Southernmost Murder Page 8

  “No, no,” he said. “You’re okay, though, right?”

  “Me? Sure.”

  “It’s just—you found him.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I answered, dropping the food on the counter. I grabbed a knife and began cutting the avocado. “Jun was there to scrape me off the floor.”

  “Yeah,” Adam answered, and he sounded a little—I don’t know—unimpressed? Maybe Jun was right about him being jealous. That would be like a May/December romance, with me being the old guy, though, wouldn’t it? Yuck, no thanks.

  “Anyway—”

  “How long is the house closed?” Adam asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’m hoping only a day or two, but I need to talk to the board and the police to confirm what’s happening. I’ll give you an update when I have a bit more to go on.”

  “Sure. Hey, Aubs?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

  I set the cut avocado down. “What could I need?”

  “I just mean, you know, in a week and a half, I’ll still be here.”

  Ah-ha. Okay. Jun was good. I had to put an end to this before it got serious. And I had to be nice about it, because I certainly didn’t want Adam quitting on me and I really did like him. But friends only, please and thank you. Adam really needed to focus on kids within his own decade.

  “That’s really sweet, Adam. I appreciate it, but I need you to know that… Jun and I… it’s an official thing now.”

  “Oh.”

  And here I’d been thinking for months that Adam was just a naïve straight boy who moved to the Keys to find himself after college. Forget broken gaydar—apparently I never had any to start with.

  “Right,” I stated.

  “That was fast.”

  “It was a long time coming,” I clarified.

  Adam cleared his throat. “Give me a ring when we’re supposed to be at work again.”

  “Will do.”

  “Bye.” He hung up before I had the chance to respond. I felt a little bad, but I didn’t want him to get any more invested in whatever feelings he had for me. It would only make it that much harder to let go of them.

  I heard Jun walking around upstairs again, so I decided to make my last call—to the nonprofit board—after breakfast. Yes, I was putting off what I didn’t want to do, thanks for checking.

  Calling the board meant getting the receptionist, Liz Blake, who always patched me through to Mr. Horner, since they were a couple, but only in Horner’s wildest dreams was he in charge. Then I’d have to convince Horner to put me on with Ms. Price, the president, but Bob Ricci would always intercept the call, claiming Price was busy and he’d take a message. It was always a mess. It’d take me an hour to reach the president, and then it was a crapshoot whether she’d pick up or was out to the world’s longest lunch meeting.

  Mostly, I ran the Smith Home on my own.

  I toasted some bread and put it on plates before setting a dollop of cottage cheese on top of each slice. I added drizzled honey, raspberries, blackberries, all of the avocado, and a sprinkle of sea salt. A healthy and gorgeous breakfast, perfect for wooing my new man with.

  Jun stepped into the kitchen as I swallowed my prescription stimulant with some lukewarm water from the tap. I froze, watching him retrieve the glasses he’d left on the counter. God. How did he look so hot all the time? I mean, seriously. I’d just had an incredible orgasm, so my dick was more or less behaving itself, and he still looked good enough to eat my breakfast off. He wasn’t even wearing anything super fashionable today, just dark jeans and what looked like a homemade Dead Kennedys T-shirt. His thighs looked great in that tight material, though. And short sleeves on a man who had muscles to show off was always A-OK in my book.

  “Something wrong?” Jun asked.

  “Adam likes me,” I blurted. “Er—you were right.”

  He nodded. “Figured.”

  “I can’t believe I never got any hints,” I said, shaking my head.

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing, really. Just, in ten days you’d be gone and he’d still be here for me.”

  Jun’s expression seemed to harden from the way his eyes narrowed. “If you’d rather not…. I know long distance for some people is—”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” I interrupted, waving a hand. “Don’t even go there. We can totally do a thousand miles. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t let what he said get to you.” I took Jun’s hips and stood on my toes to kiss him. “I told him we were official.”

  “Did you?”

  “As official as pumpkin spice in autumn.”

  Jun’s mouth tilted to the side. “That’s quite a serious commitment, Mr. Grant.”

  “I figured you’d be game, Mr. Tanaka,” I teased back.

  He laughed and gave me a brief hug before letting go and nodding at the food. “What’s this?”

  “Avocado toast,” I said, picking up a plate and holding it out. “And some other goodies.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  Jun helped himself to the untouched coffee, and we walked with our breakfasts to the couch.

  I took a big bite of the toast after plopping down beside him. “Man, I forgot how hungry sex makes me.”

  He chuckled. “It’s certainly been a while for both of us.”

  I hummed in agreement, taking another bite. “I need to talk to the police and see when they’re going to be finished at the home. Do you think it’ll take long?”

  “Always depends.”

  “Hmm… besides that, I’m all yours. What would you like to do today?” I turned sideways to look at Jun and tucked a leg under myself. “We’ve got a lot of historical homes and museums, although don’t feel obligated just because I enjoy them. Oh, maybe we can go to Mallory Square at sunset, or do some shopping—” I paused when my eyelids drooped, and then I was out.

  JUN’S HAND was planted in the middle of my chest. I blinked at it and slowly raised my head. He was eating his breakfast—calm as you please—holding me up from napping in my toast or crumbling into his lap. He glanced at me. “Awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  He let go.

  I rubbed my eyes. “How long?”

  He looked at his watch. “A minute or two. Feel better?”

  I nodded. Silly as it might sound, a two-minute nap did usually leave me feeling alert and refreshed, if only for a little while. I picked up my toast and started eating again. “Thanks,” I added. “I mean, for knowing how narcolepsy works and not freaking out whenever stuff like this happens.”

  “It’d make for a trying relationship if I got upset over every micronap, or took your sleepiness as some sort of insult,” Jun stated.

  “That’d suck,” I answered.

  Jun reached out and gave one of my gauged ears a light tug. “Let’s go shopping today,” he answered, like I hadn’t just been fast asleep a second prior.

  My cell rang from the kitchen.

  “Crap.” I stood, stubbed my toe against the foot of the coffee table, and hobbled into the other room. I looked at the ID and groaned before accepting the call from the board’s office. “Good morning,” I said as pleasantly as possible. I turned and wandered back into the living room.

  “Aubrey, what the hell is going on down there?” Bob Ricci thundered.

  The real reason the nonprofit board left me alone so much to run the house was because, while I was in Key West, they were up in Marathon, and none of them wanted to drive an hour each way and chance bad traffic on Seven Mile Bridge just to be a warm body as I dealt with the boring, day-to-day transactions. I mean really, they were only concerned with whether I was making money and wanting to spend money.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear at Bob’s shout. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific,” I answered. Bob and I had this ongoing thing of, how did I put this… hating each other. So for all I knew, he coul
d have been really angry about the conch-blowing contest that happened the other week. How should I know?

  “I received a call from Detective Burt Tillman this morning.”

  “Uh-huh,” I responded.

  Jun watched me from the couch.

  “Did you have any intention of notifying the board about a homicide investigation, or were you hoping to sweep that under the welcome mat?”

  I felt myself bristle. “I certainly did intend to tell you. But the fact was, it was after eleven when I’d left the Smith Home, and I don’t have any of the board’s home phone numbers. And waking you in the middle of the night wouldn’t have helped the situation,” I continued. “I was about to call in a matter of moments. You see, I typically get the best results when your office is open and someone is actually there to pick up the phone.”

  “How did this all start?”

  “Er—I suppose when Lou Cassidy had it in his mind to break in?”

  “Tillman mentioned a second body.”

  “Oh. The skeleton.”

  “What skeleton?”

  “Tillman didn’t pursue my claim because when I called the police and he came to investigate, there was nothing there.”

  “He said you were hysterical.”

  “I doubt he said that,” I replied calmly. I took a deep breath and mentally reminded myself over and over that Bob always tried to get a rise out of me. Anything as an excuse to go to Price and get me fired.

  “Explain to me why you failed to report this… this skeleton to the board,” Bob demanded.

  “Because I had nothing to say about it. It was gone. Like, up and vanished. I can’t explain it.”

  “Are you on drugs?”

  “Only legal ones.” I sat on the couch, ignoring the look Jun was giving me now. “I was stripping wallpaper in the third-floor closet—”

  “Who gave you the authority to do that?”

  “Uhm… you guys. As part of the ongoing restoration I’m doing on the walls. The home wasn’t originally wallpapered, so I was removing it.”

  “You have to get approval from the board to make any drastic alterations to the house, Aubrey!” Bob was all but shouting again. “This is totally unacceptable!”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, not noticing at what point I’d stood again. “I practically handed you guys a bible of everything I was doing to the walls. Do you want me to call every time I sweep the floors too? How about when I have the outside windows washed? God forbid, because some of the dirt might be old!”

  “Now you’re pissing me off!” he exclaimed, totally losing his cool.

  “Feeling’s mutual!”

  “You are not allowed to touch that closet,” Bob said. “And I forbid you from entering that home for the foreseeable future. I’ll be speaking to Price about your termination.”

  “Go to hell, Bob!” I hollered before ending the call. I turned and threw the phone at the couch, watching it wedge itself between the bottom and back cushions.

  Jun calmly stood, took my upper arm, and led me several steps away from the couch.

  “He’s trying to get me fired!” I said, and I was sort of horrified that my throat had gotten tight and my eyes were watering. I complained about the job, sure, like any person would, but I loved working at the Smith Home. The blood, sweat, and tears I had invested into making it one of Old Town’s top attractions could never be returned to me.

  Jun stared down at me, rubbing my shoulders and not saying a word.

  “That stupid son of a bitch is going to tell Price to fire me because of wallpaper! Fucking wallpaper!”

  “Aubrey.”

  “No! This vacation has been a train wreck! There was a skeleton in a closet, I forgot you at the airport, someone was murdered, and now I’m going to lose the job I love because I didn’t bold, highlight, underline, and asterisk that I may or may not need to remove historically inaccurate wallpaper in a supply closet that no one but me and the cleaning lady will ever see!” And then a dam broke and I started sobbing.

  This was not the weird shit in life that I took with a shrug and some lighthearted humor.

  This was just mean and unfair.

  Jun wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against his chest. He petted the back of my head gently. “Shh…. Tension runs high when these sorts of tragic events occur, especially if you’re not someone who handles it for a living.”

  “What do I do if I lose my job?”

  “Find another one.”

  “But—”

  “You’re smart and kind, and I’m sure plenty of people around here can appreciate the work you’ve done on the Smith Home.” Jun tilted my chin up and wiped my face. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I hate Bob so much.”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  I sniffed and hiccupped. “I should try to get through to the president of the board and explain my side of the story.”

  “Let’s wait until you’ve calmed down a little.”

  “She’s a reasonable person,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like I was babbling insanely.

  “Then I’m sure she’ll want to talk to you instead of blindly accepting the opinion of a dumbass.”

  I laughed and cried a bit at the same time. “I’m so sorry. I’m getting snot all over your cool shirt. I swear I’m not usually a crier.”

  “It’s okay.” Jun kissed my forehead.

  My phone started ringing from somewhere inside the couch.

  Jun shook his head when I moved to go get it. “Ignore it.”

  I FELT better after a hot shower.

  Jun was right. Calling Ms. Price while I was upset and in hysterics wasn’t going to win me any brownie points. I needed to calm down, collect myself, and handle the situation like an adult. So I relaxed under the scalding water and listened to music as I got dressed. And this time I took a few extra minutes to actually wear something cute that wasn’t stained with coffee or spilled Sapporo. Purple skinny jeans—and I mean business in purple pants—an adorable T-shirt that had a narwhal on it proclaiming: I’m gay!, and I took out my plugs and replaced them with rainbow tentacle-shaped earrings, because obviously.

  “Okay,” I said, coming down the spiral stairs. “Fuck it. Let’s go enjoy our vacation.”

  Jun had been watching television but smiled and turned it off as I got to the landing. He stood. “You look cute.”

  Mission accomplished.

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling my chest puff out a bit. Jun-compliments did funny things to my heart and stomach. If it were anyone else, I’d consider seeing a doctor for some rare, dual gut and arrhythmia condition, but Jun?

  Nah.

  I thought I was just experiencing… that thing before it becomes the thing. You know? The feelings before the L-word. English totally sucked sometimes. What could I say about Jun at this stage? I was in “like” with him? A lot? So lame.

  “Let me dig out my phone, and we can skedaddle.” I went to the couch and tugged the back cushions free to retrieve the cell, then checked the call I’d ignored.

  Voicemail.

  I tried to verify the number, but it came up as Blocked ID. I guess that happens—probably some “you’ve been preapproved for a credit card” company calling from a big corporate line or something. I chose the voicemail and brought the phone to my ear.

  It buzzed and crackled on the other end for several seconds, like it was a bad connection. Then I made out a distorted, deep, creepy voice saying, “Aubrey. Don’t go back inside.”

  Chapter Seven

  “JUST LISTEN to it,” I insisted, holding my phone up.

  Jun was driving, and I was riding shotgun while being the most irritating passenger he’d likely ever had. “Whatever it is, it’s not a ghost,” he replied.

  “Shh! Listen!” I barked. I put the phone on speaker and played the voicemail.

  “Aubrey. Don’t go back inside,” the disturbing voice said.

  “That could be anyone,” Jun pointed out.

&nbs
p; “It’s a blocked number.”

  “It’s easy to block a number on a smartphone when you make outgoing calls.”

  He was being too calm and rational. Or I was being too loony. Maybe a bit of both?

  “Logically,” I began, waving my hands as I spoke, “I know it’s not a ghost. Ghosts don’t make telephone calls. If they did, everyone and their brother would be getting rings from late Aunt Gertrude complaining that they weren’t feeding her beloved Mittens the right wet food.”

  Jun snorted. “A reality like that would require Victor Bayne on speed dial.”

  “Oh my God, you didn’t just say that.”

  Jun glanced at me.

  I smirked. “I have all the books.”

  “So do I.”

  “Anyway, something is going on that I can’t explain,” I continued after a beat.

  Jun drove past the Smith Home and turned left toward the Custom House.

  “Jun, Duval is the other way.”

  He parked outside of Key Pirates Museum before turning off the car. “Come on.”

  “Wait, what’re we—Jun?” I scrambled out after him.

  He paid for a parking ticket at a nearby machine, returned to place it on the dash of the car, then met me on the passenger side. “I agree with you,” he stated.

  “Agree with what exactly?”

  “All of it. That something weird is going on and you’ve somehow gotten caught in the middle.”

  A shiver crept along my spine, like an angry spirit had whispered secrets against my skin. I swallowed. “So what do we do?”

  Because if anyone knew the next step, it would be an FBI agent, right?

  Jun shook his head. “Not sure.”

  My shoulders slumped.

  He motioned with a nod for me to follow as he walked toward the museum. His pace was deliberately slow. “We need to consider what we know.”

  “Are we crime solving?” I whispered harshly.

  Jun stopped. “No.” A smile crossed his face. Quick. There and gone. “Yesterday morning you found an old skeleton while removing wallpaper.”

  “Right.”

  “Twenty minutes later, despite a locked house, it disappeared.”