Chapter 15 #3
“Huh.” Another drag. “She was a real bitch. Ignored her mom and left her here. Lots of time all alone. With the TV and a remote and a microwave dinner.” Then, as if hearing herself, Sherry changed her tune a bit.
“I mean, I didn’t really know her. Forget I said that.
She gave me a job and all, and now that guy—” She hitched a thumb toward the empty driveway where Oliver’s car had been parked.
“He’s payin’ me to clean this dump up. So I guess I shouldn’t complain.
And at least now someone will look in on Mrs. Crawford.
” She snorted in disgust. “Her livin’ here alone. It’s criminal. That’s what I think.”
“So no one was here with her?”
“Not all the time.” Sherry lifted a shoulder and tucked her e-cigarette into an open bag beside her.
“Look, I gotta get goin’. I’m haulin’ some of Mrs. Crawford’s things to her new place.
” Without waiting for a response, she shoved the van into reverse and hit the gas, screeching onto the street before throwing the vehicle into drive and heading off, leaving a disappearing trail of black exhaust.
Rather than leave herself, Nikki walked around the small house with its overgrown vegetation and broken side gate.
The backyard was patchy, a cracked birdbath situated on a covered patio in serious need of power washing.
She peered through the slider door, got a glimpse of the kitchen, and saw that the counters were covered with boxes and the sink was filled with dirty dishes.
The dingy carpet showed tracks from the wheels of Mavis’s wheelchair, and a neglected vacuum cleaner rested near the open door of the near-empty pantry.
She tried the slider, but it was locked.
As she walked back to her car, she spied a raccoon scurrying through the brush and rustling the leaves of the overgrown shrubbery.
She wondered about the sad state of Blanche Crawford’s home and was about to get inside her car when a white pickup pulled into the drive, parking where the van had just been.
The driver’s door opened, and Nikki froze as she recognized her brother, slightly over six feet and showing signs of silver in his hair. “Kyle.”
He paused, hesitated a second too long, then said, “Hey, Nikki.”
“What’re you doing here?” Her brother was the last person she’d expected to run into.
“Maybe I should ask you the same question.” His smile was a little crooked, and it brought back memories of growing up with him, of his exuberance, of his enthusiasm, of his sense of adventure.
With bright red hair and a cute, gap-toothed smile, Kyle Gillette hadn’t ever met a dare he wouldn’t take.
He’d jump from a bridge that towered over the river.
Climb the highest tree. Sneak booze from their parents’ cabinet.
Ride the neighbor’s wild bull. Whatever.
Until they’d lost Andrew.
Then the no-challenge-too-big fire that had burned within Kyle had been extinguished. It was as if when Andrew died, so had part of him. The laughing, gleefully devious boy was suddenly gone, replaced by a recluse.
“Oh, wait, I get it. You’re looking into Mavis Greenlee’s death. That’s why you’re here.”
“And you?”
“Hired by Oliver Crawford to clean up the yard,” he said. “You know, repair the sprinkler system, or replace it. Check for other damage.”
“You know him?”
“Oliver? Nah. But he got my name from Archer, I guess.”
“He left about half an hour ago. But you know Archer Greenlee?”
“I take care of his yards. The one here in town and then out on Tybee.” At the mention of the island, he suddenly clammed up. Like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.
“Mom says you’ve been by.”
“Yeah.” He was nodding as he pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket and squared it on his head.
“Why now?” she asked, unable to stop the question that was upper most in her mind.
“Figured it was time.”
“Because …”
His cell phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.
“Gotta take this and get that estimate going.” As he put the phone to his ear, he started eyeing the house, ignoring Nikki completely.
She had a million questions to ask him, but she had her own job to do.
“Later,” she called over her shoulder; then, once in her car, she muttered, “Weird.” Why now was just the start.
She wanted to ask him about his life. Was he involved with anyone?
Was he working with someone or on his own?
How had he connected with Mom again? Was he still in the apartment near the river?
Would he like to meet Chloe? What, what, what was going on in his life?
“Stop it,” she said aloud, as she slowed for a stop sign near the Cathedral Basilica of St. John and stared up at the twin spires knifing into the blue spring sky.
She reminded herself that Kyle was a grown man and had the right to his privacy.
If he’d decided it was time to reconnect with the family, she should curb her curiosity and, yes, even her suspicions, and welcome him with open arms. Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly her nature, and as she watched tourists climb onto a trolley, she couldn’t help wondering about her brother.
“Get over it,” she advised herself, but she doubted that she really could.