Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score

6

11:15 a.m., Thursday, August 13

Bianca Hornberger’s neighborhood didn’t look like the kind of place where people got murdered. It looked more like the place where bar mitzvahs and expensive political fundraisers with tiny appetizers were hosted. The cul-de-sac was peppered with oversized houses with things like pool houses and outdoor kitchens. The only people visible outside were the ones paid to make the yards and pools look nice.

The Hornberger house was an enormous white brick two-story with a circular driveway and a fountain that featured spitting dolphins.

“Cozy,” Riley quipped as Kellen shut off the engine.

“Wait until you see the inside,” he said.

They got out of the car, and the Pennsylvania humidity instantly added a full two inches of frizz to Riley’s hair.

She smoothed damp palms over her pants then remembered she wasn’t supposed to look nervous. She was a civilian consultant with a hot boyfriend and a cute dog, thank you very much. No longer a beleaguered proofreader barely scraping by who had nothing better to do than stalk her ex-husband’s new fiancée online.

“Ready?” he asked, slipping his sunglasses into his front pocket.

She nodded. She’d sat with Gabe that morning, working through nearly an hour of psychic exercises that left her feeling open. Open enough to know that Kellen’s mind was going a mile a minute with thoughts that included the case, Nick, and Beth. The man’s brain was very crowded. “Is there anything I should know first?” she asked.

“The vic was alone in the house when it happened. Everything minus the cause of death makes it look like a robbery gone wrong. The security footage was wiped in a thirty-five-minute window. All the computers and tablets in the house were taken, including the victim’s phone.”

He looked at her as they walked up the drive. “If you need anything in there, like if you want to be alone in the room, just give me the sign.”

“Sign? What sign?” she asked, worried that she’d missed a cop-talk handbook. Did she have a special sign language to learn? Was that how bad guys could nod at their henchmen and the henchmen knew the boss wanted them to escort the good guy to his death, not that they wanted a cappuccino or their car detailed?

Weber grinned. “Relax. Just nod. I’ll get it.”

Riley nodded, then stopped. “That wasn’t a real nod yet. I mean. That was a real nod. But not a code nod. Maybe we should have a code word?”

Kellen put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Don’t be nervous. You’re not a person of interest this time around. So don’t panic and yell ‘cabbage casserole.’ I’m just looking for anything you can pick up on that I’m missing.”

“Do you think the husband did it?” She wasn’t sure if she had the stomach to face another murderer so soon after her first run-in with one.

“I’d rather not taint your impression with my own. Come on, partner. Let’s go scare a nerd.”

* * *

Teddy Hornberger was already scared.And sad. And…a little something that almost felt like relieved. It was an infodump of impressions from her spirit guides that made Riley’s head spin.

He was in his early forties and had the physique of a regular gym-goer. For some reason, that seemed a little off to her. He had thinning blond hair and a healthy tan that didn’t disguise the dark circles under his eyes.

Not sleeping well. Though, she couldn’t blame him, considering his wife had been murdered in their home just days before.

“Detective Weber, do you have any news?” Teddy asked, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his Mandalorian t-shirt.

“Mr. Hornberger, this is my associate Riley. She’s helping us with the investigation. We wanted to walk through the crime scene again and ask you a few follow-up questions.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Should I have a lawyer present?” he asked, looking like a five-year-old who just got put in the corner by their favorite kindergarten teacher.

“Strictly routine,” Riley promised. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He tried to smile back at her, but his face crumpled. “I’m sorry,” he said on a shuddering sob. “It’s just been a tough time.”

If this guy killed his wife, she would run out and get a face tattoo.

“I can’t imagine,” she sympathized.

“Do you mind if we come inside?” Kellen asked.

Teddy shook his head and stepped back from the door to let them in.

While Teddy blew his nose noisily, Riley looked around. The foyer had a barrel roll brick ceiling and offered a direct line of sight to a huge fireplace in the living area. The white couch was made up as a bed. She wondered if Teddy had been sleeping there.

Above the fireplace was a large black-and-white photo of a very much alive Bianca Hornberger in a huge wedding dress. She was standing in the foreground with a bridal party of fifteen standing far enough behind her that no faces could be made out.

Front and center, just where she always wanted to be.

The Bianca in the portrait looked more natural than the one from the crime scene photos. She had the ability to smile. Her boobs were smaller. And her hair was less horse’s mane and more perky cheerleader at the prom.

There were other photos, Riley noticed, tucked onto shelves and framed on the pale pink walls. A young family. Babies turning into toddlers. Toddlers into kids. An energetic little boy and a chubby girl with a sweet smile. Once the kids hit a certain age, the photos changed. There were more of the son turning into an athlete. But the daughter seemed to all but disappear. The one constant was Bianca, who appeared in every single photo sporting mini skirts and a tanning-bed tan.

Teddy finished blowing his nose and wiped the tear fog from his glasses before leading them off the main living space to a set of double doors behind crisscrossed police tape.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he squeaked.

Kellen looked at Riley. She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. We just want to have a quick look around, and then I’ll be back out to talk to you.”

He looked relieved. “Okay.”

Kellen held the tape up, and Riley ducked under his arm, stepping onto a cloud of white carpet.

The bedroom looked like it had been designed for a princess. The walls were a pinky cream with fancy trim and not one but two crystal chandeliers. The canopy bed was buried under blush pink bedding with pillows piled high. Little specks in the carpet caught the light and sparkled. There were three full-sized mirrors in the room.

The wall space that wasn’t occupied by mirrors appeared to be an homage to the new and improved Bianca. Racy boudoir pictures and duck-lipped selfies on canvas adorned the walls. There wasn’t a single picture of Teddy, the kids, or any other family.

This was the Bianca show.

“Bathroom’s through there,” Kellen said, pointing at another set of double doors. “Closet’s in there.” He handed her a pair of gloves, and she took her time putting them on. When she couldn’t stall anymore, Riley swallowed hard and approached the open doorway cautiously. She wished she would have brought Gabe or Burt along for support. Even Nick, though she was still mad at him.

She hoped she wouldn’t puke on the snowy white carpet. That would be unfortunate.

“I can come in with you,” Kellen offered.

“That would be good,” she said with relief. “Just so you know. Sometimes when I do this, I barf. And I had a blueberry smoothie for breakfast.”

He held up a finger and headed into the bathroom. He returned with a trash can. “All set.”

“Thanks.” He really wasn’t the ass that Nick made him out to be. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The closet was the size of Riley and Nick’s entire apartment.

One long wall featured all luxury brand casual clothes. Designer leggings. Labeled sweatshirts. About a hundred crop tops. The opposite wall was open shelving for bags and shoes. Along the back hung jeans and dresses. The victim obviously had expensive taste. And a cleaning crew. The closet was immaculate. Not a dust bunny to be found.

“What does the husband do again?” she asked, picking up a pair of stilettos with crystal spikes down the heels. There were a few flakes of glitter on the otherwise unblemished sole.

“Software guy. Runs a development company in Hershey,” Kellen said with the trash can at the ready.

She brought the crime scene photos to mind and positioned herself where the body had been found. There was no tell-tale carpet stain of death, but she felt a little shiver run up her spine when she stepped onto the spot.

“Did the victim work?”

“Nah. Stay-at-home mom. But she was starting her own YouTube channel. She has a studio set up in the guest bedroom.”

Kellen’s voice faded away, and the closet disappeared as Riley found herself standing amidst puffy pink and blue clouds.

“Welcome to my channel!” a perky, squeaky voice announced from somewhere beyond the ether. “I’m Bianca, and I’m here to tell you how to get everything you deserve.”

The clouds began to part, and Riley’s stomach dropped like she was careening down the first hill of a roller coaster. Then suddenly she wasn’t moving.

“But, baaaaaaabe,” Alive Bianca said, her fingers clasped under her chin. It looked like a dangerous gesture since her nails were very long and very sharp. “I neeeeed the surgery. The last conference I went to, all of the girls agreed that bigger boobs mean bigger follower counts.”

“I still don’t understand why you care so much what a bunch of strangers think about you and your body,” Vision Teddy said wearily. He was shrugging out of a designer button-down.

“It’s important to me, babe. I want my voice to be heard. I have things to say. I can help people live their best life. Just like I helped you,” Bianca crooned. “Remember how chubby and pale you used to be before me?” She walked her talon-like nails up his bare chest, and Riley worried about puncture wounds.

Teddy reached into the square foot of closet storage he’d been allotted and produced a t-shirt with a narwhal on it. He dragged it on over his head. Riley could feel his resignation. “It’s just a lot of money for that surgery. And didn’t the last surgeon say there were significant risks if you went any bigger?”

“Ew, babe. Don’t wear that. It’s disgusting. Put it in the trash and wear one of the golf shirts I got you.” She shoved a shirt at him.

“I can’t relax in that. I just want to sit on the couch and watch a movie with the kids. They don’t care what I wear.”

“We have an image to project,” Bianca insisted. “What if I take a selfie of family movie night and my followers are turned off by that rag?” Her face did a weird scrunching thing, and Riley realized Bianca was attempting to wrinkle her nose.

Teddy reached for his wife and grabbed her hands. “I don’t care about your follower count. I think your boobs are already too big. You had to stop wearing all of your six-inch heels because you tip over. I miss the old you. What happened to the girl who brought Chinese takeout over and stayed up all night with me watching The Matrix movies?”

Bianca’s eye-roll was dramatic and practiced. “Babe. I’ve evolved. And you’re evolving too.” She poked him in the stomach. “Remember what those thirty extra pounds looked like down here. You were such a fluffy little nerd. And now look at you. Muscles. Tan. Contacts.”

“Hair plugs. Dry eyes. And I miss carbs,” he argued. “And I worry what kind of an effect your attitude is having on our daughter. She needs a mom, not a model. And I’m not working this hard just so you can turn yourself into some doll for a bunch of strangers.”

Bianca booped him on the nose and shoved the golf shirt into his hands. “No. You’re working this hard to provide the best life for our family. Now, put that shirt on and these shorts. And you can hold the reflector for my photo shoot.”

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Teddy whispered.

“I’m the best version of me, silly.”

The clouds were closing again, and Riley felt like she was being sucked through one of those bank drive-thru tubes.

She found herself back in the closet. The momentum of her head trip had her tipping to the side, falling into a section of club wear. Strong hands righted her and pushed her down to the carpet. The trash can appeared in her line of vision, and she managed a wobbly smile.

“I’m good,” she promised, waving it away. “Just a little dizzy.”

“That was… What the hell was that?” Kellen asked, sinking down on the floor next to her.

“That was a vision. Why? What did I look like while it was happening?”

“Your nose kept twitching, but your eyes stayed open and were glazed over. Like you were in a boring class and had totally checked out.”

“I was still in the closet. But I was watching Teddy and Bianca.”

“Did he do it? No. No way. That’s the kind of guy who sets humane mouse traps and shoos spiders outside.”

“I didn’t see her die,” she said, feeling a bit relieved. “But I did see them arguing. She wanted bigger boobs.” The dizziness began to fade, and she surveyed the closet from her seated position. She spotted the golf shirt Bianca had tried to force on Teddy on the floor in the corner.

“Bigger? I didn’t know they made them bigger.”

“Bigger boobs mean a bigger online following.”

“Maybe one of her followers killed her?” Kellen mused.

“How big of a following are we talking?”

“Twenty-thousand.”

“Twenty-thousand people wanted to watch her tell them how to marry rich and get plastic surgery?”

“Over half of them were fake accounts. We found the purchases on her credit card statements.”

“You can buy pretend followers?”

“What can I say?” Weber shrugged. “It’s a fucked-up world. Everyone’s got an opinion and an audience.”

* * *

They foundTeddy in the kitchen, staring vacantly into a bowl.

“Mr. Hornberger?” Riley said.

He jolted, sending milk and Marshmallow Munchies across the pink marble countertop.

“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Sorry. Call me Teddy.” He swirled a hot pink dish towel through the mess and dumped it all in the sink.

“Teddy. Do you know if your wife had any problems with people who followed her on social media?”

He shoved his glasses up his nose. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, there’s trolls everywhere. But she just chalked it up to jealousy.”

“Did she make a lot of people jealous?” Kellen asked.

Teddy shrugged miserably. “I mean, she was beautiful.”

“And had a doting husband,” Riley added.

He looked around the kitchen at the white enamel fridge, the coral cabinets. “Maybe a little too doting. I just wanted her to be happy.”

“So you aren’t aware of any threats made against her from people online?”

He shook his head. “Honestly, she isn’t one to be intimidated. My wife has…had strong opinions and enjoyed voicing them. Loudly.” He winced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay,” Riley said. “Every bit of accurate information you can give us helps.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks. I just can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t know who would have wanted to hurt her. I don’t know what we’re going to do without her.”

“Assessment?” Kellen asked as they headed down the walkway to his car. A beige sedan cruised past slowly before parking in front of a mailbox embedded in a fancy brick pillar.

“He’s sad and scared that she’s dead. But he’s also a little relieved.”

The detective’s eyebrows lifted. “Relieved?”

“He wanted to make her happy, but it was never enough. Every inch he gave, she needed another mile. Another cosmetic procedure. He was a means to an end, and by the time he realized it, he was too in love with her to get out.”

“I did a cursory glance at her channel. It’s…painful to watch someone twirl their hair and talk about finding the right $300 jeans. But I didn’t come across any overtly threatening comments.”

“I can do some digging into Bianca’s social media,” Riley volunteered. “I excel at cyberstalking. I mean. The legal kind,” she corrected quickly.