Chapter 9

 

 

 

 

LINDA CRAMMED one more towel into the washing machine and dumped in a scoop of powdered detergent. How could four people generate so much laundry? She turned on the cold water, then returned to the breakfast bar where she’d spread her notes from the Saturday class.

At the memory of Oakley walking the class through processing a crime scene, her mouth tightened. How patronizing of him to want to “oversee” her training after so clearly expressing his disapproval that she’d dare to take over Sullivan’s agency.

What he wanted was a front seat to watch her fail so he could feel superior. Then rescue her with the clerical job at the bank that would shackle her to an appropriately small existence.

Her eyes blurred over the detailed description of how to gather evidence in different environments—inside, outside, in a parking lot, in a wooded area, in bodies of water, in the cold, in the heat, in the rain, in the snow, in high winds. There were pages and pages on documenting trace evidence, lifting fingerprints, collecting DNA, recording sounds and smells, and logging the temperature and time throughout. Investigators were expected to know what in the crime scene was important and what to exclude, how to maintain the chain of custody, and the standards their evidence would be held to in order to be used in court. They were also expected to know how to properly photograph the scene as a later reference in case evidence wasn’t collected or was lost.

It was a lot to learn.

And even if they managed to pass their exams, it seemed as if getting business was going to be an uphill battle. She’d struck out at the three insurance companies yesterday. Octavia had taken on a case pro bono for the hope of future assignments, but if a veteran like Dunk Duncan hadn’t been able to crack it with all his resources, the chance of them closing the case was…

Really, really low.

When the doorbell rang, Linda welcomed the interruption. She looked through the peephole to see Eddie the UPS driver smiling back, then swung open the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Smith.”

She blinked—she’d become so accustomed to thinking of herself as Linda Guy, the reminder of her real identity was jarring. “Hi, Eddie. What do you have for me today?”

He held up a package and a cardboard envelope. “A box from Yurder Foods, and an express letter for Octavia Habersham. Can you sign for it?”

“Sure. That’s my sister.”

While Eddie set the box inside the door, she used a stylus to electronically sign for both items. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“See you soon,” he called.

Linda set the envelope for Octavia on a side table, then retrieved a knife to slice through the packing tape on the box. Her pulse thumped in anticipation. In the chaos of the past few weeks, she’d lost track of her contest winnings—she had no idea what was inside.

Hopefully, a stack of gold bars.

She opened the top flaps, then lifted protective packing to reveal tall aerosol bottles. Spray paint? Then she removed a can and smirked.

Spray cheese.

Now she remembered—she’d won the contest for a new slogan for Happy Cheese with her entry of “Open wide.”

She popped the lid off the canister. “Open wide,” she murmured, then sprayed a dollop of the orangey cheese onto her tongue. She closed her mouth and swallowed. Not bad. She didn’t want to think about what kind of processes and chemicals it took to create spray cheese—it was quick food that her kids would love, so yay.

At least she hoped they loved it because she had a dozen cans. She plucked an envelope from inside the box and removed a congratulations letter plus a check for—five hundred dollars? She laughed through her fingers. A dozen different ways to spend it floated through her mind. She leaned her head back and squirted her mouth full of the stuff in celebration.

When the doorbell rang again, she choked on the funky cheese, then wiped her mouth hurriedly. Assuming Eddie had forgotten a package, she swung open the door and balked when she saw Nan Boyd standing on the stoop.

“Oh. Hi, Nan. If this is about the mulch—”

“It isn’t,” Nan cut in, looking stricken.

“Is something wrong?”

Nan looked all around, as if she were afraid someone might see her standing there. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Linda said. But warning bells were going off in her head. If her meticulous neighbor wanted to come into her less-than-meticulous house, it couldn’t be good.

“What’s this about?”

Nan’s gaze flitted all around and to the hallway. “I need to talk to you about something… privately.”

“We’re alone.” Linda gestured to the breakfast bar. “Do you want to sit down?”

“I think I should,” Nan said in a nervous voice. She moved awkwardly and lowered herself onto one of the stools.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Linda moved aside her study materials on the bar, then took the stool adjacent to Nan. “What’s on your mind?”

Nan wet her lips. “This is difficult for me to say.”

“We’re friends, Nan. Just spit it out.”

“I need a detective.”

Surprise shot through Linda. “Okay. Can I ask why?”

Nan’s face crumpled. “I did something awful. A man I used to date moved back to the area and reached out to me. We corresponded for a while, then he asked me to send a tape we made years ago.” She sniffled. “I’d kept it in a safe place all this time. Like a fool, I sent it to him, and now he’s blackmailing me. He says he’s going to tell Robert about the tape if I don’t pay him five thousand dollars.”

Linda reached for a tissue from one of the many boxes of Kleenex scattered around, then handed it to her neighbor. “Extortion is a crime, Nan. You should go to the police and have this guy arrested.”

Her eyes flew wide. “I can’t! What if Robert finds out? And aren’t arrest records public? What if my children find out?” She wailed into the tissue.

“Take a breath,” Linda soothed. “What’s on the tape?”

“Sex stuff,” Nan whispered. “Nasty sex stuff.”

Nan had a sex tape? Linda schooled her face. “Okay… but surely Robert knows you had a, er, romantic life before you met him?”

“No,” Nan sobbed. “He thought I was a virgin on our wedding night.”

“Oh… dear.”

“So you see why I have to get this tape back!”

Linda frowned. “You keep saying tape—a VHS tape?”

Nan nodded, then blew her nose. “I’m older than I look.”

“Does Robert even have a VCR to play the tape on?”

Nan nodded. “In the basement—that’s where he keeps his collection of dirty movies.”

Linda made a sympathetic noise. It wasn’t lost on her that Nan’s husband had a porn collection but would probably lose his mind if he found out his wife had allowed a former lover to film her. “I’m sorry this is happening to you, but I’m not sure what I can do to help.”

“You have to get that tape back for me. I’ll pay you.”

“Nan, I don’t have my investigator license yet. If I take the case, I’ll have to run it through another agency, and they’ll know the details.”

“No!” Nan’s mascara ran down her cheeks. “I don’t want anyone else to know. Please, Linda, can’t you help me? Please?”

“I’m sorry, but…” Linda stopped. Legally she couldn’t take on the case for payment. But she could take it on as friend, pro bono, or in exchange for a like favor. “Okay. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do what I can.”

Nan smiled through her tears. “Oh, thank you!”

Linda angled her head. “And in return, maybe you could see your way to relaxing the HOA fines for my mulch?”

Nan sniffled. “That seems fair. But I feel obligated to point out your grass really needs to be mowed.”