Frida’s smile perked up a bit, and she headed back to the house.
“What the fuck was that all about, huh?” Junior asked suspiciously.
“Just tryin’ to be nice. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Junior clearly did not believe him.
“Yeah, so.” Noah had a name to work with now, so he decided to push his luck. “You know anybody by the name of Odie?”
Junior narrowed his eyes, instantly furious. “You really dunno when to fuckin’ stop, do you?”
“What?”
“Here.” Junior grabbed more trash bags and shoved them at Noah. “You still gots all kinds of shit to pick up in the garden. And you better check all thems lil bushes and fuckin’ flowers, you got me? And if you don’t think that Mr. Star is gonna hear about you nosin’ the fuck around, you’re even fuckin’ dumber than I thought!”
“For fuck’s sake!” Noah stumbled back a step. “I was just asking a few questions!”
“Fuck you, fuck your questions!” Junior snarled. “You! Fuckin’ bushes and shit! Now!”
Noah wanted to argue, scream—maybe grab one of the trash can lids and smack Junior in the face with it—but he headed back defeatedly to the pool to retrieve his rubber gloves. Junior was still watching him, but he stayed a considerable distance away from Noah to dissuade any attempts at conversation.
Well, at least now Noah knew the name of the mysterious lover that Uncle Patrick and Carbone were fighting over. He was surprised to learn it was a man named Odie since he’d never known his uncle to enjoy the company of men before. Then again, he didn’t know very much about his uncle’s personal life.
Uncle Patrick might be into giant orgies with horses, and Noah wouldn’t know it.
It was a start at least.
Now he had to very subtly ask Alistair about what clubs he owned around here, possible employees named Odie…
And oh, yeah. Clean up all of this ridiculous trash leftover from the party.
“Yes, the fuckin’ gardens and the bushes and the little stupid flowers and the—” Noah glanced back to make sure Junior was far enough away that he wouldn’t hear him. “—the way you should be sucking all of my fuckin’ cock, you fuckin’ Toucan Sam lookin’ prick.”
He trudged around the house, picking through the mulch and greenery to retrieve more trash, a pair of underwear, two bras, and a single boot.
Ugh.
“Next time Alistair takes over a fuckin’ house, I’ll be sure to tell him to keep the damn maids,” Noah grumbled to himself. “And the fuckin’ garden maids. Wait. Gardeners? Yeah. Those too.”
He was on the far side of the house now, behind the garage. The landscaping here was minimal and wasn’t much more than a thick border of mulch with some big leafy green plants that Noah didn’t know the name of. There was plenty of trash though, plus a jockstrap and two used condoms.
“Fuckin’ great.” Noah grimaced as he shoved the offending mess into the trash bag.
Near the corner of the garage, the mulch had spilled out on the lawn. It was lumpy and spread out in a lopsided heap, and he assumed it was where the condoms had been put to work.
Gross.
He looked again at the mulch.
It was a mess. The amorous lovers must have really gone at it right there on the ground to make such a mess of it.
Before he could investigate further, he heard the rumble of a car’s engine.
It was loud, like a roar, and he walked around the garage to see who was pulling up.
There was a silly part of him that longed to see a police cruiser, maybe a tank, any sort of friendly face…
What Noah saw was a black 1970’s Chevy Nova parked right up front. There were two men inside, and he walked closer to get a better look as they got out of the car.
