Free Skating Around The Law by Joelle Charbonneau

upstairs to a narrow hallway. The scarred floorboards screeched with every step, making me shudder. I thanked God it was still light outside. Walking around a dead man’s house in the dark would have been too creepy.
    The first door off the hallway opened into a bathroom. Since I didn’t think soap scum and bathtub ring were going to help me, I moved to the next door. Unmade queen-sized bed, scattered clothes, overflowing hamper—must be Mack’s bedroom. I rifled though his dresser drawers, trying to ignore the stained underwear and shirts. Nothing there.
    I looked around the room, certain there had to be something here. His bedroom was an obvious hiding place, right? So I had to ask myself—if I were Mack, where in my room would I hide something important?
    Looking at the bed, I remembered Pop telling me about people he knew using their mattresses as safe deposit boxes during the Great Depression. They shoved all sorts of savings and important documents among the feathers and springs. What were the chances that Mack had heard the same stories? He already hid a key under a welcome mat. Would he actually hide something important under his mattress? It couldn’t be that easy, right?
    I sent the bedding and pillows flying as I lifted the mattress up and looked underneath. Blinking twice, I grinned. Mack’s lack of creativity wasn’t very bright, but it was convenient. Taped to the underside of the mattress were three envelopes. I peeled one loose and let the mattress fall back onto the box springs.
    Peering in the envelope made me suck in my breath. The envelope was filled with one-hundred-dollar bills. Thirty of them. A quick inventory informed me that the other two envelopes contained the same amounts. Mack had nine thousand dollars under his mattress, and still he was taking deposits from people without intending to do the work. Why?
    With a sigh of regret, I tucked the envelopes back under the mattress for safekeeping. A little extra cash would help cover my city apartment’s rent while I worked to sell the rink. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to take any. Karma had already kicked me in the ass. I didn’t need to give it a reason to take another swipe.
    Leaving financial temptation behind, I went down the hall. The next room was almost empty except for a few tables, a couple of rolls of packing tape, and a lot of cardboard boxes in a variety of sizes. Not much to find in there. I continued to the last door.
    The first thing I noticed was how clean this room was. No wrappers or empty soda cans here. On the far side of the space, next to the window, was a large wooden desk with a laptop computer perched on it. I also saw a combination printer, fax machine, and copier. To my right was a wall of shelving filled with old toys, lunch boxes, comic books, and knickknacks. A little strange but completely dust-free. I appreciated that.
    Sitting down at the desk, I put my finger on the start button of the laptop—then stopped. Did computers keep track of every time they were turned on? If they did, and the sheriff ever got out of the daffodils long enough to check this place out, he might wonder why Mack’s computer had been used after Mack died. While the contents of the computer had me curious, looking wasn’t worth the risk.
    I contented myself with going through the desk drawers. Nothing. That left the contents of the desk shelves. I scanned the labels on Mack’s CD cases. He had a few computer games, a couple of office programs, and one CD case labeled business. That looked promising. I slid the plastic case off the shelf and opened it. On top of the CD inside were a key and a slip of paper with a name and phone number scribbled on it.
    I slipped the CD case and its contents into my purse and gave the room a final once-over. When nothing else jumped out at me, I headed down the hall to the stairway and into the kitchen.
    Slipping out the kitchen’s back door, I