Chapter 9
9
1:58 a.m. Friday, November 1
“ C an I have a glass of warm milk?” Griffin asked pitifully from his eight-thousand-thread-count bed linens.
He had a satin eye mask perched on top of his head. His cheek was bruised, he had a bandage on his jaw, his right arm was in a sling, and the doctor at urgent care had handed over an inflatable doughnut for the next week’s worth of sitting.
Riley almost felt sorry for him.
Nick had no such feelings.
“No, you can’t have a fucking glass of warm milk. What are you? Three years old?” he snapped, double-checking the locks on the bedroom windows. “Holy fucking shit. What is that?”
“That’s a statue of me,” Griffin said, sounding cheerier. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Riley joined Nick at the window and shuddered. Under a large wooden lean-to, there was indeed a twelve-foot stone statue of a buck-naked, erect Griffin Gentry in the yard. It had up lights shining from the ground, so even in the dark, the thick veined erection could be seen.
“How’s the scale on that?” Nick asked Riley.
“You know how all of Griffin’s ‘life-size’ cardboard cutouts are six inches taller than he is?”
“Yeah?”
“The sculptor could have saved himself a foot and a half of cement on that.”
She turned away from the eye-searing view.
The bedroom hadn’t changed too much since Riley had called it home. The four-poster bed was the same. The carpet was the same mint-green pattern because Griffin wanted to feel like he was walking on money every morning. The art on the walls was the same boring abstract slashes of beige and khaki chosen by Griffin’s boring beige mother. And there was still a huge black-and-white portrait of Griffin hanging on the wall in a frame worthy of some European royal dynasty.
But there were a few notable differences. Riley’s former nightstand was now cluttered with nail polishes, a laser facial device, a phone tripod, and clumps of jewelry. The stately lamp had been changed out for one with a bedazzled body and pink shade with fur trim. Above the lamp was an oversize photo of Bella blowing a kiss to the camera.
It was autographed to Bella from Bella.
Riley shook her head. “I’ll get you a glass of water,” she offered Griffin.
“Okay,” he said morosely.
She plucked the pink crystal tumbler off Bella’s nightstand and headed into the bathroom to fill it. It was a spacious room with marble walls and high-end fixtures, and it looked like an active war zone. His and hers cosmetics crowded the counters. Not one but two makeup vanities were crammed up against the glass-block wall of the shower, both buried under more beauty products.
Five robes of varying lengths and materials hung on hooks next to dueling towel warmers. A doorway opened into a walk-in closet that was twice the size it had been when Riley had hung her clothes in it.
Reaching around skin creams, lip masks, and bottles of perfume, she filled the glass out of the tap and sighed. It looked like it took a lot of work to be high-maintenance.
She returned to the bedroom to find Nick standing over Griffin and clutching a pillow in both hands. Griffin was obliviously rambling on about the importance of a nighttime skin-care routine.
“Put the pillow down, Nick,” she ordered, rounding the bed and setting the glass down on Griffin’s nightstand.
Grumbling, he tossed the pillow back on the fainting couch by the windows.
“Think of the money,” she reminded him.
He grunted. “Fine. I’ll go check the rest of the windows on this floor. Don’t let him try to drag you into bed with him.”
“I think I can take him,” Riley said, giving him a shove toward the door.
“Is this tap water? From the bathroom ?” Griffin’s face was contorted.
“It’s water from the plumbing in your home.”
“I didn’t know you could drink water from the tap,” he said, sniffing the glass with suspicion.
“Seriously? Don’t you use tap water to brush your teeth?”
“I keep San Pellegrino in the bathroom refrigerator for that. I could drink that.”
“You’re all out,” she lied.
He grumbled and held up his phone to his face. “Staff, it’s an emergency. I need you to come over right now to restock the bathroom refrigerator with San Pellegrino.”
Riley snatched the phone away from him and deleted the voice message. “Someone just pushed you down a flight of stairs. No one is coming over after we leave.”
He flashed her that cagey look that had taken her way too long to learn to mistrust.
“No,” she said firmly.
“But, but what if I get lonely ?”
“Then call someone.”
“Can I call you?”
“Why don’t you call Bella? Your fiancée. I’m sure you two have a lot of wedding plans to discuss,” she said pointedly.
“Oh right. Her.”
Riley could hear Nick moving through the rest of the second floor muttering to himself, “Who the hell needs a fireplace in their closet?”
She took a seat on the fainting couch. “Are you sure you don’t remember seeing anyone behind you on the stairs tonight?”
True to narcissistic form, Griffin had proved to be an unreliable witness to the crime. He had once wandered right through a gas station robbery to buy a local paper that featured an interview with him.
“No. I was getting ready to offer a toast and make a little speech about what a good person I am for supporting underprivileged plants. I thought it would be nice of me to make sure everyone could see me, so I went upstairs.”
“And when you went up there, you didn’t notice anyone around you?”
“I didn’t see anyone. There was a mirror hanging on the wall, and I wanted to make sure I looked my best, so I did a few poses and practiced a few sincere facial expressions.”
If there was a mirror anywhere in his vicinity, Griffin couldn’t take his eyes off it.
“What about any hotel employees? Did you notice any catering staff? Any cleaners?”
“I never notice people like that,” he answered with a yawn. “I just remember waving to my fans and holding up my champagne. And then something hit me from behind, and I remembered to cover my moneymaker. If my face gets broken, I can’t have an on-camera career, you know.”
Annoyed and exhausted, Riley got up and snagged the remote off his nightstand to dim the lights. “On that note, go to sleep and try to wake up a better person.”
She hit the button. But instead of the room lights dimming, they turned purple and started flashing. Loud, thumpy club music poured forth from hidden speakers under the bed, and the crystal ceiling fixture began to spin like a disco ball.
Griffin triumphantly rose to his knees on the mattress. “I knew you still wanted me! I accept your advances!”
He stretched his good arm toward Riley. She stepped back, frantically pushing remote buttons.
“What the hell is going on?” Nick demanded, racing into the room.
Griffin reached for Riley and missed, pitching forward off the side of the bed.
“I hit the wrong button,” Riley yelled over the mood music.
Nick stepped on Griffin’s prone form and snatched the remote from her. The music stopped, and the lights went back to normal.
“Owie,” Griffin moaned from the floor.
“That’s what you get for being a dick,” Nick said.
“I’m starting to believe he really can’t help himself,” Riley said. “Come on. Let’s get him up.”
“I got him,” Nick insisted. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do if you willingly touch him. Then I’ll have to kill him myself, and I didn’t bring any spare crime scene clothes.” He hauled Griffin to his feet and all but tossed him back on the mattress. “Josie will be by in the morning to play security. Go the fuck to sleep.”
“We’ll be back to talk to Bella after the morning show,” Riley told Griffin.
“Wait! Did you check under the bed for bad guys?” Griffin asked, hugging a pillow to his chest with his good arm.
“Your bed sits so low no one could fit under it,” Nick said.
“What about the closet? It’s very large. There could be a whole bunch of bad guys hiding in there.”
“Nick will check,” Riley volunteered.
“Seriously, babe? I just want to go home and close out my birthday with you naked.”
“The sooner you check the closet for bad guys, the sooner we can go home and I can give you your birthday present ,” she said out of the side of her mouth.
Nick stomped out of the bedroom, through the bathroom, and into the closet. Lights came on automatically, and an automated voice said, “Hello, Griffin. You are looking handsome today.”
“There’s no bad guys in here. Just a delusional robot.”
“That’s my automated wardrobe assistant,” Griffin called. “Isn’t that neat?”
Nick reappeared. “Swell. Try not to get murdered overnight.”
“Help yourself to the gummy trophies on your way out. A special fan sends me a bag every month.”
“Bye, Griffin,” Riley said as Nick took her hand and marched her out the door.
She arrested their forward momentum by the entryway table at the front door. Next to the stack of signed headshots was a fancy dish filled with packets of gummy candies.
“I’ll get you real food if you let us leave right now,” Nick promised.
She picked up one of the packets and smothered a laugh. “These aren’t trophies. These are gummy penises.”
“You’re telling me someone’s been sending Gentry a bag of dicks every month and he thinks they’re trophies?”
“Look! They’re even personalized.”
“I’m suddenly feeling less enraged,” he said, helping himself to a handful of the packets.
“I’m thinking about selling a kidney,” Nick said as he perused the touch-screen menu at Sheetz. The convenience store was crowded with late-night munchie customers. No one gave their elegant evening attire a second glance, because after midnight, everyone was equally weird at Sheetz.
“Which kidney? Ooh, get an order of fries too,” Riley said, peering over his shoulder.
“Whichever one doesn’t require us to see that walking cheese doodle again.”
“You have to admit, someone is definitely after him,” she pointed out.
He grunted and snatched the receipt from the printer’s teeth. “You’re not cheering me up.”
“I’m just pointing out that this is a legitimate way to earn the money we need to keep the business afloat. Plus, you get to be the hero while Griffin plays the pathetic, whiny victim.”
He guided her toward the register manned by an expressionless kid with bloodshot eyes and a sideways visor. “Yeah, and now in order to get that money, we have to comb through a list of suspects longer than Statue Griffin’s cock, find the bad guy, take them down, knock down Gentry’s I-deserve-everything-for-free-because-I’m-a-fucking-Muppet
entitlement, and pry open his checkbook for him.”
Riley frowned. “When you put it that way, this sucks.”
They tiptoed into the darkened kitchen with their haul of gas station food.
“No Burt?” Nick noted when the big dog didn’t lumber out of the shadows.
“I wonder whose bed he’s sharing,” Riley said.
“Probably Penny’s. She snacks in bed,” he guessed, setting the bag on the counter. “I’ll get some plates.”
While he was occupied, Riley unlocked the pantry. It didn’t store as much food as it did power tools they’d confiscated from Fred and Mr. Willicott, and Lily’s recorder when she’d briefly taken music lessons from her grandson.
She liberated the wrapped package from a dented metal bread box labeled Screws & Stuff .
Nick glanced up from the plates he was piling high with nachos, tacos, and French fries.
“So I got you something,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. While most of their relationship had moved at warp speed, this was the first birthday they’d celebrated together. There were expectations attached to these kinds of things, and she didn’t want to mess it up.
“Gimme.” He snatched the gift out of her hands and tore at the wrapping paper like a toddler on Christmas morning.
“Whoa. Okay. So you’re into presents. I didn’t see that coming.”
“What’s not to like about stuff other people buy you?” He held up the box and examined it. “ The Thin Man box set?”
“It’s Blu-rays of these black-and-white movies about a private investigator and his wife, Nick and Nora Charles, and their dog, Asta. They drink a lot and solve mysteries.”
He looked up at her and grinned. “Sounds like it’s right up my alley. Good gift.”
“Yeah?”
His eyes went lusty. “Yeah. Why don’t you come over here and let me tell you to your face?”
“My face or my boobs?” she teased, sidling closer.
“Why not both?”
His strong, warm hands settled on her hips. His lips were closing the distance from hers. Her pulse kicked into overdrive.
It was right about then that two things happened simultaneously. Something cold and wet grazed her leg, and the kitchen lights snapped on.
Riley yelped and jumped backward, falling ass over feet over Burt’s back.
“I told you I smelled nacho cheese,” Mrs. Penny announced from the doorway. She was wearing a hockey jersey and men’s boxers. Lily appeared behind her in a pink robe embroidered with kittens.
“Ooooh! Are we having a party?”
“We were,” the birthday boy snarled.