Aside from that, things had eased up with regard to the fuckwit stalker who had disappeared from radar since the installation of the security system—which could be either a good or a bad sign.
Biggest thing left over: I still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of the threat on the rock note. So, that needed sorting. ASAP. I just wasn’t sure of the best way to tap Ellie for the deets, whatever she knew.
“Yo, Grath, come back here when you got a minute,” I called out when I saw him escorting his latest client to the front of the shop.
He tipped his chin up to me.
I sat back down at my desk and waited, playing with the damn note between my fingers. I had a bad feeling about it, and wanted to run my theory by him before acting on it. Because if my gut was right…
“Whatchu want?” He was at my door.
“You remember this?” I flipped the dirty wrinkled note around to face him.
“Yeah.” He snagged it to refresh his memory of the words. Looked at it a moment, set it back down on my desktop. “You ever show it to Ellie? Ask her about it?”
“No, not yet. It slipped through the cracks, been crazy, last few days.”
“I hear you. But what’s stopping you now?”
“Just a feeling. This note…it makes it sound like she’s guilty of something, like something bad went down, and she was in on it. I don’t know. Pisses me off, reading it. She doesn’t seem like the type…from everything she’s said, I can’t believe…”
“…that she’d do something illegal, with or for this asswipe. I hear you, bruh. She talk to you much, about him? What’s her take?”
“Yeah, she talked. Sounded like she wanted nothing to do with him. Said they’d dated briefly, he got rough on her once—fuckin’ knocked her to the ground with a cheekbone punch. She been trying to lose his ass ever since. I don’t think she’d have been asking him for any favors, not since that. This note—it doesn’t add up.”
“Agreed. So why haven’t you asked her?”
“I got a gut feeling she wouldn’t tell me if there was something she did. I don’t think she’d outright lie to me, but she needs me, she’s walking on eggshells around me the last couple o’ days. Things are…they got kinda complicated…”
“You fuckin’ fucked her, didn’t you? Oh man, way to fuck it right up.” Grath had the balls to laugh right in my face. He was one of the very few human beings who could get away with that. And yeah, I totally deserved it.
Not that I would let him do it for long. I shut that shit right down. “Shut the fuck up.”
That only made him laugh harder. “She’s effectively your sister-in-law! She’s gonna be in your life forever, bruh. You know better. Oh, you are fucked.” He cracked up again.
“You don’t think I know that? I know. So shut it. We aren’t doing that anymore. Shut that shit down. I don’t need to hear it. It’s sorted.”
“Riiiight. It’s sorted.” He chuckled. “Watching you two together, it was inevitable. Obvious. That’s fucking hysterical!—Ah, I needed that laugh. That felt great. Thanks, man. Owe you.”
I side-eyed him, then got back to the point. “Thing is, she’s really comfortable with you, man. That thing you do with women, get them to talk…think you could give it a go, get the real story on what she had this Brian asshole do for her?”
He smiled slyly. “Honey, don’t be jealous. Can I help it that the women all just love me more? They can’t resist a gorgeous gay man. They are as moths to my flame.”
“Easy there, Ricky Martin.”
“Of course I’ll talk to her. You want me to go now? My next client isn’t due for a few hours. Is she still at your place?—Speaking of, how long is she staying with you? You gonna let her cramp your nasty-ass bachelor style for much longer? Seems out of character, sweetie.”
“Grath, cut it with the sweet talk. You had your fun. I’m serious.”
“You are so easy to rile. So. Hard. To resist.” But finally, he sat his ass down and got real. “Okay, I’m good. So talk. What’s the deal with you two? You putting up with her and the baby in your space for long?—I get that you wanna know the kid, but playing the little family is not your style, amigo. When are they moving out?”
I looked him dead in the eye a minute before admitting, “They’re not. Not for a while.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And how long is a while?”
“Six months.”
“Six months? That’s a very specific time frame. Why six months? Give me the scoop.”
I looked at the desk, knowing if the case were turned around and it were him and not me in the hotspot, I’d be pissed if he didn’t tell me what was going down. So I shared.