He Will be My Ruin
Page 73

“She didn’t tell me anything.” Ruby slowly swirls the silver spoon around her cup and very simply says, “I asked him.”
I think Doug’s eyes are about to pop out of his head. “See? The elderly and investigations cannot coexist!”
If Ruby’s insulted, her tiny smile doesn’t let on. “Silly me . . . When I went down this morning to pick up my mail, the key somehow snapped in the lock. Imagine that. It must have been getting weak. So, I called Grady and asked him to see if he could fix it. He came down and fiddled with it for a bit, but couldn’t get it to open. Said we’d need to call a locksmith in to replace it.” She takes a sip of her tea. “My mailbox just happens to be nine over from his, and I just happened to notice that his says ‘J. Grady.’ So I asked what the ‘J’ stands for. He told me ‘James.’ And then I asked why he doesn’t use it, and he said that it’s because his father’s name is also James.” She shrugs. “I had never even noticed it before. I’m so daft in my old age.”
Though she plays the role well, Ruby is anything but daft.
I shoot a grin Doug’s way, making a mental note to pay for her new lock, because I’m sure it’s not cheap. Doug’s already on his phone, no doubt texting Zac with the new information about Grady sharing his father’s name.
“So, I’m guessing his fingerprints would be helpful, too?” Ruby says.
“A full set would be, yes. Doug hasn’t had any luck finding one, though. I’m going to have to meet up with him for coffee, or something. Get his cup.” My stomach tightens at the suggestion. I don’t know that I can face Grady and pretend everything’s okay.
“What about the garden on the roof?”
The roof. That beautiful, peaceful oasis that I found some shred of happiness in, with him, throughout all of this. Now I cringe picturing it. “He has a camera up there.” I used to think it was simply a security measure, but now I’m wondering if there’s more to it. “It’s better that he doesn’t know we’re on to him.”
“You know, Grady stopped by yesterday and returned a cookie tin. The surface is metal and smooth. It probably has a full print or two on it.”
“Where is it?” Doug demands, marching toward the door. “Do you still have it?”
“I believe it’s still sitting on my kitchen counter where . . .”
He’s gone, out the door, across the hall, and into her apartment before she can finish the sentence.
“What was that he was saying, about the elderly not being very helpful in investigations?” she muses, a small, glib smile hiding behind her teacup.
“I’m sorry. Doug doesn’t have the best bedside manner.” I add a sugar cube into my cup. I’m going to miss this when I’m gone, I realize, as I lift the delicate china to my lips.
My eyes meet Grady’s, and I nearly choke on my tea.
He’s standing in my open doorway with a young woman next to him. With her long, dark hair, deep olive complexion, and healthy curves, she could almost pass for . . . Celine.
“Hey, Maggie.” Unlike me, Grady is all smiles. “This is Jemma. She’s here to see the apartment.”
“Oh my God. It’s Monday.” With everything going on, I completely forgot.
“I just live a few blocks away.” Jemma gives me a wide smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Grady steps in before I can tell him that this is not a good time. “I can’t believe how bare it is in here.” His gaze drifts over the emptiness, landing on Doug’s forensic case.
“You weren’t lying. There are a lot of shelves,” Jemma exclaims with a giggle, her big brown eyes skating over the room as she steps around a box full of books, the hems of her light blue jeans dragging. She doesn’t seem to have picked up on the tension in the room yet. “I don’t own enough to fill them.” She smiles up at Grady and deep dimples form in her cheeks.
Jemma is pretty. Very pretty.
“I’ll help you take those ones down.” He waves a hand to the left. “They were all added in. The former tenant needed it for her art collection.”
Jemma looks at me, and then at Grady, and I see the question in her eyes. No, I’m not the former tenant.
“And this is the bedroom over here.” She follows Grady, his arm stretched out behind her, his fingers so close to grazing the small of her back as they stand in the entranceway. “It’s small but full of character.”
“And bright.” She quietly admires the length of the window.
Suddenly, I’m hit with an image of Grady slipping through that window to have sex with another pretty girl in this apartment.
And maybe killing her.
I can’t help myself. “I’m the old tenant’s friend. I’m just cleaning up. She died right over there.” I point to the bedroom. “The police say it was a suicide, but I’m honestly not convinced.”
I’m too busy watching the shock on Grady’s face to pay attention to hers, which I’m sure is classic. She’ll thank me later.
“My name is Ruby. I live next door.” Ruby eases out of her chair and offers her hand to Jemma, who takes it, though she looks like someone just slapped her across the face. “It’s a wonderful building. Would you like some shortbread?” Ruby holds out the plate, her sweet smile helping lessen the unsettling mood that I just created in the room.
“Sure.” Jemma takes a cookie, nibbling the edge like a dainty little mouse.
Doug’s heavy boots stomp across the hallway. “I think I should be able to pull a good print—” Doug stops dead still, the royal-blue round metal tin balancing precariously between his hands.
Grady’s eyes narrow on it slightly.
“Hi.” Doug shoots a glare my way—as if this is my fault, which I guess it is because I’m the one who forgot that Grady was coming by today with the new tenant—and then sets the tin down on one of the empty shelves. “We met a few days ago.”
“Right.” Grady gives Doug a tight smile. “Jemma, let me give you a quick tour of the kitchen and bathroom, and then we can get out of their hair. Looks like they’re busy.” He leads her across the living room, his wary gaze touching mine for a split second.
The quick tour is literally that—sixty of the most awkward seconds of Doug, Ruby, and me passing unintelligible warning glares at one another while Grady leads the new tenant through the apartment.