Page 23 of The Accidental Detectives

Marty grinned. “He was easy enough to find. Derek Simpkins, in his early thirties, lives somewhere here on the island. I bet his address wouldn’t be hard to discover.”

“We need to pay him a visit, for sure,” I said. “Hey, I meant to ask, how did you guys get out of Astrid’s, anyway?”

One minute I was playing with the kids, and the next, Wanda was wagging her finger at me because it was time to go.

“Thankfully, she forgot all about the white-cheeked spider monkeys, but we promised to check on her in a couple of days, to be sure her parents got in all right from Arizona and the kids were squared away.”

I felt a little relief that she’d at least have help. “Okay, we’ll hunt down Derek tomorrow. Right now, we need to worry about getting into Brenda’s house without you two being caught on someone’s security cam. It’s a pretty frickin’ ritzy neighborhood. I’m sure there are plenty of cameras everywhere. She said if we stick to the bushes in the back and stay low, we should be okay to get into her cellar door. But we’re quick. If we do show up on someone’s security camera’s, we’ll be a blur.”

Marty nodded. “Another reason I insisted we wear all black.”

I held up the black ski mask she’d given me to wear. “The hell, Blondie. You insisted we wear black so you’d have another opportunity to play fucking dress-up.”

She shrugged her shoulders at me with a sly smile and a wink. “I like to get into character. So sue me.”

Wanda held up a finger. “Okay, you two, let’s get this show on the road. I want to get this over and done with without getting caught. I’d prefer not to have to call Heath and ask him to cough up bail money.” She turned around and looked at us in the backseat. “You two ready?”

I nodded my fancy head. “Ready.”

We’d parked on a side street by a convenience store, so we wouldn’t raise any eyebrows in Brenda’s shi-shi-foo-foo neighborhood. I put the ski mask on—even if I didn’t really need it because I won’t show up on cameras—and popped the back door open, sliding out, preparing to make the mile or so hike to Brenda’s.

I have to admit, the good parts involved in being a vampire are really sweet. There’s nothing like being able to run as fast as a bullet train. I battle with myself every day, wondering if it’s better than being able to eat chicken wings and slug down a cold beer, though.

As we ran toward Brenda’s, kicking up snow as we went, streets passing us at the speed of light, the freedom I felt invigorated me, helping to clear my head. I let my worries about the kids go for a sec and focused on finding clues at Brenda’s.

Marty stopped short just shy of Brenda’s property, plastering herself up against a tree on the sidewalk. I nearly took her out, skidding to a halt just before I ran into her.

Wanda looked up and down the street, signaling to us that it was safe like she was some kinda air traffic control employee, wildly waving her hands and jumping up and down.

JFC, I swear, there’s nothing subtle about us. We might as well put our names on a billboard with flashing neon lights and arrows so everyone knows we’re gonna break into Brenda Bronkowski’s house.

Following Wanda’s lead, we scurried across the street like cat burglars, diving into the bushes that lined her house in the backyard. Like in a cartoon, I could almost hear the keys of a piano plink, signifying each step we took.

We looked like idiots dressed in black, pretending to know what we were doing.

Creeping our way to where Brenda said her cellar door was located, I heard Marty hiss and Wanda swear as we crawled through the bushes. P/s, Wanda almost never swears.

I found the cellar door first, hunkering down low before yanking it open. We flew down the stairs, leading to another door Brenda had given us a key for.

I jammed the key in the lock and stepped inside a musty cellar holding nothing much but cobwebs and a bunch of boxes the cops had torn open and rifled through. Christmas decorations were strewn across the floor—Halloween, too—but a quick scan didn’t reveal anything of interest.

Yanking off my stupid face mask, I stuffed it in my pocket, knocking off some of the clips in my hair. I bent to scoop them up so I didn’t leave any evidence behind.

We took the staircase to the first floor, pushing open the door to reveal Brenda’s kitchen—a high-tech wonder of appliances she probably never used. I wouldn’t use mine if not for Charlie and Carl, though Arch makes good use of it often to cook family dinners.

Marty busied herself plucking leaves from Wanda’s black turtleneck (which explained the swearing) while I scanned the kitchen that opened to an enormous great room with big, puffy furniture, a fireplace, and lots of throw pillows tossed everywhere.

No wonder Marty and Wanda felt a kinship with Brenda. The multitude of throw pillows she possessed said it all. What is it about throw pillows that speaks to so many damn people?

All the kitchen cabinets were open, but they didn’t have much in them. If you didn’t eat, you didn’t need utensils. The drawers were the same deal, open and tossed by the cops with nothing much to see.

Marty whistled as we looked around. “This is some place, huh? Those marble floors in the entryway alone cost a fortune. Not to mention, real wood floors. Ask me, I know.”

“So she’s not poor. We can expect a big donation to the charity of our choice. Yay. We’re not here to flip her house, Marty. We’re here for some damn clues, which we desperately need or there’s gonna be no donations but toward our bail money when this whole fucking Operation Find a Clue lands us in jail.”

But Wanda wasn’t listening to me. She was goo-goo eyed over the décor. “Brenda said she comes from family money. Oil or some such thing. She said investing wisely was the key.”

I planted my hands on my hips, leaning back on the gigantic island with a shiny silver sink in the middle of yet more white marble. “You know, did she ever say how she was turned in the first place? According to Greg, it happened during a time period when shit got crazy-hinky for vamps. Humans were hunting them left and right.”

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