weird behavior.”

  He groaned. “I can just see it now. Don’t be giving everyone the evil eye.”

  “I would never!”

  He snorted. “Are you kidding me? Your face shows everything. I can even tell when your coffee’s cold.”

  “I’ll wear my most impervious mask of non-emotion,” I declared. “What time do we need to be there?”

  “Starts at one.” He’d taken a big bite and talked around it. “Afterwards is like a reception or something.”

  Just talking about the funeral set my teeth on edge. That was going to be a surreal day, seeing all the very same people that had been at his party just a few days before.

  “See, I can tell right now you’re dreading it. It’s written all over your face.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. My thoughts will strictly be thinking of ways to support you.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that. But do me a favor, and just be a normal guest. Don’t look at anyone like they’re mobsters. Keep your private eye hat off that day.”

  I nodded. I would definitely keep my face neutral.

  But deep down, he had to know that I’d definitely be watching for anything out of the ordinary.

  17

  After lunch, I remembered I needed to renew my license. Because I was in a new state, I had to go visit the DOL, rather than doing it online as I could in Washington.

  I didn’t even know where the DOL was. Uncle Chris gave me the directions with a pitying look, and then we headed our separate ways. I actually had no trouble finding the building, but finding parking was another story. Two blocks later, I finally walked inside.

  I grabbed my paper number and bit back a groan. The place was packed. I found a spot in the back, sat down and got out my phone, intending on being here for a while.

  I’d only played one game of Tetris when I heard the front door open and a high giggle. I glanced up and nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw that it was the Valentines. Every part of me shriveled with the word, “Nooooo.” It wasn’t Charity that was the problem—she was a doll. It was her sister, Gladys, whom I only referred to, even in my thoughts, as Ms. Valentine.

  Charity had been quite charming when I’d run into her at the nursing home, but I didn’t expect the same welcome from Ms. Valentine. She’d been furious with me the last time I’d seen her. In fact, the thought of that made me want to puke. Quickly, I looked for someplace to hide.

  Unfortunately, the DOL doesn’t offer many places. I considered leaving and coming back another day, but then the number clicked on the overhead boards, showing I was next in line. Blast it! I couldn’t leave now. I raised the collar of my coat and ducked my head.

  “But, Sister—”

  “I have no choice, Charity. And quit your complaining. You sound like a teakettle gone scalding on the stove. It’s of no use, that law’s changed, and we have to do one final renew of our registration for the T-bird.”

  I shuddered at the mention of the car, a beast with round headlights that had chased me one night. It was so similar to what had happened the other day, but the T-bird had been driven by their brother who was in jail now. That makes two people who’ve chased me in motor vehicles. What was it with me and cars?

  They walked to the front in a wafting cloud of wool coats and violet perfume. Ms. Valentine snatched a paper from the counter and stared hard at the screen above the desks.

  “All right, we have a number. Fifty-one. Wonderful. Looks like we’ll be here all day,” she harrumphed. “Let’s go find a seat.”

  I crouched lower in my jacket and stared hard at my phone, mentally cursing my choice to come today.

  Clicking heels came closer. I was practically pop-eyed at the concentration I was giving my phone.

  Pointed brown shoes stopped squarely in front of me.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our lovely real estate agent, Ms. O’Neil,” Ms. Valentine said.

  Nervously, I glanced up. Ms. Valentine stared down at me in her charming way, like I was a dirty tissue caught on the edge of her shoe.

  “Oh! Ms. Valentine! Charity! How are the both of you?” I babbled, acting surprised.

  “We are doing great, thank you.” Charity smiled.

  “Well, that’s lovely.” I glanced desperately at the counter, but it seemed the people before me were just beginning their transaction. “Have you settled into a new home, yet?”

  “No. Every evening, we traipse from park bench to park bench since we sold the million dollar estate.” Ms. Valentine rolled her eyes.

  “Sister,” Charity chided. My brows raised. I was surprised to hear that. She’d always been so subservient before.

  “Of course, we have a new place,” Ms. Valentine finally answered.

  “It’s really quite lovely,” Charity prattled, butting in. I was relieved and gave her my full attention.

  “Really! I’m so happy for you. It was fun seeing you at the nursing home the other day.”

  “That was quite timely, now wasn’t it?” Charity said while Ms. Valentine turned narrowed eyes in her sister’s direction. I guess Charity hadn’t shared that. The short woman continued. “And how are you doing? We’ve seen those Flamingo for sale signs popping up all over Novelty Hill.”

  “Oh, Do you live close to that development?”

  “We do! We have the cutest little home right on the corner. A lovely space. It has its own tea garden.” Charity giggled.

  My eyes raised. That was the same community Ian had lived in. “That sounds fun,” I mumbled, the gears in my head turning.

  “Of course, we know about poor Ian. We saw the flamingo come down yesterday. I don’t suppose you’re selling that place any more?” Charity pursed her eyebrows sympathetically.

  “No, Jasmine has decided to stay at the house. Did you ever get a chance to meet them?” I asked.

  “Just once. The wife came over with a pie.” Charity sank into the chair next to me with a happy sigh.

  “That wasn’t his wife,” Ms. Valentine sniffed.

  “Oh? Who was it then?” I asked.

  “That was their housekeeper.”

  “We haven’t seen them since. The next day, their neighbor’s, the Taylors came over. They had terrible things to say about the Stubers. It was shocking. I was scared to eat the pie after that, and you know how I love them.” Charity raised her eyebrow.

  “We wouldn’t dream of socializing with either family. They both are uncouth,” Ms. Valentine said. She eyed the plastic chairs, and her eyelids fluttered. “Charity, get up. That isn’t sanitary.”

  “I’m tired, Sister. Just let me rest a moment.” Charity pouted. Again, I was surprised to see her show a backbone. I guess it was true that it’s never too late to change.

  Ms. Valentine seemed to have accepted this new resolution in Charity because there wasn’t the usual bullying response that I’d been accustomed to. Instead, she focused her pale blue eyes at the window, her lips p
rimly set into disapproving lines.

  But silent. I liked that.

  “So, did you like the Taylors?” I asked Charity. “I don’t remember his wife’s name, but his name is Gordon.”

  “I can’t remember her name either, but she was nice. Brought over a dozen roses from their garden. They smelled divine. I think they were those rare Ben Franklin ones. You know, the ones with the double petals?”

  I didn’t know, and with my green thumb more the shade of brown, it was unlikely I ever would. I nodded though, to encourage her deeper into conversation.

  “They were so lovely. Do you think they’d let us have a clipping?” she asked her sister.

  Ms. Valentine rolled her eyes, obviously displeased at her sister still not acknowledging the neighbor’s uncouthness, or the lack of chair hygiene.

  “Anyway, all she seemed to want to talk about was the Stubers. Apparently, there’d been an issue when Mr. Stuber built their fence. Or maybe they knocked over the fence. It was so hard to keep track of. And Mr. Stuber is rarely home, but when he is, he liked to race down the street in that fancy car of his. Plus there’s quite a scandalous rumor that Mrs. Stuber is in love with her neighbor. However, Jeffry says quite the opposite.”

  “Charity Valentine! You are hardly any better than them with your gossiping tongue!”

  “Oh, pooh! Who else is there to tell? Besides, we ran right into Stella here. That seems quite serendipitous!”

  “Who’s Jeffry?” I asked, trying to bring the conversation back to the target. I swear, this was about as easy as herding a litter of puppies.

  “Jeffry is our gardener. He comes every Sunday. He also takes care of the Stuber’s place. He’s there quite a bit.”

  “And the Taylors’s,” Ms. Valentine piped in. She arched an eyebrow and glanced away as if not wanting to be caught acting interested.

  “Really! What else did he say?” I asked.

  “He says that Mr. Stuber was a complete boar. That he treated his poor wife something awful. I think he rather felt sorry for her.” Charity paused, and a dreamy expression relaxed the lines around her eyes. “Jeffry is such a nice man. I half wonder if he fancies me.”