Page 5 of The Body in the Backyard

“It was stabbed intomypillow on the bed. Can you believe that?”

Riley could indeed believe that. Griffin was a selfish jerk who had no qualms about trampling others to get what he wanted. The only thing stopping her from sending him packing right now was the authentic-feeling fear wafting off him like cartoon stink lines. The Griffin she knew was too self-absorbed to be afraid of anything.

“What the hell? I don’t remember ordering curry,” Nick muttered from the other room.

“Hmm.” Mrs. Penny stroked her chin, then, discovering the icing there, licked her fingers. “Read it again. But make it scary this time.”

Riley cleared her throat and delivered the line in her best threatening voice. “You’ll pay.”

“Interesting. Read it again, but with a French accent,” Mrs. Penny said.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Riley said, putting the note down. She turned her attention to the trembling news anchor in the chair. “As far as threats go, this one seems kinda vague.”

Nick walked past the open doorway headed for the front door, carrying a snow shovel and a cordless drill.

“But it’s typed in all caps. Everyone knows that’s more serious in death threats,” Griffin whined.

“Why didn’t you go to the police? You had a homicide detective right in front of you a minute ago, and judging from the sound of the sirens, there’s a half dozen cars next door,” Riley asked.

“The police are bozos. Griffin here wanted professionals, isn’t that right?” Mrs. Penny said, scooting her chair forward until her ample bosom rested on top of Riley’s desk calendar.

“Actually, I went to the police first. They’ve never punched me in the face or thrown me in a dumpster.”

The man had a point. Nick had done both of those things.

“Buttheydidn’t take it seriously,” Griffin continued. “They said it was probably just a prank.”

Mrs. Penny slapped the desk. “They obviously missed the capital letters. Amateurs.”

The front door opened again, and Nick backed inside, holding up his hands. “Look. Can’t we talk about this? Isn’t there a nice roach motel you could stay at instead?”

In shuffled Mr. Willicott, the last of the next-door neighbors. He was wearing four hats and clutching an ancient accordion. Fred and Lily followed, carrying a hammock between them loaded with pantry supplies. Gabe was behind them, balancing a faded yellow sofa on one shoulder and lugging a crate of liquor bottles under his other arm.

“Put that in the bar,” Mrs. Penny told Gabe.

“We don’t have a bar,” Riley reminded her.

“Then we’ll hafta make one, won’t we?” The elderly woman snorted and tossed her purple-tinged hair.

“Donotgo up those stairs, Fred,” Nick barked. “You better turn around when you get to the landing. Donotgo up to the second floor! Damn it! Willicott, do not hang those saddlebags on Burt. Burt, do not carry his shit!”

Riley waved her hands to get Mrs. Penny’s and Griffin’s attention. “Okay. Let’s get this circus back under the big tent. What makes you think this isn’t a prank, Griffin?Besidesthe capital letters.”

“Because immediately after finding the note, I went to the salon to get my usual, andthishappened.” He started to unbutton his shirt.

“What happened? Is this charades? Is it a movie?The Exorcist?Monty Python and the Holy Grail?The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift?” Mrs. Penny fired off question after question as Griffin frowned down at his monogrammed Oxford.

“I’m unbuttoning my shirt. Expensive buttons are smaller than working-class buttons. It takes longer,” Griffin explained.

Riley slouched against the filing cabinets and idly wished that she and Nick lived in a nice hut on a deserted island.

The racket in Nick’s office kicked up a notch. She couldn’t tell if he was running the vacuum cleaner or a leaf blower.

“You’re boring me, Gentry. I don’t like boring cases,” Mrs. Penny warned.

“Just gimme a minute,” he whined. Finally his petite fingers worked the last button free. “Doesthislook nonthreatening to you?”

In the middle of Griffin’s chest hair was the letterGin hot-pink flesh.