Chapter Thirteen

“Why do I always have to be the last one to go in?” I wasn’t really complaining. On one hand, it meant I got to stare at Ben’s butt. On the other hand, if there was something scary inside, I wasn’t going to be the first one to go up against it.

“Because I’m the one who knows how to break in through locked doors,” Ben whispered back. “Plus, I like knowing you’re looking at my butt the whole time.”

I smacked the object of our conversation, making him yelp. I was glad it was dark out tonight, with no moon in the sky. He wouldn’t be able to see the blush creeping up my neck and spreading across my face. Yeesh! Did he now have mind-reading abilities too? I didn’t think I could stand that and live with him. What about those days when I thought he was a slob? Or when I wanted to slug him for hogging all the bed covers?

But I had more important things to worry about now as Ben nudged me with his elbow. No yellow crime scene tape circled the little cottage we were breaking and entering into. And we even had a key this time, because Detective Bartley had slipped me one during our meeting. To say I was surprised when she slid the cold metal into my hand before she walked out the door was an understatement. But I used it, nonetheless, because I wasn’t going to scrape up my credit card and possibly get caught red-handed, not if I had a key instead.

Which meant I could have gone in first, since we didn’t need Ben’s dubious lock-picking talents. But I wasn’t going to mention it, since I did want to ogle his butt.

Ben put his finger to his mouth to shush me as we went in the back door. I wasn’t talking, so I scowled at him. “I’m not stupid!” I mouthed back at him.

“I know,” he said in a normal voice as he turned on his small flashlight and began sweeping it over the walls and the floors.

“And do you know what it is we’re looking for, oh big Gumbah?” I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping my foot on the soft carpet. I wanted carpet like this in my house but hadn’t been able to justify the cost yet. Maybe I’d take this opportunity to crawl around on it, get a feel for if I really wanted to live on ramen noodles for the next few years in order to be able to sink my toes into my floor covering, instead of tiptoeing across the cold hardwood floor of my house.

And, yet again, I had gotten off course. Ben forcibly reminded me of this by poking me in the stomach while waving a hand mere inches in front of my face. “Hello, earth to Ivy.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Where do you want to start first?”

“I think Trev had two bedrooms with one bath in the back.”

The rest of the house appeared to be one big room divided into a living room/dining room combo separated from the galley kitchen by a long counter.

“How about you take the master bedroom and I’ll take the other, and then we’ll meet in the bathroom?” He leered at me.

For my part, I wondered if he was thinking about our one really memorable bout of lovemaking on the floor of my master bathroom. After the shouting was done, the only things I could think were how much my back hurt and that I really had to be more thorough about cleaning the underneath of the sink bowl next time.

“Fine, I’ll meet you in the bathroom, and then we can move out of here. Try not to turn on any lights, and we’ll hope no police come by.”

We got to work. I had no idea what Ben was doing in Trev’s extra bedroom, but I was nearly bored out of my mind in the master bedroom. If I had to open one more drawer and come across package after package of condoms, I was going to scream. Who had this much sex? I mean, yeah, I had a pretty active nighttime life, but come on! The man had enough prophylactics to last for the next ten to twelve years.

And now he was dead.

When that thought popped into my head, I shuddered and moved faster to escape the awful, creepy feeling in my stomach. Silk boxers, a few toys I recognized because I carried them in the back room of the shop—and then I hit what I thought might be pay dirt.

My fingers drifted over the cover of a notebook in the top drawer of the nightstand. It looked like your standard college rule spiral ring, but the cover was worn, the pages a little ruffled. Plus, I had always kept my journal in this exact spot when I was younger, until I realized my dad could easily gain access to it if he wanted to. That made me put my diary under my mattress, even if Dad swore he would never violate my privacy like that.

I flipped open the cover nonchalantly, though there was no one looking over my shoulder I had to be casual for. At first I had no idea what I was looking at. Page one held some random thoughts about life and relationships, along with a few quotes from famous people I recognized. I flipped to the next page, where I read the first few lines before I got sucked into what I assumed was a fantasy or something.

A dark-haired woman came into the room not knowing what she was looking for, or how she’d find it. Her rapidly beating heart told her someone named Gage was near. Gage swept into the room and declared his undying love for her as he produced a ring the size of an egg, and they had their happily ever after.

I found myself sniffing a little bit like Joan Wilder in the beginning of Romancing the Stone. It was beautiful and touching. But I had no idea why it was sitting in Trev’s side drawer. The handwriting was indistinguishable between male or female. Maybe it was something his girlfriend had left for him, or a present from a former girlfriend. Something pinged in the back of my head, having to do with Jackie Sturder, but I put the errant thought away to dive back into searching the room.

Whatever the notebook was, I snuck it into my black backpack, then checked under the bed. Nothing exciting down there other than a few stray socks and a lumpy statue that looked like it might be a lopsided woman. None of it meant anything, so I went to the bathroom to see how Ben had fared in the other room.

I found him on his hands and knees with his head under the sink. It was very tempting to nudge him in the butt with my foot. Instead I silently giggled to myself, then reached a gentle hand between his jean-clad thighs. He yelped and jumped just as satisfactorily as if I’d kicked him. I let the giggle out this time.

“Thanks a lot, Ivy,” he said, but I couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was being sarcastic. I didn’t care much either way, since I still thought it was funny.

“So, did you find anything?” I asked, not wanting to share my little notebook yet. It was probably ridiculous. I was really hoping this trip of unlocking and entering wasn’t going to be a waste of our time.

He backed completely out of the cabinet under the sink, sitting back on his heels. “Does finding out that Trev was a closet collector of romance novels count?” His face fell into a frown. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a wide variety of different authors and titles. Some of them made me hot under the collar. You know how hard that is to do.”

I snorted, and yes, it was as bad as it sounded. Thank God I was already sleeping with this guy or I might never have gotten him into bed with that one.

“Are you snorting at me?” He quirked an eyebrow.

I had a split second to try to move out of the way before his fingers dug into my sides. “No tickling,” I shrieked. “I can’t handle the tickling.”

It stopped right after my last word. “You have to keep it down if you don’t want the cops here. Sheesh!”

“Don’t you sheesh me. You know I can’t stand being tickled, so you shouldn’t have done it. It’s all your fault. I wouldn’t have screamed at all if you’d kept your hands to yourself.”

“But you love to scream by my hands.” He leered at me with his double entendre (good word!).

I smacked him, he howled, and I got to tell him to keep it down. Ha, ha!

Unfortunately, there was nothing even remotely interesting in the bathroom, although I was reassured when I saw the underneath of his sink was even worse than mine. Not surprisingly, his bathroom was nearly as well stocked as his bedroom in the condom department. Yowza! I saw Ben pocket a few, with a hopeful expression on his face, and rolled my eyes.

Leading the way out to the living room, I kept my snicker to myself. He was such a dork sometimes, but he was my dork, which made it okay.

In silence we divided up. He went to the kitchen to rummage around in the drawers while I headed for the living room. I peered under the couch, thinking he really needed to get under here with the vacuum. Then I remembered, again, that he was dead. Immediately, I felt bad for criticizing someone who could no longer speak for himself. Or I hoped he couldn’t speak for himself at this time. I watched all those paranormal shows on the Sci-Fi channel, but that didn’t mean I wanted to have a drop in the temperature right over my head. Unless Trev was going to come back to tell me who had murdered him, I didn’t want to see his ghost.

Ben was still rummaging, not being very quiet about it, when I came across another lump of something that looked like a statue. Right next to it was a pocket watch engraved with loopy script. I couldn’t see the surface, but by tracing my fingers over it I felt the ridges. It was even darker under here than in the room itself, so I got my flashlight, clamped it between my teeth, and took a closer look.

The watch sported a little rust on the hinge, and could probably do with a serious polish, but it was beautiful, with a dragon etched on the front, holding a branch in its mouth. A line of words ran along the bottom of the lid. I couldn’t make them out in the feeble light under the couch.

Ducking out from under the shadowy space, I backed into something solid and hard. I wished I could say it was Ben leaning over me but couldn’t, as I thought I bruised my butt. That had never happened before, so it was more likely a piece of furniture.

I peeked over my shoulder to find myself cheek to wood with a large sideboard that looked almost like the one in my Shoppe that I’d picked up several months ago. Remembering the piece of furniture reminded me of some of the weirder aspects of its construction. Ones that had caused me numerous problems.

I dropped the watch into my backpack, letting it slide down the face of the battered notebook. Running my hands along the lines of the massive antique, I searched for anything out of the ordinary. I’d been hit over the head at one time because of a fake door in the leg of my sideboard. I doubted I had to worry about that particular violence at this time, but I sure would have liked to find another secret door with all of Trev’s deep dark skeletons in it. The name of his murderer would be nice, too, if I had my way.

I found nothing, of course, because that’s how things always work out for me.

But Ben gave a slow whistle, then beckoned me over with his free hand. I ran away from the sideboard with my backpack thumping into my plus-sized behind.

“What do you have?” I said, nearly breathless, which was ridiculous since I’d only crossed about fifteen feet to stand in front of Ben. Must get back to walking around the neighborhood, I told myself as I huffed and puffed myself up to the counter. I leaned on the slick surface, bracing my hand on the wall, hoping I wasn’t bellowing like a bullfrog.

But Ben wasn’t even looking at me as he stared at something on the counter in front of him. I couldn’t really see what it was other than a continuous page of long numbers with some kind of symbols next to them. For all I knew it could as easily be a random hunting and pecking by a kid, like the ones my sisters sometimes sent me from their spawn—I mean children. Or it could be a bank statement. Or something else entirely, since I’d never seen a bank statement similar to this one.

But I would have to wait to find out what it was because right then a strobing light came through the window. My heart sped up like I had just come running across the room, or finished messing around with Ben. It looked like someone was outside looking in at us. Crap.