His wary expression morphed to confusion.
“Want to let me in on the joke?”
I shook my head, too busy wheezing.
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
My shoulders shook. The humor so intense the spasms stole my breath. How could I explain to him that even when he didn’t know what to say, he still said exactly the right thing? Another man might have offered false platitudes, reassurances that everything would be just fine. Neil’s reaction reminded me that we were in this uncharted territory together.
“Well, I’m happy to provide comic relief,” he grumbled. “Let’s take that walk.”
OUR WALK TURNED UP bupkis. The effort had been worthwhile though as the cool spring air and sun lifted my spirits. I needed to get out of the house more.
“What did you think of Grace?” I asked as we moseyed along.
“Very competent. She reminds me of someone.”
“You too? Maybe it’s just one of those things.”
“Maybe.” Neil didn’t appear convinced.
We’d dragged Josh and Kenny out of bed. Both of them were needed to wrestle Atlas into submission. Neil could have walked the dog himself of course, but he was focused on escorting me. They burned more calories kvetching than they did walking. Luckily Atlas pulled them far enough ahead that only the occasional melodramatic word filtered back to us.
With the Great Dane leading the charge, they hit our front porch just as we rounded the last corner.
Roberta Shmitt waved jauntily at us from her position on her knees in her budding flower beds. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
“Lovely.” I said. “Enjoy the day.”
“I didn’t know you were friends with her.” Neil said as we turned onto our street once more.
“I’m not really. Before the Bakers New Year’s party, I’d never really said much to her. I guess she’s one of those extreme couponers, she was telling me about how she goes out and buys four Sunday papers every week, then clips the coupons and hawks the sales.” Plus I felt bad for her because she told me her husband had left her for a twenty year old barista.
My own husband made a noncommittal sound. Not that I expected a big response. Couponing didn’t fly his flag.
Neil pulled me to a stop in front of Sylvia’s house. “Do you have your cell phone?”
It was in my pocket. Two missed calls, though neither of them was from Sylvia.
“I’m going to retrieve her bag. Wait here.”
Neil jogged toward the front door, leaving me standing on the sidewalk.
It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d phrased his last statement as an order and left before I could protest. Not that I particularly wanted to go inside that house again.
Neil was back, suitcase in hand in the time it would have taken me to waddle up the driveway.
“No fair! I’m procreating here.”
He flashed a grin and kissed my forehead. “This way we can skip the argument and have breakfast. Hungry?”
“Always. How did the house look?”
“Empty. No messages on the machine, no hastily scribbled notes. His car keys were on top of his dresser.”
I made pancake batter while Neil fried up bacon. The boys disappeared until the food hit the table then they attacked it like ravenous lumberjacks. Though my stomach rumbled I only managed a few bites before I gave up.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Josh asked, noticing my mostly filled plate.
“Baby’s taking up too much room. It’s uncomfortable when I fill my stomach too much.”
Josh made a face to indicate he was sorry that he’d asked.
I pushed my plate over to Neil though he’d already eaten a sizeable stack, he finished mine too. He knew I loathed waste of any kind, but especially when it came to food.
With breakfast knocked out the boys turned down the hall and Neil went to take a shower. By unspoken agreement we knew we couldn’t put off bringing Sylvia her bag, and breaking the news about Eric, any longer. Imagining that conversation tied my stomach in knots.
We left Josh and Kenny at home and headed to the hospital. Saturday morning the traffic was light. Before noon was one of the best times to visit the hospital, less traffic as the rowdier element slept off the excess from Friday night wherever they’d landed. The physically fit and those with young children were out at the parks enjoying spring. Couch potatoes moved from the sofa to the back yard chaise and the unfortunate were at work, counting down the days, weeks or years remaining until retirement or death set them free.
Neil found a spot close to the hospital’s visitor entrance and parked. He circled the vehicle, a ten year old Nissan Sentra that he’d bought on the cheap after his truck was totaled. It wasn’t the flashiest car in the world but it served its purpose, getting him from point A to point B. And it would be a great first car for Josh when he got his driver’s license. With any luck we’d be able to afford something new before that day.
Thinking about new cars brought to mind one in particular.
“How do you think Eric afforded the Lexus?” I asked Neil as we made our way through the sliding doors to the main atrium.
“He was leasing it.” Neil pushed the elevator button for the third floor.
“Where was he working after he left the gym?”
“You mean after you had him fired?”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault he was shtupping that skank in the ball room.”
A couple of bleary eyed nurses glanced over at us. Damn, my volume control was off again.
Lowering my voice I asked again. “Do you know where he was working?”
“Promise not to make a scene?” The elevator doors opened.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Neil gave me an exasperated look and held the doors for the nurses. I stepped to one corner of the car to allow as much room as I could. A few more people piled in and we were on our way.
“He was selling juicers.” Neil hissed in my ear.
“Juicers? Like door to door?”
Neil shook his head. “More like late night infomercials.”
“Eric was doing infomercials? Like on T.V. Like the you’re gone love my nuts slappy thingy guy?”
The other passengers were having trouble pretending they weren’t listening to our conversation. I couldn’t blame them, Neil and I had a fun dynamic. It was what kept the relationship fresh.
“Just like that, only I think the Juice Jet isn’t nearly as successful. They were giving away two for nineteen ninety five plus shipping and handling.”
“How do you know all this?” I seriously doubted he’d been chumming it up with Eric on the sly.
“I couldn’t sleep one night and stumbled across it.”
The doors to the elevator opened on two. The nurses exited, the other three squished closer to us to make room for a troop of cub scouts carrying get well balloons and stuffed animals.
“And you’re just now telling me?” I pivoted so that I was right up against Neil, Baby X safely nestled between us. The position had the added benefit of letting me glare at him.
“You get a little nuts whenever his name comes up. I thought it was better to keep it under my hat.”
His words said one thing but his expression was all you know how you get Uncle Scrooge.
He had a point. Not only was I the east coast’s grand champion grudge holder, I was something of a gossip. If Neil had told me about the Juice Jet—and didn’t that sound dirty—I would have called Leo and Marty and my sister-in-law Penny and anyone else I could think of to tell them that my next door neighbor the man whore was slinging cheap gadgets on late night T.V.
The doors opened on three and Neil took point, Sylvia’s bag in one hand and grabbing my wrist with the other.
“Which room is she in?” Neil asked once we hit the corridor.
“Don’t know. Excuse me.” The last was directed at a passing nurse. “Hi, could you tell me wha
t room Sylvia Wright is in?”
The nurse was an apple cheeked woman in her late fifties with cardinal red hair that must have come from a bottle. She wore it cut short and the artificial color clashed with pink scrubs with teddy bears on them. It was a safe bet she worked on the maternity and pediatrics floor.
She pushed her wire rimmed glasses further up her stub nose. “308. But the police are in there now. You’ll have to wait.”
“Police?” Neil and I exchanged a glance. Had Sylvia reported Eric missing?
The nurse nodded. “Poor thing. I’m glad someone is here to look out for her, she’s been all alone since she found out.”
“Found out what?” Neil asked.
The nurse lowered her voice. “Her husband is wanted for questioning in a murder. And no one has seen him since yesterday afternoon.”
Chapter Four
It came as very little surprise to me to see Detective Capri in all her pant-suited glory exit Sylvia’s room. Her badge was visible on one narrow hip and the butt of her police issue side arm peeked out from the holster discreetly tucked beneath her short charcoal colored jacket. Detective Capri was one of Hudson’s finest. Back when I worked as a cleaning woman, aka the laundry hag, I’d been a C.I. or confidential informant for her. Unfortunately, my wild imagination and lack of experience with actual criminals made me more of a liability than an asset. Capri’s ambition had ruined my reputation, tanked my fledgling business and had stunted our association. These days we were on cool but polite terms with one another.
“What’s going on?” I maneuvered my baby bulk to intercept her.
“Mrs. Phillips. Mr. Phillips. I see congratulations are in order.”
It took me a minute to realize she meant the baby. “Thanks. Has something happened to Eric?”
“Do you know something about Mr. Wright?”
We stared at each other for a beat.
“Only that his car is parked in his driveway, his keys are in his house and the house was left unlocked.”
“When did you notice this?” Capri had whipped out her cell phone and was typing rapidly.
I folded my arms over my chest and lifted my chin. “You first.”
Beside me, Neil sighed.
She looked up at me and a faint smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Some things never change.”
“Sylvia’s got her hands full with the new baby and all and we’re friends as well as neighbors.” Sort of.
“Well then I’ll let Mrs. Wright tell you, if she feels it’s necessary. Contact me if you see any sign of Mr. Wright.” Capri extracted her business card and handed it over.
I glared at her and Neil reached past me and took it. “We will.”
Capri stepped around me and marched towards the elevator, the two uniforms flanking her.
I turned to face Benedict Arnold. “What was that?”
“She wasn’t going to tell you anything.” Neil tucked his free hand under my elbow and pulled me aside. “And she shouldn’t. You’re a civilian, Uncle Scrooge, one who could go into labor at any moment. You don’t have the time or the resources to involve yourself in a murder investigation.”
“You make it sound like I do things like that all the time.”
He gave me a level look.
“So I’ve had a few...encounters. It’s not my fault I’m good at solving puzzles.”
“Do us all a favor and stick to Sudoku. Now, are you ready to go see Sylvia?”
I nodded and Neil placed his hand at the small of my back and ushered me into the private room.
Sylvia sat up in bed looking better than a newly delivered mother had a right to. Her light blonde hair had been loosely braided and fell over her left shoulder. The bedsheets looked smooth and fresh and her color was great, even under the hideous hospital overheads. The little bit of pregnancy weight she’d carried made her look healthy, not fat. Her brow was creased and she was working her lower lip with her teeth. She gazed out the window, obviously lost in thought. The baby bassinet was nowhere in sight.
Neil rapped his knuckles smartly against the door. “We came for a visit. Is now a good time?”
Sylvia jumped but her expression smoothed out easily when she saw us lurking in her door. “Hi guys. Come on in. The nurses took the baby for her vitals checkup. She should be back soon.”
“We brought your bag.” I stated the obvious.
“Thank you so much. You can put it right here. Please, sit. Can you stay for a while?”
“Sure.” Neil set the bag on the narrow bed besides Sylvia. He dragged one of the uncomfortable vinyl covered chairs over to her bedside and urged me into it. There was a second chair but Neil put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to check and make sure your suite is still ready and that all the paperwork is squared away. Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll need it before we head home.”
My palms were already damp and I wiped them on my muumuu. Just being in the hospital had me ready to climb the walls. Being admitted would be the fifth circle of hell. “If that’s luck somebody goofed.”
Neil squeezed my shoulder then left.
I shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine.” Sylvia was already rooting through her bag. She pulled out the blanket that Neil had placed on top and held it to her nose. Her eyes squeezed shut in the classic posture of a woman trying not to give in to tears.
“Sylvie, we know about the police. We saw them leave. You don’t have to pretend with me.” I urged. “What’s going on with Eric?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. It was just like I told you last night, he was in such a rush and he left his cell phone. Then the police showed up asking me all these questions, saying that Eric might know something about a murder.”
“Who was killed?” I wish I’d made time to check the news reports before I’d left.
“Some guy he worked with on the Juice Jet studio. Jamie something, I forgot the last name. I never met him.”
“Pregnancy brain’s a bitch.” I sympathized. “You said Eric left his phone here. Did the police take it?”
“Yeah. They asked my permission to search the house, too. I told them they could, though I can’t imagine what they think they’ll find there. Eric didn’t bring work home with him. If they’re going to do it, I’d rather they do it before I have to bring the baby home tomorrow.” A tear slid down her cheek.
I reached out and took her hand. “It’ll be okay.”
Sylvia sniffled. “I know you don’t like him very much.”
“Who, me?”
That brought a smile to her cracked lips. “It’s just that we’ve been getting on really well since I found out about the baby and now this. Do you ever feel like you’ll never catch a break?”
“All the time.” I dug in my purse and brought out a mini pack of tissues. “Listen, I know you’re worried, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Maybe you should focus on something else for a bit. Tell me about the baby. Did you pick out a name for her yet?”
That brought on a full on smile. “Astrid. It’s a Scandinavian name that means divine strength.”
“Astrid, that’s gorgeous.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes again. “It was Eric’s great grandmother’s name.”
“Hey do you have any Chapstick? Your lips look a little raw.” Probably because she’d been gnawing a hole through them.
“No, I forgot to pack any.”
Relieved to be of use in some small way I dug through my shoulder bag until I came up with a small tube of lip balm, strawberry scented. “You can keep it. I buy them by the gross.”
“Thanks.” Sylvia took it and sighed in relief. “Much better. So what’s new with you?”
“Same old same old. Mostly still pregnant and hating it.” I was torn between wanting to ask more questions about Eric and wanting to distract her. In the end, I knew how volatile my own emotions had been for months. Sylvia needed a bit of escape to help her recover
, especially if she was heading home the following day to undertake motherhood solo. “Laura got me a doula. Her name’s Grace. They just showed up last night and bam, she moved in with us.”
“What?” Sylvia shifted in bed so she could see me better. She winced, the only sign that she needed to be in the hospital and not out on a beach somewhere with an umbrella drink in one hand. “A doula? For childbirth and postpartum or just labor and delivery?”
“Hell if I know. I can’t imagine her sticking around after the baby comes though, since she’s currently sleeping in the nursery. I figured I’d ask you, since you know about alternative medicines and such. What exactly is she supposed to do?”
“Mostly, she’s supposed to provide support to you.”
“But I have Neil for that. Plus the entire hospital staff. Right?”
“Yes, but Neil, wonderful as he is a man. There’ll be things he just won’t understand. If your labor goes on for a while, she’ll be able to provide reassurance. Her primary job is to provide reassurance and support to women who don’t have any other female support.”
“So Grace was Laura’s way of supporting me without actually having to show up for the birth?” Sounded like Laura. Send someone else to do the dirty work.
“It’s more than that. Women who have doulas for support tend to need less drugs or C-sections as well as fewer complications. Having that feminine energy that’s familiar and comforting can be very reassuring. You just want to make sure she won’t interfere with the medical staff. I thought about getting a doula myself but Eric was against the idea. Said we couldn’t afford it.”
From the bastard who’d leased himself a shiny new car. “Grace already knows about my anxiety and that I’m not strictly opposed to a C-section if it’s necessary. She seemed okay with the idea. Didn’t try to change my mind or anything. Plus she used to be a nurse. Neil wants me to call Mackenzie Taylor and have her run a thorough background check.”
A flash of hope crossed Sylvia’s features. “Mackenzie the P.I? Do you think she could help me find Eric?”
“Only one way to find out.” I extracted my cell from the depths of my bag and was scrolling through the contacts when the nurse returned with baby Astrid, sound asleep.
Bun in the Oven: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #6 Page 4
