CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Again?"

"Yep. They called us last night."

"I was just there three days ago."

"Yeah, well…" Ahmed hesitates, apparently trying to decide how much to tell me. "Do you watch the news?"

"Yeah, I watch it."

"Well… that's why they want you to clean the pool again."

I know damn well that's why the Kensingtons want me to clean the pool. That doesn't mean I want to go back. And why would they want me back, anyway? Don't they know…

No. They don't know. If they don't know, it means the cops didn't tell them. If the cops didn't tell them, it means…

What does it mean? Why wouldn't they tell the parents I was the one who found her? Do they suspect the parents too? Do they still suspect me?

I think a little more and come to another conclusion. This has been all over the news. My van was parked in front of the Kensingtons' house. Considering how damned nosy everyone is, there's no way no one saw me there with the cops. Why would no one mention to anyone that I was there?

I can understand why Vivian wouldn't. But no one else? None of the next-door neighbors? No one passing by? What the hell have I walked into?

"They're going to pay triple," Ahmed says. "And don't worry about your other clients. I moved them up an hour."

"There's no one else who can do it? I have twelve clients today."

"Thirteen," Ahmed says. "What's the problem? Have a hot date tonight?"

I don't, actually. Vivian's going to be out of town today. Something about needing to go to a courthouse in San Jose to deal with a property dispute between her and her ex. She's not coming back until tomorrow morning.

I just really don't want to go back to that house.

"I'll let you keep half the extra money," Ahmed says. "You're not going to get a better deal than that."

He's right. I'll basically be making four times what I normally make. That's a lot more money than I can sneeze at. Even with a dead body on the line.

But… "They asked for me specifically?"

Ahmed leans back and laughs. "That's funny. No, they didn't ask for you specifically. These are rich people, son. They probably won't even realize you're the same guy who was there four days ago. They called us, and that's your territory, so I'm giving it to you because I thought you'd like the chance to make a lot more money. I didn't expect you'd be suspicious over a dead girl. You know it happens to everyone eventually, right?"

"Yeah. Right." I take the keys and offer a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Ahmed."

"Don't mention it, kid. Hey, loosen up a little, too. Life is short. Don't make it so damned dreary."

***

"Police announced this morning that the death of nineteen-year-old Lila Kensington has been ruled an accident…"

"What? That's bullshit!"

"…was discovered dead when police officers arrived to perform a wellness check after an anonymous tip…"

That really is bullshit. But it's good for me, right? People think a neighbor called it in, and no one's even thinking that I could be responsible. Good news, isn't it?

Except it makes no sense. That cop looked awfully suspicious of me. Why would she look at me the way she did, then never call me again? Did she confirm my alibi somehow?

I guess she could have. She would have a timeframe for Lila's death. If it was proven she died hours earlier, say, before the security cameras at the gate of the neighborhood picked me up, then they could have determined that there was no way I could be there.

As far as Julian and Clara, that's shitty, but I understand it. Mistakes don't cost rich people, even when those mistakes get other people killed. You can drown your daughter, and as long as you have a decent cover, you get to escape. You can run over a kid on her way home from the convenience store, but as long as you can pay for a lawyer, the police will manage not to find your vehicle.

"It's fucking bullshit."

Lila's smile comes to my mind. The slightly sad, slightly lonely, but upbeat and quirky expression she wore when she teased me. She was a good girl. I'm sure she had her problems, but as far as problems go, having an eating disorder is a) not her fault, and b) a hell of a lot better than a lot of other things. She didn't deserve to be thrown out like trash, and the people responsible don't deserve to get away with it.

Settle down, kid. You don't know that Clara and Julian are responsible.

I don't, but Vivian seems to think so, and so does Mrs. Winslow. I know that Clara is a liar because of her little spiel about the pool party that never happened. I know that things were rocky in the Kensington house because of the spat she and Julian have had.

It's not a lot, but it's enough to raise my suspicions. At the very least, the cops need to do a little more digging before they just throw the case away.

I sigh. Shitty as it is, it really isn't my problem. I need to let this go.

Except that's what they did with Annie, and now my family's a broken mess, me included.

I park in front of the Kensington home and take several deep breaths to try to calm myself. I close my eyes, but when I do that, I see Lila's body face down in the pool, so I open them again and stare out the window.

Finally, I decide that putting it off isn't going to help anything. I get out of the van and head to the front door.

I hope desperately that they won't be home and I can use that as an excuse not to clean their pool again. A horrible thought occurs to me that I don't know what I'll find in the pool. I didn't get close to Lila's body. As soon as I saw her, I just ran out of there. I could walk in and see blood or vomit or—

The door opens, and Clara is there. Here eyes are wide and wild, and her pupils are as big around as a Coke can, pun absolutely intended.

She grins at me, revealing rows of teeth that are far too white to be natural, especially in the mouth of a long-term drug user. "Hi! Nick, right?"

"Nate. It's…" I almost say it's good to see you, but that would be a lie, and anyway, I don't know if it's what a grieving mother would want to hear. Assuming she is grieving.

"Clara," she says, mistaking my hesitation. "Come on in."

I blink. "Oh, um, that's okay. I—"

"Oh, nonsense. Just me here today. Julian's off somewhere being a superman or some bullshit!" She laughs briefly, nervously and walks inside, gesturing for me to follow. "Come on! I won't bite."

I bring the cleaning equipment with me, hoping to preempt any conversation and get straight to work. Just to make it clear I'm on a schedule, I say, "If you don't mind, ma'am, I'm going to get started. I have a lot of houses to get to today, and I want to make sure I have enough time to clean things to your satisfaction."

"Of course, of course. We can talk while you work."

My heart begins to pound. Talk? About what?

"Here." She throws open a sliding glass door and moans luxuriously as she steps outside. "Oh God, it's a beautiful day. I'm going to sunbathe."

She pulls her shorts down, and I start to shout a protest when I see that underneath her shorts and shirt she's wearing a black one-piece swimsuit that looks flattering on her but also almost modest. I release a sigh of relief and say, "If you'd like, ma'am, I can come back at another rtime."

"No, no! Please, make yourself at home!"

She's giddy. I wouldn't say she's happy, per se, but she's definitely not grieving. Coke wouldn't do that. Coke makes people intense, it doesn't make them giddy. Maybe she's on ecstasy.

Or maybe she's happy that her daughter is dead.

I set my equipment down and try not to look at the pool. Unfortunately, it's pretty damned hard to clean a pool without looking at it, so I eventually have to poke my head up.

It's pristine. I mean spotless. I don't just mean I cleaned it a few days ago, and it's still clean. I mean someone cleaned this pool within the past twenty-four hours and they did a hell of a lot more than rake out leaves and switch a pool filter. The walls themselves look like they've been scrubbed. I don't see a speck of dirt in there.

Why am I here? Does Clara just want someone else to witness that there's no sign of foul play in the pool? No, that makes no sense. The police ruled Lila's death an accident.

"Everything okay, Nate?"

I realize I'm staring and smile. "Fine. The pool looks pretty good, so I think I'll just start another pool treatment and you should be good to do."

"Good. It smells like death."

I look up at her and see her uncorking a bottle of wine. I look to the left and see white lines on the table next to a mirror and a straw. My blood begins to boil. The damned bitch didn't even bother to hide her drugs.

I don't know why that infuriates me so much. It's a bit hypocritical of me to care how she uses her drugs. But seeing the evidence right there makes me imagine a coke-fueled Clara attacking Lila, snarling as her fingers dig into her daughter's throat.

"You shouldn't mix coke and alcohol," I say.

Clara stiffens and spins toward me, face white.

"It's bad for your heart," I finish.

She begins to shake slightly, staring at me with a look akin to terror. Then she charges me and shouts, "How dare you speak to me like that! Who the fuck do you think you are? You think just because Lila thought you were hot that you can tell me what to do in my own home? Get the fuck out of here! You know what? I'm calling your boss. I'm going to get you fired."

She stalks back to her table and reaches for her phone. I don't know what comes over me. Instead of stammering an apology and begging her not to do that, I say, "I wonder how people would react if they knew you mixed coke and champagne? Did you mix them when Lila died?"

She pauses with her hand over her phone. After a moment, she slowly sets the phone down and looks at me. Her lips are trembling, but her pupils are no longer dilated. Apparently, you really can scare someone sober.

"Get the fuck out," she says softly.

I smile at her. "Have a nice day, ma'am."

I leave, heart pounding, legs shaking. I might have just gotten myself fired. Hell, I might have just gotten myself killed.

But I feel even better than I did. Vivian walked into the shower with me and told me she couldn"t wait.

I text Ahmed that there's been a family emergency, and I have to take the morning off. I'll make up the clients I miss on my next day off.

Then I drive straight toward the nearest police station.