Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills Series Book 6)

by Mary B. Moore

  Ingleston was a judge who was notorious for granting bail when it shouldn’t be given. We hadn’t been able to get anything on him to date, but there was a lot of suspicion over how lenient he was with some cases.

  He didn’t say the words, but the way DB’s lips pinched answered my question.

  “I thought the ADA was looking through his cases for us?”

  “He is, but there isn’t sufficient evidence to go after Ingleston yet. Mantoya lawyered up with none other than King Kirkwood, too, so it was always going to be a shit show.”

  Yet another rat on the ship—our mayor’s son, who was a crooked son of a bitch. “Is Diego back at the property we arrested him in?”

  DB smiled smugly at the question. “You mean in the house opposite Jarrod Klein? Yes, he is. Jarrod has also kindly granted us access to his doorbell and security cam footage.”

  At least there was that.

  Running my hand through my hair, I put the frustration and anger in a box, knowing there’d be a day soon where I’d be dealing with Diego and making sure he wasn’t allowed back out onto the streets.

  “What now?”

  “Well,” DB clapped his hands together, “seeing as how you’re all fired up and motivated. I need someone to look through all the shit we have on him under Diego Mantoya and his real name, as well as his buds. Find out more about Ashesh’s background and how he fits into it, maybe even speak to the brother, Cullan. Oh, and contact the witnesses from the previous cases again to see if they’ve remembered anymore about their run-ins with the group.”

  “That sounds like overtime to me.” And overtime sounded good at this moment in time. I had too many conflicting thoughts and emotions inside me, both with work and Bexley. I needed something to distract me from all of it.

  “It does, doesn’t it? And you’re the perfect guy for the job.”

  I was just turning to leave and get to it when he called my name. Looking at him over my shoulder, I frowned at the expression on his face.

  “Just to let you know, I did Bexley’s background check and sent it to Principal Teller two days ago. Between you and me, it looks like she’s got the job. I just thought you might like to know that.”

  Not knowing what to say, I lifted my chin and left the room.

  This added to the mess inside me I’d just been talking about, but it also took away one of the things I’d been worried about—the possibility of Bex changing her mind.

  My brain was fucking with me, and I didn’t like it.

  By tonight all of her shit would be on its way here, and with her house ready to decorate and a job waiting for her, that meant she was staying here for sure. Which meant I’d get to spend time with her, and we could figure out whatever it was that we had going on.

  I wasn’t ready to relax altogether, but I also wasn’t in the mood to rip someone’s head off any more now.

  Chapter Eight

  Bexley

  Two days later…

  Don’t be a pussy and grow a set of lady balls, Bexley Anne.

  When I’d woken up early and decided to come and see Logan, I’d thought it would be much easier than this.

  Now that I was standing in front of P.V.P.D., though, all the confidence I’d felt was gone. I was also aware that if I stood here any longer staring at the place, everyone inside—heck, even the ones outside—who saw me would know I was a freaking pathetic pussy.

  Taking a deep breath, I started walking to the door, kicking myself in the ass for coming here the whole time.

  What was I thinking?

  “You thought you’d be an adult and see your friend, dip shit,” I muttered as I got to the door.

  Shaking off my stupidity, I plastered a smile on my face and raised a hand at the girl behind the desk. Naomi, wasn’t it? Did that sound right?

  “Hey, Bexley,” she called, waving back at me. “It’s great to see you back.”

  “Thanks, Naomi.”—please let it be Naomi, please let it be Naomi—“It’s great to be back.

  “Bex,” a deeper voice said, and I turned to see DB as he joined us. “How was your trip home?”

  Was it my imagination, or were his lips twitching?

  “Uh, it was okay?” Until Sakegate, that was.

  He definitely bit down on his lip this time, like he was fighting back laughter.

  “Well,” he cleared his throat. “You’re here to see Logan, right? Or did you come to hand yourself in?”

  “I came…” I trailed off when three of the guys behind him started shaking bananas at me like they were waving. That could be a coincidence, though. “Uh, yeah, I came to see him. Is he around?”

  “Yup, he’s working in the room over here. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

  Following behind him, I did my best to smile and not grimace as all three of them bit into the fruit as we passed by, but then DB picked up a banana from a large bunch on one of the desks and started peeling it as we walked.

  “You guys on a diet here or something?”

  Instead of answering me, he shot me a grin and started eating it. Just watching it was making my shitty gag reflex go to hell.

  Thankfully we reached the room Logan was in before I had to watch him eat more of it. Opening the door, DB sighed loudly.

  “Guy’s working himself into a coma trying to get this shit sorted out. Give me one second.” Not telling me why or explaining any of it, he walked away, leaving me staring at a fast asleep Logan, his head on the desk in front of him with paperwork spread around it.

  “Here we go,” DB said from right behind me, making me jump. Then, moving around me, he walked over to where Logan’s head was, raised a bullhorn, and yelled next to his ear, “Party’s over, princess. Get your boyfriend, your panties, and move out!”

  It was like watching someone get electrocuted as he jumped up out of his chair, smacking the back of his head off the shelves that were at a stupidly low height above it.

  Holding the injured area, Logan glared at his boss. “You’re an absolute fucking asshole, Bell.”

  Not moving the bullhorn away from his mouth, Dave replied loudly, “That’s Sheriff Asshole Bell to you.”

  With the muscle in his jaw ticking, he glanced over at where I was standing and froze. “You’re back!”

  “Got back last night, remember?”

  Groaning, he lifted his free hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to figure this shit out,” he waved at the paperwork.

  This time, Dave turned the bullhorn in my direction. “He hasn’t been home in thirty-six hours, and he smells. Take him away.”

  Logan’s head snapped back in his boss’s direction. “I haven’t—"

  “Away!” DB yelled, still using it. “Go before I get the guys to carry you out.”

  “I need to put this stuff—”

  “Away! I’ll deal with it, just leave.”

  Growling, he started moving slowly toward me, stretching out his back as he did. “I think I’ve trapped a nerve sitting there.”

  “And killed a few brain cells hitting your head on those shelves,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “They’re at a fucking stupid height.”

  “Not for me, they’re not,” Naomi snickered as she breezed past us into the room.

  The guys were still eating their bananas as we passed them, and it was then that it all started to make sense.

  “You saw the video, didn’t you?”

  Not one of them could look me in the eye as they laughed around their mouthfuls of fruit.

  “Ignore them,” Logan said, tugging my arm toward the door.

  “Don’t you have to get anything out of your desk? If I just got up and walked out of work, I’d have no keys, no phone, no Chapstick. All my essentials would be stuck in my desk.”

  Logan patted his pockets. “Got it all right here, and I don’t wear Chapstick.”

  Just as we got to the door, DB used the bullhorn one last time. “Sorry about your gag r
eflex, Bex. Bananas aren’t your enemy!”

  And, for the second time, I walked out of the building feeling like the world’s biggest dickhead in history.

  Garrett, who was walking toward us from where he’d just parked up, pulled a banana out of his pocket and pointed it at me. “Kapow, kapow!”

  I ground my teeth together so hard it was a miracle I didn’t need an expensive visit to the dentist.

  “You work with a mean bunch of fuckers.”

  Logan stopped and looked at me in disbelief. “You just saw what my boss did to me, didn’t you?”

  I wouldn’t have stopped walking away from them all if you’d paid me a thousand dollars, so I continued to where I’d parked Pops’ car. “Yeah, but you’ll have done something to deserve it. All I did was get drunk and accidentally do it on camera.”

  There was a pause, and then he sighed. “Yeah, I probably do deserve it.” I’d parked next to his truck, so we were getting into our vehicles when he added, “And we need to talk about that damn video. Your dad’s making me do it.”

  As I drove behind him toward Papa’s house, I gave serious consideration to taking a detour to Canada.

  I also thought about calling up my dad to kick his ass for making Logan do it, but then I looked at the clock and thought about how he had a meeting today with a big supply chain in France and couldn’t do it. If he got an offer to ship to them, he’d be celebrating, and I couldn’t ruin it. If he didn’t, he’d be disappointed, and I didn’t want to add to his shitty day.

  So, I stayed fuming and stewing over it all. I also resigned myself to the fact that the middle of the night humiliation parties were going to involve the whole of the P.V.P.D. now, too.

  Again.

  Fucking joy!

  “Thank you for plastic wrapping the rest of the house while I was away,” I teased as I waved him through the front door, having run in ahead of him first to let Doyle out into the backyard. “You should’ve seen Ava’s face last night when we walked in and she saw a psycho’s dream house.”

  He was quiet as I talked, only smiling or giving me one of those irritating chin jerks men sometimes did. Okay, it was also a hot mountain man type of gesture, too, but right now, I wished he’d just say something instead.

  “Do you want a beer?”

  Still no words, just a shake of the head as he followed me into the living room. Granted, he could be exhausted from work, but this seemed more than that.

  I could feel the pressure building inside me, wanting to explode out. This was even more awkward and strained than it’d been when I’d first come back here, but as far as I was aware, nothing had happened to warrant it.

  Well, aside from the kiss.

  Was he that upset over it? I refused to let my old crush dictate how crushed I was at the possibility that’s what this was, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t hurt at the thought.

  Unfortunately, that all added to the nuclear explosion boiling under the surface inside of me, and just as I was opening my mouth to let it all out, I took a breath in and smelled something that’d been confusing me since I’d gotten back last night.

  It wasn’t anything I’d describe as sinister—not that I knew what a decomposing body smelled like or anything—but it wasn’t pleasant, either.

  “Do you smell that?”

  A faint blush spread across his cheeks under the scruff on them. “Uh… we all do it. I thought maybe you’d had to use the bathroom before you left today, and that’s normal. I sometimes go in the en suite, and if I don’t close the door, the smell goes into my—”

  I felt my head jerk at the implication of what he was saying. “That wasn’t me, you dolt. I smelled it last night and wondered if one of you had been in the house before we got back, but it isn’t going away.”

  The smell was kind of shitty, but the most powerful thing to hit me was ammonia.

  “Did y’all use any kind of chemicals while you were shrink wrapping the place?”

  He looked to the side as he thought about it, but then he shook his head. “No, we used those dusting and polishing wipes you left out to get the dust off the furniture before we took it out, and then we vacuumed the floors because there was a shit ton of crap under it. That’s all.”

  “Where’s it coming from?”

  Together we sniffed the air, walking out the room and to the bottom of the stairs where it was stronger.

  Looking up them, Logan pointed at the top. “I think it’s coming from up there. Did you leave anything out when you left?”

  “Like food or a drink?” When he nodded, I pointed out the obvious. “If I had, y’all would’ve seen it when you were removing the furniture out my room. There wasn’t anything in there when I got back.”

  “What about Pops’ room?”

  Dread filled me at the prospect of having to go in there and look around, making my voice sound small when I answered his question. “I don’t know. I still can’t bring myself to go in there.”

  Reaching down, he gently took my hand and tugged me up the stairs, not letting go of it once.

  When we got to the top, he took a deep breath in and made a choking noise. “Damn, that doesn’t smell right. Has it gotten worse since you went out earlier?”

  “Yeah, but I opened the windows a bit last night to get rid of any dust in the air. It was making my eyes feel gritty and like I wanted to scratch them out. I didn’t close them fully until before I left.”

  This didn’t get the response I was expecting. “You left the windows downstairs open all night?”

  “Well, yeah, but they were only open a little bit. There was a lot of dust in the air. Even Ava was sneezing because of it.”

  What did he expect me to do, die of dust asphyxiation? Slightly dramatic, but I’m sure it could happen.

  Heck, most people didn’t think they’d get caught on national television drinking Sake with their friend, talking about their gag reflex, and demonstrating to the other patrons how bad it was with a banana. Yet, here I was, proof that bad luck existed.

  “That’s not safe, Bex. All someone would have to do is push them open a bit more, and they could get in and attack you. Hell, the house is already prepared for someone with a knife to do what they want and then just roll up the mess and leave again.”

  Groaning, I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my free hand. “Can we get back to why my house smells like a rest stop bathroom?”

  The look he gave me told me the conversation wasn’t over, but he went back to sniffing the air. “Could it be coming from the attic?”

  Both of us moved until we were under the door leading to it and sniffed deeply at the same time.

  “Ew, what the hell is that?”

  Turning the torch on his phone on and passing it to me before taking the small Maglite out of his belt and turning it on, he pulled on the chain hanging down, only just dodging the over WD-40’d ladder at the last moment.

  “I hate that he used to WD-40 this every month,” Logan muttered, pulling the last bit down. “You could tell when it was that time of the month for him because he’d go into the store and buy a new can of the shit so he could attack everything in the place.”

  It was true, Pops totally had a time of the month, except his involved hinges and stepladders. It came from working on furniture and with tools his whole life, he said, plus the fact that this was an old house, and he’d grown up with things that needed to be lubed so they still worked.

  Yeah, as I got older, him saying that sounded dirty, but I remember how the doors used to seize up when I was little before he changed them, so the house was more energy efficient in the winter.

  All it’d taken was a knock on the door from the old sheriff, asking if Pops was growing weed in the attic because the new Police helicopter camera had picked up a crazy amount of heat coming through the roof one winter.

  They’d gone up so he could prove he wasn’t, and then one of the guys had told him to change out his insulation up there and check the fit of the wi
ndows and doors.

  After some research, he’d found out he was paying out a lot more money each year on wasted heating than he would if he invested some in the place, so he’d gotten straight onto it and had changed all the doors, window, and the insulation in the attic.

  He stuck to servicing the new ones each month because he said it didn’t matter if they were old or new, all hinges and machinery seized up if they weren’t maintained properly.

  That meant this particular stepladder was like something out of Final Destination, though. I had a scar somewhere under my hair from where it’d clipped me when I was little, resulting in six stitches. Ironically, it’d happened when Logan and I had stood on a chair to pull the chain, thinking we’d play up here for a while.

  Touching the area it’d hit, I snickered, “Good times!”

  “You stay down here, and I’ll have a look up there. It might be bats.”

  Just the thought had me screwing my face up. “Ew, I don’t want guano in my attic.”

  Ever see the movie Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls? Joke all you want about guano bowls, but that ‘shit’ was disgusting. I’d been shat on by a bat when I was eight, and it was something else that I was scarred with for life, along with spiders.

  It sounded like the ladder was going to break as Logan climbed up it, but it held firm for him until all I could see was his boots as he looked around the space above us.

  “Damn, it smells a bit stronger up here, Bex. I don’t see any bats or shit on the ground, but that doesn’t— Wait, what’s that?” he went silent, leaving me hanging.

  “What’s what?”

  “Something’s glowing in the corner. Looks like a pair of— Oh, fucking hell. Jesus Christ!” he yelled, the steps jerking under him as he moved suddenly.

  A deep growling noise joined his shouting.

  “Is it an evil spirit?” I shrieked, lifting my hands to catch him in case he came tumbling down.

  In my defense, the noises sounded like something was possessed, so my assumption wasn’t that irrational at that moment.

  “Get off me, you furry bastard. What the fuck?”