The Body in the Backyard (Riley Thorn #4)

by Lucy Score

Josie pointed at her. “Yeah. That. Despite being surrounded by a few dozen potential murderers, Griffin just whined constantly about his injuries, and Bella spent the last three hours baby talking to that stuffed animal she calls a dog. And now I’m leaving before I commit a crime.”

Nick waited until Josie got into her car and backed down the driveway. “Those pregnancy hormones seem to be coming along nicely,” he observed. The car came to a sudden halt at the foot of the driveway, and Josie glared through the windshield at them. She revved the engine once. Riley held up her hands in surrender. “He’s sorry. He didn’t mean it,” she yelled. With another long glare, Josie shifted into reverse again and backed into the street. She blew her horn at the glossy black SUV idling in front of the house across the cul-de-sac. The startled driver took off, tires squealing with Josie aggressively tailgating. “I didn’t know pregnancy hearing was a thing,” Nick said, rubbing a hand over his chest. “Are we sure she isn’t part vampire?” Riley asked.

“Come on, people! Quit your dillydallying. Gam Gam Gentry needs to see her grandson,” Mrs. Penny barked from the walkway, where she batted away raindrops with her cane. “She really does look like a Gam Gam,” Riley observed as they watched her huff and puff her way up to the porch. Mrs. Penny had dressed the part in lilac elastic-waist pants hiked up to the underboobs. Her pastel flower cardigan looked like it was made from a few dozen potholders sewn together. She’d fluffed her purple hair at the crown, smeared on a pearly pink lipstick, and stuffed half a box of tissues up her sleeve.

“I will not punch the turd in the face. I will not punch the turd in the face,” Nick repeated to himself as he took Riley’s hand.

“Of course,” the employee said. “Anything for you two?” “Uh, Nick and I are fine,” Riley told him. “I’m Staff, Mr. Gentry’s personal assistant. If you change your mind, just yell obscenities or insults and I’ll appear,” he said before heading for the kitchen. The back of his shirt had an even bigger staff across the shoulders. Left alone with Griffin, Riley noticed he was staring strangely at Mrs. Penny. “Gam Gam? I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “Oh boy,” Riley muttered under her breath. “For fuck’s sake,” Mrs. Penny groaned.

“It’s safer for you if other people don’t know you have security with you. It’ll make it easier for us to catch them if they don’t know who we are,” Riley explained. “Ohhh, okay. But I can tell Staff, right?” “Do you trust him?” Nick asked through clenched teeth. The vein in his forehead looked a little throbby. Griffin placed a hand over his heart. “I trust him with my dry cleaning,” he whispered earnestly. “Maybe let’s keep this between us for now,” Riley suggested. “If you think that’s best,” Griffin agreed. He frowned. “You don’t think my dry cleaning is in danger, do you?”

“I do. I really feel it,” Bella chirped as she admired her own reflection in the wall of mirrors. “I get the feeling she has to say that line a lot,” Nick muttered to Riley under his breath. “Am I crazy, or does that mirror have a filter on it?” Riley asked, turning her head from side to side. “Look how dewy my skin is.” “Focus, Thorn.” He crossed to the speaker and hit the power button. “Okay, ladies. Sorry to break up whatever the hell it is that you’re doing, but we need to ask Ms. Goodshine some questions.”

She turned to Riley and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Bella.” Riley blew out a sigh through her teeth. “We’ve met. On several occasions. I’m Riley.” There was no glimmer of recognition in Bella’s wide, cartoonlike eyes. “Riley Thorn. The psychic. You came to my house for a séance? I made sure you didn’t get blown up at Channel 50 this summer? You slept with my ex-husband while we were still married?” Bella’s lashes fluttered, and she tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm, nope. Not ringing a bell. But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be good friends in no time.” “Bella has female face blindness,” the trainer explained. “That’s not a thing,” Riley said.

“Chupy, be a dear and whip up one of those protein and placenta smoothies for me before you go,” Bella said. “Sure thing,” the trainer said. “Hang on. Your name is what?” Nick asked. “Chupacabra Jones,” she said, pointing to the name tag clipped to her tank top. “I’m a mixed martial artist. It’s my fighting name.” Nick nodded and rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Please allow me to confer with my colleague,” he said before leaning in to Riley. “If we have kids someday, I think we should name one Chupacabra.”

“Were you here yesterday?” Nick asked. Chupacabra picked up a plastic bottle of pink liquid and squeezed a stream into her mouth. “Yeah. After the show wrapped. Leg day.” She eyed Riley. “You ever lift?” Food to face? Yes. Weights? No.

“Chupacabra Jones has got to be the coolest name ever,” Brian said as he reviewed his copy of the list of suspects. “I know, right?” Nick agreed, frowning down at his phone. Riley sensed testosterone-fueled enthusiasm and wondered what he was up to. “We’re not naming the baby Chupacabra,” Josie said. “Let’s at least put it on the maybe list,” Brian insisted.

“I hate everything about this,” Josie said. Brian patted his wife’s leg. “Look at it this way, Jos. It’ll be good practice for parenting. We just gotta keep a couple of tall toddlers alive for a few days.” “That’s the spirit,” Nick said. “Tell them we’ll pay them in shingles vaccines or whatever they’re into.”

Gabe peered down at the list. “I fear you may be opening yourself up to too much information if we seek answers to questions that are too general.” “Meaning?” “Griffin Gentry is not a nice human.” “No, really?” she said dryly. Her lovable hunk of a spiritual guide cocked his head. “Do you not agree?” “Of course I do. I was just being sarcastic.” Gabe looked at her blankly. “It means you use words that say the opposite of what you mean. But it kind of only works when it’s obvious. Griffin is obviously a terrible person,” she explained. “Ah. I believe I understand now.”

Did Gabe know she’d slipped into his head? Should she confess and apologize? Should she pretend it hadn’t happened and just never make eye contact with him again? She wasn’t sure what the proper psychic etiquette was in this situation. “Uh, Gabe?” she began tentatively as they resumed their journey down the stairs. “Yes. Wander and I did take our relationship to another level,” he said. “Oh boy.” Riley looked at her feet. Her face felt like it was a million degrees. “Please say you’re talking about organizing her holiday decor in a basement or an attic,” Nick complained, tightening his hold on her.

“Let’s talk about something else. Anything at all. Who has an opinion on sports, politics, or religion?” Riley begged. “I am sensing discomfort. Is this accurate, or are you providing another example of sarcasm?” Gabe asked. “Don’t teach him sarcasm, Thorn. It’s more fun when he doesn’t know I’m busting on him,” Nick said as he helped her down the last few steps. “Soon I will bust you with my sarcastic prowess,” Gabe promised.

“I accidentally slipped into Gabe’s head while we were working with my spirit guides and saw things I shouldn’t have seen. Naked things. They looked like something Michelangelo would have painted if he was into super sexy erotic paintings,” she told Nick. “Listen. The only naked bodies I care about are yours and mine. Especially considering we’re way better at sex than those two.” “Has anyone ever told you you’re the tiniest bit way too competitive?” Riley asked.

Nick rubbed a finger over his upper lip. He wondered if he could pull off a mustache. Like one of the Top Gun ones. “I can see it,” Riley said. “You bouncing around in my brain again?” he teased. “It’s not my fault you broadcasted mustache thoughts loud enough that I could hear them.”

“What do you think, Toby?” Riley asked, holding up her hand to show off a ring. Not just a ring. The ring. Nick blinked and took her hand to get a better look. “It’s a classic cushion-cut stone with a baguette halo set in platinum,” Wilfred explained. “It’s, uh, nice,” Nick rasped. It was more than nice. It was fucking awesome. Why was he suddenly sweating? Why was the ring so sparkly? Was there some kind of spotlight shining down on the ring like it was Taylor Swift onstage? Get a hold of yourself, dipshit. He was just having a blood sugar crash. Or a panic attack. Or a small mental break.

“No one affiliated with Griffin Gentry is out for anyone but themselves.” “He’s my ex-husband. We got divorced because he slept with a coworker; then he fired me and sued me for breaking his nose,” she explained. “I almost went broke because of him.” Wilfred wavered.

“What this means is payday comes tomorrow,” Nick announced. “Damn it. I should have gotten a Payday at the gas station,” Josie grumbled, looking down at the remains of her candy bars. “Babe, I’ve got you,” Brian said and produced a Payday from his pocket. “You’ve never been sexier to me. Let’s make more babies,” she said.

Riley released Nick’s shirt and patted his chest. “Are you ready for more good news?” He growled. “My mom just texted. We’re invited to dinner at my parents’ house. She says she has something exciting to show us.” “It better not be more nude self-portrait pottery,” he said. “I think she’s done with that class until spring.”

“I drew this for you, Uncle Nick,” River announced, holding up her drawing. It was a series of crayon-drawn diamond shapes encircling two stick figures. “It’s you and Aunt Riley. I couldn’t get the pretty glitters the right color, so I went with orange.” “Wow, Riv. That’s a cool drawing. It would be even better if the artist signed it for me,” he said. Over River’s bowed head, he pointed at the drawing. “I got a drawing, Mr. Gabe. What did you get?” “We wove him matching drink coasters,” Rain announced. “Yes. I received handmade gifts from the heart,” Gabe said with just a hint of smugness. “You annoy me on so many levels,” Nick said.

Blossom wrestled open the door, and Burt shot out like a bullet. “Be careful with my babies, Burtie boy,” she called after him. “What the—” Nick’s sentence was abruptly cut off by a white feathery thing that bounced off his head. With lightning-quick reflexes, Gabe snatched the flying object out of the air. A head emerged from the ball of fluff, then bobbed. Dull, emotionless eyes blinked at Riley. “Oh boy.” It was a fat feathery chicken. “Why did you hit me in the face with a chicken?” Nick demanded, rubbing his stubbled cheek. “I did not hit you in the face with a chicken,” Gabe insisted. “I saved you from being further attacked.” “You didn’t save me. You intervened before I could react,” Nick complained. “If your reactions were not so slow, I would not have had to intervene,” Gabe pointed out.

“A coodle doodle do,” Mr. Feathers warbled. “Is there something wrong with that rooster?” Riley asked. “I’m just saying, I was stunned by beak and feathers. I would have handled it myself,” Nick insisted to Gabe. “Of course. You have the reflexes of a panther,” Gabe said. There wasn’t a hint of smugness on his handsome face when he released the chicken from his grasp. It immediately flew at Nick’s face again. “Goddamn it,” he yelled, swinging wildly as the chicken flopped around his head and shoulders. “Aww! I think KFC likes you,” Blossom said. “Your father named her.”

“Who the fuck throws a chicken?” Nick groused. “Once again, I did not throw the chicken. I merely released it. I cannot help that it finds your face peckable or that your reflexes are slow and full of panic,” Gabe insisted. Nick spit a feather out of his mouth. “I’m not panicked. You’re panicked.” “Coo coo ca-cha,” the rooster said. “Aren’t roosters supposed to crow?” Riley asked. “Mr. Feathers fell off a truck on the highway. I think he might have a tiny little traumatic brain injury,” Blossom explained.

“It smells like Burt’s cabbage aftermath in here,” Nick observed as they returned to the kitchen, leaving Riley’s parents outside to argue. The emotionally scarred Burt belly-crawled under the table and whimpered until Janet deigned to join him and pick the feathers of his enemies from his fur. “I see you met KFC,” Wander observed. The girls were all drawing at the table now. River had added several pairs of stick figure legs to Nick’s drawing. “Nick was ruthlessly attacked and barely survived,” Gabe said. “I, however, did not receive injury.” “He threw a chicken at me,” Nick complained. Riley dampened a fresh hand towel and pressed it to the trio of scratches on Nick’s face. “Poor baby.” “Am I gonna end up with bird rabies or something?” he asked. “Probably,” she teased. “Let’s go bandage you up.”

“Wow. That near-death experience must have really rattled you,” she said lightly as she tore open a bandage. “Chickens are stupid,” Nick muttered. “You were very heroic fighting off poultry like that.” “We’re stopping on the way home, and I’m getting two hundred nuggets.”

The foyer was dark, but there was a strange sound coming from the sunroom. Like the faint grind of a buzz saw or crunch of a wood chipper. “This feels like a horror movie and we’re about to get chopped up by a deranged serial killer,” Riley observed. Nick took her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” “What if it’s a room full of chickens?” “Then I’ll use you as a human shield.”

Gabe stood at the sink, serenely washing the dishes. “Hey,” he said, slapping a hand to Gabe’s shoulder. Turning, the man mountain gripped Nick’s forearm with one slippery bear paw, twisted, and efficiently tossed him to the floor. Nick landed with an oof. “What was that for, you hairless Chewbacca?” he wheezed, fighting to get the air back in his lungs. “Oh dear. I seem to have misunderstood. I thought you wanted me to demonstrate an effective self-defense move,” Gabe said innocently. “Why in the hell would you think that? I just wanted to talk to you,” Nick rasped. “Because you were so easily defeated by tiny birds last night. Do you not remember? Perhaps the trauma is affecting your short-term memory.” “Shit. You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” “Riley said sarcasm is a tool for humor. I am being amusing,” Gabe explained.

“If we are discussing my very good friend Riley, I do not like this conversation.” “Relax, hot-air balloon,” Nick said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I do not understand that particular reference.” “I don’t know. Balloons are big. You’re big. I just woke up. Gimme a break.” “Ah. I see. Please continue with the topic I am not enjoying.”

“Is this a good surprise?” Gabe asked with suspicion. “It better be. I want to do something completely out of character.” “You wish to become well-mannered and charming?” Gabe’s insult game was strong in the morning. Nick didn’t care for it. “A, I’m charming as fuck. B, I’m sure as hell not going to tell you since you basically broadcast the NC-17 version of your date with her sister to Riley yesterday.”

“Riley is my friend. I merely tolerate you. If this is something that could hurt my friend, I will stop tolerating you.” It was as close to a threat as Gabe got, and Nick appreciated him for it.

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest. His forearms looked like bulging pythons. “I would like to consider your request,” he decided finally. “I do not want to do anything that would make me disloyal to Riley.” “Fine. But think fast, because otherwise I’ll just do it, make a mess of it, ruin everything, and then blame you.” “That does sound like something you would do.”

When he hit the treadmill, he thought about private detective Nick Charles and was in the middle of wondering whether he should grow a mustache first and then buy a fedora, or vice versa, when his cousin wheeled up next to the treadmill. “You look confused and pissed off like you’re back in trigonometry class,” Brian observed. Nick smacked the Stop button on the treadmill and bent at the waist to catch his breath. “Thinking about hats,” he panted. “You’re a weird dude, you know that, coz?” “So I’ve been told.”

“Hey. Totally innocent question here. How did you convince Josie you were the one?” His cousin had sowed his wild oats all over the damn place until he’d fallen for Josie. Brian shrugged. “After I figured out she was the one, I just kept her too distracted to think about what a long shot I was on paper.” “Did anyone try to convince her she could do better?” “Literally everyone. Including my own mother.” “Classic Aunt Nancy.”

“Anytime I’m a dumbass, I just buy Josie a cool new weapon for her collection.” Nick threw the towel over his shoulder. “You’re really unhelpful, you know that?” “See, if you were Josie and you just said that, I’d be on the phone with my weapons guy and I’d be out of the doghouse by noon.” “Men are idiots,” Nick mused. “Hell yeah, we are,” Brian agreed. “Hey, do you think I could pull off a fedora?” “Absolutely not.”

Riley stroked a hand through his short hair. “You’re not an actual suspect, are you?” “Of course not. Weber was just being a dick about me being a dick.” “You know, you two might get more accomplished if you stopped antagonizing each other and worked together,” she pointed out. “I would rather gargle dish soap and eat those leftovers your mom sent home with us.” “So that’s a no then?”

“To the whiteboard!” Mrs. Penny said, pointing a finger in the air. Nick got to his feet and pulled Riley up. Mrs. Penny scrambled her legs around on the floor and grunted, reaching for her cane. “Need a hand?” Riley asked. It took her, Nick, and two farts to get the eighty-year-old on her feet.

“On it. I’ll park the van out front and see if I can slip through the Wi-Fi,” Brian said before shoveling a handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth. “Is it really that easy?” Riley asked. “Sure. As long as this guy never changed the Wi-Fi password from the ISP and he’s broadcasting his SSID with no encryption,” Brian said. “Uh-huh. Yeah. That’s what I was going to say,” Mrs. Penny said, squinting at her iPad through bifocals thicker than encyclopedias. “Sure you were,” Nick said before continuing.

“What’s my assignment?” Riley asked. “I’m glad you asked, Thorn. Since your readings seem to get more accurate the closer you are to someone, you’re going to be getting up close and personal with our top suspects.” Riley perked up. Usually Nick was too protective to let her get too involved in the investigations. Now, not only was he embracing the whole my-girlfriend-is-a-psychic thing, he was giving her an honest-to-goodness, real-deal, I-respect-your-value-to-this-business assignment. “I will, of course, be going with you everywhere,” he added. Whatever. It still felt like a win.

Gabe tipped his head regally. “I am honored my sarcastic self-defense demonstration has convinced you of my prowess.” “Uh, what sarcastic self-defense demonstration?” Riley asked. “Don’t worry about it,” Nick said. “I hurled your boyfriend to the kitchen floor for my own amusement,” Gabe explained. “Did you do it shirtless?” Lily wondered. “We were fully clothed, and I was minding my own business. He took advantage of me,” Nick said.

“Did you come to take another crack at him? Because I don’t think it’ll go any better than the first round,” she warned. “I’m here to follow up with you and your purple-haired anarchist roommate. And you two had better be more forthcoming than Nicky, or else I’m going to get pissed off enough to haul someone downtown.” Riley had always felt that she wouldn’t fare well in jail. Mrs. Penny on the other hand would probably end up running a profitable, illegal goods–based business behind bars.

“You know, now isn’t a great time,” she hedged. “It’s never a great time to get murdered, but that’s exactly what happened to Lyle Larstein, and if you and your friend don’t give me ten minutes of your time here, I’ll drag both of you into an interrogation room.” Interrogation rooms were small, and Mrs. Penny was a gassy woman.

“Fine. Come in, Detective Weber. You can wait in the kitchen while I get Mrs. Penny,” she said in a near shout, hoping someone in Nick’s office would hear the warning. “Very casual, Riley,” Weber said dryly. “I think I’ll come with you to get your friend.” Freaking great. Riley made a production of stomping her way slowly toward Nick’s office. “Can I get you anything to drink, Detective Weber?” she shouted. Behind her, he muttered something that sounded a lot like “I hate my job.” Riley entered the room and found everyone still staring raptly at Nick and his whiteboard. Only instead of being covered with suspect names and photos, it was a mathematical equation with arrows and complex shapes. “And that’s how quantum physics works,” Nick said, capping his marker. “Ahhh,” the roommates said in unison...

She was just beginning to feel sorry for him when Mrs. Penny strutted through the swinging door with a young man in an ill-fitting suit and a dinosaur tie. On closer inspection, he wasn’t just young. He was a teenager. Nick brought up the rear, looking smug. “I don’t get paid nearly enough for this,” Weber muttered into his coffee. “Meet my attorney, Billy,” Mrs. Penny said. “Billy, meet the five-oh trying to trample my civil rights.” “Detective Weber, is it?” Billy asked, holding out a hand that was nearly covered by the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Is this some kind of joke?” Weber asked. “You’re twelve.” “Actually, I’m seventeen. I just have a young face,” Billy said. “He’s one of them there genius prodigy kids. Graduated high school at nine. College at eleven. And law school at fifteen,” Mrs. Penny said proudly. “I took a gap year and went to med school for a little while,” Billy said humbly. “And he’s about to lawyer your ass,” Mrs. Penny said gleefully. Weber looked at Nick, who shrugged and grinned. “I’m just here to make a sandwich.”

“It’s kinda hard to hear someone get murdered in the backyard when that Drew Carey is such a hottie,” Mrs. Penny said. “My client is not saying she ignored a crime in progress. She is saying she had no knowledge of the crime being committed,” Billy interjected. “Your client is giving me a migraine.

“I’m more than privy, bucko!” Mrs. Penny said, pounding the kitchen table with her fist. “I run this place. I have my hands in every investigation⁠—” “What Great-Aunt Jocelyn means is she is only a financial backer for this business endeavor. She is a retired eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t have the time or the inclination to involve herself in private investigations,” Billy said. “Your name is Jocelyn?” Nick asked. “Didn’t you know that?” Riley asked him. He shrugged. “I just assumed she was hiding her first name from everyone like you do with your middle name. Wait a second. Is there a Mr. Penny somewhere out there?”

“Don’t start with me, Nicky.” “Don’t continue with me, Weber.”

“How do you know they’re chasing you?” Riley asked. “A very large man leaned out of the passenger window and shot off my side mirror!” “Are you sure you didn’t just hit something? You’re not a very good driver,” Riley said. “Oooh! Wrestling! I’ll make some popcorn,” Lily chirped from the kitchen door. There was another noise on the line that sounded a lot like gunfire to Riley’s untrained ear. She couldn’t concentrate on the call or the images she felt bubbling to the surface of her mind with Nick and Weber wrestling on the table like children. She picked up her water glass and dumped it on them.

“We’ll take the front windows,” Josie said, yanking up her pant leg to reveal an ankle holster and small handgun. Brian rifled through his backpack and produced a much larger gun with a silencer. “Let’s go have some fun,” he said. “It’s baby’s first gunfight,” Josie said with more enthusiasm than Riley had ever seen from her.