Page 74 of V is for Valentine
“Hey.” He paused in the doorway, keeping one hand on the frame. “Don’t forget the crime book for your friend. You left it in your construction apron last night.” He knew because he’d accidently knocked it off the nail and it had hit the ground with a clunk that morning.
“Right. Thanks.”
He hesitated, then said, “We’re good, Felix.” He patted the doorframe for emphasis, then headed down the hall to finish hanging doors.
So much for honesty.
*
“Good news, Danny.Great news.”
“What?” he asked, mystified as to what good news Sandra had at nine p.m. on Saturday.
“The cleaning company left a message and I just got to it. They have a two-day cancellation on Tuesday and Wednesday if you want to jump on it.”
He glanced around the dimly lit cavernous building in which he stood. “It’ll take more than two days for them to clear this place out unless I—”
“Get rid of the debris and knock down the rest of the framing. I’ll help you. Do you think we could get it done?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He’d have to bail on the last day of Pete’s project, which he hated to do, but frankly, they were now ahead of the game and since the entire crew was coming back tomorrow, they didn’t need him. “I’ll run it by the Evanses, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Shall I confirm? The message said I need to confirm by Monday at nine a.m.”
“Confirm,” he said. “We’ll get this done.”
“Great. Then we can move on Fork Horn.”
“I’m all for that. What time can you get here tomorrow?”
“Early. Seven.”
“See you then. Wear gloves and a coat you don’t mind destroying. It’s cold, dirty work.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Danny,” she said with a laugh. “See you then.”
He ended the call and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d left the school at seven with the rest of the crew and had driven straight to the warehouse, where he’d just put in two hours. But if he worked a few more hours tonight, he and Sandra might be able to have something the cleaning crew could work with. Or around. As long as they were able to deal with the grease, grim, and guano, he was good.
A thought struck him, and he pulled out his phone. When the answer came, he said, “Hey, Muff, how are you with a paint roller?”
“What?” Matt Mufalino gave a small snort. “Okay, I guess.”
“I need a favor.”
A few minutes later he hung up after promising to go over Muff’s computer system and to help him hook up his new audio system. Now he felt less guilty about leaving the Evans job.
Two hours later his stomach started to rumble, and he called it a night. A quick trip to Pizza Bob’s to pick up a small carryout, and a few hours’ sleep, and he’d be ready to tackle things with Sandra the next morning.
He drove home, thinking that he’d jump the fence and explain matters to Pete and Felix early the next morning, but when he turned into the driveway, her bedroom light was on, and he could see her sitting at the desk.
He parked his car and pulled the key out of the ignition, cupping them in his hand as he debated.
There were things he wanted to settle. Things that had niggled at him as he worked.
Things he wanted to say face-to-face without an audience.
Opportunity beckoned.
*
