Hailey smirks. “I know how to measure six inches.”
“Six inches?” Aiden raises his brow. “Pretty sure it’s more than six inches.”
Hailey rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say it was six inches. I said I know how to measure six inches.”
Wally clears his throat. “What else?”
“When I was … ‘swimming’… a man shouted for me to get out of his yard.”
“Maybe Melanie has herself a new man.” Sid wiggles his eyebrows.
I’m not buying it. “Why haven’t I seen him enter or leave the house then?”
“Maybe—”
Judging by the grin on Sid’s face, I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I hold up my hand to stop him. “I’ve staked the place out at various times throughout the day. No one has come or gone from the house. It’s not normal.”
Sid grunts in agreement, and I smile. Maybe I am good at this investigator stuff after all. I should be, considering how many lies and cheats I was exposed to in my previous life.
Pops arrives with a huge tray of food. My mouth waters as he sets plates of hamburgers and fries in front of everyone. With a wink, he grabs a bowl of tomato soup and places it in front of me. I force myself to thank him. I know there’s no tomato soup on the menu and Carol the cook made it special for me since I try to keep to a healthy diet, even now when money is scarce.
Before I get a chance to dive into my tomato soup I wish was a burger, Hailey nudges me. “Check out Mr. Hottie making eyes at you.”
I look over and sure enough, Ryker is sitting at the bar with his gaze focused on me. I feel my body heat. Is it hot in here? I feel warm. I fist my spoon to resist the temptation to fan myself.
Suzie leans across me to see who Hailey’s talking about. “Isn’t that the guy who asked you out?”
My blush intensifies. Did she have to tell the whole table? She nudges me with her shoulder. “You should tell him yes. I’m sure the trip to bonetown is still available.”
Hailey reaches around me to smack Suzie upside the head. “Stop embarrassing Phoebe. If she doesn’t want to date Mr. Hottie she doesn’t have to.”
“Damn right she won’t date him.” Lenny points at Aiden. “At least not until we get a background check.”
Aiden shakes his head. “Not happening.”
Hailey’s fiancé is a police detective, which came in super handy when Hailey landed herself a stalker. But it’s not handy when the uncles are up to their old tricks.
Wally snickers. “Like we need your help.”
I ignore the uncles and Aiden as they argue about when it’s appropriate to run a background check. They can run all the background checks they want. It doesn’t matter. I’m not dating Ryker of the deep, growly voice or anyone else for that matter. Men and romantic relationships have no place in Phoebe’s new life.
Chapter 4
Never make assumptions. Especially about how much dogs love you. ~ Phoebe’s rules for becoming a better person
Another day. Another stakeout. This time I’m prepared. I plugged my telephone into the car stereo and I’m listening to a podcast about self-empowerment. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life, it’s that you can’t rely on anyone but yourself. Until recently, everyone in my life was dedicated to ensuring I knew I was nothing but arm candy and a baby maker. Not anymore.
I munch on carrots as I watch the house. Like the previous times I’ve sat in the SUV a few doors down from the Brown residence, nothing is happening. This suburb is the very definition of sleepy. Of course, it’s the middle of the day and everyone is probably working or at school. No ladies who lunch are to be found here. They don’t realize how lucky they are.
Once I finish the carrots, I realize I’m thirsty, but I don’t have a drink with me. On my very first stakeout with Hailey, she warned me not to drink while on a stakeout as bathroom opportunities are extremely limited. She’s not wrong. I don’t see myself squatting behind a bush to take care of business. The very idea is abhorrent. My nose scrunches in disgust.
Stop it, Phoebe. Stop being a snob.
Lunchtime comes and goes but still no movement at the Browns. How can anyone possibly stay inside this much? As far as I can tell, they’re not even ordering much take-out. What can you do inside with all those hours to burn? They can’t possibly be playing around in the sheets all this time, can they? Doesn’t he need some recovery time? In my admittedly limited experience, men can’t go, go, go when it comes to sex.
I wait another hour. If I don’t make my move soon, the kids will be out of school and I’ll have missed my window of opportunity. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel before pressing stop on my podcast. I can’t sit here idle a moment longer. Besides, it’s not a big deal. What could go wrong? It’s not like I’m going to suddenly get amnesia and forget there’s a great big pool in the middle of their backyard.
I slip out of the car and walk around the block. Since no one called the police on the crazy lady running through their backyard yesterday, I assume it’s safe to take the same route as I did yesterday. When I reach the privacy fence, I glance around but I’m still all alone out here.
I make a run at the fence, place my hands on the top, and vault over it. What do you know? Those rusty gymnastic moves are improving after a single vault yesterday. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I’m using my gymnastics skills to break into people’s yards. I land in the Browns yard and immediately hunch down. I waddle to a bush and hide behind it.
I study the layout of the yard, which is what I should have done yesterday. There are bushes lining the fence on three sides. In the middle of the yard, the pool is once again covered. I guess I didn’t ruin the tarp. Off the rear of the house is a cement patio, currently empty of furniture, although there is a grill under a tarp near the kitchen door.
Okay, I tell myself. I got this. The light in the living room comes on and I creep closer. I will not be the idiot who walks into the middle of the yard straight into the pool today. I stick as close to the fence as possible without having to crawl through the shrubs.
The door in front of the kitchen slides open and a man whistles. I bring up my camera and zoom in to take a picture. Is it Stan Brown? Have I found him? Is one fuzzy picture enough for payday? I creep closer as I click away.
A dog’s head appears at the door and he barks. The large black face with brown snout looks left and right and then raises his head to sniff the air. I’m not worried. Dogs don’t scare me. Not even rottweilers. They’re good-natured dogs, despite their reputation as savage dogs.
“Go get ‘em, Killer,” the man I suspect is Stan Brown says.
Killer? Who names their dog Killer? I watch as the man takes one step onto the patio. Yes! This is definitely the money shot. I take another step forward as I snap away. Suddenly, the dog barks and starts running straight toward me.
Shit! I spin around and run full out toward the fence. A man bounds over the fence right before I reach it. I come to a screeching halt.
“Come on,” he shouts. “Get moving.”
Hey, wait. I recognize him. It’s Ryker from the bar. What is he doing here?