Page 148 of The Body in the Backyard
“You started a Griffin Gentry Sucks Support Group and have been stalking him and pranking him for years,” he pointed out.
“She just tried catfishing him for his credit card number less than an hour ago,” Riley added.
“Great. She’s the almost murderer. Can the rest of us go home now?” Chupacabra asked. She was wearing a violet workout set and doing squats next to the last row of chairs.
“Ah, Chupacabra Jones,” Nick said.
“Damn, that’s a great name,” someone whispered.
“You just so happened to sign on as Bella Goodshine’s personal trainer mere weeks after your second cousin lost his limo driving job thanks to Griffin Gentry.”
Chupacabra paused in the bottom of the squat. “It’s a coincidence.”
“Yeah. I don’t believe in them,” Nick said. “Especially not when you and your cousin have been meeting with Bret Michaels.”
The crowd gasped.
“Not the Poison one. The lawyer one,” Nick said. He pointed to his cousin. “Brian, fire it up.”
The TV turned on to reveal a photo of the personal trainer entering a building.
“I believe this is you, Chupacabra Jones, and your cousin with a substantially less cool name walking into the law offices of Bret Michaels. You took this job to get access so you could gather evidence for your cousin’s countersuit against Gentry,” Nick said.
Chupacabra stood up and crossed her arms, making her biceps bulge. “So what? The dude committed insurance fraud. I’m just evening the score.”
“Good for you,” Kiki said, flashing her a double thumbs-up.
“But what are the odds that your family’s pockets can outlast Griffin’s legal budget?” Nick asked. “Maybe your lawyer bills were adding up, and you were still no closer to bringing your nemesis to justice. So you decided to bring him to justice on your own.”
Another gasp rose up from the gathered suspects.
“Just a side note. You guys might want to hold the gasps for the end, or you’re gonna hyperventilate,” Nick suggested.
Chupacabra’s nostrils flared. “Bull. Shit. You better watch what you’re accusing me of, Santiago.”
Griffin poked his head over Riley’s and Josie’s shoulders. “I don’t like this surprise party. Where are the balloons and the ice cream cake?”
“Oh my God. Here,” Josie said, fishing a handful of gummy dick packets out of her pocket. “Eat these and shut up.”
“Oooh! Trophy candy!”
“Who’s next?” Nick asked, scanning the crowd.
Wilfred Peabody, the jeweler, shifted uncomfortably on an overstuffed ottoman and avoided eye contact. Betty and Tyra, the adoptive moms, were next to him.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, butIdon’t have time for this,” Claudia announced, hitching her purse up her shoulder. “I’ve got real news to cover at Channel 49.”
“Claudia Mendoza, ladies and gentlemen. Claudia was originally a morning news anchor for Channel 50 until Gentry’s father gave her the ax and put his son in her chair. Isn’t that right, Claudia?”
She snorted. “That’s old news. I’ve moved on. I don’t even think about Griffin anymore.”
Nick winced theatrically. “I wish I could believe you. I really do. But then how do you explain this?” He pointed to the TV screen, where a blurry photo of Claudia sitting behind the wheel of a vehicle in a parking lot appeared.
Riley recognized Mr. Willicott’s artistry in the blurriness and crooked composition.
“You’ve got me. It’s true. I drive my own car,” she said acidly.
“I guess you also do your own vandalism?” Nick asked.
