The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #2 Swept under the Rug

by Jennifer L. Hart

  Valentino waited for the car to start moving before he turned to face me. “I applaud your tenacity, Mrs. Phillips. I understand you aren’t the type of woman to give up but you’re in way over your head and mucking up my affairs. I cannot allow that to continue.”

  I swallowed at the perceived threat, calling myself all kinds of stupid. No one knew I was with him and if he wanted me to disappear, I’m sure he’d be able to arrange it.

  “Why didn’t you stop Garner from hiring me?” I asked, fear making me bold. “And why did you cover for me last night? Wouldn’t it have been easier to have Sloan call the cops and have me under police supervision?”

  Valentino rubbed the bridge of his nose. “My father taught me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer. I’m not sure which category you fall under, but you present a problem in either case.”

  “I only want to help Candie.” I told him honestly.

  “That makes two of us, but you are in no position to help her. I am able, but not with your constant interference.”

  I pondered his words. He said he could help Candie, not that he would. “Tell me about Amelia Kettering.” I ordered.

  Valentino removed his sunglasses, his eyes wide. “Who told you about her?”

  He didn’t have to sound so incredulous. “She did. From our conversation, I gather she doesn’t hold you in high esteem.”

  “Jealous harpy.” Valentino muttered and then sighed. “Candie went through an experimental phase in college, not so uncommon. Amelia built it up to be more than it was. Started threatening to tell Candie’s parents about their relationship, hoping they’d sequester her away from the world. A classic if I can’t have her, no one can maneuver. Candie ended their affair and asked Amelia not to contact her again.”

  “Your suggestion, I suppose?”

  Valentino didn’t respond, but I had my answer. No matter what he said, I knew this man didn’t put up with threats in any form.

  He smiled, a wry quirk of his lips. “I can tell you’ve painted me as the villain here, but I assure you I’ve always made her well-being a top priority.”

  I pondered that for a moment. “Do you know where she is?”

  “I’m sure Candie is safe. It’s no secret she was unhappy here and it’s easy to believe she’s taken off for a bit. She always did have a love for drama, but I’m involved with several projects which require my attention and I can’t run after her like some moon-struck adolescent.”

  Unbelievable. He was claiming she ran off in a fit of pique. And he hadn’t denied knowledge of her whereabouts. I gazed out of the car window sightlessly for a minute. If what he said was true, then why had he bothered to call the FBI? And what about the notes and the dead bird? I was dying to ask him about Falcon, but afraid to push too hard.

  “What did the other note say? The one you found after Candie disappeared.” I asked him, not believing for a second he would tell me.

  “Telling you that defeats the purpose of asking you to back off from your investigation, does it not?” He reached into a pocket of his overcoat and extracted a business envelope. “For your trouble.”

  I starred at the offering. “Buying my silence, Mr. Valentino?”

  “Think of it more as a peace offering. As well as compensation for all your hard work. I asked Sierra to include a letter of recommendation, so you won’t be forced to make up references in the future.”

  I blushed to the roots of my hair. Was it my fault that all of my clients had left the area, or died, after utilizing my services?

  “And here we are.” The car stopped and I recognized the ugly camper out the front windshield. The dutiful chauffer had merely been circling our development until Valentino spoke his piece.

  “Take a vacation, Mrs. Phillips. You’ve earned it.” He pressed the thick envelope into my hand and before I knew what was happening, I stood on the sidewalk, watching his taillights disappear.

  I opened the envelope and blinked. Cripes, that was a wad all right. The aforementioned letter was in there as well, a glowing reference from one of the area’s top businesses. Between the two, I could set up a slew of gigs to keep Marty employed full-time and branch out into other offices. There would be a nest egg for my little niece or nephew and plenty left over to narrow the financial gap for our family’s needs. Neil wouldn’t have to work so much overtime. The thought of having him home more was the greatest temptation.

  The dream of Candie chained to the boiler haunted me as I trudged up the steps, and pondered my next move.

  * * * *

  “Wait, wait, back up a minute. You got in the car with him?” Neil was seated across from me in a booth at our favorite pub. Despite having worked a fourteen hour day, he’d arrived as if fresh from the shower. I, who actually was fresh from the shower, had already dripped some nacho cheese onto my dark blue cable-knit sweater. Damn tricksy appetizers.

  I took a pull off my light beer and grimaced. Since I hadn’t finished my exercise regime, I denied myself a full calorie beverage. That alone should teach me not to get into the car with strange men, Marty aside. “I know it was stupid, but—”

  “No excuses, Uncle Scrooge!” Neil raised his voice, but the place was busy with the Saturday night crown and no one glanced our way. “You tell me you know your actions were thoughtless and then try to reason through it! Like any justification is enough of a reason for putting yourself in harm’s way!”

  “Simmer down, Neil. I promise; it won’t happen again.” I reached for his hand across the table and twined my fingers with his. This was not the scenario I’d imagined while scouring the bathroom floor earlier today. And I had no one to blame except for my big, fat, mouth. Couldn’t I have waited till desert to tell him about the encounter with Valentino?

  He scrubbed his free hand across his face and sighed audibly. “Maggie, I’ll admit you were right about the fax. Valentino’s got something going on and I seriously doubt he’s been completely upfront with the feds. I understand you are worried about Candie, but please accept that you can’t do anything here. You need to stop painting a target on your ass. I’m begging you, stay out of the investigation.”

  “What about the money?” I whispered, feeling dirty just considering holding on to it.

  Neil shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “I believe you’ve earned it. What you do with it is your call.”

  Our entrees arrived then, a chicken Caesar salad for me and a ½ lb burger with the works for Neil. I snitched a fry and chewed, while mulling over Neil’s position. Undoubtedly, my actions would give him an ulcer, but I needed to see Valentino one more time, if only to return the money. Despite what my husband said, I couldn’t justify keeping the windfall, no matter how tempting. My mother would have applauded my ethics, even if I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet for refusing a hefty boon.

  “Tell me about the luncheon. Did you ever find out why my mother dragged you there?” He bit into his burger with relish and I tried not to envy his choice. Or snatch it out of his hands.

  “How’s work going?” I changed the subject while dosing my salad with the pitiful side cup of dressing. Man alive, they were stingy with the condiments.

  Neil swallowed and set his food down. “Spill, Uncle Scrooge.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know how she is, always trying to hold a mirror up to my face and pointing out the flaws. The luncheon was a visual aide, to illuminate all of my deficiencies.” Speaking of which…. “Why the hell did you tell her we’re seeing a counselor? She blindsided me with that little nugget and I almost crashed the car on purpose, just to get her to back off.”

  “There’s no shame in therapy, Uncle Scrooge. I had to deal with a shrink every time I came back from a hairy mission, sometimes for months. It’s not fun, but it can help, if you let your guard down. And you’re not deficient. My mother views life differently and she’s convinced her way is the only one.”

  My knee bounced frantically under the table. “I still don’t like the world think
ing there is something wrong in our marriage.”

  I’d hoped Neil would assure me there wasn’t anything wrong between us, that we were hunky-dory. He didn’t say a word as he tucked in to his burger. I studied him for a moment, wondering what was brewing in that super-sized brain, when he gestured to my salad.

  “You’re not eating. Is it all right?”

  Crap, nothing was all right, at least anything I’d touched. I was the anti-King Midas, turning everything I contacted into a steaming pile of cow dung. Though I couldn’t claim credit for Candie’s abduction, Eric’s affair, or Leo’s piss-poor taste in men, guilt assaulted me on a chromosomal level.

  And I knew Neil’s crazy hours had something to do with me, even if only remotely. “Let’s see if we can get into Dr. Bob tomorrow.” I said before the thought had registered.

  Neil wiped his empty hands on the checked napkin confusion marring his perfect face. “Nice segue. Tomorrow is Sunday; he probably doesn’t have office hours.”

  Damn, I hadn’t thought of that. Normal people were off on weekends.

  My expression must have reflected my disappointment because he smiled reassuringly at me. “I’ll give him a call; see if he might make an exception for us. If not, we’ll do something else, okay?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I forced a smile and picked at my salad. We didn’t talk much after that; Neil was content to finish his fries and order another drink and I didn’t want to resume a fighting stance. I shifted in my seat, seeking to ease my discomfort, but the source was internal. Being with my husband used to ease my frazzled mind, help chill me out, but that reassurance was noticeably absent. I found myself incapable of reading him anymore, like he’d shifted walkie-talkie frequencies and I’d missed the changeover. Too many doubts filled my head. Was Neil having an affair? His odd work schedule, the random stop down the road the other morning and something in his manner of speech, like he chose his words with great care, all pointed to some duplicity. Or was I simply neurotic?

  “Earth to Uncle Scrooge,” Neil snapped his fingers two inches from the end of my nose.

  “What?” My temper showed through furrowed eyebrows.

  “Well, I was going to suggest a game of darts, but since you’re off in Lala land…”

  My spirits lifted. “May I go first?”

  “Do I look stupid to you?”

  I just grinned. “Age before beauty then.”

  There aren’t many things in life I excel at, but playing darts is one of them. I’d actually bilked half a SEAL team out of several hundred dollars back before I’d married Neil.

  “You’re a woman full of contradictions.” Neil scowled at my fifth bull’s-eye. “You’re so uncoordinated; you couldn’t hit water if you fell off an aircraft carrier—”

  “Flatterer,” I threw another dart and the scoreboard lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “But you cream me and every other person you’ve ever gone up against in darts. How is that possible?”

  “Dunno,” My eye trained on the small target, I tossed my final dart, ending the game. “I have good aim, when I concentrate. Most of the time, my head is buzzing with superfluous crap and I don’t pay attention, just stumble into spazville.”

  “With a little more focus, you could have been a great marksman.”

  “Guns freak me out.” I shuddered. “You ready to go?”

  Neil waved to our server and she hustled off to prepare our bill. Since we’d met at the restaurant, we had to drive home separately. For my purposes, the arrangement would be best, as much as I longed to cuddle up next to him in the truck he’d rented while the Escort was being serviced, there was something I needed to take care of first.

  “I’m just gonna to stop at the store, get something for breakfast and an extra gallon of milk, for Penny.” I fibbed as he dug out his credit card. Neil smiled.

  “See you at home, then.”

  My heart ached as I donned my coat and headed toward the exit.

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  I first noticed the headlights in my rearview mirror after I made the turn into the Valentino’s neighborhood. The vehicle, probably a truck or an SUV from the position of the headlights, was several hundred yards behind me so I dismissed the nervousness as best I could. Yet after three turns, with the houses situated fewer and farther in between, the lights still pursued me. My cell phone trilled, but I ignored it as I maneuvered my Mini around dark patches of what I assumed to be ice. I needed one of those hands free devices, but even if I’d had one, I would have let the call go to voicemail. My agenda was set; chuck the envelope back at Valentino, stop at the store so I wouldn’t arrive home empty-handed and avoid another confrontation with Neil. Nothing to discuss with anyone else.

  Having never been to the Valentino’s at night, I drove slowly, not wanting to miss the turn. Those damn headlights were gaining and I considered pulling over to let the vehicle pass. Some buried instinct kept my foot on the accelerator. I scolded my imagination for working overtime as I pulled up in front of Valentino’s mansion.

  The headlights followed me and an involuntary shudder ripped through my body. I grabbed my tote and climbed from the car. What were the chances that Valentino would receive another visitor at this exact moment, so late at night? Maybe it was the man himself, yet I couldn’t picture Valentino driving anything that big. Eyeing the distance to the front porch, I was set to run when a door slammed behind me. A stream of obscenities caught on the wind along with my name spat like a bitter pill and I spun to face my doom.

  “Just going to the store? For chrissakes, Maggie!” Neil thundered as he closed in on me. My mouth opened and shut a few times, but I couldn’t force a sound out. I didn’t realize I was backing up until my butt hit the side of the car. Large evergreens obscured the moonlight and a predator stalked through the shadows. Though Neil would never hurt me physically, I knew I’d pushed him too far.

  His hands clamped down on my arms and I winced, even though it didn’t hurt. His eyes blazed with fury as his grip tightened.

  “Do you have a goddamned death wish? Why the hell can’t you leave it alone?”

  “I have to give him the money back,” I whimpered, but my excuse only enraged him further.

  “Mail it to him, then! Fed Ex, UPS, hire a fuckin’ courier for all I care! You have plenty of reasonable options, yet you choose this!”

  With muttered expletives he dragged me into his arms. His embrace held more anger than relief, his body trembling at the contact. I remained stiff, waiting for the next wave of rage to knock me on my ass. It didn’t come, and he pulled back, then dragged me toward the open truck door. He’d left the engine on, ready for a swift getaway.

  “Wait, my car!” I squealed, but he didn’t slow his forward progress.

  “Screw the damn car. It’s a clown car anyway.”

  “Hey!” I lashed out with my foot. Nobody insult my Mini—even if he was rightfully beyond furious—and got away with it. The toe of my boot connected with the back of his shin and he grunted, but continued on, undeterred. There was a high probability that once Neil had me in the truck, he’d lock me up for the foreseeable future. I glanced at my car, and at Valentino’s front door, wishing for an out. I squinted at the house; sure my eyes were playing tricks on me.

  “Neil, wait—” “Stow it Maggie, I don’t want to hear it.” His words held a warning which I stoutly ignored. “But Neil, I see—” “Get in the truck, Maggie, or I swear I’ll hogtie you in the bed for the ride home.” He was serious, and unaware of what was happening right behind us. “Listen to me, damn it! I think Valentino’s house is on fire.” I blurted before he could toss me headfirst into the cab of the truck.

  He blinked twice, his jaw making an awful cracking sound as he ground his molars together and I pointed frantically to the smoke billowing out of the open front door.

  “Christ Almighty!” He shoved me into the truck anyway and hollered, “Stay in there and call 911!” before slamming the d
oor with enough force to rock the vehicle and sprinting toward the house.

  “No!” I shouted, even as I fished out my cell phone. Punching in the number, I watched my husband mount the steps and push the door open. Smoke surrounded him before he disappeared. God, what was he thinking? We didn’t even know if someone was inside the house!

  “911, what’s the nature of your emergency?” A dulcet voice queried.

  “The Valentino’s house might be on fire and my idiot husband is inside playing hero!” I screeched.

  “Might be on fire?” The operator asked.

  “There’s smoke coming from the front door.”

  “Ma’am, are you within the residence?” She asked the question with a bit more urgency.

  “No, I’m outside but my husband just went in.”

  “Ma’am I need you to stay away from the structure in question.”

  “Of course I’m going to stay outside. Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t have a death wish.”

  “Ma’am I need you to calm down and give me an address.”

  I rattled it off, my gaze locked on the front door, willing Neil to reappear. Damn his hero complex!

  “The fire department is en route. Ma’am, please remain on the line and brief me of any changes. Can you see your husband?”

  There was a loud boom as flames shot out of a side window and I yelped. Though my sense of direction sucked, I was sure the blast had originated in the kitchen. The operator asked for an update and I stuttered out some sort of reply.

  “Has your husband returned?” She asked again.

  “No,” I whimpered. “Please, tell them to hurry.” God, it wouldn’t end like this, would it? Neil furious and suicidally altruistic while I bore impotent witness. Swamped with anxiety, I squeezed the phone tighter.

  It seemed an eternity passed before the sounds of sirens pierced the still night. The western side of the house was mottled in flames and Neil still hadn’t emerged. I opened the truck door and flung myself to the ground, going down on one knee in my haste to intercept the firemen. They needed to know Neil was still inside and make finding him a priority. I must have announced my intent to the operator because she nattered on about the need for me to stay out of the way. Snapping the phone closed, I stuffed it in my coat pocket.