Too Much Boos (Fun-Sized Mysteries #4)

1. Gutter Talk

Gutter Talk

In previous years, my husband and I had always dressed in some sort of couple’s costume.

Woody and Bo Peep from the “Toy Story” movie.

Frankenstein and his bride. Barbie and Ken.

But there would be no couple’s costume this year, and I’d never be Dakota’s bride again.

He and I were knee-deep in divorce proceedings.

Turns out my high-school sweetheart felt like he’d missed out sleeping with only one woman, and had begun a workplace affair with Kayla, the manager of the athleticwear department at A-Game Sports, the store where he was also employed.

Two months back, when Dakota texted to say he’d have to work late for the fifth night in a row, I’d become suspicious.

How long does it take to count inventory?

Isn’t everything automated these days? I’d gone to the store, slipped through the swinging door marked STAFF ONLY, and caught Dakota in his office with Kayla, rounding third base and sliding into home.

I’d stormed off, leaving his door open so the two would have to scramble to cover themselves lest an employee go to the kitchen across the hall to take a break.

I’d promptly driven home, tossed Dakota’s things into garbage bags, and threw the bags out onto the front porch.

I’d also changed the passcode for the door so he wouldn’t be able to come inside to beg for my forgiveness.

As it turned out, changing the code was a waste of time.

Dakota hadn’t begged for forgiveness, or even attempted to apologize.

He just grabbed his things and moved them over to Kayla’s apartment.

In fact, as I’d watched him through the peephole, he appeared relieved.

Happy, even. I’d only made things easier for him by gathering and bagging his belongings.

I’d married a turd. At least I had the excuse of being young and naive at the time.

Though the ease with which my husband left me had stung like a hornet, once the initial shock wore off, I realized I felt freer and more content than I had in years.

A weight had been lifted from my shoulders—a one-hundred-and-eighty-five-pound weight with a litany of bad habits ranging from leaving his dirty underwear and socks on the bed to minimizing my achievements in an attempt to make me feel small and beholden to him.

Needless to say, I don’t miss him at all.

At any rate, with Halloween just two weeks away, I’d better get busy. The kids would be home from school at four o’clock. I’d surprise them by having the house decorated when the bus dropped them off.

I went into the garage and retrieved the decorations from the dusty plastic tubs.

We had an enormous web made of nylon rope, along with a big and furry black spider with glowing red eyes.

A full-size plastic human skeleton. A witch’s cauldron with a built-in fog machine that made the pot appear to be steaming.

Homemade gravestones of painted plywood adorned with humorous names for the dead—Mann Down, Dee Compose, Myra Mains.

I pushed the button to raise the garage door and carried the items out to the driveway. When my orange tabby, Pumpkin, realized I was doing something outside, his curiosity carried him to the bay window in the living room, where he stretched out on the wide sill to watch as I worked.

The first thing I did was hang a trio of whimsical bats above the front door. Though their wings obscured the security camera, I made sure the lens was not blocked so that it could still perform its function of keeping my children, my cat, and me safe.

A few minutes later, I was in the front yard, standing on tiptoe in an attempt to hang the web from our oak tree.

I couldn’t quite reach even the lowest tree limb.

Dakota used to handle tasks like this. I blew an errant strand of my hair out of my face, then cursed my soon-to-be ex under my breath.

Not only had he left me with all of his household chores to do, but he’d also left me unable to afford to have my hair professionally colored just when a few grays had started to creep in.

I’d had to dye my hair myself. The box of hair color had called the color Awesome Autumn and featured a photo of a woman with warm auburn tones, but my hair had come out the color of a traffic cone.

At least with it being nearly Halloween, I could claim the color was part of my costume.

Maybe I’d dress as Lucy Ricardo, or Poison Ivy from the DC Comics.

Am I too old to pull off Ariel the mermaid?

A male voice came from the driveway behind me. “Can I help you with that?”

Startled, I turned to see a skinny, pale guy wearing a green and gold Bloomington University T-shirt with a grinning cartoon bison, the college mascot, in the center.

The young man looked to be in his early twenties.

His jeans were ripped and frayed at the hems, and his dark shaggy hair was in dire need of a trim, but his smile was as bright as my orange hair.

He held a stack of pre-printed flyers secured with a rubber band.

He’d probably been hired by the pizza place a few blocks over.

They were always leaving coupons at our door.

We used to order pizza once a week, but since my husband and I split, I’d had to watch every penny.

Homemade meals cost much less than takeout. Pizza had become a luxury.

I gave the young man a smile. “You came along at just the right time.”

He walked over to me. He stood over six feet tall, and would have no problem reaching the limb.

I was no cougar. In fact, I’d sworn off men for the time being—maybe even forever.

Even so I couldn’t help but notice his eyes, amber brown with flecks of gold in them.

He’d probably broken the hearts of quite a few coeds who’d gotten lost in them.

He returned my smile. “I’m Joey, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Joey.” I held out the end of the rope.

He took it from me, handing me the flyers in exchange.

While he reached up and affixed the web to the tree, I looked down at the flyers.

They weren’t pizza advertisements, after all.

They were black-and-white printouts advertising Starving Student Services.

For just twenty dollars an hour, he would wash windows, rake leaves, or clean gutters.

Hmm. I didn’t need anyone to wash my windows.

The house was a single story, and the kids had already cleaned the windows as part of their chores to earn their allowance.

We had a heavily wooded lot, and the small yard was covered with colorful fallen leaves in beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow, but I planned to let the leaves lie where they’d fallen so they could break down and add nutrients to the soil.

Still, while I didn’t mind leaves on the ground, I didn’t want them clogging the gutters where they could cause water to back up and damage the roof, or to overflow the gutters and pull them loose from the house.

Cleaning the gutters was yet another chore that Dakota used to do that had now become my responsibility.

Ugh! I wasn’t strong, and managing an extension ladder would be difficult.

Normally, I wouldn’t hire a random stranger who’d just wandered up like this, but Joey looked like he could use a little cash.

Having married right out of high school and promptly gotten pregnant, I’d never attended college, but I knew that university courses and textbooks were expensive.

Besides, I admired his pluck, and anyone else would probably charge me a lot more.

I handed the flyers back to him. “My gutters need cleaning. What’s your availability?”

“I could do it right now if you’d like.” He ran his gaze over the modest house, assessing. “Should only take half an hour. Best ten bucks you’ll ever spend.” He gave me a hopeful smile and arched his brows in question.

“You’re hired.” I pointed into the open garage. “There’s the extension ladder. You can toss what you pull from the gutter into the trash can.”

He started the timer on his phone, pulled a pair of heavy-duty work gloves from his back pocket, and went into the garage to retrieve the ladder and the empty trash can.

Meanwhile, I used zip ties to fasten the spider to the lower part of the rope web.

Joey positioned the ladder at the front right corner of the house, ascended to the fourth step, and pulled handfuls of moist leaves from the gutter, dropping them into the can.

Every minute or so he moved the ladder, making his way across the front of the house.

As he worked, I tied the skeleton to our decorative lamppost, using twine to raise the bony arms so it appeared the skeleton was poised to grab anyone who dared draw near.

Ten minutes later, Joey had circled around the side of the house and disappeared from sight, when a delivery driver arrived with my order of Halloween candy.

Hundreds of kids lived in our neighborhood.

I’d gone through twenty-two bags of candy last year before eight o’clock.

I didn’t want to run out again and have to turn kids away.

Luckily, none of them had retaliated by egging the house.

This year, I’d found a bulk deal online so I could stock up.

The driver was a dark-skinned thirtyish guy, much shorter than Joey, but a lot more muscular.

Moving heavy packages all day must be a good workout.

His short braids swung with his movements as he circled to back of his truck and retrieved a large box, carrying it to my front porch.

I followed him and held up a finger in a wait gesture. “Let me grab a tip for you.”

I stepped into the foyer and opened the shallow drawer on the console table next to the door.

I stashed an envelope of cash there in easy reach for delivery tips or an occasional treat from the ice cream man.

The cash also came in handy for the children’s allowance, or a coffee or margarita with my friends.

I’d been using more cash since my marriage had broken up, leery of running up the balance on my credit cards now that I was essentially a single-income household.

Dakota paid the standard amount of child support per the state guidelines, but the payments didn’t even cover the mortgage, let alone repairs and maintenance on the house.

There were also groceries, utilities, my car payment, and auto insurance.

Lila took dance and gymnastics lessons. Landon played on a soccer team, as well as playing the trombone in the sixth-grade band.

The cost of uniforms and classes added up.

Both kids were in braces, too, and orthodontists don’t come cheap.

At least my boss at the Southside Bar & Grill sometimes let me bring the restaurant’s leftover prepared food home. Thank heaven for small favors.

Pumpkin hopped down from the bay window and came over to do furry figure eights around my ankles. I pulled a five-dollar bill from the envelope, turned back to the open door, and handed the tip to the delivery driver. “Thanks.”

He gave me a broad smile and a salute before tucking the tip into his shirt pocket. “Thank you!”