Look Before You Jump (11 page)

An older lady perched on the porch next door.
I could only imagine what she thought as I traipsed up the walk
into the house with my duffle in tow. Headline – pastor who just
lost wife and unborn child brings in another woman before the
bodies are cold. Some people would probably go so far as to
misconstrue it as an overnight bag. I so wanted to run over and
explain to the sweet old lady it wasn’t what it appeared – even
though I’d used this as an overnight bag before. But I had no
intention to this time around. I swear.

Bobby didn’t seem too concerned as he
directed me into the modest three or four-bedroom home, up the
stairs and to a spare room with an assortment of sturdy and wilted
boxes in varying stages of unpacking. The pile of royal blue
Christian Bible Fellowship High School t-shirts brought back some
interesting memories.

“Nice shirts,” I said.

“Yeah.” Bobby stared absently at the pile. “I
was planning to do something special for my alma mater while the
baseball team finished their season, but it’s kinda taken a
backseat.”

“Understandable.”

“You can leave your stuff on the bed there,”
Bobby said. Eyes shifted and an unusual hardness settled in them.
“I’ve given up on this room for now.”

“I’ll join you in a flash,” I said.

As I got dressed, I considered my cute little
shorts to his practical jeans. I tugged on the lacy tank and stared
in the mirror at the cleavage while I wrapped my hair in a loopy
pigtail. The nosey neighbor had me reconsidering my choice of
apparel. The thought got my dander up.

There was nothing going on between me and
Bobby. I had no intentions toward him anymore, regardless of what
others might think of my clothes. So then why did we have to
justify any and all association? Already I’d had to tiptoe around
my mom. And now the nosey nana next door. I was here to assist a
friend. Period. End of story.

Well and get some information like I’d
promised Zeke, but that was it.

After borrowing a blue t-shirt from the stack
to better conceal what God gave me, I marched into the hall and
glanced through each doorway. Question number two – check. The
master bedroom was upstairs and toward the rear of the house while
the driveway and road were toward the front on the opposite end.
The cars along the drive instead of in the cram-packed garage made
it clear Amy could easily have left the house in the middle of the
night without disturbing Bobby. Most guys slept so hard a nearby
bomb blast might not awaken them. A girl could sneak in or out
without waking anyone when she needed. At least that was my
experience. Experiences.

Bobby had returned to the garage while I’d
explored. A neat path carved its way between the stacks toward the
open garage door, where he kicked a box and sent it sailing into
the grass like a field goal attempt. ‘Cept there weren’t any hash
marks or uprights in the yard to gauge the distance.

“Score,” I yelled, throwing my arms up like a
referee in the end zone and immediately regretted the movement as
my muscles protested.

That only got me a glare and a huff. So much
for trying to lighten the mood.

“Oka-a-ay,” I continued, tying the shirttail
in a knot at my hip. “Anything I should know about?”

“Nothing much,” Bobby snarked. “Just that
Amy’s mom was a cotton-pickin’ liar.”

“I thought she was…um…gone?”

Avoidance is my specialty. I avoided using
the words
dead
,
deceased
, or the usually appropriate
phrase
passed on
, ‘cause they wouldn’t do anything for
Bobby’s current state. The substituted football in the yard
maintained his stare like he’d light the thing on fire with the
power of his mind.

“She is,” he muttered. “But that doesn’t stop
her from continuing to screw with our lives.”

“Issues with the in-laws,” I said with a nod.
“Common problem with marriages, or so I’ve heard.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Shoulders
slumped and the fight appeared to drain from him before Bobby
turned back to the never-ending boxes and settled on the wilted
ones at the front. “Help me drag these to the curb, will you?”

These looked like the ones from the spare
bedroom I’d changed in upstairs. “Aren’t you gonna go through them
first?”

“I don’t want to know anymore of her
secrets.”

“Whoa. I didn’t think Amy kept secrets from
you.”

“Not Amy.” Bitterness seethed between Bobby’s
teeth. “Her mother.”

A couple of lawn chairs were smushed into the
far corner. I rescued them and set them up in the shade at the edge
of the garage to catch a furnace-like breeze and where Nosey Nana
couldn’t see us. Since my arms felt like I’d already spent hours
maneuvering boxes, I had no qualms about putting off additional
strain a bit longer. I plopped down in a chair and patted the
other.

“You look like you could use a break there,
pardner. Take a load off for a sec and do a little ‘splaining to
this confused cowgirl before you do something rash like kick the
neighbor’s dog.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Bobby snatched a couple of water bottles from
an ice chest, handed me one and took a swig from the other before
sitting down with a sigh. Sweat from the humid afternoon trickled
down his temples, and he smelled like he’d just played a round of
one-on-one with the guys. Ah, the memories.

“Tell me what’s got you all worked up today,”
I said.

“I don’t feel much like talking,” he
returned.

Leave it to a man to clam up when he should
be getting things off his chest. “Then you can listen.”

Even though I hadn’t done any heavy lifting
yet, I was still hotter than a woman in the throes of menopause and
tucked the water bottle down the shirt neck to rest between my
boobs. Living in Texas all my life hadn’t acclimated me to the heat
and humidity of a good ol’ southern summertime. That was one reason
I covered as little as I could legally get away with. Personally,
I’d rather live somewhere north – like near the Arctic Circle.

I dove in. “Found out something interesting
from Zeke last night.”

Bobby glanced at the moisture outlining the
water bottle under my shirt. “You two have a hot date?”

I threw him a look. “Just business.”

“Not what I heard.”

“Since when did you join the gossiping
gaggle?”

“I imagine the information was an attempt by
my mother to discourage my spending time with you.” He air quoted
around the bottle in his hand. “Now that I’m
single
.”

“Well tell your mother that you were the one
who asked for my help.”

“I did.”

“And Zeke is the only law enforcement officer
I know well enough to ask a favor.”

“I figured.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Bobby took a long gulp of
water.

Zeke a friend – not sure I’d go so far as to
consider us that. We hadn’t spoken to each other in the more than
two years since the epic breakup – or breakdown, depending on how
you saw it. Sharing a meal last night had been nice at times, that
is until Zeke opened his mouth and reminded me how good he was at
frustrating the life out of me. But he truly was the only LEO I
knew well enough to ask about the police report. That didn’t mean I
hadn’t
known
a few others. You know – in the Biblical
sense.

“Why don’t you just get Zeke to help you
instead of using me as the middleman?” I asked. “Save us all a heap
of headaches.”

He tossed the half-full water bottle up in
the air a few times as if stalling. “Zeke and I had a bit of a
falling out in high school.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t over Lorraine
Padget.”

“Besides,” Bobby said, completely ignoring my
comment. “I know how good you are at sizing people up at first
glance. Amy was a lot like you in that regard…gifted with
discernment.”

At one time, I too thought I was good at
sizing people up. Had a lot of fun with it at the bar these days,
though it didn’t always seem like a gift. Zeke’s betrayal had cured
me of that delusion.

“Speaking of Amy, do you want to know what
Zeke found in the report? Or should I say
didn’t
find?”

“You’ve got my attention.”

“So my apartment building is old, right?” I
asked.

“Um, okay,” Bobby responded.

“It’s got one of those flat asphalt roofs
with a rubber liner sealing it.”

“Yeah?”

“So why didn’t she leave any foot imprints
leading from the door to…”

“…the edge,” Bobby finished as realization
dawned across his face.

“There should’ve been pictures of shoe prints
in the file, references of dimensions and stuff in the write-up. At
least that’s what Zeke said.”

Bobby swiped a hand across his eyes as if
wiping away sweat, but the shallow cough gave him away. Pain and
heartache radiated from him. I hesitated. We’d gone this far, and
the next question begged to be asked.

I approached it gently. “This leads into
another question.”

A deep breath rattled as his head drooped.
“Shoot.”

“Did Amy ever use any over-the-counter sleep
aids?”

Bobby’s brow furrowed as he raised his head.
“Not that I ever knew.”

My earlier glance into the master bedroom
hadn’t revealed anything on the nightstands but a couple of Bibles,
books and a notepad. Discretion had kept me from rifling through
drawers and the medicine cabinet, so I had to take his word for
it.

Hey, it was Bobby’s bedroom. I had no
intention of crossing that threshold ever again – real or
imagined.

“We have a bonafide mystery on our hands
then,” I said.

“How so?”

“It just so happens a heap of the stuff was
found in her system.”

***

In the two-and-a-half years in my apartment,
I’d had few reasons to bother the super. Paid my rent on time and
took extra special care of my place – well mostly. When the
bi-annual pest control notice hit my door, I made certain me and my
cuddly critter became scarce.

Point in fact – I didn’t want to even think
about him going into my apartment. Jimmy’s appearance kinda gave me
the creeps, what with the scars across his cheek and forehead like
a gang war survivor. One side of his mouth drooped like the nerves
had been cut deep under the surface, and I almost expected to see
drool drip like a ravenous wolf baring its fangs.

Perhaps that’s more an active imagination on
my part. Or too many horror movies. Yeah, we’ll chalk it up to
that.

It had always surprised me though that he’d
been entrusted with such a job, being the
face
of the
building, that is. Even though he’d always been nice to me on the
rare occasion we spoke – or more like indifferent – I never felt
altogether comfortable in Jimmy’s presence.

After cleaning up from assisting Bobby all
afternoon, I trudged my squeaky-clean rumpus down three flights of
stairs to stand before apartment one-oh-two.

I stood.

And stood.

Working up some cowardly lion courage, I
finally rapped on the door – and froze when Jimmy’s massive bulk
filled the doorway. Three hundred pounds, give or take, and solid
muscle through and through stared me down. His bicep was bigger
than my waistline and the skull tattoo winked at me when he
flexed.

We grow our boys big in the Texas sun. The
brawn comes from God. The scary part? I don’t wanna know.

“Vicki, right?” Jimmy asked.

“Uh, right. From four-oh-seven,” I stuttered
in surprise.

The guy had a good memory, considering the
number of tenants in the building. Couple that with the fact I
didn’t regularly bother him, and color me impressed with his
cognitive function. Or creeped out even more ‘cause he knew who I
was. I’m not
that
memorable – am I?

“Havin’ a problem?” Jimmy prompted.

“Not exactly a problem. More like a
question.”

“Bout what? And make it quick,” he said as he
glanced behind the door.

He might have company. Tread carefully. “It’s
about that woman who committed suicide last week.”

Dark eyes trailed me up then down as if truly
noticing me for the first time. When they rested again on my face,
the window to the soul snapped shut so fast I almost heard it.
Maybe that’s why Jimmy kinda freaked me out. I never could get a
read on him, as if he had no past or dreams of the future. There
was only the present with him.

“You some sort of PI now?” Jimmy asked.

“Nope,” I assured. “Just a bartender.”

“Why’re ya asking questions about the woman
then?”

“Got a…friend. With the Rangers.” Eyes
narrowed before I sputtered out the rest. “But we don’t talk much
anymore.”

“So if y’all don’t talk anymore, why’s he
still a friend?”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Why do you assume
he’s a he and not a she?”

“Cause he used to be around often
enough.”

The creep factor went up about ten degrees.
Or twenty. “What? How do you know?”

“It’s my job to observe what’s going on in my
building.”

First Zeke. Now Jimmy. Is it a requirement of
manhood to be observant? While girls are in cotillion training, do
they offer classes to guys like
Habits of Highly Effective
Observers
? Perhaps something like
How to Spot an Available
Female
. Or there’s my favorite one of
How to Tell When a Guy
is Hitting on Your Girl
.

Now there’s a class I could teach in the
reverse. I mean, I was pretty observant, but mainly I checked out
clothes, hair, and hygiene, not to mention the ring finger on the
left hand – and making sure there was no hint of a tan line. Maybe
I should’ve been a guy.

“So does that mean you saw something that
night,” I ventured.

Jimmy hesitated and glanced again behind the
door. “Wrap this up or come in for a spell. I gotta steak on the
grill.”