Nearly Departed (Spring Cleaning Mysteries) (28 page)

I hated to admit it, but I saw his point.
"I don't think he—"

"
And," Smoke said. "You may have just handed over to him the very thing he was looking for."

Martin floated in front of me shaking his head.

"I think you're wrong about him," I said weakly. "I don't think Reed is covering up."

Martin nodded, confirming my theory.

Smoke frowned. "And I think you're so enamored with him, that you wouldn't believe it, if you were handed a signed confession."

He turned and stormed out of the room.
"I'm starting downstairs."

I waited until I heard Smoke stomp to the bottom of the stairs before I whispered to Martin,
"It wasn't a mistake to give him the memory card, was it?"

Martin shook his head.

It didn't make me feel much better as I heard Smoke storming around downstairs. It was going to be another long day.

I hadn
't gotten much work done before my cell phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket, glanced at the display, and answered it. "What can I do for you, Father?"

"
Are you busy?" The priest sounded stressed.

I looked around at the mess that surrounded me.
"Nothing I can't put aside for a while."

"
Eva's ready, but she refuses to go without her armoire."

I said a silent prayer of thanks for the slashed tires. Because I
'd had to empty the van, I was in a position to help save a life. "I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Tell her we're on our way."

"
Bless you, Vicky."

Disconnecting the call, I ran down the stairs.
"Smoke? Smoke?"

"
In here," he called from the kitchen.

"
I've got to go out for a while." I noticed he'd righted the tumbled fridge and mopped up the spilled beer. "I'll be gone an hour, maybe two."

"
Where are you going?"

"
It's a personal errand."

"
Is this because we fought?"

"
No. I just have to go do something."

He dumped a dustpan worth of broken glass into a trash can.
"So you, Miss Overly Responsible, is going to just leave a work site in the middle of the day?"

I frowned.
"It's an emergency."

"
What kind of emergency?"

"
The kind that means I've got to go."

"
I'll go with you."

"
No!" The single shouted syllable echoed off the walls. "No," I said in a quieter tone. "This is something I have to do by myself."

He tilted his head to the side, studying me.
"Are you in trouble?"

I shook my head.
"Nothing like that. I'll be fine. I'll be back in a couple of hours." I spun on my heel and darted away before he could ask me anything else.

Ten minutes later I pulled into the lot of the Women and
Children's Center. Father Acevedo, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, was waiting for me. He climbed into the van and directed me to Eva's residence.

You
'd think that a woman who's having the crap beaten out of her on a semi-regular basis would have the basic human survival instinct to escape at the first opportunity, but lots of things hold them back. Some women don't want to give up their status in society, some are afraid of losing custody of their kids, some feel like they don't have anywhere to go since the majority of shelters won't allow them to bring their beloved pets. And some, like Eva, aren't willing to trade family heirlooms for freedom.

Eva couldn
't bear the thought of abandoning her grandmother's armoire.

That
's where the empty Spring Cleaning van came in.

Eva was pacing in front of her home when Father Acevedo and I pulled up. Even from a
distance, I could see her black eye and split lip. I'd met her a few times at the center, and I knew that when her face hadn't been used as a punching bag, she was a beautiful, exotic looking woman.

"
Hi Eva," I said with a smile as I got out of the van.

She ignored my greeting, staring at my van in horror.

I didn't take offense. A lot of people turned squeamish when they found out what I did for a living.

"
Are you ready to go?" Father Acevedo prompted, picking up a worn overnight bag that had been dumped on the ground.

"
She works with the police?" Eva asked, looking from the van to me.

"
I trust her, Eva. You have to too," The priest said in his most reassuring voice.

"
But she works with the police!" Eva squeaked.

I looked to Father Acevedo. Up until this moment I
'd have never believed that he would involve me in anything illegal, but Eva's fear of law enforcement had me wondering what I'd gotten myself into. "What's going on?"

"
Her husband is a police officer."

"
Oh." I turned to Eva with fresh compassion. "I don't work with the police. They're already done doing their thing before I ever get called to a scene."

She eyed me distrustfully.

"Can you put her bag in the front seat of the van, Father?"

He nodded, signally his understanding that I wanted to speak to Eva privately.

Once he was out of earshot I stepped closer to her. "I promise you that you're safe with me. I understand what you're going through. My ex was a lawyer."

Hearing the truth in my words, she flung herself at me. Hugging me tightly, she whispered in my ear,
"I'm so scared."

I hugged her back.
"But you're being so brave. Let's get you away from here."

Releasing me, she wiped away tears, and led the way into the house. I trailed behind her, motioning for the priest to follow us. A niggling sense of dread settled in my stomach. I desperately wanted to get out before the abusive cop returned home.

The contents of the antique armoire had been strewn all over the nautical-themed bedroom.

"
I take it your husband is into boats?" I asked dryly.

"
His hobby," Eva said.

Father Acevedo quickly removed the empty drawers from the piece of furniture, putting them out of the way on the bed.

Without them, the piece was unwieldy, but not too heavy. All my time lugging heavy things for Spring Cleaning came in helpful. The two of us managed to get it outside, while Eva opened doors for us. While the priest lashed the armoire inside the van securely, I hurried back to the bedroom to retrieve the drawers.

Something small and bright green fell out of one of the drawers when I picked it up. I bent to pick up the item. It was a bright green cocktail n
apkin, from a local bar, O'Hara's. It was a dive, frequented by blue collar workers cashing their unemployment checks and college kids. I'd done a clean-up job there six months earlier and had found more drug paraphernalia than at the scene of the average meth house. The napkin had a phone number written on it.

A sound just outside the bedroom door startled me
, and I dropped the napkin. I was relieved to see Eva standing there. For a moment I'd worried it was her soon-to-be ex.

Retrieving the napkin, I held it out to her.
"Do you need this?"

"
Frank goes there, not me. We have to hurry. I think my neighbor called him." She grabbed a drawer and left. Heart racing, I followed, carrying the other.

The fates were with us
, and we escaped Eva's house without incident. I was back at the frat boys' house less than ninety minutes after I'd left.

Smoke was on the stoop, drinking a cup of coffee from the local convenience store
. Martin sat on the step below him, looking dejected.

I waved a greeting as I climbed from the van.

He went back inside the house without speaking to me.

Waving for Martin to join me,
I grabbed a handful of jelly beans and pulled out my cell phone. I chewed a mouthful of black candy while waiting for the man I'd called to answer.

Martin hovered glumly beside me.

"DiNunzio."

I swallowed the sticky lump.
"Hey Tom, it's Vicky Spring."

"
Hi Vicky," he said carefully. "Everything working out with Smoke?"

"
Yeah." Except for the fact he wasn't speaking to me. "But that's not why I'm calling. I had a question…professional curiosity if you will."

"
Okay, shoot." He sounded relieved that I wasn't calling to hassle him about his sister.

"
Have you ever done a job at a bar called O'Hara's?"

Martin perked up at that. My stomach curdled.

"The place on Tenth Street?" Tom asked.

"
That's the one."

Martin gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up
. The jelly beans felt like acid eating through my gut.

"
Yeah, they had a dead body in the alley back there…maybe a week ago. Why?"

I closed my eyes.

"Vicky?" Tom prompted.

"
I was wondering if they stiffed you on your bill," I improvised.

"
No. It's a scummy place, but they paid right away."

"
Thanks, Tom." I disconnected the call, opened my eyes, and looked at Martin who was practically bouncing.

"
Your death is tied to a dead body at a bar frequented by cops and druggies?"

He nodded.

Before I could ask him anything else, the door to the house opened, and Smoke re-emerged. He squinted at me suspiciously. "You okay?"

"
I think I should call Reed."

"
Why?"

"
I just remembered that I found a napkin from O'Hara's in the pocket of Martin's jeans."

"
The bar?"

I nodded.

"You're going to call Reed and tell him that a college kid was in a bar known for selling cheap beer…to college kids?"

I frowned, not liking how stupid he made my newly discovered clue sound.
"It was in the same jeans as the memory card. I thought there might be a connection. What do you think?"

"
I think that if you're looking for an excuse to call Reed, that's as good as any."

Without another word, he spun away and stalked back into the house, leaving me to ponder how I could explain the connection to O
'Hara's to Reed without sounding like a lunatic.

Smoke barely spoke to me for the rest of the day. Martin on the other hand didn't leave me alone. He was constantly in my face, flashing those numbers, which made no more sense to me than they had before I suspected his death was tied to O'Hara's.

"
Phone number? License Plate? Winning lottery numbers?" I asked. None of my guesses had been right.

By the time the day was over, I was eager to get away from the house, the ghost, and the angry man downstairs. I couldn
't, in good conscience, leave without acknowledging the work Smoke had managed to get done. The place no longer looked as though it had been tossed by rabid house elves.

"
You did an amazing job down here," I told Smoke, my hand on the front door. His back was to me as he stuffed a trash bag. "I'm heading out."

"
I'll follow you home." It was the first complete sentence he'd said to me in hours, but he didn't look at me as he said it.

"
I'm not going home."

He turned to face me, his forehead wrinkled.
"Hot date?"

"
Dinner with my grandmother and parents."

"
I'll join you."

"
You weren't invited."

"
Won't be a problem. Your folks love me."

"
I meant I didn't invite you."

"
I'll be on my best behavior."

"
Like you have been all day?" I asked.

He put his hands on his hips.
"Why don't we call a truce?"

I was too tired to argue.
"Fine. Whatever."

"
I've been told I can be a charming dinner companion."

I wonder who
'd told him that. Lacey?

"
I promise not to talk about work or the investigation. Just call your mother and ask her if I can join you. Otherwise I'm going to be stuck sitting in their driveway waiting for you to leave."