There was no need to specify who the "him" was. Since she felt so strongly about it, I considered it, but the thought of unlawful termination lawsuits flitted through my head. "Let me think about it, Tam," I said to appease her. "In the meantime, why don't you run a more thorough background check on him?" All Leo's references had panned out, but maybe Tam, with her notorious computer skills, could dig deeper. If nothing else, it would keep her busy. Her chin dropped down, and she fiddled with one of the buttons on her blouse. "Tam?"
"I already did."
I should have been shocked, but I wasn't. "And?"
She looked up. "Clean," she grumbled.
"And?" I knew Tam wouldn't stop there. "I'm still digging. I've got feelers out."
"Just don't get arrested," I said, turning.
"Oh, don't worry about me," she said regally. "Him. It's him you need to worry about."
Envelope in hand, I ducked into my office and closed the door.
To open or not to open.
My inner voice begged me to take my letter opener to that manila. However, Nate had specifically asked me not to open it.
But, that voice argued, Nate had gone missing, and what was in that envelope might help him. Oh, the decisions.
I shook, squeezed, and held the package to the light. Whatever it was had a square shape and was flexible. Nate was missing, I told myself as I reached for the letter opener . . . Or was he?
I still hadn't heard from Maria this morning. It was entirely possible that Nate had shown up in the middle of the night full of excuses and apologies.
I jumped at the knock on my door. Kit poked his head in. "Found the new guy lurking in the parking lot." He shoved Leo into the room.
"Didn't want to be too early," Leo said, all wide eyes and innocence. "I was taking a look around, trying to familiarize myself with the grounds."
"Hah!" I heard Tam cry out from the other room.
Kit folded meaty arms across his chest and gave Leo a look that should have had him shaking in his Docs. His explanation had made perfect sense, but with Tam's feelings about him, and my own questions about how he'd learned about this job in the first place . . . I doubted him. Sue me.
I tucked Nate's envelope into my backpack. "Actually, Leo, I wanted to ask you about some—"
The buzz of my cell phone cut me off. Maria. Leo would have to wait.
As I flipped open my phone, I thanked Kit again for his help the night before with Maria's door and asked him to show Leo around. In other words, babysit. "Maria?"
"Ever heard of ricin?"
I sighed. "Do you really want to poison him?"
"Yes," she said.
"So, he still hasn't shown up?"
"Nope."
"No calls?"
"Nope."
I really didn't like what I was hearing.
"Well, not from him. I did get a call from Nate's secretary this morning. She just wanted me to know that Nate's boss came back yesterday afternoon and told everyone she was resigning. Said she'd be back today to clean out her office. When Nate's secretary asked her about Nate, she got the brush-off."
A horn blared in the background. "What was that?"
"Idiot driver didn't want me to pass him." More likely, she cut him off.
I held the phone away from my ear as she yelled, "Dammit, bimbo, the gas is on the right! The right!"
Horns shrieked and tires squealed.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Coming to get you."
"Me!?"
"I'm going to the Kalypso. I made an appointment to meet with Claire Battiste. If she knows what's good for her, she better tell me where Nate is. If she doesn't know what's good for her, I need you there to back up my claims of self-defense."
Could it be deemed self-defense if it was premeditated? "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
"I'll go alone—"
"No!" Jeez, with her temper, there was no telling what she would do. "I'll go. I'll call Ana too." I might need her help to restrain Maria if it came to that.
"Fine. I'll be there in ten minutes." I hung up and called Ana.
"Ana Bertoli, probation officer extraordinaire," she said dryly.
"Hi," I said. "Listen, I don't think you're feeling well."
"Huh?"
"Cough."
Ana hacked. "Why? What's up?"
"You need to go home sick."
She coughed some more. Added a sniffle and a moan. "What're we up to?" she whispered.
"Going on a field trip."
She coughed some more, added a wheeze. "How sad is it that that excites me? I really need a man, Nina."
"Maybe you'll find one at the Kalypso."
"The Kalypso? You're going to the Kalyspo? Are you out of your mind?"
Her voice sounded so hoarse I almost believed she was ill. "No, I'm not."
She coughed some more. "Do I need to remind you—"
I cut her off. "No, you don't."
"Oh, we'll see about that."
"Can you be at my house in twenty minutes? Maria and I will meet you there."
"Yeah, but I really don't think you should—"
" 'Bye!" I hung up before she could launch into an inventory of my past sins that involved casinos and too much liquor.
I left Kit in charge of the office. With the rain, there wasn't much anyone could do. Catch up on paperwork, tend to the tools, clean the storage barn . . .
Dragging my backpack up onto my lap, I pulled out the envelope Nate had sent.
I tucked it into the front pouch and pulled the zipper closed.
I'd wait to see what we'd learn at the Kalypso before I opened it.
Seven
Out the front window, I saw Maria's Mercedes fishtail into TBS's parking lot, the windshield wipers on high. I looked back at Tam. She was holding her hole punch with a speculative gleam in her eye.
"Behave," I called to her before pulling the door closed. I thought I heard an insane laugh float out.
Great. I made a mental note to make sure Leo was still alive when I got back.
Maria honked. Through the windshield, I saw her throw her hands up in a what's-taking-so-long motion. She was never one for patience.
I opened the door and choked as a haze of Chanel No. 5 engulfed me like a bear hug.
As I got in, I said, "Jeez, Maria, you have enough perfume on?"
"No," she said, backing out. She sniffed. "And it wouldn't hurt for you to wear some. That, and," she said, eyeing me critically, "a little makeup wouldn't kill you either." I checked my reflection in the window. A thin red scar arched above my left eye. My dark green eyes looked nearly brown in the dismal light, and the bags that hung beneath them didn't help my self-esteem any.
"What about some highlights? Some gold to sass things up a little?" she asked. "My stylist could probably fit you in later today."
"I don't need highlights. My hair's fine."
"It's brown," she said, hitting the brakes as she took a corner a bit too sharply.
I reached behind me and buckled my seat belt.
"What's wrong with brown? Lots of people have brown hair."
She looked over at me, her nose scrunched in distaste. "You need texture. Nuances," she said, accentuating each syllable. "Men can get away with having brown hair. Women cannot."
I ignored her. It was either that or strangle her, and I really didn't think my mother would forgive me. "Ana's meeting us at my house. I need to leave Riley a note and change." She grimaced. "Yes, you do. Khaki, Nina? Really?"
I held my tongue only because her fiancé was missing.
She turned onto Jaybird, heading toward my house. No blinker, no warning. Just a jerking of the steering wheel and irritated honks from the car behind us.
Taking her eyes off the road, she looked at me. "I'm beginning to get worried, Nina. What if something has happened to him?"
"Maria! The road!"
She quickly turned her head. We were this close to rear-ending a Grizzly Bear water
truck. She jerked the wheel hard right. The car bounced up on the berm. The tires spit gravel. Clear of the truck, she got back in her lane and stepped on the gas.
I wished I had another seat belt to put on. Maybe a helmet too.
"It's just not like him," she said as though our conversation hadn't been halted by two tons of delivery truck.
"I'm sure he's fine," I lied. I wasn't sure at all. Everything about his disappearance didn't make sense. Nate was habitual. Shredded wheat for breakfast. Light lunch at his desk. Home by seven o'clock. "We'll nose around today and see what we can find out."
She looked over at me. "Do you think Claire will talk to us?"
"Please, Maria, keep your eyes on the road. I don't know if she will, but just promise me you'll be on your best behavior."
Her mouth thinned and dipped into a frown. "We'll see," she said as she hurtled into my driveway and slammed on the brakes. "We'll just see."
Inside, I hurried to change. I scribbled a note to Riley that I might be late, and I was wrestling my Keds onto my feet when my cell phone buzzed.
Could be Kevin, my inner voice crooned.
Why I would automatically think that, I wasn't sure.
It couldn't be because I wanted him to call, because I wanted to hear his voice.
Nope. Not me. Not Nina Colette I'm-so-over-him Ceceri Quinn. The phone buzzed again.
I hopped toward my backpack and tripped on a shoelace. It could be my mother letting me know about Uncle Giuseppe and Aunt Carlotta's travel plans. I definitely didn't want to pick up the phone to that. Maybe if I pretended I wasn't home, she wouldn't send them here to stay with me. Hadn't my relatives ever heard of Motel 6? The phone buzzed a third time as I rooted around in my backpack. It could be Robert again, my inner voice trilled. Definitely didn't want to answer that. Because if he was calling it was either because Riley was in trouble, or he was calling to talk to about that chemistry between us. I just couldn't deal with that right now.
Finally, I found the phone and pressed the Talk button before it switched over to voice mail. "Hello?"
Static echoed across the line.
"Hello?" I said again. Really, I needed to actually check the caller ID screen before answering the phone. What was I paying Cincinnati Bell all that money for anyway?
"Don't," a voice said.
"What?"
"Don't open it."
It was a man's voice. He sounded out of breath and spoke quietly, like he didn't want anyone to hear him.
"Open what? Who is this?"
"Nina, don't open it."
A bell of some sort sounded in the background as silence stretched across the line.
It struck me like a knock to the head who I was talking to. "Nate?"
"Be careful," he said.
The phone went dead.
I had a major case of the heebie-jeebies as I scrolled back through the caller ID readout. Out of Area. *000-000-0000. Damn. Don't open it, he'd said. The package.
A rock of uncertainty sank to the bottom of my stomach. Nate certainly hadn't sounded like a man on a romantic getaway. He'd sounded . . . scared.
Ack.
What do I do now? Should I tell someone about the package? Tell Maria about the call? I ixnayed that idea immediately. It would just freak her out. I didn't have any real information at all to tell her. Actually, I didn't even know for one hundred percent certainty that it had been Nate I was talking to.
Just gut instinct.
And that voice in my head telling me it was.
One thing I did know for sure: I wasn't letting that package out of my sight. I double-checked to make sure it was secure in my backpack and pulled open my front door. Ana and Maria had been cornered by Mr. Cabrera on my front porch. They stared at me accusingly.
"You really need to talk to Brickhouse, Nina," Maria insisted as I closed the door behind me, making sure it was locked. "I have such fond memories of her class." I shot a look at Mr. Cabrera. The tattletale.
He nodded to me. "Came over to let you know Mrs. Warnicke didn't make it."
I dropped my backpack. "What!?"
"Who's Mrs. Warnicke?" Ana asked.
Maria clutched her chest. "Oh no, not Mrs. Warnicke!"
I shot her a look. She didn't even know Mrs. Warnicke. Mr. Cabrera, always the flirt, scooted closer to Ana. "She's the sweet old lady who lives across the street. Lived." He shook his head sadly. Today he wore a Hawaiian print shirt and khaki cargo pants. I wondered if Maria had given him the khaki lecture.
Ana had recently developed a morbid curiosity where death was concerned. "What happened to her?"
Rain splashed off the porch roof as Mr. Cabrera's eyes widened. "The granny panty thief killed her." Please, Lord, let her leave it at that. But Ana perked right up. "Details!"
He explained about the rash of burglaries in the neighborhood, and how Mrs. Warnicke had woken up to find the thief in her bedroom.
"That's horrible," Maria murmured. "Just horrible."
Mr. Cabrera's bony chest puffed out. "I'm setting up a neighborhood watch."
"We better go," I said before he roped the two of them into helping.
As we made our way to the car, Mr. Cabrera said, "Tell Ursula I miss her! You will see her today, right?" Just stick a knife in me and be done with it already.
"You know," Maria said as she slid into the driver's seat, "we're really not in that much of a rush."
Oh no.
"Seat belt," I told Ana. "Trust me."
"The Kalypso isn't going anywhere," Ana added from the backseat. "He really loves her."
"No."
Ana persisted. "He really does."
Maria backed out of my driveway, bumping over the curb. She put the car into drive and stepped on the gas. "No, I mean, no, I don't want to go to Mrs. Krauss's."
Maria slammed on the brakes. Ana and I flew forward, our seat belts keeping us from taking a header out the windshield.
Maria glared at me. "That poor old man!"
Colonel Mustard came out his front door, stared at us like we might jump out and raid his wife's underwear drawer. "Oh, all right!" I said. "We'll go."
Beyond the screen door, Brickhouse Krauss's cucumber-colored front door was open wide, allowing in rain-cooled air. I knocked softly at first, then more loudly.
No one answered. I turned to the car and shrugged.
Maria and Ana frowned at me and pointed toward the house in a "keep trying" motion.
Mrs. Krauss's car was in the driveway, the front door was open, and I apparently wasn't going anywhere until I spoke with her.
Great.
"Mrs. Krauss?" I called through the screen. Silence.
I stepped down off the front landing. Well, I'd tried.
Ana's window powered down. "You're not giving up already!"
"She's not answering."
Maria's window slid down. "She's got to be home! Maybe she's out back. Go check."
My jaw dropped open. "You go check!"
"You're already wet." Her window slid back up. So did Ana's.
Grrr.
Sighing, I pulled the hood of my spring coat over my head and trudged around to the back of the house. I should really be at work, I told myself. Here I was, trying to be a good sister by helping Maria track down Nate, and somehow—somehow!—I'd ended up at Ursula Krauss's landominium. How did these things happen? Nate. God. Had it been him on the phone? What was going on? I hadn't been able to stop thinking about that phone call or what was in that package. And how scared he'd sounded.
Ursula was sitting on the stone bench in the small garden I'd designed for her not too long ago. An umbrella protected her crisp white bob as she stared into the small goldfish pond. Looking up, she frowned, wrinkles pulling the corners of her blue eyes downward. She clucked at me. "He shouldn't have asked you to come."
I swear she had powers like my mother. Always knowing. The two of them should open a fortune-telling shop. I could see them now in twin turbans.
I
didn't bother denying it. "He misses you."
She offered me a seat on the drenched bench. I pulled the hem of my coat down over my rear end and, reluctantly, sat. Brickhouse Krauss. Once upon a time she'd been my tenth grade English teacher. She'd made my life miserable, her animosity toward me quite clear. The feeling had been mutual. Still was.
Once I'd finished her job, I'd (for some reason I'm still not clear about) volunteered to set Brickhouse up with Mr. Cabrera . . . and was living to regret it.
"I know he misses me," she said. "I'm a hard woman to get over."
I fought back a snort.
She was short, squat, a German powerhouse, a true force to reckon with. I didn't want to be here, reckoning at all. But I felt slightly guilty for Mr. Cabrera's broken heart. "Any chance of reconciliation?" She clucked.
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