Page 30 of Skeletons in the Closet

I couldn’t see how any of the articles tied back to Noah, Olivia, or Beth, but it was a solid start. To add bulk to my knowledge—impressing Diem was the key—I researched the four events in more depth and took random notes in case there were important details the articles didn’t cover.

Shortly before five, Kitty packed up her puzzle book and found her light jacket, ready to head home. Her daughter, Laurie, cameto pick her up most days after finishing her workday at the courthouse. Whenever she couldn’t come, I drove Kitty home myself.

“I’m out for the day.” Kitty fit a plastic rain cap over her curls, tucking flyaways underneath.

“I’ll see you Thursday?”

“Most definitely.” She wandered to the door, hiking her sagging stockings as she went, but stopped and turned back before leaving. “If you see my cuddle bear, tell him to call me. I’d like to know how Hazel’s doing.”

Kitty shook a finger before I could interject and question why she thought I might see Diem. “And don’t go telling me any bullshit lies. I know what you’re up to.” She pointed to the computer, where I’d been busy with non-work-related stuff all day. “If he gives you a hard time, you tell him Kitty Kat said to smarten up and listen for a change. He could do worse than you for a partner, and I mean that two ways.”

I gawped. “How do you do that?”

Kitty winked and headed out the door without answering.

Only then did the second implication sink in. She meant we would make a good couple. That was laughable. If I wanted to date—which I didn’t—Diem would be the last man to fit the bill.

At five thirty, I locked the office door and sat back at the computer, puzzling over how to approach the situation. Should I call Diem and present my findings? If I did, he could take the information and dismiss me. Who knew? Maybe he’d figured it out on his own, and I was embarrassingly behind.

Or I could go to his office and bully my way back onto the case and see what he’d learned over the past two days. Two heads were better than one. It was time he got over himself and let me help.

The latter sounded like the best choice. Less chance of being ignored. Higher chance of being rejected, but I’d deal with that if and when it happened.

I arrived at Diem’s office shortly after six, and there was no answer when I knocked. Since there was no peephole, I didn’t get the feeling he was avoiding me either.

I went with a modified plan B. I called him, but I had no intention of giving up my information unless we were face-to-face. I would dangle a carrot in front of him until the beast caved.

The phone rang six times, and I was prepared for voicemail to kick on when Diem answered, snapping with vitriol, “It’s not a good fucking time,” before I had a chance to open my mouth.

“Well, hello to you too, cuddle bear. You’re more like a scorpion. Anyhow, make it a good time, Guns, because I might have information.”

A male voice shouted in the background. A familiar deep-throated growl resonated through the line. With a level tone and gritted teeth, Diem repeated, “It’s not. A good. Time. I have to—”

Something crashed, and Diem yelled, “Maybe you’d have hit me if you weren’t so fucking drunk, asshole. Go on. Try again. I fucking dare ya.”

The other party yelled a response, but it was muffled. Another crash came through the line.

“Put it the fuck down. I’m leaving,” Diem shouted.

A door slammed, and Diem’s breathing turned labored like he was jogging. Wind cut across the line. A second later, another slam, possibly a car door. “I have to go.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Just fucking peachy.” Then he hung up before I could say more.

I stared at the phone for a solid minute before returning it to my pocket. Unsure what to do, I glanced from Diem’s office door to the stairwell at the other end of the hallway. Did I take offor wait for him to come back? Something told me he would be in a ripe mood, and my chances of coercing him into letting me help would be slim. Despite the level of violence I’d heard on the phone, I wasn't afraid of his temper, but out of respect, I figured Diem might need a minute to cool off.

Besides, I was hungry. I called my mother instead and invited myself for dinner because I didn’t get paid until Friday, my fridge was empty, and my bank account was in overdraft.

“Hey, Mom. What’s for dinner?” I asked when she answered.

9

Diem

Birdie’s car was the only one in the double-wide driveway when I arrived. Tension bled from my shoulders. Life was easier when I didn’t have to risk a confrontation with the old man, and Tuesdays were usually the nights he wasn’t home until late, so I took advantage.

I parked in front of the house and jogged up the driveway to the side entrance. The late afternoon sun was low in the sky, hidden behind the houses and casting long shadows along the cul-de-sac. For all it seemed a peaceful neighborhood, I wasn’t fooled. I’d learned long ago that looks were deceiving. The true nature of a family could only be discovered at its core. The outer shell, what the world saw, was often an illusion. Anyone could paint a gorgeous picture, but not many people saw the blood, sweat, and tears involved in its creation.

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