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

by Jennifer L. Hart

  Neil’s warm hand rubbed up and down my back in a soothing gesture. Grace murmured words of encouragement to us both. Slowly, the chattering subsided, all the starch going out of me until I sagged. The next thing I knew, it had been morning and I lifted my face away from a large drool spot on Neil’s jeans.

  Neil stirred when I got up, but didn’t wake all the way up. A sure sign of exhaustion, since Neil was typically a light sleeper. He’d drifted off while sitting upright with my head on his lap. Grace was nowhere in sight. I left him to it and shuffled into the bathroom, standing for a long time under the spray. It helped with the cricks in my neck and shoulders as well as the beginnings of a headache.

  Grace was waiting for me in the kitchen, already dressed for the day. “Detective Capri came by after you fell asleep. She questioned Neil and said you should call her. Her card is on the fridge. How about some oatmeal?”

  I must have made a noncommittal sound because she set right to work, leaving me to ruminate.

  Grace set two bowls of oatmeal down on the table along with a small bowl of brown sugar and a jug of milk. “You look better this morning, less pale and likely to keel over.”

  “I see we’re setting the bar high.” I studied the oatmeal dubiously. Even though I was of Scottish descent I’d never developed a taste for oatmeal. But my mother had raised me to say thanks when someone went to the trouble of making food for me, then shut up and eat.

  With the brown sugar and milk it wasn’t half bad and it stayed down, which I’d been worried about after the night before.

  Grace was one of those people who didn’t feel the need to fill every conversational lull. It was nice, to sit in silence and just eat. “You’re a very peaceful person.” I told her.

  She smiled. “I had to work hard to become that way. My upbringing was kind of...rough.”

  From the pause before the last word I gathered that it was something of an understatement. I opened my mouth to ask about it but changed my mind when Neil shuffled in, looking more worn out than I could remember seeing him and rubbing his bad shoulder.

  He studied me carefully then, apparently satisfied that I hadn’t crumbled into dust, turned toward the coffee pot. “I’m too damn old to sleep on the couch.”

  “You could have gone to bed.” He wouldn’t have though, not with me passed out like I’d been on a three day bender.

  Neil sat across the table. “Capri stopped by.”

  “Grace told me. What did she say?”

  My husband shook his head. “Not much. I told her what happened, how we found Eric. She said, given your condition, to call her.”

  That wasn’t standard investigation procedure. That she’d waited to question me was a sign of trust. Nice to know I wasn’t a suspect this time around.

  Grace finished her oatmeal. I don’t know if her doula Spidey sense was tingling, but she excused herself to the baby’s room, leaving the two of us to talk.

  “You scared the hell out of me last night.” Neil said.

  “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  He blew out a sigh. “I know better than anyone that sometimes the brain checks out when it can’t handle stress.”

  I nodded. He was referring to his PTSD, which he took medication to keep in check. We’d had a couple of near misses when Neil clocked out much as I had done when we’d found Eric.

  “It probably serves me right. Now I know what it’s like on the other side.”

  “The other side of what?” Maybe it was pregnancy brain but I was having trouble following his line of thought.

  “I mean for you. What it’s like to worry about someone you love who’s not all there. And then there’s the baby. I kept imagining you going into labor in that state and not coming out of it. Like the trauma of everything would break you.” He took a deep breath and admitted something I never thought I’d hear from his lips. “It’s terrifying being so helpless.”

  I took his hand and squeezed hard. “I’m tougher than I look.”

  “Don’t I know it,” The words were more flattering than the tone, but I took it as a compliment.

  I squeezed his hand. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry I worried you like that. I kept thinking that we’d gotten off track, slipped in an alternate reality somehow. That Eric couldn’t really be dead. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Since when did murder have to make sense?” He wasn’t being a smartass, he was pointing out something that deep down I knew. “As much as I hate admitting this, you’ve been involved with murders before. They didn’t affect you like this.”

  I knew what he was asking, why was finding Eric any different. My hand slid from his and covered my bulging midsection. I couldn’t hold his gaze as I muttered, “You’re right. This hits closer to our home, someone we knew more than just a passing acquaintance.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  It wasn’t. “I feel, I don’t know. Responsible I guess.”

  I waited for my husband to state the obvious, that I didn’t kill Eric so why should I feel responsible. When he didn’t, I dared to look up into his face.

  “You didn’t like him, Maggie. That’s not a crime.”

  I shifted, uncomfortable in more than my physical self. “It’s not just that. When he disappeared I felt vindicated. Even when he was a person of interest in a murder there was this weird sense of satisfaction, like, what wouldn’t Eric do? It never dawned on me that he could have been in real trouble, that someone would have hurt him.”

  This time Neil was the one to link our hands. Tears welled and a few spilled over.

  “Poor Sylvia,” I sniffed.

  “We’ll do what we can for her. If she stays in Hudson.”

  I blinked the moisture from my eyes. “You think she’ll move?”

  “Would you want to stay in a house where I’d died?”

  “Ssshh,” I shook my head violently. “Don’t even say that.”

  Neil scrubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. Sylvia probably won’t feel safe in that house, especially not on her own with a new baby.”

  He was right, as usual. “And are we safe?”

  Neil frowned. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  I gaped. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe because our neighbor was just murdered.”

  Neil glared right back at me. “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, that doesn’t give you carte blanche to go snooping in the police investigation. Whatever happened to Eric has nothing more to do with us than proximity.”

  “Neil—”

  “No,” He slapped his open palm on the table so hard that the sugar bowl jumped. “Damn it Maggie, you made me a promise yesterday that you wouldn’t interfere. I’m holding you to that.”

  I opened my mouth, took one look at his face, then closed it again. Unshaven with that stony countenance my husband was intimidating as hell. Not that I was intimidated, but I also wasn’t stupid. He was a man on the edge and I wasn’t going to be the one to push him over.

  “Call Detective Capri,” Neil said. “Give Sylvia your condolences and offer her whatever support you can but let that be the end of it.”

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  He scowled. “Okay as in you’ll stay out of it?”

  “No, okay as in I hear what you’re saying and I am well aware that I’m not in the physical or emotional shape to do anything other than offer comfort and talk. Good enough?”

  “For now.” Neil drained his coffee cup and then pushed back from the table. “I’m going to shower. Will you be okay?”

  I wanted to tell him to quit hovering, that nothing made me feel quite as fragile as his scrutiny. But that was temper and hormones talking and I was determined not to let either call the shots. “I will be.”

  After the bathroom door closed behind him, I poked my head into Kenny and Josh’s room. Atlas, having been locked in there the night before had started to whine and scratch. I felt obliged to rescue him before the big baby to
ok more drastic measures, like chewing through sheet rock.

  I took my cell phone into the backyard with him and sat on a chair facing Sylvia’s house. Capri’s direct line was programmed into my phone. She picked up halfway through the second ring.

  “It’s Maggie.” I responded to her terse hello. “You wanted me to call you.”

  “How are you feeling?” Her tone was solicitous.

  “Better than last night.” And world’s better than Eric.

  “Your husband said you were out last night between eight and ten?”

  “That’s right, the whole family pitched in to help me with a cleaning job.”

  “And you went into Sylvia’s house specifically to use the garage freezer?”

  Baby X squirmed. I couldn’t tell if it was the motion or the memory but the oatmeal threatened to make a comeback. “Yeah. The power was out and I had all these frozen meals I didn’t want to go bad. The light was on next door and I thought we could use their freezer temporarily.”

  “I see.”

  Capri’s tone wasn’t particularly judgmental but I felt stupid anyway.

  “Well, how was I supposed to know there was a body in there? Supposedly the police had thoroughly searched the house a few hours before. I thought it would be safe.” The last part came out a little pissy.

  She didn’t respond to my accusation and switched topics. “Have you spoken with Mrs. Wright at all?”

  “No, I called you first thing.” A dangerous thought arose. “You can’t suspect Sylvia had anything to do with Eric’s death. She just had a baby for crying out loud!” As alibis went, hers was rock solid.

  “I never said she was a suspect.” Capri pointed out.

  I heard what she didn’t say loud and clear. “You think she put a hit on him, is that it? That she hired some mouth breather to off Eric while she gave birth to their child?”

  “Is there any reason you can think of that she would want to kill her husband?”

  “Sylvia is not a violent person. Hell, I have more motive than she does.”

  Silence. Oops, I probably shouldn’t have admitted the last part out loud. “I didn’t want him dead. I just thought he was a womanizing jerkoff.”

  Capri cleared her throat. “If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Wait, that’s it? I found a body for crying out loud. Don’t I need to come in and make a more formal statement or something?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary. I have another call, Mrs. Phillips. I’ll be in touch.”

  Capri hung up and I stared at the phone in disbelief. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Something more than a quick I’ll be in touch.

  Baby X stuck what was either a knee or an elbow into a kidney, as if to remind me that I should be glad I’d gotten off so light because I had more pressing concerns. Wincing, I struggled to my feet and started a slow walk around the perimeter of the yard. Atlas trotted alongside me as though keeping guard.

  The back door opened and Grace stepped out, easily falling into step with us. “Is everything all right?”

  Not exactly, but I knew she meant the baby. “She’s just restless.”

  “They get like that sometimes, right before delivery.”

  It dawned on me that I knew nothing about her, outside of her mad doula skills. “Do you have any kids?”

  “No.”

  Though I wanted to ask if she wanted any, it seemed a little pushy. Usually people opened up to me but Grace played her cards close to the vest.

  My phone rang and I saw it was from Mackenzie Taylor. “I need to take this.”

  Grace put a hand on my arm, squeezed lightly and then made her way back in.

  I waited until the door closed before I answered the call with an abrupt, “Did you hear about Eric?”

  “Yes, and I have news on that score but it can wait. I need to talk to you about your doula. Is she around?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Grace standing at the sink washing some dishes. “Yes but she can’t hear me. What did you find out?”

  “Nothing,” Mackenzie said. “She doesn’t exist.”

  Chapter Seven

  “What do you mean she doesn’t exist?” All the hair was standing up on my neck and arms. “I’m looking right at her.”

  “I mean she has no paper trail, at least not as Grace McCoy. No public record of her working as a doula or a nurse at any hospitals in or around Boston. She’s not registered with any agencies. Where did your mother-in-law find her?”

  “I have no idea.” Though I was doing my level best not to stare at Grace, I was keeping her in my line of sight. “If she’s not an actual doula, then who is she?” And why was she passing herself off as a birth companion and former nurse.

  “If you had her date of birth or social security number I might be able to dig deeper. Do you think you could finagle that kind of information from her?”

  Somehow I doubted it. “She’s not a big sharer. Cripes Mackenzie, she’s living in my house. What do I do?”

  The PI was matter-of-fact. “Kick her to the curb.”

  “But she’s so nice.” Even as I said it, I knew that as an argument, niceness didn’t hold water. I thought of how she’d settled me the night before, helped cut through the shock, how competent her hands were as she checked my pulse and blood pressure. “And she really seems to know what she’s doing, helping me relax.”

  “Well it’s your call, obviously. But in my experience people who pretend to be something they aren’t usually don’t have the best motives for what they do.”

  She was right. Neil had been right. We had a stranger staying in our home with our family who wasn’t what she claimed. If I told Neil, he’d do exactly what Mackenzie had recommended. He might even go as far as having Grace arrested for fraud. Under normal circumstances I could talk to him calmly and rationally. With Baby X’s arrival imminent and fresh from discovering a murder victim I somehow doubted a calm rational discussion was in the cards.

  My mind had wandered and I realized Mackenzie was still on the line. “Sorry, I spaced out for a minute. What were you saying?”

  “I wanted to know if you still want me to look into the Greer case, now that your neighbor has been....found.”

  I didn’t have to think about my answer for long. “Yes. I think the police are eyeing Sylvia for Eric’s murder. If you find out that the cases are in any way related, it might buy her some time.”

  Mackenzie swore. “All right. What can you tell me about last night?”

  I brought her up to speed about finding Eric’s body and how the police had been through the house hours before.

  “And you say he was frozen solid?”

  “Not sure about solid but he was blue.”

  “Sounds to me like maybe the body was moved. I’ll check the M.E.’s lividity and time of death to be sure but from what you’re saying there wasn’t enough time between when the police left to when you found him for a full grown man to freeze solid in a residential freezer.”

  Her nonchalance amazed me. “You’re so cool about this. Um, no pun intended. I mean just so matter of fact. I feel like I’m going to lose it.”

  “Practice makes perfect.” Mackenzie said. “Believe me, it’s a lot easier to remain detached after years of seeing the worst humanity has to offer.”

  My gaze slid back to the house, to where I could still see Grace standing at the sink. The woman was a workhorse. Why oh why did she have to turn out to be a liar too? “I should go, um handle things.”

  “I’ll check in with you as soon as I have something solid.” Mackenzie disconnected.

  Neil was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee and checking his email on his phone. He looked up when Atlas and I reentered the kitchen. “Did you talk to Capri?”

  “Not that it did much good, other than backing up your statement.” My gaze slid to Grace. Though a confrontation was inevitable, I hadn’t wanted to do it with Neil as a witness.
It would have been easier for me to quietly dismiss her.

  I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut again as a horrific notion snapped into place. Grace had arrived the day Eric had gone missing. She’d seen the police searching Sylvia’s house, had waved to us while we were speaking with the detective on her way out. Whoever had put Eric in that freezer would’ve had to know that the house was empty and that the Wright’s nosy neighbors, namely us, were out and not keeping tabs of the movements next door.

  Was it possible she might have something to do with Eric’s death? If I confronted Grace about her fake background, she might disappear and go kill or help kill someone else. Maybe I could hand her over to Capri. The problem was I had something of a reputation for jumping to the wrong conclusion. The laundry hag who cried wolf. If Grace was an innocent, if her murky background was legit I’d humiliate her and myself and probably Neil, the boys and poor unborn Baby X.

  I needed proof before I voiced my hypothesis to anyone, even Neil. And in order to get proof, I needed her close. But not as close as she was living in my house.

  “Earth to Maggie,” Neil waved a hand in front of my face. “You all right?”

  I shook my head, snapped out from beneath my cloud of suspicion. “Sorry, guess I’m just having a mommy moment.”

  “Maybe you need to lie down.” Neil suggested. “Or go to the hospital.”

  He was starting to hover, that manic look in his eyes again. If he thought I was in any danger, he could totally lose it. And if he perceived Grace to be a threat...I barely stifled a shudder.

  “No, I’m okay.” Then I turned half away from him, hoping he’d settle once more. “You know, Grace, you really don’t need to stay here. Or do my dishes.”

  She turned from the sink and offered a sweet smile. “It’s no trouble.”

  Was she a sociopath? Maybe. Had she known Eric? No way for me to tell. What could I say? I didn’t want to fire her out of hand. Mackenzie had said she could find out more about Grace if I had more information. That should be my primary focus, second only to getting her away from my family.