Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score

23

8:46 p.m., Sunday, August 16

It was nine million degrees in the mansion. Nick had worked his magic on the air conditioning before leaving to pick up her grandmother’s associates at the train station, and the effects were sweat-lodgey. Burt was soaking up the air conditioning with her father, who was babysitting his granddaughters.

Riley embraced the heat. With every degree the temperature rose, it became less and less likely that she would have to face Bella freaking Goodshine.

There was a low rumble of voices coming from the front of the house where strangers and journalists were gathering. She’d prayed to every deity she could think of to cover her bases. The seance couldn’t happen.

“I look ridiculous,” Riley complained to the mirror they’d hauled out of Lily’s room and propped against the kitchen table. The second and third floors were too hot to be inhabited, so they’d turned the kitchen into a dressing room.

She’d gone with a short black dress for airflow purposes and topped it with the gauzy black cloak her mother had forced on her.

“I think you look witchy and very attractive,” Wander countered with her trademark sisterly support.

Her beautiful sister looked annoyingly cool in a similar style cloak. Wander had paired it with a long, flowing black skirt and a belly-baring tank. She looked like she’d just stepped off a yoga mat and was on her way to a jazz club.

“No. You look witchy and attractive,” Riley said accusingly. “I look like I’m about to drown in my own sweat. Wait. Why do you look so cool?”

Wander grinned and opened the freezer door. “Here.” She handed Riley a pair of chilled underwear.

“Seriously? You’re wearing frozen underwear?”

“A little trick I learned after childbirth,” Wander explained.

“These are mine,” Riley said, recognizing the tacos on the thong.

“I know. I put them in the freezer for you when you were getting dressed. Put them on.”

Skeptical but desperate, Riley stepped into the pantry and traded out sweaty briefs for an icy thong. “Wow. That helps.”

“Hello, Wander. It is lovely to see you again.” Gabe’s deep baritone carried into the pantry. Riley stuffed her underwear behind a dusty box of penis-shaped pasta and quickly rearranged her dress.

“Hello, Gabe. You look…good.”

Wander was never one to lose her Zen, so seeing her sister get tongue-tied around the gigantic teddy bear was adorable.

“I would have hoped to find you in meditation.” Elanora, Ruiner of All Fun, snapped.

Gabe and Wander both apologized profusely. Those two were taking the whole “honor your elders” thing a little too far.

“Come out of there at once, Riley,” her grandmother ordered.

Apparently Elanora Basil’s powers extended to seeing through walls.

“What were you doing in there? Snacking on processed garbage?”

“Putting on frozen underwear.”

Elanora’s gaze pinned her like a dead bug with a needle through its thorax.

“You will not embarrass or disappoint me tonight.”

It was not a request.

“Your guests have arrived,” Nick said, appearing in the doorway like a sexy hero.

“I trust you brought them here in one piece,” her grandmother enunciated sternly.

“No. There was a horrible accident, so I scooped up all of the body parts and threw them in the trunk.”

Gabe looked like he was going to faint. Wander looked like she might actually laugh.

But her grandmother merely stared him down.

“There’s this thing called sarcasm—”

“Your sense of humor is appalling.”

“You’re welcome, Elanora. It was my pleasure. Oh, no. No. Put your money away. I wouldn’t dream of asking for gas money to run your errands. It’s my honor to pick up your weird friends instead of being here to give my girlfriend moral support for the dog and pony show you’re insisting on parading her in.”

She was in love with him. He’d taken a bullet for her, punched her ex-husband in the face for her, and now he was calling out her grandmother on her bullying. Nick Santiago was the goddamn love of her life.

“Your girlfriend has wasted enough of her life hiding from who she is.”

Nick crossed his arms and rubbed his chin as if he were seriously considering her words. “Have you ever considered—hear me out—allowing people to exercise free will?”

“Free will is wasted on the weak and spineless,” Elanora snapped.

“You should consider putting that in your Christmas cards,” he suggested.

“Why is it so warm in here tonight, Nicholas?” she demanded.

Gabe whimpered.

Nick shrugged. “August in Pennsylvania. Probably too much for the air conditioning to keep up with,” he said, all innocence. Riley was impressed. Most people started croaking like frogs when they tried to lie to Elanora’s face.

Her grandmother drew in a stern breath and turned to face the rest of them. “You will not disappoint me.”

“About that,” Riley began. “I don’t want to do this. And I’m an adult, and you can’t force me to do it.”

Elanora’s eyes narrowed, the crinkles on her face sharpening scarily. “You have a responsibility to this family and to the guild. You will do this, and you will do it well.”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me,” Riley insisted, noting that Gabe was pressed against the wall as if he hoped to be absorbed into the mint green cabinets.

“What I am hearing is my granddaughter, who possesses supreme powers and has wasted her entire life hiding from them like a coward, still doesn’t want the world to know that she is special. I speak for all of the Basil women who came before me when I say you are a disappointment to all who cultivated their gifts and shared them with the world. I insist that you stop your willful ignorance and step into who you were meant to be instead of clinging to the average disappointment you strive to be.”

Elanora vanished into the hallway in a swirl of black. Riley sagged against the pantry door. “Um. Ow.” She felt like she’d actually been stabbed by some sort of spiritual guilt dagger.

Wander and Gabe were no longer making moony eyes at each other or eye contact with her.

“Damn, baby. Your grandma is mean,” Nick observed as he approached. “But at least you look good.”

“Thanks,” Riley said. He pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead.

“Yo.” Josie, Nick’s “muscle” and cousin-in-law, appeared in the doorway. She was wearing black biker shorts, a fitted tank top that said Anti Social Butterfly, and a fanny pack probably full of knives and brass knuckles. Her jet black hair was tied in a high ponytail, making her look like an evil cheerleader.

“What are you doing here?” Riley demanded. She didn’t need any more witnesses to her humiliation if the air conditioning scheme failed.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Josie said with a rare smile. “Besides, Brian’s got something for you on the case. He’s trying out the new ramp.”

“Let’s talk in the office,” Nick said, taking Riley’s hand. He led her toward the front of the house, where Elanora was greeting her guests.

“That’s who you picked up?” Riley hissed under her breath.

The guy was built like one of those inflatable arm-waving things car dealerships seemed to like. Tall and entirely too bendy. He was so white he practically glowed. His long, straw-colored hair was pulled back in a man bun, but not a hot one. He was wearing a three-piece suit the color of grape jelly. The woman next to him was of medium height and medium build. She had darker skin, jet black hair, and wore a stylish pair of flowy pants under a bright green tunic. She looked annoyed.

Two camera crews were busy setting up in opposite corners of the parlor, where all the furniture had been moved out except for a large round table and a few dozen mismatched chairs for the audience.

Riley shivered despite the temperature.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Where did all the furniture go?” she wondered out loud. But if Nick answered, she didn’t hear him. Her attention was captured by Bella Goodshine in a Barbie pink pencil skirt and white sheath top. She was taking a series of puckered lip selfies in front of the seance table.

It was one thing to see the woman on a TV screen or her carefully curated Instagram account. It was another to see the woman Riley’s husband had left her for in the flesh.

Riley dug her fingers into Nick’s arm and decided now was as good a time as any to run away to Costa Rica.

But it was too late. Bella looked up, and her vacant gaze landed on them. “I know you!” she said, mincing over to them on pink, patent leather heels. She threw her arms around Nick in a full-boob contact hug.

“Dear God. Please tell me you didn’t,” Riley said, feeling faint. Little dots were floating in front of her eyes.

Nick extricated himself from the weather girl’s grasp. “I swear on my life no.”

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered.

“You’re a fan of my fiancé,” Bella bubbled. “I remember when you came to our house for his autograph.”

It was Riley’s turn to choke.

“I’ll explain that later,” he promised.

Bella turned to Riley with a glossy pink smile. “Hi, I’m Bella Goodshine, Channel 50’s weather girl! It’s going to be a humid one tomorrow.”

“I know who you are,” Riley said, standing stiffly, arms at her sides, as Bella hugged her. “I met you when you were naked and kneeling in front of my husband.”

Bella pulled back and cocked her head. Her expression was thoughtful.

“Griffin,” Riley prompted. “Griffin Gentry cheated on me with you in my bedroom.”

“Ohhhhh! Riley!” Bella said as if Riley told her they’d met at a Taylor Swift concert. “It’s so nice to see you again. I guess I should say thanks for your husband!”

Nick grabbed Riley by the waist.

“You are so welcome,” Riley said through clenched teeth.

“Easy tiger,” he said, dragging her into the hall.

“Things like this don’t happen to normal people,” she complained. “We’re all going to sweat to death just so my grandmother can prove we’re respectable psychics, not even caring that she is literally going to ruin my life.”

“Just keep picturing umbrella drinks in Costa Rica,” he suggested, towing her into the music room.

Without warning, they both tumbled over backwards, ending in a heap on the floor.

“What the hell, Santiago?” Riley grumbled under his sweaty body.

“What the hell is right.”

She looked up. “So that’s where all the parlor furniture went.” They were staring at a wall of stuff. The fainting couch and wingback armchair from the parlor were shoved just inside the doorway, and three occasional tables were stacked atop an old trunk. Beyond was a tangle of rolled-up rugs, Mrs. Penny’s bar, two hutches, and the organ bench.

“Uh. Marco?” Brian’s voice came from somewhere on the opposite side of the room.

“Polo,” Riley called back as Nick hauled her to her feet.

“We need a new fucking office,” he muttered under his breath.

“You guys are going to have to come to us unless you want us to Tarzan and Jane it across Mount Yard Sale,” Josie said from somewhere beyond the wall of crap.

“Hang on. We’ll climb over,” Nick said gamely.

Riley stopped him and shook her head. “I’m not dressed for rock climbing. We’ll meet them outside.”

They skulked back into the hallway around sweaty strangers. Wander and Gabe were lighting several dozen candles in the parlor around the video equipment.

“Wow. That feels almost refreshing,” Riley said, airing out her armpits in the humid, thick air on the front porch.

“It’s ninety-three degrees inside,” Nick said proudly. “There’s no way your grandmother is going to go through with it.”

She hoped he was right.

They found Brian and Josie in the yard, eyeing what Riley could only assume was the finished “ramp.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Behind her, Nick was muttering a lot of f-words and something about rainforests.

After weeks of work, the two stooges had propped a pair of two-by-sixes side-by-side over a half-crushed traffic barrel, forming a kind of lopsided teeter-totter that led to the end of the porch where they’d hacked off the railing.

“Figured it was safer on the ground,” Brian observed.

Nick jumped to the ground, then turned to chivalrously lift Riley off the porch.

“Knock knock.” Kellen wandered around from the back parking lot to join them. His only concession to the heat was the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down. “Nice outfit, Miss Cleo,” he said.

“I hate my life,” Riley muttered.

“Here’s something else you’ll hate. No video cards were recovered from the Hornberger’s. So if the glitter bomb was recorded, the killer took the evidence with him.”

He was right. Riley did hate that. Dead ends sucked.

Brian cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve called you all here tonight to reveal a murder.”

Josie gasped theatrically.

“What have you got for us, Brian?” Kellen asked.

Brian held out his hand, and Josie produced his laptop from a bag on the back of his wheelchair.

“The coroner’s report had some interesting notes,” he began, firing up the computer.

“Wait. How did you get the report? I haven’t even seen it yet,” Kellen demanded.

Brian cracked his knuckles. “It’s not my fault county security is garbage. The report is still in draft. But it looks like cause of death was digitalis toxicity.”

“Strubinger was poisoned?” Nick asked.

“Technically, yes. Digitalis is a drug used to treat certain heart conditions,” Brian lectured.

“So maybe he accidentally took more than he was prescribed,” Kellen argued.

“Except Titus Strubinger didn’t have a prescription for digoxin,” Josie pointed out smugly.

“Common garden plants like foxglove and oleander contain chemicals similar to digitalis and are poisonous to humans,” Brian continued.

Kellen sighed. “So what you’re saying is the murder weapon could be growing in anyone’s backyard?”

“Essentially. But that’s not the most interesting part.” Brian’s fingers flew across the keyboard, and he turned the screen around to face them. “Four weeks ago, user GunsNAmmoMurica made this comment on a video on Channel 50’s YouTube channel.”

Riley leaned in. “I hope you die alone in your mother’s basement, and no one cares,” she read aloud. “Wow. Friendly guy.”

“So are you telling me that this GunsNAmmo guy is our killer?” Weber asked.

“Nope,” Josie said with a sassy swing of her ponytail.

“Those are the words of our victim,” Brian said triumphantly.

“Either this guy predicted his own death or someone decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.”

“Tell me you got this information legally,” Kellen said, tugging on his tie.

“Everything except the coroner’s report, which by the way they’re holding because they’re pissed at you,” Brian told Kellen cheerfully. “Anyway, you have a copy of my report in your email. Here’s a hard copy with screenshots of some of our victim’s more creative online insults.”

He handed over a thick pack of papers.

Riley peered over Weber’s shoulder.

“Guy was a straight-up troll,” Josie said.

“With atrocious spelling,” Riley observed.

“Seems like he spent a lot of time on Channel 50’s social media being a dick,” Nick noted.

“Wait. Go back,” Riley said, holding a hand to her nose.

Kellen paged backwards, and she stabbed a finger at one of the screenshots of a news story about a clothing drive for a homeless shelter shared to Channel 50’s Facebook page.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Kellen said.

“RealBarbie: I’d rather choke on my La Perla than let my kids wear hand-me-downs. What kind of pathetic parent can’t buy their children brand-name clothing? Ugh. Who are these people, and why are we letting them in our towns and schools? I don’t know about you, but I’ll be keeping my money and my clothes,” Riley read.

“She sounds nice,” Josie said dryly.

“That’s someone who comments on all of Bianca Hornberger’s content agreeing with everything she said,” Riley told her.

Kellen crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. “Coincidence?”

“Could be,” Riley admitted with a shrug.

“Your nose is twitching,” Nick pointed out. “It’s no coincidence.”

“Two online assholes end up dead in ways they or other followers predicted while insulting others,” Brian mused.

“It’s pretty fucking poetic,” Josie said.

“Just because they were assholes didn’t mean they deserved to die,” Riley pointed out.

“Weeell…” Brian said, flipping the pages of the report and pointing to another comment.

Kellen looked green. “Jesus. On an obituary?”

Riley held up her hands. “I don’t want to know. I already had to bleach my brain once today.”

“Looks like we’re heading to Channel 50 tomorrow,” Kellen decided.

“You can handle that one by yourself,” Riley said.

“Didn’t you used to work there?” Josie asked.

Riley attempted to shoot lady daggers out of her eyeballs at Josie. “Yes. And my ex-husband and his perky practically teenage fiancée still do.”

“Then you’re the perfect person to accompany me. You’ll already know most of the people there and can give me all the pertinent background,” Kellen said smugly.

“To be clear. You want me to go back to the place that fired me because my husband was having an affair with the weather girl? An affair that everyone but me knew about?”

“Look on the bright side, Riley. Maybe Gentry’s the killer, and you’ll get to help put him behind bars.”

She rolled her eyes. “Griffin wouldn’t ruin his manicure by folding laundry. He’s not going to asphyxiate a woman and then stuff a thong down her throat.”

“Come on. I’ll let you play bad cop,” Kellen said, dangling that little nugget in front of her.

She turned to look at Nick. “Remember that plan from earlier?” she asked.

“Just tell me where your passport is, and I’ll pack for you,” he promised.

The tinkling of a bell echoed eerily from within the house.

“Shit. I have to go. You guys should definitely stay out here and keep discussing this,” Riley said. She scooted around them and headed for the front of the house. Nick caught her at the porch steps. They were alone outside. Crickets chirped in the dark as he drew her into his chest.

“You’re going to be fine, Thorn. It’s a thousand degrees in there. As soon as everyone is gathered, no one will last five minutes in that room.”

“Keep talking,” she said as her heart raced.

He did more than that. His hand skimmed over her stomach to her hip and then her thigh. He reached under her dress and trailed his fingers higher over her leg.

“Gah,” she said as her thighs trembled.

“In half an hour, you and I are going skinny dipping in the river while the house cools off,” he predicted.

“Are you seriously heading to third base with a coven of weirdos on the other side of the door?” she whispered.

“I told you I liked your outfit,” he said, teasing even higher with his fingers. “Do I want to know why your thong is cold?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Hey, sweetie.”

Riley jumped away from Nick at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“Sorry to interrupt your third base. But it’s time to start,” Blossom said apologetically.