Bun in the Oven: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #6

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “This can wait a little longer.” I whispered to Sylvia. “You should try and get some rest while she’s still out. Text or call if you need anything.”

  Though she looked disappointed, she nodded. “I guess. Now that I have my earplugs and sleep mask it might be a little easier.”

  “Do you want Neil to pick you up tomorrow?” My husband wouldn’t mind that I volunteered him for that task. Unless I was in labor.

  The struggle was obvious on Sylvia’s face. She didn’t want to think about going home without Eric but at the same time knew she had to make alternative plans in case he hadn’t surfaced. “Can I get back to you on that?”

  “Open offer.” I peered in at the sleeping cherub with healthy pink cheeks and a powder pink cap. She let out a heart melting sigh and I did a silent awe before tiptoeing to the door.

  Neil was standing in the hall.

  “How long have you been lurking out here?”

  “Almost the whole time. Ready to head home?”

  “I was born ready.”

  LUNCH CONSISTED OF my mock potato casserole. My doctor had suggested that I should eat fewer carbohydrates to avoid gaining too much more baby weight. The casserole consisted of two cups of steamed cauliflower mixed with gobs of cheese, bacon, mayo and sour cream. I’d never be Sylvia style thin because whenever a vegetable came along, I did unearthly things to make it palatable. Cutting back on sugar and starch? Fine, but don’t ask me to scale back on fats at the same time.

  Neil cleaned up and I went out onto the front porch to call Mackenzie. She picked up on the first ring. “Maggie Philips. It’s been too long.”

  “It has. How’s tricks?”

  “Same. I hear from my kid that you’re due to pop any day now.”

  “At this point I’d rather pop than give birth.”

  She snickered. Her accent was pure Boston though not particularly thick. “Mac was two and a half weeks late so believe me when I say I feel your pain. What can I do you for?”

  “Two things. How much for you to do a background check on someone?”

  “For you? Gratis, because you feed my kid better than I ever did. Who are we investigating?”

  “Grace McCoy. She’s a doula, used to be a nurse. My mother-in-law dropped her on our doorstep yesterday and she’s living with us until the baby comes.”

  Mackenzie snorted. “I’m guessing you want the basics. Is she a lunatic with a record and the like. I can get back to you by tomorrow. Anything else?”

  My gaze slid to the house next door. “Maybe. My neighbor’s gone missing.”

  “Sylvia again?”

  “Not Sylvia, her husband. Well, ex-husband. It’s complicated.”

  “I hear that.”

  “Sylvia seemed interested in hiring you to find him.”

  “When did he turn up missing?”

  I gave her the pertinent details, car abandoned, front door wide open, no sign of violence. “There’s something else you should know. He’s a person of interest in a murder investigation with the Hudson P.D.”

  “Interesting. What do you know about the case?”

  “Very little. Sylvia said the victim was named Jamie and he worked with Eric on the Juice Jet thing.”

  “Do you mean Jamie Greer, the infomercial king? Holy crap, that’s one high profile case. Haven’t you seen it in the news?”

  I didn’t do news if I could avoid it. Being informed wasn’t worth my peace of

  mind. “No. What am I missing?”

  “Jamie Greer was like the guy for hawking useless gadgets on late night T.V. He

  specialized in weight loss supplements, and nutritional hokum that doesn’t usually work. But he slapped pretty people on the label and had some tech genius work the social media circuit. Made truckloads of money. About a week ago he was found face down in his pool. There are no less than seventeen active lawsuits pending plus he was in the middle of a very public and messy divorce, so half of New England is under suspicion. You say your missing man worked for Greer?”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “Hmm. I don’t really have a horse in this race though I am interested in the case.”

  “Good to know.” I’d be sure to let Sylvia know.

  I’d just disconnected with Mackenzie when Grace drove up in a beat up old Toyota. Guilt nagged at me that I’d been investigating her, she seemed so nice. Of course that’s what all the neighbors/ coworkers of serial killers always said after the police found fifteen bodies buried beneath the cellar floor. And that eerie sense of familiarity wouldn’t go away.

  “Did you have a nice morning?” I asked Grace as she made her way up the steps. She carried two large duffle bags and what looked like a yoga mat under one arm.

  She nodded but didn’t comment. “Why don’t you come inside? I thought we could start with some basic meditation and relaxation techniques.”

  “Sure.” I tried not to dwell on the redirection. I’d asked about how Grace had spent her time and she’d subtly blown me off. Of course it was none of my beeswax, I was just nosy by nature. It was hard to think of her as anything other than a paid professional when she didn’t share much about herself though.

  Grace set her belongings down and unrolled the mat on the living room carpet. Through the window facing Sylvia’s house I saw a police cruiser pull up next to the Lexus. Two uniforms got out, though they didn’t enter the house.

  “Maggie? If you’ll just settle in over here.” Grace had put some pillows down on the yoga mat.

  “Oh. Uh, sure.” I waddled toward her and was lowering myself down just as Detective Capri’s beat up old Subaru parked on the street. “Shoot.”

  “Did you hurt yourself?” Grace moved into my line of sight.

  “No. It was nothing.” I craned my neck, trying to see what was going on next door, but my seated position on the floor was too low for a decent line of sight.

  Grace moved behind me and propped some pillows into place behind my lower back. “Comfortable?”

  “Mm, hmmm.” Was Capri doing a walk-through of Sylvia’s house? Sylvia had granted the police permission, but now that I knew exactly how high profile the murder was, I thought that maybe someone should be over there to make sure the cops didn’t trash the place on the hunt for evidence.

  Someone like a concerned neighbor.

  “Close your eyes,” Grace said.

  I did as instructed.

  “Take a deep breath, hold it for the count of three and then exhale.”

  I cracked an eye. “Did you just hear a noise that sounded like breaking glass?”

  Grace shook her head. “Close your eyes.”

  Okay self, my inner voice said. It’s time to focus on the baby. Do the breathing.

  But what about Sylvia’s house? I mentally whispered to the voice. What if they make a huge colossal mess? How would I feel if my house had been torn apart when I had to bring the baby home? Like hell, that’s how.

  Quit justifying and take a freaking breath already! My inner voice lost her temper.

  I sucked in air and then puffed it out. “Like that?” I asked Grace.

  She had more patience than my inner drill sergeant. “Slower and more deliberate. Your lungs are giant balloons and you’re trying to inflate them slowly, so they don’t pop.”

  “That can’t happen, can it?”

  She smiled and didn’t call me an idiot. “No. It’s simply a technique to keep your breathing under control. Your mind seems to be elsewhere, though. Is this a bad time? Are you comfortable enough? Do you need a break?”

  Guilt made my cheeks flush. I was focused on the police search next door and Grace was simply trying to do her job. Preparing Baby X and myself for the arduous task ahead. I needed to get my head in the game. To straighten out my priorities. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Try sitting up a little.” Grace squatted down behind me and applied pressure to my lower back in slow, circular motions. “How does that feel?”

  My head lolled and my
eyes shut involuntarily that time. “Awesome.”

  “Okay, now try the breathing again. Slow and easy.”

  “We wouldn’t want to pop the balloon,” I murmured.

  “That’s right. Just keep breathing like that, slow and steady. Labor pains come in waves, what we call contractions. Sometimes the waves are gentle. They lap against the shore before receding. As the contractions grow closer together the waves grow more intense, like the beach just after a storm. You know what the beach is like.”

  “I do. Neil and I were married on the beach.” I said and then frowned. “How did you know that?”

  Her ministrations paused. “Your mother-in-law said your husband served in the Navy. I just assumed you’d been to the beach.”

  “Oh, okay. Go on.”

  Grace kept up the pressure, maneuvering me into different positions. On my side, squatting down while holding onto a chair. Neil poked his head in once, but I waved him off, concentrating on my posture, my breathing.

  “How do you feel?” Grace asked a while later.

  “Very relaxed.” I hadn’t thought about the search next door in several minutes.

  “That’s good to hear. I hope you don’t mind, I had dinner plans tonight. If you want to continue, I’d be happy to cancel.” She reached out a hand and helped me to my feet.

  I waved her offer off. “Don’t be silly. Is it a hot date?”

  She shook her head no but didn’t elaborate. “I’m just going to take a quick shower. Try to eat lightly tonight and every meal until you give birth. Having too much in your stomach can exacerbate some of the more... unpleasant side effects of late pregnancy.”

  Like morbid obesity. Neil watched wrestling from time to time and the contenders weights were always announced upfront. Baby X and I had all but the heartiest of them beat. Weighing in at 200 and *cough cough* pounds, the laundry hag and lil’ sweeper!

  I barely stifled a grimace but managed a chipper, “Will do.”

  “Tomorrow morning, if you’re interested, I’ll have you select from my aromatherapy oils.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Grace rolled up her yoga mat, restacked her pillows in the corner next to the couch and gave me one last parting smile before heading to the bathroom.

  “So that happened,” I said to the empty room. “Still big, fat and pregnant, blah blah blah.”

  With my baby due diligence done, I headed back outside. All the police vehicles were still there.

  “Neil!” I called into the house.

  My husband showed up at a jog. “What’s up, Uncle Scrooge?”

  “Simmer down anxious daddy. I’m just going to head next door and see what’s doing.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue so I said, “Look, Sylvia will be home with Astrid tomorrow. I’m not being nosy, I just want to make sure the cops don’t trash the place.”

  “They’re not a rock band, Maggie. They’re on a manhunt.”

  I glowered at him. “It doesn’t change the fact that Sylvia and the baby have to come home to whatever they leave behind tomorrow. I just want to remind them of that fact.”

  “You just want to know if they found anything.”

  “That too.”

  “Is there anything I can say to keep you from charging over there?”

  I shook my head.

  Neil took one of those deep, three second breaths. It didn’t seem to make him any calmer but he wasn’t in danger of going into labor. After a minute his eyes opened and he extended an arm. “Okay, but I’m going with you.”

  “How could I not adore a man who knows when he’s been beaten?”

  “You win the battle, love.” Hazel eyes sparkled. “The war is far from over.”

  Chapter Five

  The uniformed officer standing guard at Sylvia’s door hadn’t been at the hospital. Nor was he another of Hudson’s finest I’d encountered. I would have remembered him. He had a long narrow face and lips so thin they were practically nonexistent. One hand rose to halt our forward momentum up the stairs. “Go home, folks.”

  “Hi,” I said offering him a bright smile. When treading on shaky ground I find it best to play dumb. “My husband and I live next door and we just wanted to speak to Detective Capri for a quick sec.”

  “Detective,” Officer Long Face called into the house over his shoulder though he was keeping his eyes on us. I wasn’t sure what he expected a pregnant woman and her overprotective husband to do, but he was keeping us in his sights.

  Capri emerged from inside the house wearing plastic gloves. “Twice in one day. To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Maggie was concerned and wanted to make sure Sylvia’s house wasn’t disturbed too much during your investigation.”

  Capri’s lips twitched. “No more than necessary.”

  I tried—and failed to see into the house, standing on tip toe. The two of them successfully blocked the open door and I couldn’t see anything. “Have you found any leads on Eric?”

  “Mrs. Phillips,” Capri started.

  “That I can relate to Sylvia.” I pushed.

  Capri opened her mouth and then looked back at officer long face. Instead of saying whatever it was she intended to say, she made her way down the steps. “Walk with me.”

  With her on one side and Neil on the other I didn’t have too much of a choice.

  “Listen, I appreciate that you have something of a knack for these sorts of investigations. I do. Your instincts are solid.”

  My lips curved up into a grin until she added, “For a civilian.”

  “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

  Across the yard, I could see Grace heading down the steps to her car. She waved to us and I waved back, though Neil and Capri didn’t.

  “Are you taking in borders now?” Capri asked.

  “She’s my doula.” I studied her face for any sign that she was unfamiliar with the term. But Capri had the world’s best poker face. Her expression gave away nothing.

  “Look, I’m not Eric’s biggest fan but if you think he’s involved with the Jamie Greer murder, you’re way off base. He’s a spineless womanizer, not a cold blooded killer.”

  Capri didn’t blink. “For now Mr. Wright is listed only as a person of interest in the case. If you see or hear from him, please contact me right away. I’ve urged Mrs. Wright to do the same.”

  With that she turned on her heel and strode back into the house. Neil and I returned to our own front porch and watched until they left less than an hour later.

  “They didn’t find anything.” I rose out of the porch swing and stretched my aching back.

  “How do you know?”

  “No crime unit truck, no clear little evidence baggies. Plus Capri looked constipated.”

  “She always looks that way. It’s just her face.” Neil got up too and stared down at me. “I’ve never seen you in a struggle for power like you have with her. It’s kinda hot.”

  “I lost. She gave me nothing.”

  “Still. You stand up for what you believe in and that’s more than most people do.”

  “You made a career out of standing up for other people.”

  He shrugged. “It was my job. You just do it out of a weird sense of moral responsibility. You’ve barely spoken to Sylvia in months and you stood toe to toe with Capri over a man you don’t even like. Why?”

  “Wish I knew.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I thought you didn’t like it when I involved myself in things like this. What’s changed?”

  “I still don’t like it. I especially don’t like it when you endanger yourself. But I still admire you for doing the right thing.”

  “Careful, slick. I might take that as encouragement.”

  Neil grinned at the same time Josh stuck his head out the door. “Mom, phone for you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Dunno. Some woman.” This thorough response was accompanied by a quick up and down of his skinny shoulders.

  “Tell whoever it is
I’ll be right there.” I rolled my eyes at Neil. “I love them dearly, but Kenny and Josh are awful about taking messages.”

  “Still better than Marty.” Neil reached out a hand to steady me. “He once left one that read—and this is a direct quote—some guy called about something.”

  That sounded like my brother. “Admit it. He’s better than he used to be.”

  “Of course that only happens after he moves seven hundred miles away.” Neil held the door for me so I could waddle inside.

  “This is Maggie Phillips.”

  The woman on the other end of the line had a smooth, accent-less voice I didn’t recognize. “Hello, my name is Julia Swenson. I’m trying to reach the laundry hag?”

  “This is she.” Odd, I hadn’t gotten a laundry hag call in months. My few regular clients knew about my pregnancy and business had died off after I’d been accused of murder.

  “Oh thank goodness. I don’t suppose you’re available tonight are you? I have a sort of...situation on my hands.”

  “Well you see,” I began, hating to turn down new business but fully aware I wasn’t up to much in the cleaning department these days.

  “I know it’s last minute but I really need help. You can name your price.”

  And those were the magic words. “Okay, I’ll do it. Just text me the address. You have my cell phone number?”

  “Yes. I hope you have a sizable crew. This is a large job.”

  Neil and Josh were eyeing me warily. I smiled sweetly at them and spoke into the phone. “Don’t worry, my team is the best.”

  “What did you just do?” My husband asked when I’d hung up the phone.

  “It’s a cleaning gig.” My cell phone buzzed. “Near Boston. Oh, good, we can snag Leo to help.”

  “By we you mean you and the mouse in your pocket?” Josh gave me stink-eye.

  “We as in the family who desperately needs a second bathroom added onto this house.” Not to mention college funds, the expense of a new baby and a washing machine that had the habit of dancing to a tune only it could hear.

  “Maggie, you’re in no condition to tackle a cleaning job.” Neil didn’t mention the sorry state of our own house. He didn’t have to.