Hazardous Duty by Christy Barritt

Mildred. They were too kind to go through this.
    Of course, Riley thought my assistant
was guilty. But he didn’t know Harold the way I did. Harold was a good man.
    He did jail time for arson before.
    Yeah, but a person could change. Harold
had changed.
    I pulled the covers up to my chin and
drew in a deep breath, trying to slow my heartbeat. I knew what I had to do.
    I would prove that Harold was innocent,
if it was the last thing I did.

 
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
    The stench in the apartment
turned my stomach. How had someone lived in this mess? Cat feces smeared across
almost every surface, and the carpet reeked with urine.
    My gag reflexes kicked into gear, and I
pressed my mask tighter.
    Staring at the mess would do nothing to
get it cleaned. I might as well get to work. It would probably be an all day
task, even though it was just a one bedroom apartment.
    Mindful of my injured hand, I sprayed
down the walls with a heavy duty cleaner. I left the liquid to absorb for a few
minutes, as I pulled up the carpet. No amount of cleaning would remove its
odor. I rolled it and tugged it, inch by inch, out the door. I turned back to
the walls and wiped the white plaster down.
    I sure did miss Harold. Working alone
wasn’t nearly as fun or productive. If I wasn’t miffed with Riley, I might have
asked him to come along and earn a few extra dollars.
    Just the thought of Riley caused a
weight to rest on my shoulders. His reaction had been so strong, I’d let my
temper get the best of me.
    In the light of day, I knew I’d
overreacted. I scrubbed away, wallowing in equal parts cat dander and guilt.
Riley had been a sweetheart up until that fatal conversation. He’d taken me to
the police station, played with Harold’s grandkids, warned me about the package
before I opened it. Good grief, give the man some chain mail and he’d have
brought chivalry back to life single-handedly.
    Then he told me to let the detectives do
the job and I’d turned on him. Thanks for saving my life, buddy, but what have
you done for me lately?
    I lifted stacks of putrid newspaper off
the countertops. Today’s heart stopping deadlines, tomorrow’s discount kitty
litter. Stuffing the newspaper in garbage bags, I wondered why I should have
expected him to be concerned about me? We’d only know each other two days. But
I’d felt a connection to him from the first. Did he feel it, too? Could there
be something between us?
    Knowing my past track record with men,
probably not. I always seemed to fall for the ones who were no good for me, the
jerks. Riley was a nice guy. Except that he thought I was a moron who hired
criminals. He seemed to like and respect a man I’d accused of murder. And he
seemed to be unemployed. So maybe I was on track as usual.
    So what was I going to do with these
feelings?
    Considering the stress I was under, the
best answer was, “do nothing.”
    My cell phone rang. Detective Parker.
    “I just talked to the bomb squad. They
told me what happened last night.” His voice sounded surprisingly kind and
relaxed. Yeah, right. I sucked in a breath, waiting for the lecture to come.
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
    I raised an eyebrow. The detective
sounded genuinely concerned. He must be having a good hair day. Or maybe Hollywood had called and
asked him to be a stunt double. Better yet, maybe the BTK Strangler had been
cleared of all charges and released. Parker seemed to like having guilty men on
the street.
    “Yeah, I’m glad someone stopped me
before I opened the package. It could have taken out more than just me, or so
I’ve heard.”
    His voice seemed to soften. “Look, I
just wanted you to know we’re doing everything we can to figure out who sent
you the package.”
    I felt like I was in an episode of the
Twilight Zone. Why was the detective being so open and nice? Quite the change
from the hostile man I’d talked to yesterday. Maybe I’d just caught him on a
bad hair day.
    My best friend was turning into