The Lingerie Thief Next Door - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading The Lingerie Thief Next Door, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of The Lingerie Thief Next Door.
I wasted no time ordering a spy camera online and had already picked out the perfect spot to install it. Now I just had to wait for the damn thing to arrive.
But life had other plans.
That morning at work, a sudden stabbing pain in my gut nearly doubled me over. A familiar warmth spread downward, and my stomach dropped. My period had decided to show up fashionably early.
After a miserable bathroom trip, I slumped at my desk praying the cramps would ease up. No such luck—they only got worse. I didn't even hesitate before calling in sick.
Home was the last place I wanted to be, so I decided to crash at my parents' place instead. On my way downstairs, I remembered promising Mom a pack of my favorite sheet masks. I doubled back to grab them.
The apartment was dead silent—Benny was at school, and I figured Leonard was either out or holed up in his cave like usual.
I'd just grabbed the masks when I heard it—muffled voices coming from his room.
At first, I brushed it off. Ever since Margaret died, Leonard had developed a habit of talking to her portrait like some tragic widower in a soap opera.
I was slipping on my shoes to leave when a woman's voice cut through the air.
I froze.
My first thought? Holy shit, did Margaret come back as a ghost?
A cold shiver raced down my spine until the sunlight streaming through the windows snapped me back to reality. Yeah, right. The dead don't just waltz back into their old lives.
Then it hit me—the far more likely (and disgusting) explanation. That dirty old man must've finally caved to his "urges." Was he bringing some skank into our home? The thought of him catching god-knows-what and spreading it to Benny or me made my skin crawl.
Before I could think better of it, I stormed back to his door and hammered my fist against it.
Silence.
Two minutes later, the door creaked open just enough to reveal Leonard's guilty face.
"Mia? You're back early?"
I kept my voice icy. "Forgot something. Who were you talking to, Dad?"
The panic flashing across his face was all the confirmation I needed.
Bingo.
If my husband found out about this little secret, it might just be the leverage I needed. A slow, knowing smile curled my lips as I stared him down.
He stammered, "J-Just talking to your mother's portrait. When you're old and alone, you start missing conversation..."
I barked out a laugh. "Funny, because I definitely heard a woman's voice. Did Mom's ghost decide to pay a visit today?"
Leonard went rigid, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.
I rolled my eyes. "Let me in, Dad. The way you're blocking the door makes this look even sketchier. If there's nothing to hide, why act like you're guilty?"
His knuckles turned white where he gripped the doorframe.
Gotcha.
I shoved harder against the door. "I'm just worried someone's taking advantage of you. But if you refuse, fine..." I let my voice trail off before adding, "Though this looks pretty damn suspicious. Maybe I should call your son and let him deal with it."
Leonard went pale. When I pulled out my phone, he grabbed my wrist. "Mia, wait—just—fine. I'll open the door."
With obvious reluctance, he stepped aside.
Standing behind him wasn't some trashy, half-dressed woman half his age—just a plainly dressed elderly lady, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
I blinked.
Well. That wasn't what I expected.
Shaking off the ridiculous mental images, I jerked my chin toward the living room. "Let's take this conversation out here."
But life had other plans.
That morning at work, a sudden stabbing pain in my gut nearly doubled me over. A familiar warmth spread downward, and my stomach dropped. My period had decided to show up fashionably early.
After a miserable bathroom trip, I slumped at my desk praying the cramps would ease up. No such luck—they only got worse. I didn't even hesitate before calling in sick.
Home was the last place I wanted to be, so I decided to crash at my parents' place instead. On my way downstairs, I remembered promising Mom a pack of my favorite sheet masks. I doubled back to grab them.
The apartment was dead silent—Benny was at school, and I figured Leonard was either out or holed up in his cave like usual.
I'd just grabbed the masks when I heard it—muffled voices coming from his room.
At first, I brushed it off. Ever since Margaret died, Leonard had developed a habit of talking to her portrait like some tragic widower in a soap opera.
I was slipping on my shoes to leave when a woman's voice cut through the air.
I froze.
My first thought? Holy shit, did Margaret come back as a ghost?
A cold shiver raced down my spine until the sunlight streaming through the windows snapped me back to reality. Yeah, right. The dead don't just waltz back into their old lives.
Then it hit me—the far more likely (and disgusting) explanation. That dirty old man must've finally caved to his "urges." Was he bringing some skank into our home? The thought of him catching god-knows-what and spreading it to Benny or me made my skin crawl.
Before I could think better of it, I stormed back to his door and hammered my fist against it.
Silence.
Two minutes later, the door creaked open just enough to reveal Leonard's guilty face.
"Mia? You're back early?"
I kept my voice icy. "Forgot something. Who were you talking to, Dad?"
The panic flashing across his face was all the confirmation I needed.
Bingo.
If my husband found out about this little secret, it might just be the leverage I needed. A slow, knowing smile curled my lips as I stared him down.
He stammered, "J-Just talking to your mother's portrait. When you're old and alone, you start missing conversation..."
I barked out a laugh. "Funny, because I definitely heard a woman's voice. Did Mom's ghost decide to pay a visit today?"
Leonard went rigid, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.
I rolled my eyes. "Let me in, Dad. The way you're blocking the door makes this look even sketchier. If there's nothing to hide, why act like you're guilty?"
His knuckles turned white where he gripped the doorframe.
Gotcha.
I shoved harder against the door. "I'm just worried someone's taking advantage of you. But if you refuse, fine..." I let my voice trail off before adding, "Though this looks pretty damn suspicious. Maybe I should call your son and let him deal with it."
Leonard went pale. When I pulled out my phone, he grabbed my wrist. "Mia, wait—just—fine. I'll open the door."
With obvious reluctance, he stepped aside.
Standing behind him wasn't some trashy, half-dressed woman half his age—just a plainly dressed elderly lady, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
I blinked.
Well. That wasn't what I expected.
Shaking off the ridiculous mental images, I jerked my chin toward the living room. "Let's take this conversation out here."
End of The Lingerie Thief Next Door Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to The Lingerie Thief Next Door book page.