by Josh Lanyon
Carla came over, leaned her chin on Steph’s shoulder, and blinked slowly at us. She’d had a martini or three.
“How’s Pepper?” she asked.
“Looks like she’s gonna be okay.”
“Oh, thank God.” Stephani’s relief was palpable. “I can’t believe some bastard did that. None of our dogs are safe until he’s caught.”
“We need to go to the next city council meeting.” Carla waved us into the living room. “This is ridiculous. They should have caught this guy months ago.”
“They’ll catch him. It’s only a matter of time,” Rick reassured.
Stephani held up her glass. “Get you guys a martini?”
“Lonnie shouldn’t have the hard stuff right now. He’s getting over an illness.” I shot Rick an irritated frown. I didn’t want to drink, but having him forbid it like that bugged me. Nanny state. What. The. Fuck. He shot me an evil grin.
“I brought my own, anyway.” I showed her the wine bottle.
“Cool. Sit anywhere.” Carla plopped herself on the love seat where Steph’s shih tzu got busy attacking one of the decorative pillows. She pushed her to the floor. “Stop, Lulu.”
Rick sat in an armchair. I took a spot on the floor in front of him, telling myself it was so I could play with Carla’s pug. But who was I kidding? I wasn’t a guy who sits on the floor, tickling dog paws. No, damn it. I’d done it so I could sit at Rick’s feet while Chancho lay fast asleep in his wee little dog bed. The mutts who jumped into my lap were an excuse. A side gig.
Carla’s pug was a cuddler. Steph’s shih tzu seemed to be made entirely of tiny teeth and attempts at intimidation. I couldn’t help but feel they’d each gotten the wrong dog.
The layout of Steph’s place mirrored mine. Her living room was cozy, if a little too girly for my taste. She had floral print couches, a Flokati rug, and enough chintz throw pillows to make a really good nest during the end times.
Her paintings, mostly colorful, splashy graphics of high-heeled shoes, handbags, and lipstick were so Sex and the City, it surprised me they weren’t serving cosmopolitans.
She couldn’t be much of a cook, though. I saw just from looking at the pots in the dish drainer—they were pretty, but probably crappy heat conductors. I’d lay money she scorched more food than she put on the table.
Steph got Rick his martini and offered me a bowl of popcorn. When Rick laid his hand on my shoulder, it was the most natural thing in the world to lean back against his shins.
Steph and Carla seemed unsurprised to see us together like that. They exchanged knowing glances, but otherwise gave no outward sign what they thought about it.
“We’re binge-watching Riverdale,” Steph informed us. “In honor of Luke Perry, may he rest in peace.”
“Oh goodie.” Rick had not mastered the art of subtle sarcasm.
“No, you’ll like it.” Steph wrinkled her pert nose. “In the first season there’s a murder, and—”
“Steph.” Carla gave her an exaggerated eye roll. “Just because he used to be in law enforcement doesn’t mean he likes murder.”
“I never said that.” She took her pink cocktail shaker to the love seat, where she refreshed her drink and Carla’s. “Just that mysteries can be fun.”
“I was never a detective, anyway.” Rick took a sip of his drink and winced.
I reached for his glass and asked if I could have a sip. Too sweet. Flavored vodka, not gin. In my book, there was nothing wrong with any martini that top-shelf gin couldn’t cure. I was glad to have my wine.
“I’ll watch your show.” Rick’s glare brought the sudden fear I wasn’t being manly enough. “Or grizzlies on Animal Planet. Whatever.”
Steph turned on the big screen, and pretty people pretending to be high-school age spoke their lines with the kind of dramatic fervor you expect from shows like that.
“What’s her name?” I asked after the pug currently snoring loudly in my lap.
“Mrs. Pugglesworth.” Carla lifted her glass. “Call her Pug.”
“Hello, Pug.” I let my fingers drift over her wrinkly little body. Soon we were all engrossed in that ridiculously compelling show, but I was tired too. I hadn’t finished drinking my wine, and holding the glass upright might have been the only thing keeping me from drifting off to sleep.
Rick took my glass and set it aside. I munched popcorn without a lot of enthusiasm.
Someday, I would make browned butter and mizithra cheese popcorn and bag it up for all my new neighbors. Or bake something. After all, I’d promised Dave cookies. Leaving bags of cookies on everyone’s doorknobs was social, not weird, right?
Probably I should wait for the local poisoner to get caught first.
I rested my head against Rick’s knees. His fingers tangled in my hair. He leaned forward to whisper, “You always wear your hair this long?”
I shook my head. “Been forever since I got to the stylist.”
Those magical fingers stopped, then started again. “I like it.”
“Okay.” I hid a smile.
My thoughts drifted over my new life at the Fillmore Arms. On the one hand, I got a kick out of my new neighbors, despite the fact that one of them probably killed a guy and poisoned my dog. I felt safe here, but I wouldn’t be happy until the police had Jeff’s killer in custody and the dog poisoner went to jail. For me, Jeff’s ghost sat in the room with us, between us, even.
Pug got up and sauntered to the door. Lulu followed. One of them gave the wood a scratch with her tiny paw, and Carla blinked herself awake. “I’ll go.”
Rick said, “I’ll go with you.”
You had to love that automatic chivalry. I mean, I didn’t love it right then. I had his fingers in my hair, for God’s sake. But I was awfully proud of him for not letting Carla face murderers and dog poisoners alone.
“I hate to move you, Rick.” Carla stepped over my legs. “I’m just taking the girls for a pee. We’ll be fine.”
“No. I’ll go. I could use a stretch.” He stood. “I have no idea what’s going on anyway. Did the redhead just light her house on fire?”
“Oh yeah.” Steph grinned maliciously. “Spoiler: her mom too.”
“That is every little girl’s dream.” Carla patted her jeans pockets. “I just need to get my jacket, and we can go.”
Rick opened the door. “After you.”
She picked up her jacket and felt through the pockets. “Oh, shit. I left my keys in my apartment.”
“Again?” Stephani clucked at her.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Carla fisted her hands.
“You seriously need to have a second key made for that doorknob lock. You can leave it with me. I promise I won’t sneak in and clean when you’re not there.”
“For fuck’s sake, you can clean my place anytime. Next time I go to Home Depot, I swear I’ll have one cut.”
Given the many locks on Carla’s door, it seemed natural she’d be uncomfortable giving anyone a key. I asked, “Does Dave have a master?”
“Not to mine.” Carla reddened. “I had my door rekeyed. He has no idea.”
“A lot of us did,” Steph said, “because of you-know-who being the owners’ son. We didn’t put it past him to take Dave’s keys and have a look around our places while we were gone. He was such a sleaze.”
“Hell yeah, he was,” Carla agreed. “That’s why I have the extra locks. But the doorknobs lock unless you untwist the little doohickey, and I always fuck up. I keep my keys in my purse, and I don’t always bring it when I’m only going to the laundry or to walk Pug. Stephani and I lock ourselves out all the time. Guess I’ll have to couch-surf here again. I’m so sorry. I’ll call a locksmith in the morning.”
“Too bad Caleb’s not here,” said Stephani. “He’s a born housebreaker.”
“Caleb?” I didn’t see it. Heartbreaker, yes. Burglar? Caleb was too gorgeous for stealth.
“God yeah.” Carla sighed. “He played a jewel thief on some show about a year and a half ago. The
week before he auditioned, he did this method-acting thing with lockpicks. He practiced until he could do our doors in a heartbeat. Knob locks and deadbolts. He was so handy to have around.”
Rick frowned. “How come I never saw him?”
“You’re practically the fuzz, baby.” Carla laughed as she clipped Pug and Lulu’s leashes to their collars. “He probably didn’t think you’d approve.”
“I don’t.”
“Rick.” I couldn’t help meeting his gaze. He looked awfully surprised. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was. “Do any of you know Caleb’s sister?”
Carla shook her head. “I met her. But I don’t know her.”
“I think she got a new job,” Stephani said. “She hardly comes around here anymore. I wish she’d been at the party the other night.”
Rick asked me, “Why?”
“Just thinking.” I didn’t want to say it in front of Carla. “Watch out for any food on the sidewalk.”
“We will,” Carla called back before shutting the door.
“Caleb’s sister is gorgeous,” Steph said into the silence after they left. “Like a female version of Caleb.”
“Caleb said Jeff wouldn’t quit hitting on her.”
“So?”
“Steph, what if—”
“Wait. No.” She held her hands out. “I know what you’re thinking with the lock questions and the rest. Whoever killed Jeff, it was not Caleb.”
“How do you know that?” My thoughts spun in circles. “Did Jeff assault Caleb’s sister like he did Carla?”
“Oh God, how do you know about that?”
“I overheard something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t share the information with the police or anything.” Just my lawyer. Guilt overwhelmed me.
“Caleb wouldn’t hurt a fly. And his sister…that was a long time ago.” She definitely knew more than she was saying.
“I need to talk to Dave.”
“You’re on the wrong track,” she warned. “I’d believe Carla was a killer before I’d believe it of Caleb.”
“Well, where was she that night? Do you know?”
“None of my friends are killers.” She narrowed her eyes. “So just stop it.”
“But Stephani, if Caleb could pick these locks—”
“Nothing you can say will make me believe he’s a killer.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not the point, is it? The police should know about this. Even if we both believe Caleb could never have done this awful thing, the police should know it’s a possibility.”
The problem was we both liked Caleb and everyone hated Jeff.
Maybe that was blinding the residents to an obvious connection between the two?
***
Later, I invited Rick in for coffee. What I meant by coffee was negotiable. If it meant discovering whether the thing I felt between Rick and me was for real, I could let the rules go for one night.
Even when he was a cheeky kid, even when he stole from me, I’d felt this exciting catch in my breath when I looked at him.
And sometimes, rules were made to be broken.
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“It’s all right, though.” I turned so I couldn’t see his face when I fumbled for my keys. “I’m tired anyway.”
“Lonnie…”
“You don’t have to explain.” I don’t want you to explain. “It’s all good.”
He caught my arm. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.”
“It’s fine, whatever the reason.” I’d burst into flames if he said another word.
“But”—he let go of me—“you’re my neighbor, you know? How awkward would that be if things got weird again?”
I did face him then. “Hoist with my own petard.”
He blew out a shaky breath. “Plus, you haven’t made any secret you’re all about your job. I got that message loud and clear. You want your dog to be a part-time relationship. You don’t want or need anybody else. I— I’m looking for a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend.”
“You tick a lot of boxes for me, Lonnie. You’re smart and funny and you can cook.” As he talked, his gaze landed everywhere but on me. “You’re just my type physically, even though half the time you look like death warmed over. I wish we could go out for dinner and drinks. Go dancing, see where things might lead, but…”
“But?”
“I want more than you seem willing to give. That’s all. It’s just”—he lifted his hands—“I already know what I want from you. And you don’t seem to be in the same place. I want to cool my jets a bit.”
Shocked, I said nothing.
Then he kissed me, and by kissed, I mean he placed the most chaste, tender peck on my lips before moving away and unlocking his door.
“I’ve still got your back, Lonnie. Don’t go snooping around about Caleb. And if you ever do want more, just give me a shout.”
“Um. If you’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” He shot a rueful look over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself. We’ll see each other around.”
He closed the door between us, and that was that.
My God. My God! I couldn’t get my keys out fast enough.
I’d wanted to shout—to tell him, Wait, I want that too. I wanted to explore what was brewing between us, but the concept was too new for me. The warmth, the tender feelings, the fact that I would rather Netflix and chill with Rick than hook up with even the hottest guys in town were a revelation to me, and I didn’t know how to admit that, much less do something about it. The door had closed between us before I could even begin…
Shocked, I went inside my place, and the next thing I noticed was how much I missed Pepper. Her happy, if drooly, welcome. The way she tried to knock me over, especially when I was carrying something fragile. The inevitable, chewed-up result of some petty revenge for being left alone, even though I rarely did it, and only for a few minutes at a time.
The second thing I noticed was the knob on my door. The knob locks were fairly easy to pick, so whenever I had a deadbolt, I always used that. In this case, rather than use two keys each time I entered and left my place, I only used the deadbolt.
But Steph said Caleb could unlock the deadbolts too.
If Caleb was everyone’s go-to guy for breaking in, there might be more to learn about him. I didn’t believe Caleb was the killer, any more than I’d believe it was Rick. But it was possible. It was reasonable doubt.
Despite screwing up so completely with Rick, despite the knot in my stomach that seemed to grow every time I thought about what I might miss out on with him, I had to make plans.
I set a reminder to call Dillon in the morning, as soon as I talked to Dave.
Chapter Fourteen
Rick said the detectives were no doubt working every angle on Jeff’s case. He told me to stay out of things. But that was easy for Rick to say. I was the one they’d questioned. Were they even looking at anyone else?
I knocked on Dave’s door the next morning with Rick’s soft words and chaste kiss as fresh in my mind as his warning not to involve myself in any more snooping.
I couldn’t seem to let either one go.
Proving someone else had means, motive, and maybe even opportunity could only help me. Once the police nailed down the timeline, they could ascertain where Caleb was on the day of Jeff’s murder.
If they tried to pin Jeff’s death on me, Dillon could use the information to cast doubt on their case.
I still hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
The door of 1A had a little plaque that read “Manager” beneath the unit number. Dave answered in plaid sleep pants and a stained T-shirt. His bleary eyes and bedhead told me I woke him up, likely from another Ambien-induced night’s sleep. I ignored that in favor of finding out what I wanted to know.
He was a big man. Taller than me, with broader shoulders and a slight paunch. He looked like a man who enjoyed good coffee. When he invited me in for a cup, I accepted.
I’d never been in his place before. The living room was packed with surprisingly nice furniture and some well-maintained antiques. There were bookshelves crammed with expensive tchotchkes, leather-bound classics, and modern crime novels. On one small table, he had a porcelain statue of a shepherdess feeding wolfhounds.
Instead of a balcony, Dave had a patio with substantial wicker chairs and a chiminea that looked like it got a lot of use.
If someone had given me a hundred guesses what I’d find in Dave’s place, I would not have been right about one thing.
Turning to look around the place, I said, “This is amazing.”
“Thanks.” He smiled wryly. “This clutter is what you get when you’ve lived somewhere nearly fifteen years.”
“That’s called ‘lived in,’ not clutter.”
“Thanks to Shar, it looks real good now, huh?” He motioned me to sit at the kitchen table. “She made me get rid of half my junk and helped me organize the rest. Don’t tell her, but I took a storage unit. Some things you just can’t let go, you know?”
“I do. But everything looks neat and cozy. I could definitely use Shar’s help in my place, if this is the result.”
“She’s the neat. I’m the cozy.”
“Well, maybe I’ll pick your brain too, then.”
“Anytime.” He offered me cream and sugar, but I take my morning coffee black. And I was anxious to ask about Caleb.
“Look, there’s no easy way to ask, but…” I hesitated, unsure how best to approach the subject of Caleb’s sister. “You know more about Jeff than I do. When I was looking through his drawers for Pepper’s vaccination records, we—Rick and I, that is—found an envelope full of photographs.”
“Okay.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. What kind of photographs?”
“The, er, indecent kind?” Since I hadn’t seen them, I couldn’t describe them, precisely. “No doubt the police are following up on those. The thing is, I wondered if you knew Caleb’s sister? He told me Jeff was all over her.”
Cheeks red, Dave looked down at his hands.
I pressed. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t want to get Caleb in trouble, or—”