Nearly Departed (Spring Cleaning Mysteries)

by J. B. Lynn

  I made a point of examining one of the half-filled beakers on the table in front of me.

  "I'll walk you out," Smoke said.

  They moved toward the doorway.

  Then the leggy blonde halted. "Ms. Spring?"

  I looked over at her.

  "You really shouldn't be here alone." She seemed genuinely concerned. "Better to err on the side of caution."

  I nodded my understanding.

  "It was nice meeting you." With that, the cop walked out, my sole employee following closely after.

  As soon as they were gone I looked around for the chinless ghost, but he was nowhere to be found. The pounding in my head had abated, so I cautiously stood up and was pleased to find I was no longer dizzy. Wondering what the guy had been searching for, I walked around the dining room table examining the mess it held.

  "Looking for something?" Smoke spoke softly, but I still jumped.

  "He was in here when I startled him. I was just trying to figure out what he wanted."

  "Why'd you come back in here without me?"

  I couldn't very well tell him that a ghost, like some dead, mute version of Lassie, had led me inside. "I'd finished my lunch. I wanted to get back to work."

  "You should have waited for me."

  "I've got work to do." I walked past him but didn't get far.

  He caught my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. I tensed immediately. Even though it didn't cause me the slightest pain, a frisson of fear scampered down my spine.

  Sensing my discomfort, he released me before I could tell him to let me go, but I stayed rooted to the spot, pinned by his searching gaze.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  "You didn't."

  Instead of calling me on my lie, he said, "You should have told me about the thing at the diner."

  "Why?" I asked with a defiant tilt of my chin.

  He regarded me thoughtfully for a long, uncomfortable moment. I would have given anything to be able to disappear through the wall like a ghost. He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, his breath tickling across my skin. "You look better without a shiner."

  "Ahem."

  Jumping apart, Smoke and I whirled simultaneously in the direction of the voice.

  A grey-haired African American man in a rumpled suit stood in the doorway, eyeing us speculatively."Aren't you going to introduce me to your lady-friend?"

  "We're not—" I began.

  "Detective Marcus Fontaine," Smoke interrupted, "meet Victoria Spring….my boss."

  "Detective." I extended my hand with what I hoped passed for a smile.

  "Pleased to meet you, Miss Spring." He held it a beat too long for my comfort, as though he was hoping to discern all my secrets in that moment.

  "Please, call me Vicky," I said, extricating my fingers from his. "Everyone does."

  "I was Smoke's boss a long time ago. I found him to be a willful, annoying, stubborn, know-it-all underling. Is he that way with you?"

  "Yes, but he's also conscientious and hard-working so it all balances out."

  Marcus threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "I can see why you like her, Smoke. There's more to this woman than meets the eye."

  "You have no idea," Smoke murmured. "What are you doing here, Marcus?

  The older man shrugged. "I was driving past and saw Halperin outside. She told me about was going on." He turned a charming smile in my direction. "Are you okay, Vicky?"

  I nodded.

  "You need help with this, you let me know," he told Smoke.

  "Yessir."

  "I'll let you two get back to whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted." He winked at me and then strolled away.

  "Nice guy," I said to Smoke after he was gone.

  "Not the most attractive I've had," Smoke joked.

  While his tone was light, I sensed he wasn't happy Fontaine had stopped by. Before I could ask him why, we were interrupted again.

  "Yooohoooo! Are you here, Smokey Bear?" A woman's voice, drifted in from the area of the front door.

  "Shirley," Smoke groaned. He flattened himself against the nearest wall, hiding behind it.

  I stared at him blankly.

  "Tom DiNunzio's sister," he whispered.

  "The stalker chick?" I whispered back.

  That brought a trace of a smile to his mouth. But it disappeared the moment she called out again. "Smokey?"

  "You brought your stalker chick to my job site?" I scream-whispered at him.

  Smoke raised his hands defensively. "I didn't bring her. I told you. She just shows up."

  The distinctive clickety-clack of high heels on the foyer floor echoed through the house.

  I'd been touched by a ghost, punched by an intruder, questioned by a cop, and now there was a stalker at the door. It was not the best of days, and I wasn't in the best of moods, so perhaps I was tad strident when I addressed Shirley. "This is private property." I marched to the front door. "Please step outside, or I'll have you arrested for trespassing."

  Apparently no one had ever spoken to Shirley in such a way before because she stared at me with her crimson mouth gaping and her fake eyelashes spread wide. It was also apparent that Tom did not pay his sister enough to properly clothe herself. Her shirt was stretched across her surgically enhanced breasts so tightly that I thought a button might pop off and blind me.

  I kept moving toward the door, forcing her to wobble backward on her mountain-high heels. "Can I help you? Miss…?"

  Recovering, she smoothed her hair. "I-I'm looking for Smoke."

  Once she was on the stoop, I planted myself in the doorway. "And you are?" I played dumb, trying to buy myself time to figure out how to contend with this latest snafu. Hearing no sound from the dining room, I assumed Smoke was content to have me deal with this in any way I saw fit.

  "Shirley. Shirley DiNunzio."

  "Any relation to Tom?"

  "He's my brother."

  "Nice guy. What can I do for you Miss DiNunzio?"

  "I'm looking for Smoke."

  "He's working right now."

  Her eyes narrowed as she realized I wasn't going to let her see him. I wondered if the eyelashes tickled or if they were creepy-crawly like a million little spider legs.

  "I just want to see him for a minute."

  I shrugged. "Sorry, but he just got back from lunch. Besides I have pretty strict rules about my employees socializing during work hours. I'm sure you understand." I gave her my best dismissive smile. "I'll tell him you stopped by. Tell your brother I send my regards."

  I closed the door in her face.

  "Bitch!" she screamed.

  I locked the door and threw the deadbolt for good measure.

  "You goddamn bitch!"

  Returning to the dining room, I found Smoke, back still flat against the wall, looking bemused. "You didn't have to do that."

  "Now you tell me."

  Peeling himself off the wall he considered me thoughtfully. "You're going to end up with a black eye. We should see if there's some ice you can use on it."

  "I'd rather just get back to work." I turned to head for the stairway.

  "Victoria."

  "Could you please not call me that?"

  "Sorry. I owe you an explanation…Vicky."

  "Alex Forrest is pretty self-explanatory."

  "Who?"

  "The Glenn Close character from Fatal Attraction. You know, the nutcase stalker who boils the bunny."

  "Oh…you're talking about Shirley."

  "And you're not?"

  "No. I wasn't, but while we're on the subject, I want you to know I never had an affair with her. I never even went on a date with her."

  "Why should I care?" I asked.

  When he didn't have an answer, I pulled on a fresh suit, double-checking to make sure my kneepads were snug and went back to scouring the teal and orange bathroom tiles. I got lost in the steady, meditative quality of my scrubbing, only dimly aware of
the sounds of Smoke working in the next room.

  I'm not sure how long I stayed on the tile floor, rubbing and ruminating, but suddenly I was aware of a shadow crossing over me. Ghosts don't have shadows, so I knew I was being visited by a real live person.

  "It's after five," Smoke said, confirming my theory.

  "You can head out." I didn't look up since I was currently working on grout behind the tank of the toilet. "Are you planning to come back tomorrow?"

  There was a long moment of silence, and I wondered if he'd already left or if he was considering my question.

  Finally he said, "What did Mike tell you about me?"

  "That you're his friend, that you were looking for a job, and that he didn't think you'd fail the puke test."

  "A glowing endorsement."

  "He said you were his friend. From Mike that is a glowing endorsement. It was good enough for me."

  "You never asked me about that thing with Reed this morning."

  My concentration on the stained grout destroyed, I slowly unfurled my spine and turned to face the man lingering in my doorway. "I'm guessing you want to talk about it."

  He backed up as I shuffled into the hallway, every joint in my body stiff from working in the tight space.

  "Why didn't you ask me about it?"

  "Figured it was none of my business." Tossing my gloves into a biohazard waste bag, I took off my goggles. The air felt cool against my heated, damp skin.

  "But you're my boss."

  "I really hate that word. I prefer employer." I peeled off the suit.

  "There's something you should know about me."

  "What's that?" I asked, yanking off my right knee-pad.

  "I was a cop."

  I took off my left knee-pad, straightened, and looked him in the eye. His gaze was clear but guarded. "That's your big reveal?"

  "You knew? Who told you? Tom?"

  I shook my head. "I figured it out when Detective Barbie called you partner."

  "Detective Bar—you mean Lacey?"

  I nodded.

  "Don't you want to know why I'm not a cop anymore?"

  "I'm guessing it has something to do with Detective Reed." I might never have carried a badge, but even I could make basic deductions.

  "His father actually. He's the Chief of Police."

  "That doesn't sound good." I got a lot of referrals from the Police Department. Was my new employee going to jeopardize my income stream?

  "I was charged with using excessive force." The bitterness in his words made the air suddenly taste acrid.

  "Did you?"

  "I subdued a suspect."

  That wasn't an answer, but I wasn't the type to play Twenty Questions, so I bent over to seal the waste bag.

  "The guy died in police custody. They said it was due to injuries I'd inflicted, but…"

  I picked up the bag. It was heavy with all the blood-soaked carpet he'd pulled from the bedroom. If the weight was any indication, Smoke had done a good day's work. Right now I needed a reliable employee more than I needed the Police Department sending business my way. "You don't owe me an explanation, Smoke."

  I half-carried, half-dragged the bag toward the stairs.

  Smoke covered the distance between us with two quick strides. "Let me take that."

  Under normal circumstances I would have reminded him that I was perfectly capable of hauling the trash myself, but it had been a hell of a day. I let him take it. "Thanks."

  "I didn't do anything wrong." His statement sounded like a plea for understanding. "They took my badge. Stripped me of my career. But I swear, I didn't give the guy the beatdown they said I did. I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not that kind of guy."

  "That's good enough for me."

  "Reed could make things difficult."

  "In the grand scheme of my life Detective Alan Reed can't even cause a speed bump," I assured him tiredly. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

  "I'll follow you to your place and help you load tomorrow's supplies."

  "You don't have to do that."

  "But I'm going to." The set of his jaw was stubborn, and I knew I couldn't dissuade him…not that I wanted to. I was tired and I ached all over. I could use the help.

  "I'm not paying you overtime."

  "Didn't expect you to."

  Thirty minutes later, when I pulled the Spring Cleaning van into my driveway and saw what waited for me, I suddenly realized allowing him to follow me home might not have been the best of ideas.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I'd forgotten all about the lasagna.

  My father, dressed in his usual absent-minded professor uniform of cords and a sweater with worn leather patches at the elbows, was documenting the state of disrepair of my property with his camera. He was so focused on capturing the nuances of the cracked glass of the dining room window that he didn't even notice as I pulled the Spring Cleaning van into the driveway.

  I glanced in my rear view mirror to see how bad my burgeoning black eye looked and saw that Smoke had pulled his Jeep to a stop behind me. He was watching my father's picture-taking carefully as he slowly got out of his vehicle.

  "Crap." The last thing I needed was for him to tell my parents what had happened at the job site today. They had enough to worry about. They didn't have to know that, on top of everything else, my job could be dangerous. I jumped out of the van and hurried toward Smoke, intent on sending him away. Thankfully, my dad was too busy fiddling with his zoom to notice.

  My dad might have been oblivious, but my mom didn't miss a thing.

  "Vicky?" she called from the kitchen door, before I ever made it to Smoke's side. "Is that you?"

  Stopping in my tracks, I turned toward her. "No, Mom. I'm Vicky's evil doppelganger here to steal her glamorous life."

  "Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer." Mom stepped outside to get a better look at my companion. She shook Dad's shoulder to break his trance. "Look who's here, Artie."

  Turning around, a giant smile lit his face, like seeing me at my own home was a wonderful surprise. "Vicky!"

  I waved weakly.

  "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" Mom peered over the rims of her reading glasses, perched on the edge of her nose, like she was deciding on a cut of beef at the butcher's.

  I swallowed hard and directed an apologetic glance in Smoke's direction. "Mom, Dad, this is Smoke. He's Spring Cleaning's newest employee."

  My mother looked disappointed. No doubt she'd hoped I'd brought home a date. My dad on the other hand glared at Smoke suspiciously. He might have been engrossed in his picture-taking, but he knew all too well the kind of "undependable riffraff" I'd been forced to take on in the past.

  "He's a friend of Mike's," I said quickly.

  The suspicion cleared from Dad's features immediately. "Nice to meet you!" He stepped forward to shake the hand of a friend of Mike.

  "Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Spring." He shook my father's hand and nodded politely in my mother's direction.

  "So I'll see you tomorrow, Smoke?"

  He raised his eyebrows and refused to take the hint that I wanted him to leave. "Do you have a special place you store the waste?"

  "I can take care of it. You can go." I frowned at him.

  The edges of his eyes crinkled with amusement, but his voice stayed politely businesslike. "As soon as I've finished helping you load up for tomorrow."

  "No need. As you can see, I've got help." I waved my arm toward my parents as though they were magical helper elves.

  "For goodness sake, Vicky, let the man help you," my mother chastised. "You'll stay for dinner when you're done, Mr. Smoke?"

  He didn't correct her about his name. Instead he flashed a grateful smile in her direction. "I'd like that, ma'am."

  I didn't like it, not one bit. I didn't like how he seemed to be laughing at my discomfort or that she was trying to organize my life. "I don't have enough food to feed four, Mom."

  "Of course you do. We brought over the lasagna."<
br />
  "Lasagna's my favorite," Smoke said.

  "I thought Dad wasn't supposed to eat the lasagna," I said through gritted teeth and a glued on smile.

  "A little bit won't kill him," my mother assured me, despite the concerns she'd expressed during our lunch time phone call.

  "Don't be such a party pooper, Vicky," Dad chimed in. "You should get that window fixed," he added, examining the shots he'd taken on the viewfinder of his camera.

  Outnumbered, I threw up my hands in surrender, stalked over to the van, and yanked open the door. I grabbed the big bag of debris my newest employee and dinner companion had pulled from the frat boy house. I'd forgotten how heavy it was, and I stumbled backward as I heaved it out.

  "Let me take that." I hadn't heard him come up behind me, but there he was. I didn't need to look back at him to know he was only inches away.

  "I've got it." I swayed unsteadily beneath the weight for a moment before stumbling toward the garage. "Last time I checked, it's still my life, and I'm entitled to do what I want."

  If he heard me, he had the good sense not to comment. Instead, he followed me into the garage, carrying an overloaded armful of stuff that would have taken me three trips to carry myself. Together we finished unloading the van in record time. Meanwhile my parents went inside to prepare the feast of leftovers.

  I started pulling the supplies we'd need for the next day from the shelves.

  "I forgot to mention to you earlier that I've got something I've got to do tomorrow morning, so we won't start work until eleven. I'll pay you for the whole day though."

  Smoke grunted a response as he shoved a heavy box of hazardous waste disposal bags out of his way.

  I wasn't sure if he was being agreeable or if he was annoyed I hadn't given him more advance notice. I pretended to examine a shelf, running my hand along its edge. "I need a favor."

  "Name it."

  "Don't tell my parents what happened today."

  "About Detective Reed asking you out?" he teased.

  I still didn't look at him. "I don't want them to worry. Please don't tell them about the intruder."

  "Don't tell them about the intruder or don't tell them you were assaulted?" He backed up against the wall beside me so that he could see my face.

  I raised my chin defensively and looked him in the eye. "Both."