Full Release Marshall Thornton (best book clubs .txt) 📖

He looked back at me and gave me an appraising look that made me very uncomfortable. “Once,” he said.

“I guess that didn’t work out.”

“He’s a level one offender spending the next five years in Folsom. It’s not a mistake I’m making again.”

“That’s too bad.”

He took a step and got very close to me. “We pulled a dead guy out of your garage last night. A dead guy you dated. You don’t flirt with me less than twenty-four hours later.”

“I didn’t, I mean, I’m sorry, I just…” A flush crept over my face. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

“Very.” And then he walked out the door.

After he left, I wondered if I was taking this not-vanilla thing way too seriously. Hitting on a policeman. I’d gone too far. Way too far. And I knew it, even as I was doing it. Somehow, ever since I made the phone call to Eddie, my whole world had turned upside down. I was a mess. I had to get myself under control.

Should I try to do something to fix this situation? Detective Tripp probably thought I was a complete ass who did nothing but follow his dick around, and while lately that seemed to be at least a little true, I didn’t want him to think so. But then, what did it matter what he thought of me? The investigation was over. I wasn’t likely to ever see him again, and while I’d like to see him again, I was relieved I’d never have to face my humiliation.

Then it occurred to me that there were things I should have told him. The truth about how I met Eddie, for one thing, and that Eddie had peed on my bed for another. I could have even mentioned the feeling that someone had been in my house. None of that mattered, though. Nothing changed the fact that Eddie had killed himself in my garage. The whole thing was over, and it was time to move on -- after a couple more glasses of wine.

I refilled my glass and was about to sit down again on my patio when I realized I really needed to do something about my bed before I had too much to drink. I went into the bedroom and stared at my ruined mattress. Urine had soaked through, and I doubted there was a way to save it. Even if there was, I couldn’t imagine ever sleeping on it again. I just wanted it to disappear. Actually, I wanted everything about the last twenty-four hours to disappear. In a spurt of activity, I sprayed air freshener over the stain and then dragged the mattress out of my house. It was no easy task.

Queen-sized, the mattress was big enough that it flopped a little when I stood it up. I pushed it end over end out of my bedroom. By the time I got to the living room, I was dripping in sweat. I slumped it against the wall and took a rest, then walked across the room to open the sliding glass door to the backyard. As lovely as it was, my backyard was also a challenging obstacle course if you were moving a mattress by yourself.

I did have an idea, though. Tucked in the back corner, behind a thicket of lavender, stood a small shed where I had a potting bench and kept my tools. Inside was a wobbly wheelbarrow. I figured it was the best way to get the mattress across the yard to the alley.

When I’d caught my breath and collected the wheelbarrow from the shed, I positioned it on the patio just outside the sliding door. I got the mattress across the living room, managing to endanger the flat screen for only a moment, squeezed it through the sliding door and flopped it onto the wheelbarrow.

The mattress was much larger than the small, red wheelbarrow, and I couldn’t lift the wheelbarrow very high without risk of the mattress sliding completely off. I had to remain in a crouched position and crabwalk across my backyard. Believe it or not, it was easier then schlepping the mattress through the house had been. When I got to the back of the yard, I opened the gate to the alley and pushed the mattress out.

Pretty much everything I’d ever put in the alley had disappeared within an hour. Yes, a pee-stained mattress wasn’t all that attractive. But this was an expensive mattress, purchased on sale, of course, but still expensive. It was only a few years old and had a nice thick pillow-top that was otherwise unstained. I hoped it would be gone by the next morning.

By the time I was ready to sit back down with my wine, I’d lost the taste for it and decided to clean instead. I’m not normally a big cleaner, unless I’m really angry about something -- the house was really clean after Jeremy left. The thing was, so many people had been in my house and so many strange things had happened that I just had to do what I could to erase them. I threw some CDs into the player: a couple Kylie, a vintage Madonna, and an incredibly tacky disco compilation I liked. Then I pulled out a plastic bucket, filled it with pine-scented cleaner and got out the mop.

Starting in the living room, I moved all the furniture around and rolled up the carpet. I swept and mopped the floors, dusted the baseboards, wiped down the TV and the coffee table, the whole time singing like a disco-diva. About an hour and a half later, it was completely dark outside and my living room was so clean it sparkled.

After refilling the bucket, I carried it into my bedroom. This was the room I really wanted to clean. The living room had just been the warm-up act. After what Eddie did to my mattress, I wanted to clean the entire room