A Vonnie Vines Mystery

Chapter 6

Also, where the hell had Broadrick gotten off to last night? He wasn't waiting by my car when I marched across the street clutching the bottom of my coat so the planner wouldn't fall out and I didn't see him as I drove away. Had he left Pelican Bay already?

I still hadn't figured out why he was here in the first place. I'd almost given in and sent him a text before bed, but didn't want to look desperate. He could come and go as he pleased. I didn't care at all.

Not one bit.

The early morning sun worked hard to melt more snow from our most recent covering, but I watched my steps as I made it up the Jones' driveway and analyzed their home. Between my memories of Broadrick and sidestepping icy puddles, my journey became a slow one.

Broadrick and I met online when I was eighteen. Normally I wouldn't hang out with someone in their early twenties, but our first communications were on a message board where age wasn't a consideration. I was looking for a way to hack into the school's grading system to prank my sister, and Broadrick was tracking a group of would-be terrorists. The world was a weird place.

We stayed friends and chatted online for two years before eventually beginning a long-distance relationship after I turned twenty.

But it didn't matter. Our relationship was a story for a different day. Or never. Since we didn't have a relationship.

The car from last night was still in the driveway and parked right behind it, one from my slippery stakeout following Jimmy. I kept my distance from the recent addition to vehicles, so I didn't set off the alarm. Again.

I tugged on my coat, making sure I zipped it up properly and knocked on the Jones' side door. It's true I was well on my way to being an official PI, but I still hadn't worked out my dress code and wanted to hide the cat riding a piece of pizza t-shirt I'd donned that morning.

Jimmy answered quickly, as if he'd been standing in the kitchen. The same kitchen where his wife died. He wore a dirty white t-shirt that look like it'd been slept in and his nose and eyes were red.

He was still suspect number one, but if he'd spent all night crying over his dead wife, it's possible he wasn't as guilty as I first suspected.

Naw, still probably him.

The husband always did it.

Classic Criminal Investigation 101: Always look to the spouse.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his body blocking my way into their home.

Could he? Possibly.

"I'm Vonnie Vines. I worked with your wife, Jalinda," I replied, holding out my hand.

Jimmy took it, and as we shook, a used Kleenex fell from his grip. I heaved and tried not to grimace in front of him.

It's okay, I'd just buy a few gallons of hand sanitizer on my way home.

"Sorry." He picked up the disgusting Kleenex from the ground between us and then turned and made his way into his home.

I used it as my cue to follow. You didn't shake my hand with a used facial tissue and not let me in your kitchen. It was a rule. Somewhere.

"I'm so sorry to hear about Jalinda."

Jimmy practically threw himself into the same breakfast table chair Anderson used the night before when he caught me sneaking in. The wooden legs scratched against the tile floor. "How did you know Jalinda? She didn't work."

"Right. Well." Now came the time to lay the truth on him and determine how Jimmy responded. It could help clear his name.

"I'm a private investigator," I said, whispering the words almost quietly enough he couldn't hear. "Jalinda hired me to look into whether her husband was cheating."

Jimmy's eyes widened as he met my gaze. "I'm her husband."

"Yes, I know." I leaned a hip against his counter as I did last night and then thought better of it and remained standing.

He shot up from his chair, walked past me, and then almost collapsed against one of the kitchen counters. "I would never cheat on Jalinda. She's my life."

Plus, from the looks of the heavyset man and his style-total nerd-he married up with Jalinda. It's not that he was unpleasant so much as unkempt. Jalinda had her hair done and wore cute outfits both times I'd met with her. Jimmy had a short haircut that look easy to maintain and a weird stubbled beard he managed by not shaving.

I'd have blamed it on learning his wife was dead, but I'd been trailing Jimmy for a week. He always looked like that. All he needed was a pocket protector, a calculator, and a few pens in the shirt pocket. Or an Xbox game controller.

He shook his head a few times, staring down at the counter, and then whipped his body to the side. Jimmy opened the cabinet under the sink and popped back up with a bottle of counter cleaner with bleach and a towel. He sprayed the entire counter with a thick layer of the cleaner and then slowly wiped it off.

Interesting.

What did he see on the countertop that I couldn't find? The harsh chemicals burned my nose. A man who didn't worry about his clothing but now cared if the counters were clean. Odd.

While he scrubbed at the already clean surface as if his life depended on it, I slogged my way over to the breakfast table and maneuvered the stolen planner to the bottom of my coat so I could replace it with no one being the wiser.

The planner was blank. A fresh start for the new year and couldn't tell me anything of importance. Therefore, I'd leave it for Detective Anderson.

Jimmy gave me his back to clean the counter behind him and I quietly placed the planner on the breakfast table, giving it a push so it was close to the wall.

"What do you do at Arthur Glance's house every Monday night?" I asked once I had the planner secure.

Also, thank you Google. It was truly scary the things you could learn online.

Jimmy returned his attention to me, setting down his cleaning cloth for a moment. "Why do you want to know about Arthur?"

"Jalinda believed you were cheating when you left every Monday." Was there still client/PI privilege when the client was dead? I'd have to ask Mick.

Jimmy closed his eyes, his hand fisting the cloth and getting bleach on his skin. "It's an improv group. I was... learning to be funny."

"What?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I wanted to make her laugh."

"You wanted to be funny for Jalinda?"

He nodded. "We were a happy couple. I just wanted her to be happier."

"Do you know of anyone who might have an issue with Jalinda?" Someone who wanted her dead, I finished in my head.

"No. She was perfect. I told the police everything already. I haven't thought of anything new. Except..." His eyes lit up as if a thought hit him. "Except she was really mad about one of the Christmas cards we received."

"Oh, yeah? What did it say?" I leaned forward. This could be the big break.