The Sweetheart Game Page 20

  Gritting her teeth, she plunged into the chaos, looking in drawers and under furniture as she made her way toward the kitchen. If Mel had been poisoning Mary, then that was the first obvious place to look for clues.

  With time limited, she did a cursory glance through the pantry. There was nothing that stood out as a good food item in which to hide blue rat poison granules. He’d probably dissolve them in liquid.

  The fridge was a mess. Whatever had once been edible was days, or even weeks, old. The milk was expired and smelled bad when she tipped the carton and peered inside. No telltale sign of the bluish poison. She checked everything, including under the sink. If he’d poisoned her food, the evidence was gone.

  Her phone dinged and her heart stopped. Fumbling for the phone she almost dropped it one the floor.

  Drat! Newbie mistake not to turn it off!

  Putting it on mute, she darted back into the walk-in pantry and prayed Mel hadn’t heard the sound. After a few seconds of heart racing panic, and no signs of discovery, she glanced down at the text: Hot. Very hot!

  Involuntarily, she looked around the room for something, anything to pinpoint if she was being watched inside the house. Nothing. No sign of a video camera or eyes staring through the window. Whoever was messing with her was close by, but not inside the house. How then did they know where she was?

  She listened for voices and heard Jason and Mel debating boy shorts panties versus thongs. She shook her head. Hey, whatever kept Mel outside. Jason was playing on his lecherous tendencies.

  A quick glance through the cupboards was equally uneventful.

  She headed for the hall bathroom. It was pristine and didn’t even have a toilet brush under the sink.

  Next, the master bath. It took a minute to find the master bedroom. The house was a big hodgepodge maze, as if over the years several sections had been added to the original house.

  The floral sheets on the king-sized bed were rumpled and she looked away. No telling what sort of icky things happened there with that woman, or when the last time the sheets were changed. If the rest of the house was any indication, it had not been recently.

  Moving on,” she muttered as she walked to the bathroom and stopped in the open doorway. It looked like a men’s college locker room right after a game. And she’d seen enough to know. She’d briefly dated a rugby player who liked to fool around in the team hot tub, and she’d learned to ignore the sight of discarded jock straps and used mouth guards on the floor.

  Mel had neither, but used towels and clothing and soap bars coated with beard fuzz welcomed her into the inner sanctum of grossness.

  Lord save me, she thought as she went to the vanity. Empty, half-empty, and some full bottles of mystery man products littered the marble vanity top. A few empties bobbed in one sink that had three inches of dirty standing water in the bottom. Gross. Toothpaste smears and lumps stained the other sink and the old toothbrush in the rose-decorated holder contained bristles that splayed out in all different angles.

  “Uck.” She pulled what appeared to be a clean towel off a nearby shelf and put it on the floor to use for a knee pad against cootie germs.

  The drawers held the usual husband and wife stuff. She turned to look under the sink. She found gummed up cleaning products suffering from lack of use and some rolls of toilet paper on his side. Under Mary’s was a plastic storage thingy with three stacked drawers filled with nail stuff and old make-up and the like.

  “If I wanted to hide something what would I do?” She checked under the drawers for taped evidence. Nothing. Her eyes fell back on the storage box.

  Hurried by the churning in her belly over the smell of uncleaned bathroom, she pulled the thingy out. Behind it was a glass cup, like a root beer mug, shoved back in one corner.

  “What in the heck?” She went for a scrap of toilet paper and pulled the glass out into the bathroom light. She tipped it for clearer a look. What smelled like sour chocolate milk filled about an inch on the bottom with congealed gunk. But what was in the milk caused her heart to race.

  Against a backdrop of pale chocolate were swirls of bright blue.

  Chapter 30

  “There once was a man from Nantucket,” a loud voice boomed from somewhere in the house. “Who barfed up his beer in a bucket! And when he was done, after having such fun, he took the pail outside and he chucked it!”

  Summer stilled, the mug in her hand.

  Loud snorting laughter followed the song as Mel obviously thought he was very clever. “Hail, good Jason! You take the second verse! I’ll hum along! Go!”

  Summer heard footsteps coming down the hallway but no more singing. They were heading in her direction!

  Shoot! Trapped!

  She shoved the mug back where she’d found it, replaced the storage thing, and eased the door closed. Pushing to her feet, she kicked the towel into the stack beside the bathtub and darted behind the door just as the bedroom door banged open.

  She peered through the crack between the door and frame.

  “You are my best fried, er, friend,” Mel said as Jason half carried him into the bedroom and pushed him on the bed. He bounced on the mattress then flopped back like a doughy lump. “That beer was de-licious.”

  Jason’s tense eyes darted around the room, looking for her. She stayed put. Jason tugged off Mel’s shoes and dragged a crumpled blanket over his prone carcass. Since Jason failed to be roused to song, Mel started on another muffled Nantucket ditty as he slipped off into oblivion.

  A short snore followed. Summer waited a dozen rapid heartbeats before slipping out of the bathroom. She frowned at Jason as she tiptoed around the bed. Mel didn’t move.

  “You couldn’t have warned me you were coming,” she whispered. “I almost had heart failure.”

  “I sent a text,” he whispered back.

  She’d forgotten that she’d muted the sound. “Right. Sorry. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Is that you, Summer?” Mel said through eye slits. Summer and Jason jumped. A lopsided grin split his slack face. “Have you come to tuck me in, sexy wo-man?”

  Was it wrong to wish he’d catch some fatal disease from the Petri dish cesspit percolating in his master bath?

  “In your dreams, buddy. It’s just me, Jason.” Jason nudged her behind him. “You’re hallucinating, pal. Go to sleep.” He put his hand out to her and back-stepped them into the hallway. Once she was clear, he listened for movement.

  Mel grumbled incoherently then began snoring in earnest. They made a dash through the house.

  “How many beers did he drink?” she asked as they slipped out the front door. “He’s wasted.”

  Jason pulled the door closed behind them. “Two. And he chugged them down. The guy’s a lightweight.” He snatched up the rest of the six-pack and chips and they walked across the street. “At least he’ll think you were nothing but a hot daydream.”

  “There is that,” she said and swallowed past her gag reflex. She didn’t want to think of Mel having a boner for her, and she certainly never wanted to set foot in that bathroom ever again. “While you and Mel were getting drunk, I found something. It’s the evidence to take Mel down.”

  * * *

  Jason stopped in the middle of his sidewalk. “Seriously?” Although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he thought she’d look around, find nothing, move on, and the case wouldn’t be solved for twenty years until a deer hunter stumbled upon Mary’s skeleton buried under a pile of leaves.

  Not that he didn’t think she was good at her job, because she was. But without a body, many cases went unsolved.

  “What did you find? A blood trail?”

  “Better.” Her eyes lit up. “I found a glass with spoiled milk laced with poison.”

  A Mack truck couldn’t have taken him out better than her words did. If she was right, this was big. “It was just lying there for you to see?”

  “It was not,” she explained. “I wanted to take the glass, but I knew if I did, it could be thrown ou
t in court. I didn’t have time for a picture either before you two showed up. I had to put it back.”

  Jason walked over and sat on the stairs. “Do you know what this means,” he said, and lifted his eyes to hers.

  “I do.” Summer glanced back at the Crosby house. “Mary knew he was trying to kill her.” She slumped down beside him and put her head in her hands. All the spirit had gone out of her.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She buried her face into his neck and he felt dampness on her face.

  “Why didn’t she tell anyone?” she said, defeated. “Why didn’t she tell me? I would’ve helped her. She knew I’m a PI.”

  “Maybe she did tell you.” He pressed his mouth against her forehead. “I don’t think those texts are a game. If she knew she was dying and Mel was doing it, she must have confided in a friend, and that person turned to you. By her death, she knew that you would not let her case go unsolved. The texter is pushing you forward.”

  “Do you really think that’s the reason?”

  “I do.” He pulled back and tipped up her chin. “I watched a murder show where this wife suspected her husband was trying to kill her, but her heart wouldn’t accept the truth. So she stayed with him until he finally succeeded and killed her. Why is anyone’s guess.”

  “You think Mary stayed because she wanted to believe that Mel wouldn’t harm her, even though evidence said otherwise?”

  “We’ll likely never know. But the rational Mary hid the glass because she knew deep down that he was dangerous. Perhaps she was protecting herself somehow.”

  What a tangled mess. “Kind of like rational Summer knowing you couldn’t be an ax murderer despite evidence to the contrary. You have to admit it appeared as if you were burying body parts in the garden.”

  “I’ll concede that. You didn’t know me.” He brushed a kiss on her mouth. “Mary had been with Mel for fifteen years and trusted him. She couldn’t believe he’d harm her.”

  Anger flashed within her. “I want to go over there and strangle him with my bare hands,” Summer said and closed her fists. “To hell with going to court. There’s a lot to say about vigilante justice.”

  He nuzzled her temple. “Honey, if I’m ever in trouble, I want you on my side.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’d like to be your kick-ass heroine. Always.”

  Jason kissed her and grinned.

  Chapter 31

  Detective Wheeler didn’t appear happy to see them. In fact, scowling had left a deep groove between his brows. Although Jason doubted that he and Summer were the sole cause of the above-mentioned groove, they certainly contributed to the current disgruntled look on his face.

  “Please tell me that you didn’t throw a brick through Crosby’s window to get in.”

  Summer put on an innocent face. “Actually, the door was open and I walked in.” She glanced at Jason. “He was invited.”

  The detective looked heavenward. “Please save me from crackpots and PIs.”

  Jason wondered if he was the crackpot or the cop was generalizing society as a whole. Probably the former. “Do you want to hear what Summer found or do you want to get the information off of Facebook?”

  “You wouldn’t.” Wheeler put his hand on his weapon, realized that Jason was kidding, and settled back. “If Mel finds out you’ve snooped and files suit, not only would we lose the evidence you found, but he may get away with murder.”

  “Then perhaps you should give us some credit. We did not tamper with evidence.” Summer’s drawl came into full force as she scolded him with a chapter from her playbook on proper comportment. Her steely southern granny had taught her well. The detective was outmatched. “Now what will it be, Detective?”

  The poor sap was done in. “I apologize. Please tell me what you found, Ms. O’Keefe.”

  Satisfied and hiding a smile, Summer filled him in. “As you know, we believe Mel harmed Mary with rat poison but we had no proof. While Jason got him drunk—”

  “On two beers,” Jason interjected.

  “What kind of man gets wasted on two beers?” Wheeler said. They shared a look of male mortification.

  “One who needs several cabin weekends up north away from the wife, that’s who,” Jason said.

  “—I searched his house,” she continued as if they hadn’t spoken and ignored the reflex to kick Jason in the shin. “Under the master bathroom vanity was a plastic thingy with three shelves. Behind it was a cup with stinky old chocolate milk and blue swirls. I think that if you test the sample you’ll find rat poison.”

  “It couldn’t have fallen back there by accident and then been forgotten?” the detective asked.

  “Not a chance,” she said. “It was hidden on Mary’s side. She had to have put it there.”

  The detective fell silent. He twirled his pen while he caught up and locked the pieces together. Finally, he said, “Mary knew her husband wanted her dead.”

  Summer nodded. Jason was impressed. The officer was no dummy. For the first time since their previous visit, they were all on the same page. This case might get solved after all.

  “Oh, hell.” Wheeler leaned back and put his feet on the desk. “Let’s go through the case together and see if we have enough to go to the DA for a search warrant.”

  * * *

  By the time Summer and Jason left Wheeler’s office, she felt sure Mel was toast. Although, the detective couldn’t use their discoveries of the poison in the shed or the glass in the warrant—since she’d been in the house illegally—the fact that Mel’s wife had been missing for two weeks, and the other legally obtained evidence, was enough to talk to the DA. The other clues like the lack of activity on her credit and debit cards left them all confident a judge would be on their side.

  “How did I not see the darkness in him,” Summer said as she drove the convertible onto Main Street. “He always seemed like an ordinary, if not kind of odd, man. I think my creep detector needs new batteries.”

  “I’d be glad to recharge them for you.”

  Somehow, she was sure they weren’t talking about the same thing. “Is sex all you think about?”

  “Is there anything else?”

  Yep. She was right. “You are a shameless sex maniac.” And he was hers. For now. She might as well let him have his way with her as often as he wanted until their inevitable breakup. He gave excellent orgasms and she’d been a lot less stressed out in all parts of her life.

  “Agreed.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Besides sex, there’s food. And work. Of course, don’t forget kittens,” she said. “We can’t stay in bed all day.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “In order for that to work, I’d have to find a pizza guy who delivers bedside. Since most delivery guys on campus are students, and you’ll be naked, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

  She put a finger to her mouth. Laughing would only encourage him.

  He continued. “We’ll have to convince Mrs. Kravitz to have the kittens on my bed.” He made a face and reached in the back seat for her laptop case. “And because you work mostly online, you can do all your investigations on your laptop while I’m under the sheet doing naughty things between your legs.”

  Pulling the laptop out of the case, he said, “Give me Irving’s email and I’ll send out your request to work from my bed. As a man, I think he’ll agree.”

  Summer laughed then immediately choked. “Don’t open that!”

  Too late. Jason had the computer open and was staring at her screen saver. “Is that me?” he said. The picture was a still from the gunrunner video. He tipped the screen up and leaned forward. “That isn’t me. I’ve never been in that airport.”

  Accusing eyes turned on her as she veered into a parking lot and stopped the car. “I can explain.”

  “Please do.”

  What could she say? “Did you know that there are hundreds if not thousands of cases of mistaken identity every year?”

  “Summer, s
top.” He snapped the laptop closed. He crossed his arms and scowled. “I want to know why you have a photo of a man that looks like me on your screen.”

  Her throat tightened. It was time to come clean with all of it. Maybe he’d understand. She gulped and began, “Before I met you, I thought you were an international gunrunner.” The words had a strangled quality. “You have to admit that he’s your doppelganger,” she added in a rush.

  He ran both hands over his head. “Was this before or after you thought I was a serial killer?”

  “About the same time.” She couldn’t breathe. Not only did she sound flaky, but his face was so angry that she knew he was done with her. Why would a man want someone so not normal?

  Still, her heart hurt at the thought of never seeing him again. She had to fix this. “What was I supposed to think? You were, are, secretive. I don’t know who you work for, anything about your family other than that your father had a lot of girlfriends, and your grandfather collected stuffed dead things. What was I supposed to think when I saw a wanted man who looked just like you?”

  “That the chance of an international criminal or serial killer living next door to you was what, at zero percent?” He put his palms up and rubbed his eyes. “Then we slept together and you still didn’t delete the picture. Or trust me. What, are you into criminals? Did you plan to have me arrested then become my prison pen pal?”

  The assessment was closer than he knew. “Jason.”

  “Take me home.”

  For the next eight minutes, she fought tears. When she pulled into her driveway, he got out. “Follow me.” He stalked to his house. She had to trot to keep up. Once inside, he led her to his office. Walking to the bookshelf, he pulled out a hardcover book and dropped it in her hands.

  “This is what I do.” Before she could react, he took her by the elbow and ushered her out of his house. “I need time to think. Don’t call me.”

  Stunned and confused, Summer walked off his porch and down onto his sidewalk the same moment that a drizzly rain began to fall.