Let’s find out who you are, Jack Canton.
Fingering the weapon in her pocket, she walked along the man’s path to knock on the door.
Jack opened the door, scowling at the sight of her.
“What are you—”
“I need to talk to you.”
“To me? About what?”
Corentine looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Let me in.”
“What? Get out of here, you lunatic!” He poked the air with a pointed finger, directing her back to her car.
“Just let me in so we can talk.”
“Are you crazy? Coming to my door and—”
Corentine pulled the gun from her pocket and took a step closer. He stumbled back, hands rising toward the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Is he angry or frightened? I’ll find out soon enough.
“I told you. I need to talk to you. Get back.”
Jack took a few more backward steps into his living room and she followed, closing the front door behind her.
“What do you want from me?” she asked.
Jack’s brow knit. “What? You’re the one with the gun.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Look, you crazy lady, get out of my house!”
He sure was animated. She watched his dentures pop out as he slurred the last word. He lowered his hand long enough to pop them back in.
She shook the gun at him. “Get your hand up. Why are you trying to set me up?”
“I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Get on your knees.”
His eyes widened. Maybe the gravity of the situation was sinking in. Jack lowered himself to the floor, his left hand dropping to steady himself on the living room table as he wobbled.
“Hands up.”
“I’m trying. I’m sorry. I have old knees. It isn’t easy. My back is ruined from golfing.”
Corentine shook her head. “From golfing. You are such a douchebag.”
He found his balance on his knees and remained there, hands in the air. His brow knit as he looked up at her. “Hey, what happened to your accent?”
She didn’t answer and he continued.
“You had an accent a minute ago. And this morning—”
Corentine kicked herself for forgetting her accent, but it didn’t matter. After all, the man knew who she was.
“Why are you setting me up?” she asked again in her natural Philadelphian accent.
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is your wife here?”
“I don’t have a wife.”
“Really? As charming as you are? That’s a shocker.”
“Did you come here to hold me at gunpoint and insult me? I was the one helping when you found the dead guy, remember?”
“Who’d you get to call me?”
“Call you? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She motioned to the house next door. “You called me to his house on purpose.”
“No, I didn’t. You were there to clean, weren’t you?”
Corentine took another step toward him. “You think because I look Hispanic I must be a cleaning lady?”
“It said ‘House Cleaning’ something or other on the side of your car. And you told me that was why you were there before I called the cops, remember?”
Corentine relaxed a little.
I forgot about that.
Annoyed, she shook the gun at him. “Whatever. Tell me why you wanted me to find that body.”
“I didn’t.”
“You wanted me to find his body to frame me.”
Jack hung his head. “Lady, I’m sorry. You’re not making any sense.”
Corentine frowned, a creeping dread tickling her spine. The only thing worse than finding out Jack was trying to frame her, was finding out he wasn’t. That put her in an even more unsettling position.
It didn’t make sense she’d seen him twice, though.
“I saw you at the other house,” she said.
“What other house?”
“The golf course—”
He waved his hand at her. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I saw you there.”
“Did you call me there?”
“No. Lady, I don’t know your damn phone number, I don’t know why you think I’d be calling you. I’m not that desperate for a date.”
He stopped, clearly amused with his own joke, before a new, thoughtful expression passed over his face. He squinted at her.
“I thought it was weird you were there, though. I can tell you that. So did that cop lady.”
“Cop? Oh. You mean the lady detective.”
He nodded. “Nosey broad, if you ask me. Ordered the sheriff around like he worked for her.”
“Maybe he does.”
Jack’s expression twitched, but he appeared to remain dubious.
Presumably, he didn’t think much about women with jobs other than cleaning.
Corentine straightened her weapon. Whether it had been fear or anger, it was fading. He didn’t believe she’d shoot him, which meant he wouldn’t feel inspired to answer her questions.
One way to fix that.
“I’m going to kill you now.”
He straightened, his hands reaching for the ceiling. “What? No. Why? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear.”
There it was. Definitely fear now. But his answers hadn’t changed.
Damn.
“So you really don’t know who I am?”
He shook his head. “You’re the housekeeper who found Ted. That’s all I know.”
Corentine lowered the gun and then raised it again. “Do you have a telephone?”
“My cell...”
“Give it to me.”
Jack fished his phone out of his pocket and held it out toward her.
She took it and stepped back to shake the gun at him one last time.
“I better not find out you’re setting me up. You call the cops—you tell anyone about me, and I will kill you. Do you hear me?”
Jack shook his head. “Yes. I won’t. Just go away.”
Deep in thought, Corentine turned and left the house. She didn’t realize she still had the gun in her hand until she’d nearly reached her car. She shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie.
Who is setting me
