Getting Rid of Bradley Read online

  “He does?” Lucy said, appalled. “He told me he wasn’t hurt.”

  “Well, he thinks he’s Superman. Take care of him.”

  Lucy looked at him suspiciously on his last remark, but he smiled back at her, as artless and open as the sun, and finally, she smiled, too.

  “All right,” she said.

  Anthony’s smile widened.

  All right.

  ZACK DUMPED HIS BAG on the quilt-covered spool bed in the attic bedroom. The ceiling was slung low and canted under the eaves, the wallpaper was scattered with tiny yellow flowers, and the little windows at the end of the room were patterned with diamond panes. “This is a great room,” he told Lucy, who’d followed him up the stairs. “If you had any sense, you’d be sleeping up here.”

  Lucy took an extra blanket from the closet and draped it over the end of the bed. “I know. I wanted to put our bedroom up here, but Bradley said the one downstairs was bigger.”

  Zack felt the same spurt of annoyance he was beginning to feel every time Lucy mentioned Bradley in the same breath with herself. “Why’d you listen to him?”

  “Well, it was going to be his bedroom, too,” Lucy said, and Zack felt really annoyed.

  He opened a drawer, unzipped his bag, and upended it into the drawer to unpack it. “Bradley is an idiot.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Not really. It is warmer downstairs. You have to leave the door to the stairs open at night or this place gets really cold.”

  Zack stopped trying to shove everything into the drawer. “How do you know?”

  “I started sleeping up here in October. Bradley and I...had a disagreement.”

  “Good for you.” Zack felt much better, and then he felt like a fool for feeling much better. Aside from that flash of lust he’d given in to in the driveway, he had no interest in this woman besides a passing sense of responsibility. All he had to do was find out what was in her damn house, get rid of it, and possibly arrest her ex-husband for attempted murder. Then he’d never have to see her again.

  Lucy brushed against his arm as she moved beside him to spread his shirts evenly into the drawer. She smelled faintly of flowers and warmth.

  Never seeing her again suddenly didn’t have much appeal.

  He left the drawer open and stepped away from her. “Let’s start searching this place. Where’s the best place to start?”

  “I threw all of Bradley’s stuff into the basement,” Lucy said, shoving the drawer closed. “You probably want that first.”

  “Threw? Literally?”

  “I stood at the top of the stairs and pitched it. It felt wonderful.”

  Zack grinned at her suddenly, and Lucy looked startled. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “Naw. I just thought you were dead, and it threw me for a minute.”

  “A minute?” Lucy said. “That’s all?”

  “Well, then you showed up and the car exploded. I haven’t had much time to dwell on things lately.” Zack took her shoulders and turned her toward the stairs.

  “C’mon. Let’s go to the basement, so I can solve this case, and you can get rid of me.”

  LUCY FELT GUILTY when Zack whistled at the wreckage at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’ll pick it up.” She started past him, and he grabbed her arm.

  “Look out. The stair rail’s gone.”

  “I know. The chair fell through it.”

  “The chair?”

  “The chair I shoved down here.” Lucy peered cautiously over the broken rail. “See? It sort of rolled to the right, back there.”

  “You threw a chair down these stairs?”

  “I felt like it. Are we going down there or not?”

  “Stay close to the wall, behind me.” Zack went down the stairs. “Don’t fall over the edge, or I’ll be picking splinters out of you for a week.”

  Lucy put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You know, I’m not helpless.”

  Zack ignored her. He dragged the smashed cartons into the middle of the basement and shoved the chair upright. “Nice chair.”

  “No, it’s not.” Lucy followed him down the stairs cautiously. “It’s ugly.”

  “That’s just the upholstery. Cover that up and it’s a good chair.”

  “It’s too big.”

  “It’s a man’s chair.” Zack deepened his voice. “A manly chair for a manly man.”

  “It was Bradley’s.”

  Zack shrugged. “Okay, so it’s not that great. Are these all the boxes?”

  “Just those three. And there’s nothing in them. I packed them up so I know. Just papers and junk.”

  “Papers? I love papers. Do these papers have numbers on them?” Zack sat down on the floor next to the first box and pried at the layers of tape that sealed it. “Did you seal these for life? There must be twenty pounds of tape here.”

  “I was a little enthusiastic.” Lucy turned back to the stairs. “Let me get a knife.”

  “Good. Get me a beer while you’re at it.”

  Lucy stopped halfway up the stairs. “I don’t have any beer.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s in your refrigerator. I put it there myself. Can you cook Mexican?”

  “I suppose,” Lucy said coldly. “Why?”

  “I got some stuff when I picked up the beer on the way here. Nachos, olives, cheese, that kind of stuff.” Zack continued to poke at the box while he spoke, missing Lucy’s frown. “I figured you could cook. You look like the type. Could I have that knife, please?”

  Right between your ribs, Lucy thought and blinked. Then she turned and went upstairs to get him his knife and beer.

  Two hours later, they’d looked at every piece of paper and book in Bradley’s boxes and hadn’t found a clue.

  “Half of this stuff is years old.” Zack sat on the floor by the stairs and stared at the mess. “Doesn’t he ever throw anything out?”

  “I guess not.” Lucy threw the last of the papers back in the box. “It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? All his personal papers are business papers.”

  Zack frowned at her. “Don’t start feeling sorry for him. He’s a rat.”

  “Well, he wasn’t always a rat.”

  “Oh, yeah. What was he?” Zack leaned back against the stairs and watched her. “What do you know about him? Where did he come from?”

  Lucy sat down on one of the boxes. “I don’t know much. He’s from a little town in Pennsylvania called Beulah Ridge. It’s on the high-school yearbook in that box there beside you. His parents are both dead, and he hasn’t been back in years. We had a very small wedding, and Bradley didn’t invite more than two or three people, and he said none of them would be able to make it. It was just my parents and Tina and some friends from school.”

  “Who did he send wedding invitations to?”

  Lucy frowned, trying to remember. “I think a couple of friends from high school. Not family. And anyway, he was right. Nobody showed up that he invited. It was sad, really, but he didn’t seem to mind. Anyway, after the wedding, we just settled in here. He worked at the bank, and I taught school, and Maxwell and Heisenberg moved in. And then the blonde showed up, and he moved out, and we got divorced, and you mugged me in an alley.” She shrugged. “It’s never going to make a Movie of the Week, but that was my life.”

  Zack snorted. “Bradley is a rat.”

  “Oh, not entirely. He was really very nice to me for most of our marriage.”

  Zack looked at her skeptically. “Then why did you move upstairs in October?”

  “He snored.”

  “Right.” Zack turned back to the boxes to pull the yearbook out again.

  “Why doesn’t anybody ever believe that?” Lucy asked.

  “Because no man in his right mind would let you out of his bed for that.” Zack flipped through the book. “Is this his high-school yearbook?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said faintly.

  “John Bradley the embezzler taught high school in California,” Zack said absently, as he flipped to th