His cold blue eyes were colder still in death. I didn't think too many people would mourn his loss. Me? I might go out for a celebratory drink after this.
"Do you need some help cleaning up?" the newcomer asked. "I’m Archer, by the way. Archer Hardwick."
It didn't seem that he was going to call the cops on me.
"Harlow St. James," I said, wondering if I was out of my mind to tell him who I was.
"Nice to meet you, Harlow." He leaned over to offer his hand.
I shook it and pushed myself to my feet. "I'd love some help. I haven't quite gotten the clean-up part down to a fine art yet."
The sides of his mouth twitched. "You will. I'll take his hands if you can grab his feet."
I nodded and did as he asked.
We picked up Wentworth and slowly moved across the room and out the door. Parked just outside was a vehicle. Archer’s, I assumed.
I was sweating by the time we tossed Wentworth into the back.
Archer closed the door on his corpse grabbed out a couple of brushes and a bucket. He handed them to me, then got out a bottle of bleach.
"Always a good idea not to leave any evidence behind," he asked.
"Right, good idea."
We headed back inside, where he opened the bleach and tipped some onto the blood on the floor. We started to scrub, cleaning up every drop, before wiping it dry with a towel.
"There, no one will ever know we were here," he said, nodding at our work. He seemed satisfied with the job we'd done. Of course he was. We'd been meticulous, cleaning everywhere twice over.
"Thank you, I appreciate this," I said. I was going to have to get myself some bleach and scrubbing brushes.
"Anytime," Archer said. "Let’s get rid of the rest of him."
He closed the door behind us and wiped the knob clean, making sure we didn't leave any evidence behind there either. He really was meticulous. A girl could learn a lot from him.
I should probably walk away right now, but when he gestured for me to sit in the passenger's seat, I found myself climbing inside.
"Make sure you fasten your seatbelt," he said. "They reduce the risk of death by about half if we have an accident."
"Right." I gave him a funny look before clicking mine in. Apparently he was as meticulous about safety as he was about cleaning. I shouldn't judge him. Those were important things to be meticulous about.
After a couple of blocks, we stopped at the side of the road, beside an alley. I squinted, but couldn't even see to the other side, it was too dark.
"This looks like a good place," he said. "He won't be found here for a while."
I couldn't argue with that. We'd be long gone before anyone came here.
I unfastened my seatbelt and followed him out of the car.
Looking around carefully to make sure no one was watching, because that definitely wouldn't be safe for us, he opened the back of the car. Between us, we managed to pull Wentworth out, his body still floppy. Eyes still staring accusingly.
You should have thought of that before you laid a hand on my sister,I told him silently. If I was being fair, he probably didn't think he would end up this way.
Both of us puffing lightly, we carried him over to a dumpster in the middle of the alley.
I hadn't seen it before in the darkness. I guessed this wasn't a first for Archer. That should be disturbing as fuck, but since he was helping me to cover a murder it was less disconcerting than it might have been.
I shouldn't admit this, but it was actually kind of hot.
