Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score
20
12:01 p.m., Sunday, August 16
Nick glared at the Jeep and its occupants when Riley pulled into the mansion’s parking lot.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?” he demanded when they piled out of the vehicle. Burt launched himself at him and slurped Nick right across the face.
“Whoa. Look who got all duded up,” Mrs. Penny said.
Nick suddenly felt self-conscious. “I’m not ‘duded up.’”
“You didn’t leave the house looking like that this morning,” Riley said, giving him the once-over. “Is that a new shirt?”
He pulled at the collar of his short-sleeved button-down. Alistair and Danny had insisted it was the right cut for him, but now he felt like he was being strangled. “No,” he lied.
“Are those boat shoes?” she asked.
He felt like kicking them off in the direction of the dumpster and changing back into gym clothes. Except for maybe the shorts. He really did like the shorts. They were a dark gray and made out of that moisture-wicking crap golfers liked. According to Alistair, they could be crumpled up under the bed for two weeks and still never wrinkle. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You look good,” she said.
“Good enough to eat,” Mrs. Penny agreed as she sauntered past him toward the house.
“Jesus. What is that smell?” Nick said, shoving his nose into the crook of his elbow.
“Burt got into some people food,” Riley said with a sigh.
“A lot of people food,” Gabe announced. The man had taco sauce and lettuce on his shirt and a slab of apple pie in his hand.
“Why are you so grumpy about looking good?” Riley asked.
“I’m not grumpy,” he grumbled. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He took her hand and dragged her back to the Jeep.
“Where are we going? I have to write up my report for Weber,” she complained.
“Need I remind you that I’m your boss. Weber’s just the middle manager I loaned you to.”
“Fine, boss. Where are we going?”
“We’re paying a visit to a couple of Larry Rupley’s coworkers. Your co-conspirators can stay here and walk Burt until all that food comes out.”
Mrs. Penny stomped her foot in her orthopedic shoe. “You’re no fun, Santiago.”
“It would be my honor,” Gabe said before shoving the last taco in his mouth in one bite.
“Got any more work for me?” Mrs. Penny asked.
He felt the weight of Riley’s gaze on him.
Nick narrowed his eyes at Mrs. Penny. The woman couldn’t keep a secret to save anyone’s life. “I don’t have any more errands to run,” he said pointedly.
The woman brushed her finger over her nose. “Read you loud and clear, boss.”
“Mrs. Penny, if you don’t have anything to do, you could check out Bianca’s YouTube channel and scroll through the comments. Maybe someone there wanted to do her harm,” Riley suggested.
“I’m on it. All I need is a laptop, a sandwich, and four martinis.”
Riley ruffled Burt’s ears. “You be a good boy and poop a lot outside before we get back. Okay?”
Burt licked her face.
“Ugh. He tastes like pho.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot he ate half a bowl after he knocked down the guy who bought it,” Mrs. Penny said.
Nick could feel the muscle under his eye twitching. Before he met Riley, his eye muscles had never twitched. “Let’s go, Thorn.”
* * *
“Why do you look so good?”Riley asked him as they headed north on Route 83, leaving the city in the rearview mirror.
“You make it sound like I never look good,” Nick complained. Alistair had failed to mention the attention putting effort into his appearance would garner. “What am I? Some unwashed hideous troll?”
She snorted. “You know you’re hot. Quit being weird about it. I just want to know why you’re extra hot.”
Extra hot. Maybe he wouldn’t toss the shirt and shoes in the dumpster.
“I’m not being weird. You’re the one who tried to burn down a farmers’ market.”
“I was just trying to be nice to Gabe and do a favor for Kellen, and the situation spiraled out of control.”
“Maybe next time try being nice in a way that doesn’t get the cops called,” he suggested.
“I’ll do my best. How did it go over at Rupley’s? Did you find the cat?”
“Even better.” He filled her in on the video doorbell shenanigans and the neighbors.
“Oh my God. You got Alistaired!” she said in delight.
“You say that like it’s a thing.”
“It’s totally a thing. He’s a legend with the single male population. One of the guys I worked with at SHART got a divorce and spent six months moping around until someone introduced him to Alistair. Next thing you know, he’s wearing shirts without coffee stains, growing a beard, and styling his hair. His wife took him back, and he quit his job so they could travel the country in an Air Stream.”
“We wouldn’t survive Burt’s farts in an Air Stream.”
“I think you can look good and hang on to your present living situation,” she told him.
He picked up her hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “You look good too.”
She looked down at her shorts and tank top. “Not Alistair good.”
* * *
Cindy McShillens livedin a beige Cape Cod on a hill that would have overlooked the river if it weren’t for the nudie bars and sketchy massage parlor blocking the view. Duncannon, Pennsylvania, was known for its plethora of strip clubs and “She’s somebody’s daughter” billboards.
“How did you know we were in trouble today?” Riley asked as he signaled the turn into the McShillens driveway.
“Call it boyfriend’s intuition.”
“Maybe my psychic powers are rubbing off on you,” she teased.
The woman who answered the door was short, Black, and dressed in biker shorts and a t-shirt that said Coffee First. She had a toddler on her hip and two scruffy mutts with wagging tails at her ankles. “You two don’t look like my grocery delivery,” she observed.
“Mrs. McShillens, I’m Nick Santiago, private investigator. I have a few questions for you about your coworker Larry Rupley.”
“Ugh. That guy. Come on in,” she said, stepping back from the door. The dogs bulleted into the yard to sniff the Jeep’s tires.
“Is it the groceries, babe?” a man called from the back of the house.
“No! It’s a PI who wants to talk about that asshole from work.”
“Asshole!” the toddler chirped. Her dark hair was styled into a series of perky pigtails that bounced when she shook her head.
“Dammit. I forgot you started repeating everything I say,” Cindy groaned. “Don’t say that word, Maxine.”
“Asshole,” the toddler said amicably and stretched her chubby arms out to Nick.
“Here. Maybe you can teach her some stranger danger,” Cindy said, handing Maxine over to him and leading the way into the house.
Arms full of kid, Nick glanced at Riley and saw her nose twitch. “You okay?” he asked. “You picking up on something about Larry?”
Riley turned bright red and shook her head. “Nope. Nothing about Larry.”
“Sure you’re all right?” he pressed as the little girl squished his cheeks between her hands. He made a fish face, and she let out a belly laugh.
“I’m fine. Totally fine. Nothing is wrong,” Riley insisted before tripping over a tricycle in the hallway.
“Yeah, you look fine,” he observed. She looked like she was about to faint.
“Oh, bite me,” she grumbled under her breath.
“Bite me, asshole,” Maxine chirped.
“Way to go, Thorn.”
“Come on back to the kitchen,” Cindy said. “There’s coffee and cookies there.”
“Coooookie, asshole!” the little girl said with a giggle when they stepped into a sunny kitchen that looked like a dirty dish bomb had gone off.
“That’s my husband, Jim,” Cindy said, pointing at the huge man hand-washing baby bottles and wearing an actual baby. “Excuse the mess. Our dishwasher broke three days ago.”
They made the introductions and sat down at the round oak table in the kitchen.
“We have a few questions about your coworker Larry,” Nick said, getting down to business.
Cindy shook her head. “That guy. You know he just stopped showing up for work right in the middle of a big project? I had to work late every day last week, and I went into the office for four hours yesterday.”
Maxine didn’t like being left out of the conversation. She stood up in his lap, grabbed his face, and yelled, “Hi!”
“Hi.”
“Babe, can you grab Maxine before she devours the PI’s face?” Cindy asked.
“On it,” Jim said, juggling both baby and toddler and disappearing into the family room.
“How long did you work with Larry?” Nick asked.
“Couple of weeks. I was on the hiring committee, and we were desperate. I didn’t like how spotty his resume was or what some of his former supervisors had to say about him. But like I said, we were desperate, and he was the only candidate the temp agency sent us. I wasn’t exactly surprised when he flaked on us.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Friday a week ago.”
“Did he call off on Monday?” Nick asked.
“Nope. He was a no-show. Didn’t answer his phone or his emails. Hasn’t even logged in to the network to submit his time card.”
“Any idea where he’d go?”
“Me?” Cindy gestured around the kitchen with its sink full of breakfast dishes and the crowded calendar on the refrigerator. “I don’t have the time to keep tabs on a guy I didn’t want to hire in the first place.”
“Did anyone else have any issues with him?” Nick asked.
Maxine charged into the room, dragging a stuffed pink octopus behind her. She launched herself at Riley, who—in Nick’s estimation—handled her like an expert.
“You look familiar,” Cindy said to Riley.
Riley grimaced as she juggled the toddler and octopus on her lap. “Uh. I get that a lot.”
“Pussy!”
The adults in the room stopped and stared at Maxine as the toddler whacked Riley in the face with the octopus. “Pussy,” she said again.
“Babe, I told you we never should have laughed the first time she said it,” Cindy called to her husband, who was dealing with whatever disaster had befallen the family room.
“That’s a very nice octopus,” Riley told Maxine. The little girl seemed satisfied with that assessment and flopped down in Riley’s lap.
Cindy cocked her head. “I think I know you from TV. Were you on The Bachelor?”
Riley pushed her coffee mug out of the toddler’s reach. “Uh. No.”
Maxine giggled as Riley jiggled her on her knee.
She’d make a good mom. The thought nearly had him falling out of his chair.
Never in his entire thirty-seven years had he once looked at a woman and thought about her parenting potential. Alistair must have scrambled his brains along with his omelet.
Riley shot him a baffled look, and he guessed she’d picked up on his temporary insanity.
“Uh. Back to your coworkers,” Nick said, his voice sounding strangled. “Was there anyone else at the office who had a beef with Larry?”
Cindy frowned, still looking at Riley. “No one really liked the guy. He was still in his probationary period, and his review was coming up. Spoiler alert: He was going to get a warning about how much time he was spending online not doing work-related stuff. Did we meet at a Chamber of Commerce mixer?” she asked Riley.
“I don’t think so,” Riley said. Maxine was now drumming on the table with her chubby little hands. “Was Larry online a lot?”
“According to his logs, the man was all over the internet doing everything but work. Porn. News. eBay.” Cindy’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. You’re Riley Thorn!”
Riley was shaking her head, but Cindy had already jumped up from her chair. “Babe! Get in here! The psychic from the news is in our kitchen!”
“What psychic?” Jim called back.
“The one from the fountain at the capitol! You know, the one who did that Facebook Live of the mayor trying to murder her?” Cindy clasped her hands in front of her. “Oh my gosh, Ms. Thorn. This is an honor. Can I get you more coffee? Do you know how my grandfather died? Have you ever predicted winning lottery tickets? Is Maxine ever going to grow out of her biting phase?”
The toddler chose that moment to stand up in Riley’s lap and attempt a swan dive. Nick lunged, but Riley had enough wits about her to halt the toddler’s progress before she face-planted on the linoleum.
Cindy’s husband wandered back in with the baby. “What are you yelling about?”
His wife pointed a finger in Riley’s face. “She’s the psychic! From the whole mayor fountain shootout thing.”
“That’s very exciting,” Jim agreed. “But maybe she would be less terrified if you weren’t screaming and pointing.”
“What? Oh, right. Sorry.” Cindy plucked Maxine out of her arms. “I got a little excited there.”
“It happens all the time,” Nick said. “Is there any way you could get me a copy of Larry’s browser history?”
Cindy reluctantly dragged her eyes away from Riley. “Right. Yes. Sure.”
“Was anyone worried that he just disappeared and stopped answering calls?” Riley asked as Maxine wiggled her way safely to the floor and dashed off dragging her octopus.
“Not really. He had a history of walking away from jobs. And he’s not exactly the kind of guy who you worried about once he wasn’t right in front of you.”
The kind of guy that no one cared about if he went missing.
“We appreciate your time today,” Nick said, getting up from the table.
Riley followed suit, shooting out of her chair as if her cute ass were on fire. “It was nice meeting you,” she told Cindy.
“Oh, no! Do you really have to go? I have so many questions! Are you doing private contracting now? Did the police ever apologize to you for thinking you had something to do with your neighbor’s murder? Did it hurt when you got shot?”
Nick put a hand on Riley’s shoulder and flashed a double-dimple smile meant to confuse and dazzle. “Sorry, Mrs. McShillens. But we’ve got to get going. Riley has a lot of important psychic stuff to do today.”
Riley nodded. “Yeah. Psychic stuff. A whole lot of it.”
He steered her toward the front door, Cindy and Maxine on their heels.
“Wait till I tell the girls that Riley Thorn was in my house. Do you have some kind of hotline I can call if I need psychic help? Or maybe an email address?”
Nick towed Riley out the front door and onto the porch. “Hurry it up, Thorn.”
But she dug her heels in and paused.
“Your grandfather died skydiving,” Riley said.
“Oh. My. God. How did you know?”
“She’s psychic, Cin,” Jim reminded his wife.
“Ooh! Wait! Can I get a picture?” Cindy held her cell phone aloft. “Please, please, please?”
“Uh. Sure,” Riley said in resignation.
Cindy thrust her phone at Nick and wrapped her arms around Riley, squeezing her much like her daughter holding the octopus.
“Thank you for the information. You’ve been very helpful,” Nick said. He handed the phone back and dragged Riley off the porch.
“So?” he said when he got behind the wheel.
“What?” she grumbled, securing her seat belt.
“Does Maxine ever outgrow her biting phase?”
Her lips twitched. “Not before she gets kicked out of two more daycares.”
