With a fortifying deep breath, I called Brett at the office using Mrs. Janowski’s phone. If only I had written his cell phone number down instead of only having it stored into my now-destroyed phone, I would have opted to call that number. Instead, I had to navigate through Emily when she answered the phone.
“Brett’s not here,” she said as soon as she recognized my voice. “Where’s Emmy? She’s such a slacker. I’m doing all of her work.”
“She quit. I thought that was obvious.”
“Nothing is obvious right now,” she said, sounding pitiful and on the verge of tears.
While I didn’t feel sorry for her, I was curious enough to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Everything!” I detected a small sniffle. “Brett and T are snippy. We just added more clients, but I can’t find workers. The two I thought were candidates failed the drug test. So now Brett and T are working around the clock trying to keep the new clients happy. Every time I call them they bite my head off. I’m trying to help, but I’m stuck at the desk.”
“Did you try a temp agency?”
“Of course!” she snapped. “Each one I talked to didn’t have anyone with the needed qualifications. They said they could start advertising for prospects right away. But what’s the point? I’ve already advertised.”
“How many people do you need?”
“At least six, but I’d like ten because we have new work coming in another week. Brett and T are going to kill me.”
“What qualifications do they need?”
“We’re looking for people who already hold a security certification, concealed carry, self-defense, CPR and first aid. Those are the basics. I can help them obtain a license. Brett and T can train them.”
That was a lot to ask of potential entry-level applicants. No wonder they couldn’t find anyone. But, I did know of a way to get them through this crisis.
Did I want to?
I certainly didn’t want to help Emily. Brett wasn’t on my list of favorite people, either. Plus, I had a list of things to do for Rand.
“Is Cinnamon still there?” I asked.
“Yes, she’s obnoxious.”
Then I really didn’t want to help. So, why did I feel as though I had to? My own house was a disaster, I had my own work to do, and I had a bad feeling I hadn’t seen the last of Spooner.
But, since I didn’t feel up to dealing with the situation at home, and Mrs. Janowski put the Fearsome Foursome on break, then I might as well help T. He wasn’t the enemy, just an idiot.
“Emily, I’ll help just this once as long as you make sure Brett and Rand get my new phone number.”
“Really? You’ll help me?” Emily questioned, hesitation in her voice. “Why?”
“I’m doing this to help T.”
“Not Brett?”
“No,” I said, nearly hanging up until I remembered to warn her. “Make sure you don’t go to my house anytime soon. There was a break-in, and I have a feeling the person will be back.”
“Why would anyone want to break into your house? You don’t have anything worth stealing. In fact, they’d pay you just so they don’t have to take anything. It’s really horrible.”
Calming breath.
“Remember who is trying to help you,” I warned.
“You’re helping T. You said so yourself.”
“Fine.” I wasn’t going to argue the point. “Just make sure to give Brett and Rand my new number. It’s important.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
When I hung up, I was confident she wouldn’t contact either of them.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Mrs. Janowski to jump into the new project. She called everyone in her phone directory to meet at the senior center in two hours, giving them an open invitation to bring anyone else who’d be interested in security work.
Flipping through her personal phone book, I programmed in our shared acquaintances. Thankfully, Kym, Hank, Bob, Mac, and Jack were on that list. That only left Rand to get in touch with. If Emily didn’t forward my number to him, I’d have to track him down.
After saving all the information, I called Jack to see if he’d want to join everyone at the senior center. He’d be a perfect temporary security guard until the Hog reopened. I wasn’t sure what the culinary school was paying him, but it couldn’t be much. Since Jack didn’t answer, I left a message telling him to meet at the senior center in two hours, or to call me back.
My next call was to Hank. He picked up after the fourth ring, his voice heavy with drink. “Wha’?”
“Hi, Hank. It’s Mars.”
“What d’ya want?”
“My house was broken into earlier.”
“D’ya want the shotgun?”
“No, I think the person who broke into my house was a guy posing as a detective. He said he wanted your daughter’s necklace for evidence. He attacked me last night.”
“Fer the necklace? Why’d he want my daughter’s necklace?”
“I don’t know, but . . . Hank, do you think your daughter would know him?”
“Dunno. What’d he look like?”
“Well, it was night so I couldn’t see much, but he had dark hair with perhaps a bit of white at the temples. No facial fair. A roundish nose, but not bulbous. Maybe he was in his sixties, though I’m not sure. Not quite six feet tall but close.”
“What color were his eyes?”
“It was too dark to see.”
“Did they seem different to you?”
“Different? How?”
“Maybe one was lighter or darker than the other?”
“I’m not sure. Why? Do you know who it is?”
After a brief pause, he said, “Nah. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? Because I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight. It’d help if I didn’t have to worry about someone breaking in, especially since I don’t have the necklace.”
“Leave a note on the door.”
“What?”
“Put a note on the door sayin’ the necklace is at my house. Give the bastard my address. I’ll take care of him.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Then I will.”
“No, you won’t,” I insisted. “Hank, why did you ask about the eyes? Who do you know that has eyes like that?”
“Never mind. It’s just an old man’s mind playing tricks on him.”
“Your mind has never played tricks on you before.”
“Of course it has.”
“Hank, tell me what’s going on. I’m being pulled into too many directions right now, and I don’t want to have to worry about you too.”
“No one asked you to worry.”
“I know, but I will anyway.”
“It’s nothing. I have to go.”
He hung up, leaving me with too many questions and not enough time to sort them out.
* * *
Before the newly formed sessions commenced at the senior center, I decided to brave my house and tackle the mess before the sun set and I was no longer daring.
As I struggled to right the living room couch, footsteps climbed the porch stairs, gaining my attention with each stomp.
A knock on the door.
I tried to reason that knocking was better than forced entry, but my pounding heart wouldn’t listen.
Nervously, I crept over to the door and yelled, “Who is it?”
“Rand. Open up.”
A gust of held breath released as I opened the door and let him inside. He scanned the living room, still in disarray.
“What happened here?”
“Someone broke into my house while I was in the shower.”
“In the shower? Did he—” Rand rolled his hand as if I were to fill in the blank so he wouldn’t have to.
“No, he wasn’t interested in me. I think he was looking for a necklace.”
“Must be valuable.”
“It’s not. It was that necklace that we found at the lot.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it ties back to Hank and Ida’s daughter.”
His brows furrowed. “How do you keep getting mixed up in stuff like this? You have the worst luck out of everyone I know.”
“It’s not my fault. Spooner is desperate for the necklace.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I really don’t have time for this shit.”
“Then go away. I’m trying to clean.” I picked up one of Emily’s nauseatingly pink pillows. I wasn’t sad to see it had been slashed. “By the way, did Emily call you with my new phone number?”
“No, was she supposed to?”
“Yeah, I called her earlier. I figured my message wouldn’t get very far.”
“I’ll deal with her later.” He bent down to pick up another pillow, eyeing it with disgust. “She spreads her shit everywhere.” He tossed it into the garbage heap I had started. “I guess I can stay and help.”
“Really?”
“You can tell me how this happened. From the beginning.”
“Okay. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me later at the senior center.”
“Do I look like I’m willing to help at the senior center?”
“No, but I wanted to check out a new bar and grill later. If you help at the senior center, I’ll buy dinner and drinks.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I’ll come to the senior center, but I’m not helping with knitting or basket weaving.”
“Deal.”
“This bar and grill better be worth it.”
“It will be. They’re our competition. We might as well investigate.”
He nodded. “All right. You’re on.”
I picked up a torn couch cushion and flipped it over, happy to see the other side was in perfect shape. I placed it on the couch, stuffing side down. No one would ever suspect this couch had been murdered.
Murdered with a knife?
The victim’s throat had been slit.
I shook my head, ridding it of my current thought. The two had nothing in common. Yet, whenever I picked up a pillow or cushion, I couldn’t help but see blood instead of stuffing.