She set her mug on the counter. "You mean, you're planning to catch yourself a killer."
I really wished she wouldn't put it that way. "I guess so. Want to help?"
"Hell, yes."
I smiled. "Good. You know I hate killer-catching on my own."
"The sad fact of that statement is that you've actually had experience with it. I guess it goes hand in hand with you being a corpse whisperer and all."
I threw a wet sponge at her as Mr. Cabrera dragged himself into the kitchen and lurched onto a stool. "Who's a corpse whisperer?" he asked in a monotone.
"Nina is," Ana said.
He winced at the pitch of Ana's voice. "I shoulda guessed that. It's her curse."
"What's with him?" she asked.
"Too many gin and tonics yesterday."
He groaned. "Don't say that word."
"Which one?" I asked. "Gin? Tonic? Gin and tonic?"
He blanched. "You're a cruel, cruel woman."
I slid another mug of coffee over to him. "I've been called worse."
"Make the room stop spinning," he begged.
"Put your head down on the countertop," Ana advised.
He smushed his face against the cool tiles. "Is Ursula back yet?"
"Nope," I said.
"She'll be back," he mumbled.
"Where'd she go?" Ana asked.
"A vacation," I said.
She glanced between Mr. Cabrera and me. "A regular vacation or one from him?"
"Both."
He started snoring.
We stared.
"Should we wake him?" Ana asked.
"Leave him." I motioned for her to follow me into the living room. For a house that was packed to its rafters with guests, it was relatively quiet.
Gracie was asleep beneath the couch, Riley was at work—he had a part-time job at the sports complex where my mean trainer Duke worked—and Mario and Perry had an appointment with their decorator. Maria had offered to go with them, and they'd taken pity on me and agreed.
I felt bad about it, until I could practically hear my mother's voice in my ear saying, "Gift horses, cherié, gift horses."
They were due back in another hour—just in time for Nate to swing by and pick up Maria.
As I gave the "Cliffs Notes" version of why Brickhouse had moved out, I handed Ana the keys to my truck, which was still parked across the street.
She headed for the door, jangling the keys. "It shouldn't take too long for me to move—I've been slowly bringing stuff over to Kit's for months now. I'll let you know when I'm done so we can start our hunt."
"I'll do a little prelim work online while I wait for you. See what I can learn about Delphine and Joey."
She pulled open the door. "Don't go off without me."
"I'd never!"
She rolled her eyes. Then perked up when she spotted something on the porch. "What's that?"
"What's what?" I asked, coming up behind her.
"Looks like a present." She bent, picked it up, and flipped a small tag. "It's for Perry, but it doesn't say who it's from." She handed it over.
I shook the box. "Must be another gift from his secret admirer."
"I forgot he had himself an admirer! Who do you think it is?"
"I don't know, but whoever it is has impeccable taste. You should have seen the watch he got last week."
"It's a little strange," Ana said. "The gifts have been so expensive."
I glanced up at the sound of footsteps and spotted Kit coming up the driveway. "What's strange?" he asked, coming up the steps and dropping a kiss on Ana's lips.
Kit Pipe should be terrifying. He stood six-foot-five and didn't have an ounce of fat on his 250 pound tattooed frame. His bald head bore a skull tattoo, and his eyes were lined in black ink. Tattooed sleeves covered both arms. He looked every inch a Hell's Angel, but he was one of the best guys I knew.
"Perry got another gift," Ana said.
Kit frowned. "Here?"
"On the porch," I said.
"That is strange." He looked at Ana. "You ready?"
"Whoa-ho! What's strange? Why'd you say it that way?" I asked.
"It's bizarro that the admirer knew to leave the present here and not at Perry's house. Someone's watching him."
Ana shuddered. "It's beginning to sound more like a stalker than an admirer."
A shiver went down my spine, too. I hadn't thought of it that way.
"Mario's going to have a fit," Ana said.
It's true. He was. Mostly because he didn't have a stalker of his own.
"Maybe I'll hide it and give it to Perry later. Mario's already upset about the house renovations." I nudged Kit with my elbow. "Did you know they're staying here with me until their water situation is fixed?"
Stepping aside, he said, "I heard."
"That means they could possibly be staying with me for weeks, maybe months unless someone takes pity on my soul and fixes their bathroom." I stared at him.
Ana patted his arm and whispered, "I think she means you."
"No," he said.
"Please?" I begged. "It's only a matter of days before Mario is redecorating my house."
"It needs it," Kit said.
It was hard to argue with that. My room and the master bath had recently been done but the rest of the house could use a little TLC. "True, but he'll have Gucci wallpaper on the walls in no time." I glanced at Ana. "Does Gucci do wallpaper?"
She shrugged. "Maria's the one to ask about that."
"Anyway," I said, "you know what I mean."
"No," Kit said.
"You know," Ana said, "we do have that nice guest room. Mario and Perry could probably stay with us for a little while. We can swap weeks back and forth with Nina until their house is fixed. That way, it doesn't feel like such a burden on her."
Kit gave her a death stare. It was almost as good as the Ceceri Evil Eye, but not quite, which probably explained why she wasn't affected by the look at all. She'd built up immunity to evil eyes over the years, thanks to my mother glaring at her all the time.
She smiled fondly at him.
"Fine," he ground out, recognizing a losing battle when he saw one. "I'll do it." He turned and strode off.
Ana winked at me. "I'll see you later."
"I owe you."
"I know."
As she skipped to catch up to Kit, a sedan pulled up across the street.
A sedan that belonged to the coroner's office.
And if I didn't know better, I'd have sworn a ghost was driving.
Chapter Ten
I kept peeking out the window at the coroner's investigator—Cain Monahan—as he walked around Mario and Perry's yard.
The hair on the back of my neck refused to go down. He was a dead ringer for...well, a dead man.
"Who's he?" Mr. Cabrera asked, coming up behind me. He'd yet to go home, and I had the feeling he was dreading seeing the place after Brickhouse had packed up and moved out.
"He works for the coroner's office."
"What's he doing here? I thought there was an arrest?"
"Maybe the coroner found something in the autopsy that proves Delphine didn't kill Joey."
"Pah, she's guilty."
I lifted an eyebrow. "How do you know?"
"After what he did to her? Having a wife and all? Just makes sense. Plus, she's a little scary. I'm not convinced that her family doesn't have ties to the underworld, if you know what I'm saying."
I knew what he was saying. The Reauxs came from a long line of criminals. How deep the felonious activity went, I wasn't sure. Despite what Jean-Claude said, did it extend to murder?
"Jean-Claude says his family is full of lovers not fighters."
Mr. Cabrera shrugged. "There's not a crime of passion defense for nothing."
True. Once, right after I discovered Kevin had been cheating on me with his partner, Ginger, I'd attacked him with a hockey stick thinking he was an intruder. And when I realized he wasn't, it had taken everything in
me to stop hitting him with that stick (after a few additional whacks for good measure). Karma had bit Kevin in the backside big time when it came to Ginger, and ultimately I had forgiven him. But for a while, I'd wanted to kill him. Fortunately, I had enough sense not to act on my emotions.
Mr. Cabrera nodded outside. "Maybe you should go over there and feel him out."
"Why don't you go over there?" I was hesitant to see the ghost face to face, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why.
Maybe it was because Seth Thiessen had been my first crush, and I'd been devastated by his death.
His whole family—he, his mother, father, and younger sister—had died when the small plane his father was piloting exploded over a Kentucky horse ranch on the way to spring break in Florida. Seth had been fifteen years old.
I suspected I didn't want to meet this investigator because of his resemblance to Seth. I wasn't sure I could bear the emotional fallout. "You're good at getting information out of people," I said, pressuring Mr. Cabrera. Because as much as I didn't want to be the one weaseling the info, I wanted to know if there had been a change in the case.
Mr. Cabrera held his stomach. "That's true. But I don't feel so good. Plus, you're prettier than I am. He'll be more likely to talk to you, especially if you fluff yourself up a bit."
"Fluff myself up a bit?"
"You know," he waved his hand. "Do your hair up, put on some mascara. You clean up good, Miz Quinn. When you clean up. Which, I might add, isn't often. You might have more dates if you did a little more fluff—"
I cut him off. "Maybe you should head home and go back to bed. Since you're not feeling so well."
He pouted. "Your couch is comfier than mine."
"Mr. Cabrera..."
"Uhn," he groaned and dashed for the bathroom.
I was beginning to think that he wasn't as sick as he was portraying himself to be. At this point, his hangover had become an avoidance technique.
Pulling aside the curtain, I peeked out again. The investigator was walking slowly around the yard as if looking for something.
Before I could change my mind, I slipped on my flip-flops, pulled open the door, and headed across the street.
My heart pounded the closer I drew to him, and my feet felt leaden, weighted to the ground.
I stumbled over a twig and his head snapped up as I bobbled for equilibrium.
The sun glinted off his sunglasses and I wished I could see his eyes as I approached. Seth had the most gorgeous brown eyes I'd ever seen. A dark chocolate with flecks of gold that always reminded me of Eastertime with chocolate bunnies packaged in gold foil. If I could only see this man's eyes, I could put my ghostly imaginations to rest.
"You okay?" he asked.
Heat flooded my neck, my cheeks. Lamely, I gestured to the ground. "Yeah. I tripped on a twig. Plus I have two left feet. The combination isn't pretty," I rambled.
He nodded.
I brushed the hair out of my eyes and couldn't help but study him like he was an amoeba under a microscope. The first thing my gaze settled on was the deep scarring that covered the right side of his neck, fading into the hair behind his ear.
To my untrained eye, it looked like a burn scar.
My stomach tightened. Seth Thiessen had died in a fiery plane crash.
The man's jaw was a little more square than Seth's, and he was a little taller. But those differences could be attributed to age. It had been almost twenty years since Seth died.
"Car accident," he said.
I snapped to. "What?"
"The scars. I was in a car accident. It's easier just to tell people than to have them stare."
I felt a stab of guilt. "Sorry."
He'd been in a car accident. Not a plane crash.
Seth was dead.
I was being crazy.
But...even his voice sounded like Seth's. "When?"
"When what?"
"When was the car accident?"
He didn't answer, and I really didn't need to see his eyes to know he was staring in disbelief.
I tried to play it off. I faked a coy smile even as my stomach churned. "I'm nosy."
"Who are you?"
His badge was clipped to the waistband of his dark jeans. It didn't have his name on it—only his job designation along with the state seal. I stuck out my hand. "Nina Quinn. I live across the street."
A smile twitched the corner of his lips.
A smile I recognized.
My knees went a little weak, and I shifted my weight to keep my balance. It was impossible. This man was not Seth.
"The infamous Nina Quinn. I'm Cain Monahan."
He took my hand, and I noticed that his hand had been burned as well. There was scarring on the top of his hand and his wrist—maybe higher but the rest of his arm was covered by the long sleeve of his light green button-down shirt.
The scarring didn't affect the warmth of his skin or the firm strength of his grip.
A very real grip.
Not a ghostly one.
Clearing my throat, I said, "Infamous?"
"I was warned about you."
I tucked my now-sweaty hand into my pocket and tried my best to wrap my head around this situation. People had doppelgangers. That's all Cain Monahan was. A doppelganger. "Warned? By whom?"
"A police detective. He said you'd probably try snooping into the case. That you fancy yourself some kind of Nancy Drew, and that I should steer clear of you."
"A detective? Tall? Dark hair? Green eyes?"
He nodded. "You know him?"
Kevin. The sneaky dog. "My ex-husband. And I don't fancy myself any kind of Nancy Drew. I'm a little too old for the likes of her, but yes," I admitted, "I've been involved in a few cases." He didn't need to know exactly how many.
The corpse whisperer.
I shuddered.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. "You look a little pale."
I could see exactly how pale I was thanks to my reflection in his sunglasses. "I'm all right." I searched for a lie. Anything other than telling him that he looked and sounded and smiled exactly like a boy I used to love. "As much experience as I've had with it, murder is never easy to deal with. You must know that, with your line of work."
He turned a bit, toward the back yard where the tree had fallen. "Some cases are worse than others."
"How long have you been an investigator?"
He hesitated for a long second, and I thought he'd see right through my prying and not answer. I held my breath.
But finally he said, "About seven years."
"Did you go to college for it?"
He tipped his head. "My degree is in health sciences. I was a paramedic for a few years after graduation, and then this job opened up."
I rocked on my heels. "Oh? Where'd you go to college?"
He hesitated again. "University of Florida."
"Is that where you grew up? Florida?"
"Partly. Have you lived here, in Freedom, your whole life?"
"Born and raised."
"And how old are you?" he asked.
Suddenly, I realized he'd soundly taken over the investigation.
Before I could answer, a dark SUV pulled up. The window powered down, and Kevin stuck his head out. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"
I put my hand on my hip. "I haven't asked a thing about the case, have I?" I said to Cain. I hadn't asked because I'd been too busy grilling him about his personal life. I'd have gotten around to asking about Joey's murder eventually.
"Not a word," he said.
Kevin looked like he didn't believe us. He shut off the car and hopped out. "Good." He glanced at Cain. "Do you mind if I talk to her privately for a moment?"
"Not at all. Nice to meet you, Ms. Quinn."
"Same here," I said.
He took a kit out of his trunk and headed for the house.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Kevin said, "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You and
him?"
"I was wrong earlier. Jealousy doesn't become you."
He tipped his head back and sighed. "What were you two talking about?"
I batted my eyes and said dreamily, "Do you think he's married?"
Kevin growled. "I'm not jealous."
"Sure, sure." He wasn't fooling me.
"You really weren't asking him about the case?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Stuff." I changed the subject. I didn't want to talk about Seth with him. "What brings you back here?"
He leaned against the hood of the SUV. "Jean-Claude said you had some information for me about the case."
"Jean-Claude..." I shook my head. "He says he can prove Delphine is innocent but won't say how he knows. He wanted me to convince you to let her go. He thinks I have pull with you."
His eyes darkened a bit and made me think I did have a little sway. I'd remember that.
"Family loyalty?" he asked.
"Maybe." I left out the part where Jean-Claude didn't want to incriminate himself by revealing his information. I'd work on getting his alibi before I turned him over to be questioned formally.
"Well, he's wasting his time," Kevin said.
"Why's that?"
"Delphine's case is all but wrapped up. Couldn't be prettier if it had a bow on it."
"What kind of evidence do you have?"
"When I questioned her last night, she admitted that she'd lied about not seeing Joey again after he went to lunch."
Aha! I knew she'd been lying yesterday.
"She said she was upset by what Perry had told her about the tiles and she called him to meet her."
No wonder she 'fessed up. Her call would have been easy to trace with Joey's cell phone records.
"They met up at his townhouse—"
My eyebrow shot up, and I wondered if she'd really met up with him to talk about Perry or for a little bit of afternoon nookie.
I shuddered at the thought.
"I know," he said with a knowing smirk. "Anyway, she said she met him there, says they discussed the tile situation, and that when she left he was alive."
"Did she say how he explained the tile situation?"
"A misunderstanding."
"Were you Luvie'd to death?"
"Smothered."
"And the Honey situation? How did Joey explain to her that he'd been hiding a wife?"
The Root of All Trouble Page 7