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

and knew I wouldn’t be able to figure anything out just then. I needed more sleep. I decided to give sleeping on my box spring a try. It would be hard and uncomfortable, but at least I’d be able to straighten out my neck.

I dragged myself into the bedroom. Without turning on the light, I shuffled in and slammed my shin against the bed frame. Backing up, I sloshed a couple gallons pine-scented mop water out of the bucket. Ankles wet, shins in pain, I turned on the light and saw that the bed wasn’t in the right place. I knew that. In my sleep haze I’d just forgotten. I’d noticed it earlier when I felt weird about someone being in my house. But that was silly; the bed probably got shifted when I pulled the mattress off.

I tried shoving the bed back up against the wall, but the imitation Oriental rug on which the bed sat got dragged with it and ended in a clump between the wall and the headboard. I pulled the bed out away from the wall and tried to get it centered on the rug again. The rug had curled up under the headboard, so I lifted the bed to let if fall flat again. That’s when I noticed a set of keys resting next to the footboard partially under the rug.

The key chain was a Pez dispenser with a small, yellow rubber duck at the top. Attached to the Pez dispenser were four keys. One was a car key, older, with a Lincoln logo. There were two jagged edged house keys. The fourth key, the final key, struck me as odd. It was a second car key. This one was for a Ford. It was much newer; in fact it looked brand new. The top was thick and black with an alarm switch and a panic button. Eddie had another car other than the dilapidated Lincoln.

Without warning, my eyes stung. Eddie was a real person who had likes and dislikes, who’d chosen an unusual profession, and had sense of humor when it came to key chains. In the panic of everything that was happening, it was too easy to forget that. I blinked my eyes a few times and tried to guess what kind of car Eddie had beside the Lincoln.

Probably a small truck, like a Ranger. An inexpensive truck made sense. Eddie wouldn’t want to put his table in the back unless he had a cover for the bed. Maybe he was saving up for one before he got rid of the Lincoln completely. It was a nice little story, except people who killed themselves didn’t save up for things. Did they?

Why were the keys on the floor? I wondered. How had they ended up exactly there? Had Eddie left them on the bed, and when I pulled the sheets off they’d ended up thrown onto the floor? But I hadn’t heard anything, and I would have. The keys were clunky. Noisy. They’d have made a sound landing on the floor, right? Not much of a sound if they’d landed on the rug, I admitted to myself. Had they been in his pocket? And when he’d thrown his pants onto the bed they’d fallen out. Later, he got dressed to go into the garage and…of course, he wouldn’t have been worrying about where his keys were then. Or had he put them there deliberately for some reason? What reason?

Dropping the keys into the lower pocket of my cargo shorts, I told myself I’d call Detective Tripp and let him know I’d found them. Not that it was urgent, I supposed. They’d probably already told Eddie’s family what had happened. They’d be dealing with his things in a few days. Selling his Ranger, or whatever his other car was. Selling the Lincoln, though dropping it off at a junkyard seemed a better choice. Either way, they wouldn’t need the keys until then.

After taking off my clothes, I laid the comforter down on the box spring hoping it might act as a cushion. I turned off the lights and lay down. The comforter wasn’t much help. I could feel each slat that made up the box spring. In fact, there was no spring to it at all; it was all box. I knew I’d never be able to fall asleep on something that uncomfortable.

And that’s the last thing I remember until someone pounding on the front door woke me up.

Chapter Ten

Quickly, I pulled on the T-shirt and shorts I’d been wearing the night before. I had no idea who might be at my door. It was just before seven a.m., making it too early for deliveries, and friends never dropped by at this hour -- actually I didn’t have friends who dropped by -- so I was clueless.

As I walked to the door, the fear that someone from Eddie’s family might show up crossed my mind. I had a moment of relief when I saw Detective Hanson standing there. Then I got a good look at her face. It was dark, like a malevolent cloud. Behind her was Detective Tripp, and behind him, a whole crew of other officers. Opening my screen door, Hanson shoved a folded piece of blue paper into my hands. As she pushed by me, I unfolded it and tried to make sense of it. It was a search warrant.

Tripp looked better than he had the day before, but not by much. He’d obviously gotten to take a shower and put on another nicely tailored suit, but he didn’t look like he’d gotten that much sleep. He took me by the elbow and led me to my dining table. Hanson barked instructions to the search crew.

“Why did you get a search warrant?” I asked. “I would have let you back in.”

“This is now a murder investigation,” Hanson snarled.

This was now a murder investigation. It was like a slap in the face, a slap in the face that made sense. All the