“From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who has changes of heart.” I swirled my egg roll around in a big puddle of spicy mustard.
“You’re putting too much mustard on that.”
“It’s fine.” I took a bite, and added more mustard to the exposed innards of the roll.
“Jake...”
“It’s fine, I’m telling you. I do this all the time,” I protested, sniffling.
“If you say so.”
“So tell me, more,” I sniffed, “more specifically, about,” sniff, “Frank Forrester’s – gah – change of heart.”
Petreski gave me some side eye, and I sniffed again, blinking hard to keep from crying.
“Uh, okay. You sure you don’t want to –”
“I’m fine!”
“Okay. So maybe change of heart isn’t exactly the right –”
“Guh!” I ran to the bathroom to blow my nose and splash cold water on my face.
“What the hell?” Petreski asked, standing in the doorway.
I stood up and looked in the mirror. My face was flaming red and the dripping water disguised my manly tears. “Just clearing my sinuses. You know, as you do.”
Petreski rolled his eyes. “For real.”
“For real. Fine, the mustard was way hotter than I remembered, okay? And I didn’t want to admit it. Happy now?”
He shook his head. “Ecstatic. Come on, do you want to hear about Forrester or not?”
“Of course.”
“So, as I was saying, change of heart may not be entirely accurate. It seems he had a chat with his pastor or reverend or whatever, and they told him he should try to persuade her to ‘do the right thing’.”
“And what would that be?”
“As far as I can tell, he was afraid she was going to get an abortion, and he was going to talk her out of it.”
“Probably wouldn’t stop at talking, I’ll bet.”
“Maybe not, if his reputation is anything to go by. But we’ll check his story with the reverend.”
“It still doesn’t put him out of the running for killing Lana, though, does it?”
“No. I hate to admit it, but we still have too many suspects for Lana’s murder.”
“And Standing?”
“Forrester says he was at his motel, alone, and no one saw him. We’re checking, but it’s a cheap place with no security camera coverage where his room is. He could have come and gone without being noticed. He could have stayed there without being noticed, and no one would be interested in talking to the police about it. No one back home knew where he was staying, and he didn’t call anyone there.”
“That all sounds pretty suspicious to me.”
“To you, yeah, because you’re a social creature. Frank Forrester is a loner. He just likes to be alone and be left alone. There’s no crime in that, but it does make it difficult to establish an alibi, and easier for him to move around unnoticed.”
“But why didn’t he answer his phone? Surely the police have been trying to contact him on his cell phone.”
“Battery’s dead and he claims he forgot to bring his charger. He’s not a chatty guy, so replacing the charger wasn’t a priority. He attempted to call Lana from the land line in his hotel room. Again, it’s annoying for us, but someone not keeping their phone charged and on all the time isn’t a crime.”
“So weird.”
We ate in silence for a minute before Petreski resumed the conversation.
“Speaking of Lana’s pregnancy.”
“Hmm?”
“DNA came back. It was Miletti’s.”
“Is that significant? I mean, if she didn’t know for sure, then Miletti and Standing wouldn’t know for sure either, right? I mean, unless one of them knew for sure he couldn’t be the father.”
“Yeah. And no, I don’t think it’s really significant. I mean, neither of them are father material as far as I can tell. But I can’t see that as sufficient motive for killing her.”
“I wish we knew what she said to Miletti and Standing. Wait – if Standing was leaning on him, maybe Miletti’ll talk if he thinks Standing killed Lana, and Lana was pregnant with his child – you see where I’m going with this, yeah?”
“Yeah. Maybe. But maybe Miletti wouldn’t care enough to expose himself. If Standing had dirt on him, Miletti’s not going to want to share, and with Standing dead, he doesn’t have to. He can just keep his mouth shut and this all goes away.”
I carried our dirty dishes into the kitchen while Petreski dealt with the containers. “You want dessert?” he asked as he put the leftovers in the ’fridge.
“Always. But I probably shouldn’t.” I rinsed the last dish and put it in the drainer.
“What if we walk?”
What an enabler. How could I not love this man?
“Just let me put on some shoes.”
❧
“Just so you know,” I said later as we were walking back from the gelateria, “this doesn’t count as an official date.”
He reached over to hold my hand. “How about now?”
I shook my head and took a bite off the edge of the cone. “Nope.”
“So what constitutes an official date? For those of us keeping track.”
“Planning. Advance notice. Wearing long pants.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. So what is this then? It feels almost date-like. Kind of date-adjacent?”
“This is hanging out. It’s, like, a date’s socially awkward cousin.”
Petreski chuckled and swung our arms back and forth. “So, do a certain number of hanging outs add up to a date?”
“Nope. Now, I’m not trying to downplay the importance, or the benefits, of hanging out. Dates are just a little more... hmm... special.”
“Okay. Where do booty calls fall on the hierarchy?”
“They don’t.”
“No?”
“No. Seriously, Boo, don’t you think I have more self-respect than that?”
Petreski pulled me to a stop for a kiss. “Of course I do. You are, without a doubt, the most unique person I’ve ever met.”
“That better be good.”
“Very, very good.” His smile was a flash of white teeth in the darkness.
“Come on, Boo. Let’s get home. Self-respect only goes so far, you know.”
Boo Makes a Confession
The rush of finally finding Forrester wore off before long. I hadn’t had any helpful dreams, what with Dani and Ruby staying with Jennifer. I had mixed feelings about that – no dreams meant no danger, but it also meant no new information. Perez would be thrilled. It seemed everything had gone quiet, even though I knew Petreski and his team were hard at work behind the scenes, checking financial records and so on.
I tried to focus on school, and I was even starting to enjoy exercise. Although, that may have been due more to hanging out with Dani, who I was starting to consider a real friend, despite my underhanded way of meeting her. I would occasionally cross paths with Gloria, and while I couldn’t say she was warm, I figured I’d wear her down eventually.
It was just life as usual, or as usual as my life gets.
A couple of evenings after Petreski told me about the interview with Forrester I heard a soft scratching at my door. It had been pouring rain all day and Boo looked pretty ratty when I let him in. I turned my head and covered my mouth with my hand, hoping he wouldn’t see my grin. He’s a regal feline and a bit vain about his appearance.
“I saw that,” Petreski called from the bathroom.
“Aw, Boo, don’t be like that. You know you’re gorgeous.”
I went to the kitchen to get him a beer, which he accepted with a kiss and a thank you, and I knew all was forgiven.
“I talked to Dani Jarvis this morning,” he said.
“Dani? She’s not a suspect again, is she?”
“No. But I had to tell her that we’ll be releasing the house to Frank Forrester in a few days, so she needs to get any remaining
belongings out of the house. She went over there this afternoon and packed a few boxes. She has forty-eight hours before Frank Forrester gets access. I’m telling you because she might ask for help.”
“Okay, sure. Is it okay if I help her, then?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. We can’t find anything linking Dani to anything that happened. As far as we can tell it’s all linked to Slippery When Wet, or to her father. We just can’t prove anything.”
“Miletti’s still not talking?”
“Nope. No reason why he would.”
“And what about Forrester? Anything new there?”
“No. We’re watching him. He’s still in town, waiting for access to the house, I assume. Not doing anything out of the ordinary. Went to WalMart, bought a phone charger and some food. Hasn’t left the motel for the last twenty-four hours. He’s in a holding pattern, and so are we. Unless something drastic happens, Forrester snaps, or new evidence turns up, we’re dead in the water, so to speak.”
He took another sip from his beer, and headed for the sofa. “So what have you been up to all day?”
“Studied. Went to class. Behaved myself.”
“That’s it?”
“Reading.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Probably not. Went to the gym. Pumped some iron. Real manly stuff.”
“Mm hmm. Pumping iron. Sure.”
“Sure.”
We sat in silence, drinking our beers. He leaned back, closing his eyes, and I studied his profile. Handsome, of course. That’s already been established. He had a heavy stubble, even though I’d bet he’d shaved that morning. He looked tired, and I figured this case was probably getting to him.
“Are you sleeping?” I asked him.
“No. Just resting my eyes.”
“No. I mean, not right now. In general. You look tired. Is it this case?”
“Eh. Maybe. Partly.”
“It’s just... well... you don’t have to come over here every night. Not if it’s keeping you from work, or getting rest, or anything.”
“I don’t come over every night. Do you, uh, do you think I come over too often?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying! I mean, I don’t want you overdoing things or anything. I don’t want to be a burden, you know? I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or are, I don’t know, obliged?”
“Obliged?”
“I want you to come over, as often as you want. But I want you to want to come over.”
“Jake?”
“Yeah?”
“Listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay. I want to come over, get it?”
I nodded. “But maybe sometimes I should go to your place, do you think? I mean, that would be more fair, right? So you’re not always going to the trouble of coming over here?”
“If I’m ever overstaying my welcome you’d tell me, right?”
“You’re not! That would never happen, and that’s not what I’m saying!”
“Okay. Maybe we need to clarify exactly what’s going on, here, then.”
“Do we?” I gripped my bottle tighter.
“I hate my apartment and I have crappy neighbors.” Oh. That wasn’t what I expected.
“Oh, okay then. Well, then you can come over here all you want. But then why don’t you... oh... oh shit. Are you mad because I offered the apartment to Dani instead of you?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. I mean, I get it. She really needed it, and you didn’t know how I felt. And I didn’t know it was going to be available until you had already offered it to her. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
I slid over to get closer. “No, it’s not! I’m sorry I didn’t know. But do you think you’d really want to live in the same building as me? It wouldn’t be too much too soon?”
He shifted to put his arm around me and I snuggled in. “I don’t know. Maybe it would be. But the point is moot now. But promise me that if another unit is coming available you’ll tell me, okay?”
“I promise.”
“And we can decide then if we’re ready to be under each other’s feet all the time.”
Moving Always Sucks
“Jake, I hate to ask, but I really need a favor. Kind of a big one.” Dani bit her lower lip, and looked down at the asphalt of the parking lot. We had just made it through a five-mile walk and I had almost – almost – managed five pull-ups.
“Sure. If I can. What is it?” After last night’s conversation with Petreski, I was pretty sure I knew. She had the look of someone who was about to impose – like asking someone to help them move. I guess we really were friends, then.
“I need to get the last of my stuff from Lana’s house. It’s all packed up in boxes already, and Jenn said I can keep it in her garage until I move into the apartment.”
“And you need help moving it? No problem. When do you want to go over there?”
“Um. That’s why it’s a big favor, actually. I have to get it out today or tomorrow, but I’m completely booked up with clients and meetings until late and I don’t want to do it after dark. Is there any way, if I gave you the key...?”
Her voice trailed off and she looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. Argh. I am such a pushover.
“Sure,” I sighed. “How many boxes are we talking?”
“Oh, Jake, thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Not many. Like, nine or ten. They’re all in either the kitchen or my bedroom. Just the boxes, no furniture or anything, I swear!”
“It’s fine, really. Besides, I’ve got all these muscles now, right?” I held out my hand and she gave me the key. “I should be able to get over there this afternoon.”
She handed me the key and the look she gave me made me feel about ten feet tall.
❧
I parked on the street in front of Lana’s house. It looked like any other house on the block. A 1930s bungalow, white with black trim. The lawn needed mowing and the landscaping was basic, but it had good bones and someone would either fix it up or tear it down. These days, and in this neighborhood, it could go either way.
There was still some water standing in the ditch in front of the house, but the rain had stopped for now. I stood on the porch and fished the key Dani had given me out of my pocket. I thought I heard a rustling in the bushes, but when I looked around I didn’t see anything.
“Probably a squirrel,” I told myself, and turned back to the door.
Inside, the house was like I remembered it from my dreams. Hardwood floors, simply furnished. There was a bathroom off a small hall to the right of the living room, and a kitchen at the back of the house.
Dani’s boxes were on the kitchen table, and I stacked them near the front door before going to the front bedroom. There were only two more boxes and I figured I could get everything in one carload.
It took a few trips to get the boxes out to the car, but they all fit. I closed the hatch and went back into the house to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I was tempted to snoop in Lana’s stuff. The police had searched the house, of course, and it was hard to believe they would have missed anything.
I stuck my head into Lana’s room anyway. The linens had been stripped from the bed, making the room look bare. There was only one piece of art on the wall – a print of a dog in primary colors. Nothing fancy or expensive. I looked behind it, but found nothing, just like I expected. I opened a couple of dresser drawers. The contents were in disarray, but I had no way of knowing if that was from the search, or if Lana had just been messy. I didn’t think she was, based on the rest of the house, but maybe she just hated folding laundry.
The nightstand had only one drawer, containing a fingernail file, some eye-drops, and hand cream. There was an open box of condoms. At least she was practicing safe sex.
A small desk in the corner was bare except for a few pens and pencils in a mug with a Chihuahua on it. This woman really liked dogs. There was no computer or notebooks or diary or anything like that. The police
probably took them. I opened the file drawer, but that was empty, too. The top drawer had some office supplies, a few cough drops, and not much else. Probably any scrap of paper that had anything remotely interesting on it was at the police station.
I went back out to the living room and looked around. There was a TV, but it wasn’t huge. There was a docking station with speakers, but it was a basic model. She owned a house, yes, but she didn’t live extravagantly. It finally dawned on me what was missing – books. Granted, I’m something of a bookworm, and I know not everyone’s a big reader, but I’ve never been in a house with no books at all. Based on the empty shelves in Dani’s room and the weight of a couple of the boxes, I could tell Dani had at least a few. But Lana? Not even a trashy paperback on the nightstand. Not even a – no, wait. I crouched in front of the TV and opened the door of the entertainment stand. A few DVDs, romantic comedies, mostly, and one – count it, one – book.
The book was at the bottom of a stack of DVDs, and I pulled it out. It was big, heavy – an art history textbook. I opened it and flipped through. I held it up and nothing fell out. I flipped to the back and there was a clear plastic pocket attached to the inside of the back cover. There was nothing unusual about that – I had plenty of textbooks with something similar. I opened the pocket and took the disks out – there were two – and looked at the labels. The one labeled ‘Disk Two’ felt different. The design looked similar, but the label was applied, not stamped. I looked at Disk One and realized it didn’t say it was Disk One. This book was only supposed to have one disk.
I put the disks back in the book and the book back in the entertainment center. I needed to tell Petreski so he could remove it properly. But this, whatever it was, it had to be something. I stood up and headed to the kitchen.
There were some cans of dog food in the kitchen pantry, and I put them in a plastic grocery bag I found under the sink. I checked around for more of Ruby’s things and by the time I finished had accumulated a bag full of toys and treats. Ruby was a pampered little lady.
Not a Mermaid Page 15