She looked frail, as though a strong wind would blow her away. Lord help me she was thin, especially compared to my eating for two self. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who would spend the night chatting with a pregnant lady about extreme couponing and then turn around and seduce that same woman’s husband. Her emotion seemed entirely genuine.
“I was wondering when Sylvia was getting back from the hospital with her new little one. I thought to stop in and offer to be of help. Not that I think I’m all that helpful with newborns, but still.” She laughed in a self-deprecating way that lured a smile out of me.
“I’m not sure when she’ll be home,” I hedged, unsure just how common the knowledge of Sylvia’s great escape was around town.
“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” Roberta’s big dark eyes got even bigger. “Oh, I hope everything’s all right.”
“As far as I know.” She must have thought my words were on a premium, but I had tight control over my emotions. It was the only reason I hadn’t wrapped my hands around her throat and squeezed until her head popped off. “The baby is healthy and Sylvia was recovering last time I saw her.”
“Poor thing. My heart goes out to her, it really does. So tragic about her husband. I read in the paper just a week ago that his employer was killed. What’s this world coming to?”
“You knew Eric worked for the Fitness Gurus?”
“Oh yes. He was very proud of the Juice Jet infomercial. Had half the block over the night it premiered, back in January. I’m surprised you weren’t there. I looked for you. I remember I’d just got a bunch of coupons for diapers and I wanted to give them to you before they expired. But then you weren’t there and I forgot all about them. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?”
I remembered the night she was talking about. Neil had mentioned Eric had invited us over. But he’d been working late and it was a school night for the boys, so we hadn’t gone. In retrospect I wondered if Neil had wanted to avoid Roberta. “Huh, too bad I missed it. Did you get the chance to meet any of his coworkers?”
She nodded. “There was the woman who’d done the commercial with him. Mindy? Or maybe her name was Cindy? I don’t recall. And then Stewart, his agent of course.”
“Of course,” I mumbled, having no clue that Eric had even had an agent.
“Oh and then Franklin, the before guy.”
“Before guy?” I blinked.
“You know how when they do those weight loss commercials they have the before people and the after people? Well Franklin was the before guy. He did look like Eric, just not so...lean.”
The name Franklin was ringing a bell. “By any chance do you remember Franklin’s last name?”
She nodded. “It’s White. I remember he said his mother was Becky White, which some people would mix up with Betty White. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” I fibbed. I felt sure I’d seen the name Franklin White somewhere in the files and it was taking all my will power not to roll onto the floor and crawl for the pile to check.
“Well, I didn’t mean to take up your whole afternoon. I just wanted to let you know I was here, in case you need anything. Ride to the hospital, or someone to go out and get emergency diapers.”
“That’s very sweet of you.” Neil must have been mistaken about how she’d approached him.
Marty, who’d sat quietly in the corner the entire time, showed Roberta out. When he came back into the living room he found me gripping Atlas by the collar, trying to get the dog to pull me to a standing position.
“Wait a minute there, slugger.” Marty took my arm and pulled me upright. “Why are you in such a hurry? You gotta whiz?”
I didn’t answer, instead scuttled to the kitchen where I’d left the files scattered on the counter.
“White, Franklin White,” I muttered and sifted through the stacks. “Where the hell are you?”
He was third file from the bottom, one of the disgruntled employee lawsuits. “Hadn’t been paid in eighteen months. The case is still pending.”
I looked at my brother. “So, if you hadn’t been paid for a job in eighteen months and were suing your employer, why would you work on one of his commercials?”
Marty shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”
I headed down the hall to grab my purse. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
Chapter Twelve
Leo arrived just as we were piling into my Mini. “Is it time?”
“Not for that,” I called. “Get in. “
“She’s on a case.” Marty did a palms up, whatchya gonna do maneuver.
Leo rolled his eyes heavenward but climbed into the back seat. “Not that I don’t love the spontaneity, but does anyone want to tell me where the hell we’re going in such a rush?”
“Worcester,” I said and backed out of the driveway.
“Why Worcester?” Leo directed the question to Marty.
Marty shook his head. “Damned if I know. I’m just here to kill time before my conference starts tomorrow.”
“We’re going to Worcester because that’s where Eric’s before guy lives.”
“And she thinks he might have something to do with Eric’s murder.” Marty added.
Leo’s jaw dropped. “Hold the freaking phone, darling. I think you might have buried the lead. Did you say Eric was murdered?”
“Neil and I found his body stuffed in their garage freezer the other night.” I said to him. “His boss was murdered last week in the same way.”
“And Sylvia is missing, along with her newborn baby.” Marty tagged on.
Leo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay wait. So, do we think this guy might be the killer? Because if so, I vote we go out for ice cream instead.”
I made a left out of the development, heading south to Worcester. “I just want to talk to him. We know he’s been to the Wright’s house so he would know the layout. It’s possible he lifted a set of keys while he was there, or he used Eric’s.”
Leo cleared his throat. “Cart, this is horse. Please stop putting yourself first. If this guy worked with Eric, why would he kill him?”
“Who knows? Maybe Eric, as the after guy, got a bonus when he was struggling to make ends meet. Maybe it’s some sort of jealous rage that Eric was the good looking after guy. Or maybe I’m completely off base and he didn’t kill Eric. But he might know something. It’s worth a conversation at the very least.”
“If you say so.” Leo leaned back against the seat. “Remind me not to leave town to work on any more project houses. There’s no one here to talk sense into you when I’m gone.”
“Neil’s been fighting the good fight,” I told him. “But I’ve got the pregnancy card and I’m not afraid to play it.”
Franklin White lived in a powder blue triple decker Queen Anne on the outskirts of the city. I was no judge of architecture but my guess estimated the place to be at least a century old. Houses that old fell into one of two categories. First, there were the showplaces with claw footed tubs, varnished hardwood floors and lovingly restored cabinets. Homes adored by people who put up with the drafts from the windows because they loved the feel of being a part of history.
And then there were places like Franklin White’s dump.
The remaining shutters dangled at odd angles. A large piece of plywood covered one of the upper floor’s windows, making the house look as though it winked at passersby. Someone had abandoned a child’s tricycle on the rotting front porch. Rusty chains dangled ominously down from the porch roof as though having been left in place long after the swing they held had gone to the scrapyard. The house stood halfway up a sharp incline, with crumbling cement steps leading up to the front yard and even more steps to get to the porch.
“No that doesn’t look at all creepy,” Leo grumbled.
I parked across the street, making sure to engage the parking brake. “It wouldn’t be so bad if someone took better care of it. It has nice bones.”
Marty eyed the house with appr
ehension. “I don’t think you should go in there.”
“Why not?”
My brother scrutinized my belly. “You’re...not as light as you used to be.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that heavy. It’s not like I’ll fall through the floor.”
“Especially if it can hold his weight.” Leo said and pointed at the house where a very large man appeared.
He had to be at least 300 pounds, his gut spilling over his belt line. Not that he wore a belt, just stained gray sweats and a blue t-shirt. He had shaggy blond hair that was several weeks past due for a cut.
Before Eric.
“Come on, let’s catch him while he’s outside.” I popped the door to the Mini and checked both ways before waddling across the street.
Leo and Marty caught up with me quickly, one on either side. Marty still wore his B&E outfit of light blue jeans with the knee torn out and a navy cotton t-shirt. Leo was dressed in pressed black slacks and a vermillion polo shirt the exact same color as his sneakers. I had on a purple muumuu with big pink hibiscus flowers that looked more like upholstery than an article of clothing but was very comfy.
Franklin had stopped at the foot of the porch steps and bent down to retrieve the newspaper lying there. He glanced up when he spotted us coming up the cement steps, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion.
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” he announced.
“More the pity,” Leo tsked.
Out of breath from the quick climb, I couldn’t shush him the way I wanted, so I settled on a sharp glance. “Are you Franklin White?”
Up close his resemblance to Eric was fairly evident, but no harm in making sure.
“That’s me.” Franklin seemed suspicious but not unfriendly.
“We have a mutual acquaintance. Eric Wright? You worked together on the Juice Jet infomercial, is that right?”
“Yeah. So?” There was no way to tell by his expression if he’d heard about Eric’s murder.
“You have a lawsuit pending against Jamie Greer’s company, Fitness Gurus. I was wondering why you would work for Greer at the same time you were suing him?”
Franklin shrugged, massive shoulders heaving with the effort. “My lawyer said the case was weak. I didn’t have a contract, so there was no way to prove Greer had hired me. He paid under the table. Used to do well, then he got into trouble with that core builder thing and the money stopped coming in. Juice Jet was supposed to be his miracle fix, get Fitness Gurus back on track. Man’s gotta eat and this place don’t pay for itself. It’s an easy job, just stand around and let them take pictures for a few hours.”
It didn’t seem like the savviest or most reliable way to go about earning a paycheck, but that was his business. He also didn’t sound like a man who would hold a grudge against Greer, not if he’d go back to work for him.
I retrenched. “What did you think of Eric? You’ve been to his house, right?”
Another shrug. “Only the one time. He was all right. Pretty standard for the after guys. They’re usually a bunch of meathead losers. His wife was the one who invited me to the party they threw. Real sweetheart of a gal. He didn’t deserve her.”
I agreed though I still asked, “What makes you say that?”
“Because, he was screwing around on her. The poor kid was pregnant with his child and he’s sleeping with another woman while she’s knocked up.”
Leo sucked in some air beside me and I felt Marty go still. “You sure about that?” I asked.
“Sure I’m sure. Walked in on the two of them at the viewing party.”
“Do you know who it was?” I pushed even as I thought, damn you, Eric.
Franklin’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look like cops.”
“We’re just, uh, concerned citizens.” Leo offered.
“Then I don’t need to be answering your questions.” Franklin turned to go.
I darted forward and reached for his arm. “Sorry, I’m her neighbor and I’m concerned. Please, if you can tell me who the woman was, it’ll really help her out.”
Franklin studied my face for a beat. “I wasn’t really looking at her face, if you catch my drift.”
Ick.
Seeing my expression Franklin said, “Hey, next time you walk in on two people doing it doggy-style on a freezer chest, see if you look at their faces, first.”
All the hair stood up on my arms when he mentioned the freezer. “If you were to guess? Who do you think it was?”
“I’m pretty sure it was Mindy. The hostess from the Juice Jet commercial. They flirted big time at work, all innuendo and stuff. I thought that was all it was because they were both married, Mindy only a few months. Right under his wife’s nose, too. Makes me sick.”
“Yeah,” I said hollowly. “Me too.”
MARTY TOOK THE KEYS from me for the drive back to Hudson. “Was that what you were hoping to hear?”
I’d closed my eyes against the sun to ease the growing headache. “Honestly? I don’t know what I was hoping to find out. But am I surprised about Eric screwing around on Sylvia again? Not really.”
“But that means someone else is involved, right?” Leo asked. “Granted I don’t have the mind for this sort of thing the way you do, but if Eric had a mistress, she could have a motive to off his skanky ass.”
I acknowledged the possibility with a slight nod. “Yes, but it also gives Sylvia a strong motive. Freaking Eric, why couldn’t he keep it in his pants?”
Neither of them had an answer for me.
“So what’s the next step, Detective Preggers?” Leo asked. “Do we talk to Mindy? Or maybe Mindy’s potentially crazy jealous husband? Find out if either of them seem like killers?”
“Not today.” Fatigue had worn down my reserves and I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for anymore. “I need to sleep on it.”
We pulled up into the driveway just as the school bus stopped at the corner. Kenny and Josh unloaded along with a few of the other neighborhood kids. They scattered across green lawns and disappeared into houses, in search of food and internet access, not necessarily in that order. Marty climbed out and followed them inside, probably raiding my fridge before he headed into Boston for his conference.
Leo clambered out and then offered me a hand. “Not slowing the kids down any, to know that someone was murdered on this street.”
“This generation is different. We grew up with fire drills. They have lockdowns and every few months some jackass brings a gun to school or phones in a threat.”
We sat on the steps and took in the warm spring sun, the slight breeze to help dispel the chill of death that never seemed too far away. I saw Leo shiver. “I don’t know how they can function, knowing their world is so unsafe.”
“How’s Peter?” I changed the subject, hoping to lighten the moment. A smile stole across my face as I recalled when his nephew had been Kenny’s age. He’d been a mischievous handful who’d broken a window in our house, a regular neighborhood hooligan.
“He’s good. Just graduated from Duke. Getting married in June.”
My jaw dropped. “No freaking way.”
“Blows the mind, doesn’t it?”
“You’re going to the wedding, right?” The question wasn’t unfounded. Leo and Peter’s mother didn’t get along, for a whole host of complicated reasons. I fervently hoped that wouldn’t keep him away from his nephew’s big day.
Leo took a deep breath. “Yeah. You wanna be my date?”
“I could be.” A hint of mischief crept into my tone. “Or I can let you borrow Neil.”
Leo threw back his head and laughed. “You are so damn devious.”
“Is that a yes? Just imagine the look on your harpy sister’s face when you walk in with him.”
He smiled but then sobered. “You’d do that for me? Pimp out your husband?”
“You don’t get to have sex with him,” I said, my tone dry. “Just a pretty piece of arm candy for the night.” Neither of us mentioned that we�
��d need to obtain Neil’s consent. We both knew I could cajole him into it, though I’d probably owe him for a while afterwards.
Leo nudged me. “Oh and here I was gonna get him liquored up and see if I could convert him.”
I smiled, though it wasn’t as genuine as it would have been before the Roberta Schmitt confession.
“What’s wrong? You’re frowning all of a sudden.”
I forced my features to relax. “Other than the fact that I’m gestating like an elephant?”
“The preggers card doesn’t work on gay men, I’m sorry to say. So what’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“One of our neighbors came on to Neil.”
“So? He must get offers all the time.”
“Thanks a heap.” I said.
“It was meant to be comforting. Just because he gets offers doesn’t mean he accepts them. He’s not Eric, plowing any field he comes across.”
I snorted.
He rolled his eyes. “Grow up, you perv. I’m saying that other people being interested isn’t something he can help.”
“I know that. I do. But he kept it from me.”
“Do you really want him to tell you every single time someone hits on him? Will that make you feel better?”
I tried to picture it, Neil telling me every time a woman gave him the slow up and down. “We wouldn’t have time to talk about anything else,” I admitted.
“Right. So just keep doing what you’ve been doing all along. Trust him.”
My ass had fallen asleep against the hard porch. “Help me up.”
He was on his feet in an instant. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I put a hand to my stomach, which felt harder than it had earlier. “I think so.”
The pain struck so quickly I doubled over.
“Oh shit,” Leo said. “Maggie? Is it the baby?”
With eyes scrunched tight I nodded, trying to breathe through the pain. As though from a distance I heard Leo holler for Marty and the sound of running feet, both human and canine.
Bun in the Oven: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #6 Page 12
