Suspicious Minds (Squeaky Clean Series, Book 2) by Christy Barritt Page B

Could this be a sign of things to come for Hank?
    Finally, the song ended. I mentally pleaded with the crowd not to call him back for more. Elvis waved and began exiting the stage. This was my chance!
    I hurried in front of the stage to the steps where he departed. I pulled my wallet out and shouted, "Hank Robins?"
    He stopped. His eyes narrowed as if trying to place me. Finally, he grinned. "Would you like an autograph, pretty lady? Perhaps on that handkerchief you caught?"
    I found his flirtatious undertones repulsive and hoped it didn't show on my face.
    I flashed my driver's license and then stuffed my wallet in my pocket fast, hoping he'd think I'd shown him a badge instead of my right to drive. "I'm investigating the death of Darnell Evans. I'd like a minute of your time"
    "I'm afraid I'm busy."
    "I'm afraid it's not an option. I need some answers."

    He fidgeted. Looked beyond me at his adoring fans. Glanced back at me and scowled. "Come on. Let's go behind stage where no one can see us.
    Before anyone else could reach him, we ducked in the back. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Now really, miss. I'm quite tired, and I have to be at work early tomorrow morning. Can we make this quick?"
    "Why were you at Darnell Evans's house the week before he died?"
    He chuckled forcefully and wiped his hand over his sagging brow. "At his house? You know about that, huh? We were just having a friendly conversation"
    "I heard it was anything but friendly."
    "Look, it wasn't a big deal. Our friendly conversation turned into somewhat of an argument. Adults do argue sometimes"
    "But you were competitors, also"
    "Nothing wrong with some competition. Makes you stronger, better."
    "So, about your argument. .
    He sighed. "We were both competing for a spot at a summer festival. I heard he paid off the judges in order to be the one"
    "What summer festival was this?" I pulled out my handy dandy pad of paper.
    "Sum-derful"
    I'd heard of the event. It took place at the oceanfront every summer. And it was wonderful. How cute.
    Gag.
    "Do you need anything else?"
    "Mr. Robins, when was the last time you saw Darnell Evans?"
    "The day of our argument. That was it" He cut his hands in the air like an umpire calling "Safe"
    "Now I wish we had a chance to make good with each other, but that won't be happening."
    I snapped my pad shut. "Thanks. I'll be in touch if I have more questions"
    "Who did you say you were with?"
    I walked away without answering. He didn't need to know all of my secrets.

    The next morning, I pulled another box out of Mr. Hermit's closet. So far, I'd found a box full of pink flamingos, a rock collection, and tons of comic books. Some of the stuff could probably be sold on eBay for a good chunk of money. But who would get the cash?
    This was the last box in the closet of the master bedroom. I blew dust off the top of the two-by-three-foot box. What kind of treats would I find in here?
    I'd already packed up all of the man's clothing and shoes. A thrift store was coming to pick them up in a couple of hours. A charity would get his furniture to auction off for the less fortunate. His food had been thrown away. It was all bad-for-you junk food anyway and better if no one ate it, even the homeless. Tomorrow, I'd start on the nonfood portion of the kitchen.
    I plopped on the floor and stared at the top of the box, at the sides that were neatly tucked into each other. Would this be another fun collection? Maybe butterflies or postcards or stamps. Was it only reclusive people who collected things? I paused. Maybe I should ease up on my T-shirts and flip-flops.
    I pulled the ends out from each other. Inside, I stared at another box, this one with a floral print decorating the fabric around it. This was the first feminine-looking item I'd seen in his house. My pulse raced in curiosity. What would be inside?
    Carefully, I took the box out and set it on the floor in front of me. I stared at it a moment, wondering if it would be perfume.