Page 11 of The Body in the Backyard

This was bad.

They needed a quick influx of cash. Like yesterday. He scrubbed his hands over his face and thought fast. High-stakes poker? Join a car-theft ring? Track down a high-dollar fugitive and collect the bounty? Sell a kidney?

“Maybe the person threatening me is a superfan?” Griffin suggested.

Nick closed his eyes and mentally screamed.

When he opened his eyes, he found Riley staring at him. Of course his psychic girlfriend could hear his inner screams.

He gave her a phony grin, a dumbass’s thumbs-up, and pretended to be engrossed in his dwindling bank balance on the screen. Maybe he could sell his old Lego sets or that Kiss guitar pick Gene Simmons had spit on when they performed at City Island? Fuck.

Unfortunately, it looked like the best, most likely option for a quick payday was the orange-tinged Ken doll in his living room.

Maybe he could sell one of Griffin’s kidneys?

Nick rubbed a hand over the back of his head. He needed to fix this and fast before anyone else found out. Instantaneously, Riley’s gaze was on him. Her nose twitched. Then her eyes widened.

Damn it. Living with a psychic had its downsides. “Thanks a lot, tattletale spirit guides,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was her name?” Josie asked Griffin while Riley continued to shoot Nick an embarrassed I-know-that-thing-you-don’t-want-me-to-know look.

Griffin blinked. “Whose name?”

Brian groaned. “The server you had fired.”

“How should I know? I don’t bother learning the names of people who earn less than six figures a year.”

The last thing Nick wanted to do was be dependent on Griffin Gentry for a payday. Okay, maybe that was the next-to-last thing. Thelastthing he wanted to do was let Riley down. He’d fucked up by obsessing about a cold case and turning down legitimate business. This was his mess and his responsibility to clean up. Even if it meant doing something so disgusting he could never look at himself in the mirror again.

Nick slammed his laptop shut and got to his feet. “People, let’s cut this idiot…I meanclienta break.”

Riley raised an eyebrow and wroteUnnamed Pregnant Serveron the board while everyone else glared judgmentally in Griffin’s direction.

“Knew you’d get on board,” Mrs. Penny said as she flopped down in her chair.

“Who else have you gotten shitcanned? Anyone you owe money?” Josie pressed, using the tip of her blade to clean dirt out from under her fingernail.

Griffin took an annoying breath. “Well, there’s a jeweler that keeps harassing me, saying I ‘stole’ something. And then there’s the guy whose pickup truck I nudged on the highway because he was going too slow. Oh, and this contractor keeps insisting that I pay her for the work she did to my backyard…”

“Oh!Then there’s the car dealer president who actually thinks I should be making payments on the Porsche they loaned me. Can you believe that?”

Griffin “Shithead” Gentry had spent the last hour detailing how he’d swindled, blackmailed, and generally fucked over half the population of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Nick had a blinding headache and a double eye twitch. The whiteboard and three pages of legal pad paper were filled with potential suspects. Mrs. Penny was snoring on the thing Riley called a divan, and the house smelled like charbroiled cookies.

“That’s really all I can think of from the past two or three months…locally.” Griffin looked like he expected a gold star.

Everyone seemed too dazed to break the silence. Well, everyone except for Mrs. Penny, who let out a sinus-rupturing snore.

Riley cleared her throat. “Well, that was…helpful. Thank you, Griffin.”

“You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll just introduce me to my personal security for tonight’s masquerade gala, I can be on my way. I have a massage in an hour.”

“Masquerade gala?” Josie choked. She was the only one in the room who hated playing dress-up and making small talk more than Nick.

“It’s a fundraiser for something about underprivileged children…or plants. I can’t remember. Don’t forget your masks! They won’t let you in without one.”

Josie turned a sly, shit-eating grin on Nick. “Gee, I’m real sorry, boss. We can’t work tonight. Doctor’s appointment.” She pointed to her stomach.