Part 26 (1/2)
When I pulled into my parking spot, Marco was leaning against his Prius, arms folded, an inscrutable look on his face. Rafe saw him and groaned. ”This is gonna be bad.”
I took a deep breath, stuffed my anxiety inside a balloon, and blew it out. Time to face the music. I glanced at Rafe. ”Ready?”
We got out and slammed the doors. ”Hey, bro,” Rafe said, striding around to the pa.s.senger side of Marco's car. ”I'm beat. Let's go.”
”Hold it,” Marco said. ”Come back here.”
I stood beside my car, twisting my keys in my hand. Marco was one parking s.p.a.ce away. ”You, too,” he said to me. ”Come here.”
Like errant schoolchildren, we stood in front of him, guilty looks on our faces. ”I can explain,” I said, s.h.i.+vering in the cold night air. ”This wasn't Rafe's fault.”
”You're cold. Let's go inside and talk about it,” Marco said.
”Now?” Rafe asked. ”It's eleven thirty.”
Marco shot him a look and Rafe shut up.
At my apartment, I offered beers to the brothers and both accepted. I handed out the beers; then Marco asked us to sit on the sofa. He rolled the desk chair around so he could face us. ”Okay, Abby, you first.”
Why was I thinking Spanish Inquisition?
Here we go, Abby. Make it good. I began by explaining how important it was for my own peace of mind to know Harding's condition, and that I'd only been looking out for Marco's peace of mind when I didn't tell him I'd gone to the hospital to find out. If I had told him, would he have been able to concentrate on his work? No. Would he have worried? Yes. Ergo, zipped lips.
Marco said nothing.
Next, I explained that Nikki had stumbled upon the existence of H. Bebe, and that I'd felt it important to find out if she was Charlotte's sister.
Marco still had no comment.
Finally, I said it was my idea to try the front door, and having found it unlocked, I checked inside the house to make sure there hadn't been any foul play. Unfortunately, the neighbors saw us and called the police. Fortunately, Reilly cleared us. Then I sat back and waited.
Marco leaned forward. ”Tell me what you learned.”
”Not to leave the apartment without letting you know our plans.”
”I meant,” Marco said, ”what did you learn when you went inside the house?”
”Oh.” What? No lecture? I glanced at Rafe, and he shrugged.
”Okay,” I said, ”judging by the half-eaten plate of food and open bottle of beer, and no car in the garage, I got the impression that someone left in a big hurry.”
”Temperature of the food?” Marco asked.
”Mashed potatoes were cold; beer was warm.”
”What else?”
”Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, we found men's clothing in one closet, but the other closet was empty. In the bathroom, we saw men's toiletries but not women's, and two drawers had been cleaned out.”
”There was a Valentine in the woman's nightstand,” Rafe added, ”signed by someone named Tom.”
”It has to be Harding,” I said.
”Anything else?” Marco asked.
I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head.
Marco folded his arms. ”You two had quite an evening.”
”I'm sorry we interrupted your PI job, Marco,” I said. ”I hated having to ask Reilly to get us out of jail, and I know I shouldn't have gone without letting you know. But I did it, so yell if you want. I'm okay with that, although I think we've had enough punishment.”
He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. ”Are you done?”
”I believe so, yes.”
”Good. Now do you want to hear what I found out?” he asked.
I glanced at Rafe in disbelief. To Marco I said, ”Is that it? No lecture?”
”I don't see any reason for it. I'm betting the cops scared the living daylights out of you.”
”Duh,” Rafe said. ”We had to chill at the police station for ninety-two freakin' minutes. They treated us like criminals.”
”We entered someone's home illegally, Rafe,” I said. ”We are criminals.”
”From now on I'm following your orders, bro, no matter how much the Abster begs.”
I turned on Rafe with a glare. ”I did not beg. I never beg, only suggest. And you are so not using my car tomorrow night.”
”Hey,” Marco said. ”Let's move on. Do you want to hear what I found out? Good. First of all, the town house is listed as belonging to Tom Harding and H. Bebe, otherwise known as Honey B. Haven, as joint tenants in common.”
”Honey B. Haven's real name is Honey Bebe?” I asked.
”That's how it appears,” Marco said. ”I couldn't find any record of a marriage to a Haven or Harding, but I did learn that Honey and Charlotte are sisters.”
”Honey B. Haven,” Rafe said, chortling. ”I just got that.”
”When did you have time to dig up all this information?” I asked Marco.
”After Reilly phoned to tell me where you were and why.”
I felt my face turning red. ”Sorry about that.”
”I found it a little difficult to focus after that call.”
”I'm sure you did.”
Rafe yawned, obviously not feeling any guilt. ”I'm not needed here, am I? Would you mind if I relax for a while?”
We vacated the sofa and headed for the dinette table. Rafe immediately stretched out and flipped on the TV.