Needy Little Things(28)
I need to redirect this conversation before it goes full tinfoil hat. “Did you hear about the girl who went missing around the corner from here? Her name is Deja Nelson. It was Saturday night. During the music festival.”
“Heard that music all damn day. If you could even call it music. Noise, more like.”
“Right, well, she’s a friend of mine and I was hoping I could leave you with some missing person flyers to share around. Danny says you aren’t getting out much but—”
“Excuse me for a minute. Need the john.” He scoots by me and down the hall. “I got IBS, darlin. When nature calls, you get a move on!”
Really? Once the bathroom door clicks shut, I peek into the living room. The muted TV plays the Weather Channel and the local paper is spread open on the coffee table. I take a step into the room, the squeaky floor threatening to expose my creeping. Philly needs an intervention before he ends up on an episode of Hoarders. There are hip-high mounds of random things scattered all around the living space, leaving only a narrow path to walk. The path forks, one portion leading toward the couch, the other to a wood plank door. I look over my shoulder to check for Philly. I haven’t heard a toilet flush or the faucet running, but to be honest, I’m not sure if he’s the type to bother with any of that. I shake out my hands, hoping my sense of unease flings off and gets tangled up in one of the teetering piles of junk. I consider where the door may lead. Maybe it’s his bedroom or a closet, but I need to see. I place my hand on the knob and actually scream when a loud clank! echoes up from beneath my feet. There’s a large gap between the floor panels, exposing the cement floor of the basement below. Something’s moving down there. I squat for a closer look, but almost lose my balance when Philly appears behind me. He spits into his Coke can, then wipes his mouth with a bandanna that has the word QUEEN printed across it in cursive.
“The hell you doing, girl?”
CHAPTER 11
“Where did you get that?” Every muscle in my body tenses.
“Get what?” He looks far less frail than he did a few minutes ago. He’s taller than I realized, has more weight on him.
“That bandanna.” My eyes scan the room, darting from left to right like someone might jump out from behind one of the many places to hide.
“You come here just to ask me the same damn questions the police already done asked?”
He takes a step toward me and I take two back, accidentally knocking over a stack of magazines. “W-Why did the police come here?”
He laughs out loud, revealing a gap where his bottom left premolar should be. “Your friend. They’re saying they think she’s been abducted, maybe killed.”
My skin goes instantly clammy because I hadn’t heard words like that out loud yet. Not in reference to Deja. And not by a man holding what might be her bandanna.
Philly clears his sinuses with a stiff snort. “I’m a single man living not a stone’s throw away from where that girl vanished. You know why the police came here.”
He suddenly reaches for a grocery bag on the end table beside me. I flinch, but he ignores it. “Danny thinks I’m dense, but I bet ya a dollar and two cans of soup he had something to say about me always seeking you out. He thinks I don’t know how it looks, but I do. I just figure it’s worth the risk. Considering what you can do.” He shoves the bag at my chest. “Go on and open it up.”
My hands tremble violently, but I do as he says. Inside are dozens of individually wrapped bandannas with various words and phrases. CUTIE PIE. BOSS. FLIRT. QUEEN.
“If I would’ve known they’d cause me so much drama, I never would’ve bought them. Bulk order from six months ago. Been selling them around town. Never going to get rid of them. Gave my niece a bunch to sell at her school, but I still got a thousand more in the basement.”
I look at the floor, wondering what else he has down there.
He huffs, fed up with me now. “It’s an old house for crying out loud! You folks get real suspicious over a water heater and Bear.”
“Bear?”
“Yes, Bear. My dog. Got to keep him down there or else that boy will run me over and I ain’t got no Life Alert.”
“Then this may come in handy one day.” I take the air horn from Santa Bag and give it to him. A new need immediately replaces the former.
Gemstones. Gemstones. Gemstones.
I purse my lips. This needy behind. I pull a small bag of assorted faux gems from my bag. “This, too. Thanks for talking to me, but I better get going.”
He inspects the synthetic stones and turns the air horn over in his hands a few times, then waves it at me, smiling. “Tell you what, you’re always welcome in the Irvine household. Come on back to visit soon.”
He follows me out to the front porch, waving until I make it down the driveway. The fresh air is such a relief after breathing in the stale, stuffy air of his house. A car horn honks. Two soft, quick beeps to get my attention. Jude waves at me from where he’s parked down the street.
“Hey. Malcolm just called,” he says when I open the passenger door. “He wants to meet up to make plans for the rally.”
I buckle my seat belt. “That’s fine.”
He puts the car in drive but keeps his foot on the brake. “What were you doing here?”