9. Jayne

Standing on the back porch, I looked through the window into Charlie's apartment to see what room I'd be sliding into. A small table with three chairs sat right next to the window. Beyond the table was the rest of the kitchen. There were no lights on and no indication that anyone was inside.

Not that I thought there would be, but it never hurt to check.

Just like it never hurt to check the door, which I did, but it was locked. The door showed no signs of being broken into. Not that surprising. This really didn't seem like a burglary gone wrong. I pulled on the latex gloves and got ready to do the Santa Slide.

The magic usually knocked me out for a second or two, and I knew I'd be dizzy when I came to on the other side, so as a precaution, I crouched down to start with. That way, if I tipped over, I wouldn't have far to fall. I took a breath, focused on the door, and let the magic rip.

Everything shimmered like heat waves. Time and space became meaningless. I blinked as Charlie's kitchen was suddenly in front of me. My head swam, and I mashed my lips together against the urge to toss my cookies. Throwing up all over a potential crime scene would not be good.

I tipped my head back against the door and breathed, eyes closed, until all the icky feelings passed. They were reminiscent of morning sickness, and let me tell you, that was no picnic.

Finally, I felt stable enough to stand. The upside of having my eyes closed meant they were decently adjusted to the dark. A little light filtered in from outside but not much. I would have to be careful not to run into anything.

Probably a better idea to use the flashlight on my phone. Without it, I'd miss stuff, and there was no way of knowing what small thing might be important. I hadn't taken the risk of getting in here just to do a cursory search. Helping Charlie meant being thorough.

I fired up my flashlight and held it low, hoping it wouldn't be seen through the windows.

Charlie's apartment was small but tidy. The faint scent of cleaner and another, more floral fragrance were easy to detect. I looked around the kitchen. Nothing stood out at first glance.

As an afterthought, I decided to film everything. I switched on my camera, hit the button for video and did just that. I didn't love having the light on, but I'd do my best to keep it away from the windows and hope no one saw it. But this way, I could review the footage later and possibly catch anything I'd missed.

Worst-case scenario, I'd have evidence that I hadn't done anything to the place.

I left the kitchen and went down the hall. Next to the kitchen was a bedroom with a bathroom across the hall. In front of that bedroom was a small living room. I could see Sin through the windows. That was the entire apartment.

There was a door in the living room that had to lead outside. I carefully unlocked and opened the door. A length of police tape blocked the way into a tiny foyer that held a set of steps to the upstairs unit.

The door I'd opened was covered on both sides with black fingerprint powder. Maybe the back door had been, too, but I'd been too dizzy to notice.

I carefully closed the door, locked it, and took a quick look around the living room. A couch with a few random throw pillows and a blanket over the back took up most of the space. One of the pillows had the Cheshire Cat on it, causing me to recall Charlie's tattoo. The other had a dapper white rabbit with a clock.

There was a flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. Underneath the television was a low console, the shelves filled with books. Romances, cookbooks, half a shelf on animal care, a few biographies, and some detective novels. Three different copies of Alice in Wonderland stood out. One looked antique, one was illustrated, and one might have been a kids edition.

On the side table by the couch was a lamp and a small ceramic box in the shape of the Cheshire Cat. I took off the lid. Inside was a strand of Mardi Gras beads, a tiny die-cut metal key, a book of matches from the Silver Moon Jazz Club, and the tiniest yellow rubber duck I'd ever seen. I recorded the contents before replacing the lid.

Next, I checked the bathroom. Basic white, including the tile on the floor, but there was a framed print of the Cheshire Cat with a big, toothy grin. In the artwork, he was surrounded by tiny, colorful bottles labeled, "Drink Me." Charlie was definitely an Alice in Wonderland fan. Or maybe more a fan of the Cheshire Cat? I'd only seen the one tattoo. She could have had more hidden under her clothes.

Based on the sloped ceiling, this bathroom was tucked under the stairs I'd just seen. Every inch of space was being used, and the shower was still smaller than the one on the RV. I opened the medicine cabinet. All the usual stuff. Aspirin, Pepto, a couple of tubes of lip balm, a bottle of sunscreen, stuff for bug bites, a box of Band-Aids, dental floss, three of those tiny perfume sample vials, multivitamins, and a tube of Neosporin next to a box of gauze pads.

No makeup anywhere in the bathroom, which seemed odd, because Charlie had definitely been wearing some when she'd come to Matt's. She had to keep it somewhere else.

I went back to the bedroom, wondering how long I'd been in her apartment so far. Sin had to be getting itchy, but I didn't want to rush.

The bedroom was the biggest room in the house. I took a moment before going in. I'd seen the photos in the police report. This was where Charlie had been found, still in bed, no longer alive. What could have happened to her?

Besides the queen bed, its mint-green-and-lavender plaid comforter tossed aside by whoever had removed her body, there was a desk, a dresser, and a vanity table with a big mirror with lights around it.

In front of the mirror was a fancy silver tray filled with bottles of perfume and tubs of skincare products. Next to the tray was a large, zippered makeup case. Electric purple and square, it was about the size of a lunch box and looked like it would hold a good amount.

I unzipped it and had a look. Everything was well organized. Brushes in their pockets, eye makeup in one compartment, lipstick in another, foundation and concealer in a third. I straightened, arched back a little to stretch, then continued.

There was an empty space in the middle of the desk where a laptop had been. The police had taken that, obviously. Her phone, too, no doubt. I opened the desk drawers. A ream of copy paper, a box of pens, some cables, binder clips, a pair of noise- canceling headphones, which made me wonder about the next-door and upstairs neighbors, and a package of thumbtacks.

Another drawer held files with bills, her rental agreement, and some personal paperwork, along with a passport. I looked through it. She'd just gotten it, but there were no stamps on any of the pages. Maybe she'd been planning a trip?

Above the desk was a bulletin board. Next to it was a dry-erase calendar showing two months with her pet-sitting schedule mapped out. She was busy. I counted at least twenty different clients. Some were mentioned numerous times with appointments once a week. Some, like Matt, were twice a day but only mentioned once. There was one name, Kellogg, that was each afternoon, every day of the week, Monday through Friday.

I stared at that one, trying to figure it out. Whoever it was didn't need Charlie on weekends. Maybe they worked long hours during the week and she took their dog out for them? A cat wouldn't need that kind of attention.

I couldn't be certain, but it was curious. I made sure to film the calendar. The bulletin board had some photos pinned up, a couple of ticket stubs, a bedazzled letter C on gold ribbon, a Cheshire Cat lapel pin, a few Post-it notes with phone numbers, and a postcard from the Bahamas featuring a sandy white beach with a gorgeous blue ocean. I eased the pushpin out and checked the back.

Be a good girl and next time I'll bring you with me. Love, A

That was a weird thing to write on a postcard. But did this explain the passport?

With it still in my hand, I took a closer look at the other photos. Many of the photos were of animals. Dogs, cats, one gorgeous scarlet macaw, and a much less gorgeous green snake in a terrarium. Or snakarium. I really didn't know what those things were called.

Maybe these were the pets she sat? The rest of the photos were of Charlie with friends, male and female. It was hard to tell if any of them were more than just friends. Only a few of the people showed up in multiple pictures.

I stopped recording, turned the phone back to camera mode and snapped pictures of the calendar, the photos, the back of the postcard, and the phone numbers on the sticky notes. Then I returned the postcard to its exact spot, using the same hole for the pushpin.

I got video going again and made certain I had the whole bedroom and then a shot of the closet with the doors open. With that done, I put my phone back in my pocket and started a more thorough search.

I riffled through the clothes in the closet and the shoes lined up along the bottom, checked the dresser drawers, felt under the pillows on the bed, even ran my hand around the seam between the mattress and box spring. I lifted the bed skirt and looked under the bed—storage boxes with more clothes but besides that, nothing.

I sighed, looking around one more time. There was nothing odd, nothing unusual. Nothing remotely suspicious. Anything useful had already been taken by police. Disappointment and a sense of failure took over to the point I felt a little like crying. Pregnancy hormones, I knew, but still, I had really thought this visit would give me some kind of clue.

Had I missed anything? I went back to the kitchen. A glass and the blender pitcher sat upside down on a drying rack, the lid next to them. Beside the base of the blender was a can of vanilla protein powder. The sink was empty. A hand towel hung from the oven door handle. The towel was patterned with cartoon dog faces. A set of canisters on the counter bore the same cartoon faces.

Next to the canisters was a small stack of mail. I looked through it. A cable bill, a flyer from a pizza place, a postcard promising a discount for an oil change, and an alumni newsletter from LSU.

One last inspection of the room resulted in nothing. On a whim, I opened the fridge. Orange juice, half-and-half, eggs, a bottle of almond milk, a small pizza box, lunch meat and cheese, a lidded plastic container of spaghetti, individual yogurts, and a random assortment of vegetables, including green peppers, a sleeve of celery, and a bag of radishes. There was also a bag of apples, half a container of raspberries, and a crazy array of condiments.

I counted eight different bottles of hot sauce, not including the sriracha ketchup; five varieties of mustard, one of them labeled hot; a jar of jalape?o slices; and a jar of spicy pickles. She liked heat, apparently.

The other thing that stood out was a fancy box of chocolates that still had a stretchy gold string over two corners. Luminere Chocolates was spelled out in gold foil against the shiny purple cardboard. I took the box out, snapped the string off, and lifted the lid. The intense aroma of high-quality chocolate wafted up. I inhaled, savoring the sweet scent. It was so decadent my mouth watered. After a few seconds of enjoying it, I assessed what was in the box.

Six of the twelve chocolates were gone. Those that remained looked like little works of art, the glossy domes painted in a multitude of colors, flecked with gold or speckled with bits of dried fruit.

I closed the lid and took a photo of it. These didn't look like the kinds of chocolates you bought for yourself. They looked like a gift. From a happy client maybe? A boyfriend? Maybe the A on the postcard?

I'd research the company and see what that could tell me. Other than the chocolates, there was nothing else that seemed important.

I slipped out the same way I'd come in, crouching against the exterior of the door until the dizziness stopped. Then I went down the driveway toward the street. Sin was gone, but I was sure he'd just taken a spin around the block.

While I waited, I looked into Charlie's car. It was just as clean and tidy as her apartment. I heard someone approaching. I looked up and saw Sin, pushing the stroller with two sweet little faces inside.

I smiled.

"Mama!" Spider called out.

I hurried toward them. "Spider, shhh." I really hoped no one had heard that.

"We saw a cow, Mama."

Sin shook his head. "They saw a black-and-white Great Dane."

"Cow," Sugar insisted.

Smirking, Sin rolled his eyes. "Okay, it was a cow."

"Big poop," Spider said.

Sin sighed at that and quickly changed the subject. "Find anything?"

"Nothing remarkable. The place was neat and clean and didn't have a whole lot to share. The police must have taken her laptop, and I'm sure they have her phone, too."

"Which means?"

"We're going to have to work a little harder to figure this out."

He pushed the stroller forward until he was next to me. "We've done it before."

"Yep, we have."

He kissed my cheek. "I'm glad you're okay."

I put my hand on my belly. "I'm not actually."

Worry filled his eyes. "You're not?"

"No. I am really craving chocolate." When a pregnancy craving took hold, it really took hold. "Do we have any in the RV?" It had been a minute since we'd been to a grocery store.

"There's a bag of Twizzlers, some eggnog ice cream, and I think two cupcakes."

"Chocolate?"

He made a face. "Vanilla. And I have a stash of Jolly Ranchers." He'd taken to carrying a few in his pocket at all times in case I had a sugar emergency.

But hard candy wasn't what I was in the mood for. I let out a moan that sounded a lot more pouty than I felt. "I want chocolate."

"Maybe Matt has some in his house. We could look. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. After all, we're taking care of Slim."

I thought about those chocolates in Charlie's fridge. She wouldn't be able to enjoy the rest of them, but going back for them didn't feel right, either.

I took hold of the stroller. "If he doesn't, we're going to have to find a convenience store. Or something. I need chocolate."

Sin nodded. "Don't worry, we'll get you some."

With a final glance at Charlie's apartment, we started the walk back to Matt's. I was still disappointed that my search hadn't turned up anything useful, but I'd show Sin the video I'd taken. Maybe he'd see something I hadn't.

Otherwise, we were kind of dead in the water.