Chapter 11
11
9:16 a.m. Friday, November 1
“ A re you sure you want to do this?” Nick asked Riley when they pulled into Griffin’s driveway next to Josie’s car. The windshield wipers screeched across the glass.
There were several thousand things Riley would rather be doing right now, but part of being an adult meant doing frustrating, painful things you didn’t want to do. She opened her mouth to answer Nick, but their back-seat passenger beat her to it.
“I was born for this,” Mrs. Penny announced, leaning between the seats.
“Not you. I meant Riley,” Nick said, releasing his seat belt.
Mrs. Penny snorted. “What the hell does Riley have to worry about?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe it’s weird to come back to the house she used to live in to interview the woman her husband cheated on her with,” Nick snapped.
“Huh. I guess that would suck,” Mrs. Penny agreed.
“Thanks, guys. Bringing up all that horrible emotional baggage is definitely the way to get off on a good foot,” Riley said dryly as she got out of the vehicle and stared up at Griffin’s house. It was weird, and it did suck. But she was an adult with a job to do.
“I was going for empathy,” Nick called after her as she jogged through the rain.
The front door swung open before they made it through the puddles to the porch. Josie, in motorcycle pants and a black leather jacket, stormed out, looking lethal and not at all like a delicate mom-to-be. Riley winced as she caught a whiff of Josie’s level of annoyance.
“How did it go this morning?” Nick asked.
“They’re both vapid narcissists who are barely aware the other one exists. The morning show sucks. And if it weren’t for the money we apparently so desperately need, I would have superglued their faces together and burned down the set to save Harrisburg from getting dumber just by tuning in.”
“Okaaaaaay,” he drawled. “I meant, were there any security issues?”
“Oh.” Josie looked nonplussed and slammed the door behind her. “No. But there’s freaking people freaking everywhere during the show. This place is like that place with the trains that’s really busy?”
“Grand Central Station?” Riley filled in, hoping to be helpful.
Josie pointed at her. “Yeah. That. Despite being surrounded by a few dozen potential murderers, Griffin just whined constantly about his injuries, and Bella spent the last three hours baby talking to that stuffed animal she calls a dog. And now I’m leaving before I commit a crime.”
“Bye, Josie,” Riley called as the woman stomped past them. Even Mrs. Penny wisely gave her wide berth.
Nick waited until Josie got into her car and backed down the driveway. “Those pregnancy hormones seem to be coming along nicely,” he observed.
The car came to a sudden halt at the foot of the driveway, and Josie glared through the windshield at them. She revved the engine once.
Riley held up her hands in surrender. “He’s sorry. He didn’t mean it,” she yelled.
With another long glare, Josie shifted into reverse again and backed into the street. She blew her horn at the glossy black SUV idling in front of the house across the cul-de-sac. The startled driver took off, tires squealing with Josie aggressively tailgating.
“I didn’t know pregnancy hearing was a thing,” Nick said, rubbing a hand over his chest.
“Are we sure she isn’t part vampire?” Riley asked.
“Come on, people! Quit your dillydallying. Gam Gam Gentry needs to see her grandson,” Mrs. Penny barked from the walkway, where she batted away raindrops with her cane.
“She really does look like a Gam Gam,” Riley observed as they watched her huff and puff her way up to the porch.
Mrs. Penny had dressed the part in lilac elastic-waist pants hiked up to the underboobs. Her pastel flower cardigan looked like it was made from a few dozen potholders sewn together. She’d fluffed her purple hair at the crown, smeared on a pearly pink lipstick, and stuffed half a box of tissues up her sleeve.
She strutted right on up to the porch and stabbed the doorbell with her cane.
“I will not punch the turd in the face. I will not punch the turd in the face,” Nick repeated to himself as he took Riley’s hand.
The door opened, and they found themselves face-to-face with a young guy with thick dark hair and glasses.
If Riley wasn’t mistaken, she was looking at Griffin’s pickleball partner and human shield from last night’s vision of Ingram Theodoric. He wore a neatly pressed polo shirt with the word Staff embroidered on the chest.
“I’m sorry, folks. Mr. Gentry and Ms. Goodshine aren’t accepting visitors at this time. If you have any gifts, I’ll be happy to make sure they receive them. Feel free to take a signed headshot of Mr. Gentry,” he said with a gesture to the stack on the table next to him.
“Outta my way, sonny.” Mrs. Penny prodded him with her cane. “I’m here to see my grandson.”
“Who is it, Staff? Adoring admirers? Do you have my autograph pen?” Griffin limped into view with the inflatable doughnut pillow looped over one arm and a goblet of orange juice in hand. He still wore his on-camera makeup.
“It’s us,” Nick said, making it sound like a threat.
“Oh. Well, I’m still happy to autograph something for you,” Griffin said.
“Should I let them in, Mr. Gentry?” the door guy asked.
Taking matters into her own hands, Mrs. Penny strutted over the threshold and pinched Griffin’s cheeks. “There’s my special boy.”
“Ow! My face,” Griffin howled.
“Gam Gam wanted to spend some quality time with you,” Nick said pointedly.
Griffin’s confusion was obvious.
“I’m happy to get some refreshments for your guests, Mr. Gentry,” the guy offered.
“I’ll take a coffee, black, and a side of bacon. Oh, and a couple of breakfast tacos if you have any handy,” Mrs. Penny said.
“And I’d like some fresh pineapple cut up and stacked like onion rings. Then I need you to schedule a massage for my legs and wear my new driving moccasins around the house to break them in, Staff,” Griffin added.
“Of course,” the employee said. “Anything for you two?”
“Uh, Nick and I are fine,” Riley told him.
“I’m Staff, Mr. Gentry’s personal assistant. If you change your mind, just yell obscenities or insults and I’ll appear,” he said before heading for the kitchen. The back of his shirt had an even bigger staff across the shoulders.
Left alone with Griffin, Riley noticed he was staring strangely at Mrs. Penny. “Gam Gam? I thought you were dead,” he whispered.
“Oh boy,” Riley muttered under her breath.
“For fuck’s sake,” Mrs. Penny groaned.
“No, you lobotomized puppet,” Nick snapped. “Mrs. Penny is going undercover as your grandmother. She’s your security today.”
Understanding dawned slowly. Very slowly. “Ohhhh. Thank goodness, because Gam Gam used to hit me with a ruler, and I didn’t care for that at all .”
“It’s safer for you if other people don’t know you have security with you. It’ll make it easier for us to catch them if they don’t know who we are,” Riley explained.
“Ohhh, okay. But I can tell Staff, right?”
“Do you trust him?” Nick asked through clenched teeth. The vein in his forehead looked a little throbby.
Griffin placed a hand over his heart. “I trust him with my dry cleaning,” he whispered earnestly.
“Maybe let’s keep this between us for now,” Riley suggested.
“If you think that’s best,” Griffin agreed. He frowned. “You don’t think my dry cleaning is in danger, do you?”
“Jesus, Gentry. Go sit on your doughnut with Gam Gam. We have a few questions for your fiancée,” Nick said.
Mrs. Penny produced a ruler from her oversize Grandmas Give the Best Hugs tote bag and rapped Griffin’s wrist with it.
“Ow! Gam Gam!”
“I’m a method investigator,” she said.
They found Bella Goodshine, perky weather girl and soon-to-be bride, on her back in a compromising position with a female personal trainer.
“Do you feel that?” the trainer asked as she used her body weight to press Bella’s bent knee into Bella’s waxed armpit.
Riley had to give Nick credit. He wasn’t staring at the semi-erotic stretching happening on the mat. No, his appreciative gaze was fixed on the huge flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. Dance music thumped from a speaker in the corner. There was a small scruffy dog wearing a purple scrunchie curled on a fluffy matching pillow next to a mini fridge filled with expensive bottled water and fresh pressed juices. Rain pattered against the basement windows high up on the wall.
“I do. I really feel it,” Bella chirped as she admired her own reflection in the wall of mirrors.
“I get the feeling she has to say that line a lot,” Nick muttered to Riley under his breath.
“Am I crazy, or does that mirror have a filter on it?” Riley asked, turning her head from side to side. “Look how dewy my skin is.”
“Focus, Thorn.” He crossed to the speaker and hit the power button. “Okay, ladies. Sorry to break up whatever the hell it is that you’re doing, but we need to ask Ms. Goodshine some questions.”
The trainer jumped to her feet with catlike grace. She reached down and hauled Bella up.
Bella was dressed in bubble-gum pink spandex that showcased her monumental chest. Her perky blond ponytail swung jauntily above a white sweatband.
The trainer had long thick hair that exploded out from under a sleek ball cap, ruby-red fingernails long enough to gouge out an eyeball, and an enviable set of shoulders. Sweat glistened on her tan skin. She was looking at Nick and Riley like she was assessing their fitness. Feeling self-conscious, Riley stood straighter. She’d been meaning to go to the gym but kept getting distracted by dead bodies.
“I remember you,” Bella said to Nick. She had the kind of voice that was usually reserved for talking to newborn lambs. Sweet and breathy. She turned to Riley and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Bella.”
Riley blew out a sigh through her teeth. “We’ve met. On several occasions. I’m Riley.”
There was no glimmer of recognition in Bella’s wide, cartoonlike eyes.
“Riley Thorn. The psychic. You came to my house for a séance? I made sure you didn’t get blown up at Channel 50 this summer? You slept with my ex-husband while we were still married?”
Bella’s lashes fluttered, and she tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm, nope. Not ringing a bell. But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be good friends in no time.”
“Bella has female face blindness,” the trainer explained.
“That’s not a thing,” Riley said.
“Chupy, be a dear and whip up one of those protein and placenta smoothies for me before you go,” Bella said.
“Sure thing,” the trainer said.
“Hang on. Your name is what?” Nick asked.
“Chupacabra Jones,” she said, pointing to the name tag clipped to her tank top. “I’m a mixed martial artist. It’s my fighting name.”
Nick nodded and rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Please allow me to confer with my colleague,” he said before leaning in to Riley. “If we have kids someday, I think we should name one Chupacabra.”
The vision flashed into her mind before she could stop it. Nick with a cherubic little girl balanced on his hip. Their dimples matched.
It was gone as quickly as it had come. Riley shook her head to clear it.
“Focus, Santiago,” she whispered, then turned back to the women. “Do you train together often?”
“Chupy trains me four days a week,” Bella explained.
Great. Yet another person who had access to the house on an almost daily basis.
“Were you here yesterday?” Nick asked.
Chupacabra picked up a plastic bottle of pink liquid and squeezed a stream into her mouth. “Yeah. After the show wrapped. Leg day.” She eyed Riley. “You ever lift?”
Food to face? Yes. Weights? No.
“I’m more of a yoga person,” Riley said.
“You should give lifting a try. Get those biceps poppin’.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
“I’ll leave the smoothie in the fridge for you,” Chupacabra said to Bella, who had picked up the little dog and was making loud smoochy noises.
“Thank you! Say buh-bye, La La,” she said, waving the little dog’s paw. Its nails were painted purple.
Chupacabra slung a duffel bag over her muscled shoulder, threw them a salute, and jogged out of the room.
“You’re here about my Griffy Wiffy, aren’t you?” Bella pouted, still snuggling the dog. “Someone tried to hurt Daddy, didn’t they?”
“I can’t tell if she’s talking to us or the dog,” Nick said.
“Bella, do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Griffin?” Riley asked, cutting to the chase. She was starting to feel claustrophobic…and exceedingly annoyed.
Bella’s eyes were wide and guileless. “No, of course not. Everyone loves us.”
“Do cartoon birds help you get dressed in the morning?” Nick asked.
Bella batted her spider-leg eyelashes. “Huh?”
“Someone left a threatening note, shot at, and then pushed Griffin down the stairs,” Riley said. “Not everyone loves him.”
Bella lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. “It must be jealousy. Not everyone can be as wonderful as we are.”
“Yeah, sure. Everyone’s jealous. Who pays Chupacabra and your Staff guy?” Nick asked.
“Griffy takes care of all those pesky bills.”
“Pretty sweet setup. Big house. Fancy clothes. Personal trainer. You don’t seem too concerned about someone trying to take out your meal ticket,” Nick pointed out.
Bella gasped. “Are you insinuating that I had something to do with poor Griffy’s troubles?”
“Nothing personal. Rule number one: always look at the spouse,” Nick said.
Bella’s face went cagey for a split second before smoothing back into youthful innocence. “We’re not married yet. If I’m after Griffin’s money, why would I throw it all away before I’m officially Mrs. Gentry?” she asked haughtily.
Riley’s nose twitched. Something was incoming from her spirit guides.
“Maybe the prenup’s not favorable? Or maybe he just chews his Cornish hen too fucking loud in the mornings. People try to kill people for a whole lot of crazy reasons.”
“We don’t eat Cornish hen for breakfast, silly,” Bella said.
The pink and blue clouds were rising up in Riley’s head. She took a steadying breath and let it happen. She could see Bella in a spectacular wedding dress. Pieces of paper flitted in front of the image. A legal document of some kind. Phrases popped out at her. Infidelity. Financial penalty . Bella was back, smiling smugly and pointing at a weather map of the state of Florida. The dog panted happily off camera in a Louis Vuitton tote.
“Just level with us, Bella. Do you know who’s after Griffin?”
Nick’s words brought Riley back into her body.
“No.” Bella’s expression darkened, and she pointed a very sharp fingernail at them. “But I want you to find them and make them pay. No one is going to stop our wedding.”
“I assume what you meant to say is no one is going to hurt your fiancé,” he said pointedly.
She immediately transformed back into her bubbly weather girl self. “Of course, silly! That’s the most important thing.”