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

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “Hi, Dr. Bob. This is Maggie Phillips. Neil and I were wondering if we could stop by to see you.”

  “Is something wrong? You two seemed to have reached an understanding this morning.”

  “No, we need counseling all right.” Especially Neil, with that slightly mad gleam in his eye.

  “It happens I had a last minute cancellation so my three o’clock slot is free.”

  “Thank you. We’ll see you in a bit.” I shut the phone and slammed into the door. Neil took a corner at the speed of sound.

  “For the love of God, what is churning in your head?”

  Neil grinned at me and explained his plan.

  * * * *

  “There’s something different about you, Mrs. Phillips.” Dr. Bob scanned me from head to toe.

  I’m Candie Valentino, I’m Candie Valentino. I offered him a shy smile and concentrated on a spot on the carpet. “Why thank you, sir.”

  Neil glanced pointedly at his watch. “Can we get this show on the road; I have a great deal of work waiting for me.”

  Dr. Bob seemed somewhat taken aback by Neil’s uncharacteristic abruptness, but recovered quickly.

  “How have things been going?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Neil got there first.

  “Fine, everything is just fine.” He crossed one ankle to his knee and jiggled his foot.

  “You seem tense, Mr. Phillips. Is there something you wish to share?”

  I stared at my husband, but hardly recognized him. His usual humor and easy-going air had evaporated like mist on a sunny morning. What was left was a hard-eyed stranger wearing an expression like someone had slipped cat turds into his morning Wheaties.

  “I need to get back to work, but she insisted on being here.” Neil spat the words, jerking his head toward me.

  “Work is very important to you then, Mr. Phillips?” Dr. Bob watched Neil closely, studying his every twitch.

  “Well, someone has to make money and since she sits on her ass all day—”

  “Hey now!” My character slipped and Neil’s gaze met mine. Dr. Bob patted the air in a classic calm down gesture.

  “You’ll get your turn, Mrs. Phillips. Neil, may I call you Neil?”

  His foot jiggled faster. “Fine,” he clipped out.

  “I thought your wife ran her own business.”

  Neil rolled his eyes. “Like she could make that work. She’s a social pariah, just ask my mother. She tries to involve Maggie in the world, but my wife can’t see beyond the end of her nose. It’s one crazy scheme after another, with never one thought to sense and what’s best for our family. For me.”

  Dr. Bob’s eyes were as big as duck eggs. “I see. Would you like to respond to your husband’s statements, Maggie?”

  It’s not real; he’s playing the role of Markus. Even as sense whispered it, I sat stunned at the bile that had spewed from Neil’s mouth. This was like my worst nightmare, my husband underscoring all of my deficiencies and attacking me for them. I needed a moment and while Dr. Bob gestured me onward, Neil, the real Neil, picked up on my conundrum. He shot me a quick wink and addressed his audience.

  “Go ahead, cry on his shoulder like you do with everyone else. Poor, poor wittle trust fund baby, too much money, not enough sense.” His voice went high-pitched and girly. “Oh, boo hoo, no one understands me, no one loves me. My life isn’t perfect. Boo hoo hoo. Well, it’s time you grew up, little girl. Happiness isn’t handed to you on a silver platter. Some of us actually have to work for a living, work to get the things we want.”

  “Mr. Phillips, please restrain yourself. Maggie, tell us how you feel right now.”

  Rip roaring pissed. But even if Candie was angry, she was also afraid. Who wouldn’t be, when confronted by such a domineering tyrant? “I guess, I feel awful. Everything he said is true, and I hate that he sees me this way.”

  Dr. Bob leaned back in his chair. “What can we do, do you think to change this?”

  I mulled it over. “Well, I guess I could—”

  “Here’s a thought; how about you quit whining and be grateful I put up with your shit.”

  “Mr. Phillips, that’s enough!” Dr Bob’s face was mottled red from the part of his comb-over to the neckline on his sweater vest. “Can’t you see your tactless words hurt your wife’s feelings?”

  Neil shrugged and my eyes narrowed. I loved him, but in that instant, I wanted to hurt him. No, to annihilate him.

  As if he read my mind, Neil relaxed and lost the asshole coating. “I’m sorry, Uncle Scrooge. You know I couldn’t do what I do without you, right?”

  I smiled. “I see you, even when you are being a total prick.”

  Dr. Bob was lost. It was comical the way his head whipped back and forth

  between the two of us, trying to put his finger on what he’d missed. “It’s been a rough week.” I told Dr. Bob. “Neil and I really aren’t feeling like ourselves.” “Are you mixing medications, Neil?” Dr. Bob stared at my husband. “Stress is all. Maggie is currently under investigation by the FBI. One of

  her clients was kidnapped, then a former cleaning partner showed up dead.”

  “Don’t forget the arson. Oh, and the bribery / extortion thing.”

  Dr. Bob swallowed. “I see. And, uh, how does this make you feel, Maggie?”

  They say there are no stupid questions but that one came pretty damn far into moron territory. “Shitty, thanks for asking.”

  “Ah,” Dr. Bob glanced at his wall clock. “I seem to have forgotten about another engagement, if you both will excuse me….?” His eyes begged the crazy people to vamoose and never return.

  “Thank you for seeing us, I really feel like we’ve made a breakthrough here.” Neil extended his hand. Dr. Bob backed into the door, fumbling for the knob.

  “Really, no trouble at all.” He managed to open the door and we wasted no time departing. I contained my hysteria until we reached the car.

  “Now that was fun with a capital FU.”

  “You know he’s watching us through the office window.”

  I turned and caught the blinds snapping closed on the second story. “You think he’s phoning the police. Or a psych ward.”

  “No, but I doubt he’ll ever return our calls again.”

  Mock sniffling, I flicked a pretend tear away from my eye. “Hold me Neil; I don’t think I have the strength to go on.”

  Neil chuckled and opened the car door, ushering me to sit. “So what did we learn, class?”

  Waiting until he’d buckled his seat belt I ran over everything in my head. “Markus is a domineering ass. Not that I’m surprised but having that kind of condescension bearing down on me was truly awful. Humiliating even.”

  Neil squeezed my hand in silent apology. “So, if you were really Candie…?”

  “I’d kill the creep. Well, maybe not, but I’d do my damndest to ruin him. And I’m pretty sure she’d do the same.”

  “That’s a big assumption. What do you have backing it up?”

  “Amelia Kettering, first of all. What are the chances I get dragged to a luncheon and happen to run into Candie’s former lover, and not only the meeting but coping to the relationship?”

  “Pretty slim,” Neil nodded. “Go on.”

  “That encounter always bugged me. I mean, Markus is a control freak, but no way could he keep Candie from contacting Amelia if she really wanted. And don’t forget, she’s holding all the money, doling it out to his company as she sees fit. No, Candie is no shrinking violet, no matter what I thought at first. Money equals power, right?”

  “In most cases.” Neil confirmed.

  “So maybe the bird was a test. Like one last chance for Markus to come through for her, to ride to her rescue. She sets it up so I’m involved by using my logo, just to ensure she’ll have a witness there. Then, when he brushes her off in front of us, she feels justified to do whatever she pleases.”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But what about the fax?”
>
  “She wasn’t in the house with me when it came through. Supposedly, she’d gone to a spinning class, but how hard would it have been to fax it from the nearest Kinkos?”

  “So you think she set up the entire stalker thing, the phoenix, the dead bird, her own kidnapping to teach Markus a lesson?”

  “At first perhaps. She knew he was stressed, late with the deadline for his new project. Remember, Leo said Richard claimed that someone was slipping him the Safari information online? I bet you anything it was Candie.

  “So, when it comes to light that Richard had all this insider information, Markus is top suspect. It’s his wife that’s missing, his company the deceased was monitoring. Who else could it be?” I dusted my hands off.

  “She didn’t count on you, on Markus setting you up for extortion. Maybe she found out about that and that’s why she set the fire.”

  “Which means she has help. Someone who’s monitoring Valentino for her. And not Amelia Kettering. Markus wouldn’t let her within fifty yards of anything he owns.”

  “Someone who could be bought.”

  Our gazes locked and Neil banged a U-turn at the next light.

  A rusty red Ford pick-up was parked in Lucas Sloan’s driveway. Neil parked my Mini on the street and we both stared at the house.

  “Call Detective Capri, we have no authority here.” Neil said as my feet hit the ground.

  “We’re not going to make a citizen’s arrest or anything. I only want to talk to him. Besides, he owes me for cleaning this heap.” I chucked a thumb at the decrepit ranch.

  “It’s still nicer than our first place together, look at the bump-out bay window. You’ve got to admit, it holds potential.”

  I raised one eyebrow at him. “Someone’s been watching Trading Spaces again.”

  Neil started up the path toward the side door. “I refuse to either confirm or deny, seeing as how it will incriminate me.”

  I crunched after him. “Shheeesh,” I muttered, “What’s with all the kitty litter?”

  “It absorbs the water, from the melted ice.” Neil waited to escort me up the stone steps. “Sand and salt work for melting the initial ice, but water tends to migrate downhill and another sharp drop in temperature will cause refreeze. The Kitty litter absorbs the water. I guess it’s better than a yard full of tampons.”

  “Well thank you, Mr. Wizard. And I do know about black ice. I meant, what’s with the dump truck’s worth of kitty litter?” I gestured and the heaping mounds of it, more even as we approached the side door.

  Neil jerked to a stop. His good shoulder nudged me off to the side. “What does that look like to you?” He pointed to the front door.

  “A pile of slush.”

  “Slush is gray or maybe dirt brown, not reddish brown.” He caught my gaze. “Go call 911.”

  I latched onto his coat sleeve. “Nuh, uh. Not unless you’re coming with me. No way in the seventh circle of hell will I let you charge into another potential crime scene alone.”

  A muscle jumped in Neil’s jaw. “I’m not the suspect at this point. Someone could be hurt in there; I might be able to help.”

  “You’re not a medic, Neil. And while we stand here, arguing, times a wastin’. You jump, I jump, Jack.”

  “Christ Almighty, save me from Titanic references.” He led the way back to the car though, pulling a satisfied Laundry Hag in his wake.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lucas Sloan was dead.

  I knew the second the team of patrol officers, who’d responded to our 911 call, rushed out the front door and simultaneously vomited in the rhododendron bushes.

  I hugged Neil’s arm as the sound of retching drifted toward us. “I’m really glad we didn’t go in there.”

  “She got to him first.” Neil grumbled, watching another city vehicle roll to a stop.

  “No way, it couldn’t have been Candie.” I did my best not to think about Sloan’s now fatherless children.

  Neil turned and stared down at me. “I thought we were on the same page with this, Uncle Scrooge. Candie Valentino equals bad guy.”

  “True, but think about it. Candie couldn’t just be waltzing around town in the middle of the day; every cop and his Uncle Fed are looking for her.”

  Neil nodded slowly. “You’re right. So if not Candie…Amelia Kettering?”

  I shook my head and pointed at the officer wiping his trembling mouth on his sleeve. “Not a woman. Women are sneaky, preferring to use poison over a gun. Whatever’s in there is grotesque enough to warrant the kitty litter to sop up blood, and is making the cops puke at the experience.”

  Neil narrowed his eyes on me, then smiled. “Very good points all, but we’ll have to put the sleuthing on hold for today. School’s out in ten minutes.”

  “One of us should stay here and talk to the homicide investigator.” I bounced up and down on my toes. “You go on and pick up the boys; don’t forget they have karate tonight.”

  “Maggie, we should both go,” Neil bent over so he could speak directly into my ear. “Please, Uncle Scrooge, let’s go about our business. If the feds show up and find you here….”

  He didn’t need to finish that statement. “Let me just make sure they don’t need to question us first.”

  Walking over to the young officer unrolling yellow crime scene tape, I smiled, before realizing how ridiculous the gesture appeared under the circumstances. “Um, hi, my husband and I need to go pick up our kids from school. Is that all right?”

  “Ummm,” The sweat on his upper lip and shifting gaze clearly marked him as a newbie. Many of the law enforcement officers at the Hudson P.D were transfers from the much larger Boston police force, typically guys with families and had decided to get out of the trenches of the larger city. Apparently this poor shmoe had never worked a crime scene before, didn’t know the procedure.

  I used his ignorance to my advantage. “Here’s my card with my cell phone number, if anyone needs to ask any questions.”

  He took the card, glanced at it, then back to me, “Well, umm—”

  “Thanks!” And I was off, bee-lining for the open passenger’s side door of the Mini.

  “Let’s roll,” I said to Neil.

  “That poor guy is going to be reamed a new one for letting us go.” Neil said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t think he realized we made the call. There were plenty of neighbors goggling at the scene and quite a bit of traffic on the thru street. I left him my card, but I’ll call Capri as soon as we get home.”

  “So she can chew you out?”

  “No smart ass. Because we know whodunit. We solved the puzzle, let her wrap the case.”

  “The feds won’t be happy.”

  I shrugged, not giving two flying figs about what made Salazar and Feist happy, as long as the body count stopped.

  Josh and Kenny were waiting at the curb in front of the middle school. I had to climb out so they and their bulging backpacks could squeeze into the backseat.

  “How’d it go today guys?” I pivoted on the seat so I could see them.

  “Okay.” Josh said, immediately turning on his cell phone. The school prohibited text messaging and he was undoubtedly setting up a chat session with his pseudo girlfriend.

  “Mom, can we get a dog?” Kenny asked all big-eyed pleading.

  Neil shot me a look. This was a common question which usually sprang up every few months. Neil was pro canine and I straddled the fence. Before we’d moved to Hudson, I’d been able to deflect, claiming it wouldn’t be fair to adopt a pet right before a major transition. Now, though….

  “I don’t know, Sport, we’ve got a lot going on right now and a pet is a big responsibility.” “Please, Mom, you won’t have to do anything, I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

  Yeah, right. We’d never had a pet before, but I was sure I wasn’t the first mother in history to receive this sincere promise. No doubt, two weeks in the dog would be old hat and I’d be stu
ck walking and feeding and cleaning up after it.

  “A dog might be good company for you during the day, Uncle Scrooge.” Neil pointed out. “And you’ll get more exercise because you’ll have to walk it several times a day.”

  And scoop its poop. And spot treat the rug and chase it off the furniture, not to mention the additional vacuuming and dust mopping… Ugh. When had my eye begun twitching?

  “A dog will just lie around all day, eating and sleeping and making a mess. I don’t need any more of that kind of company; I have Marty.”

  Neil ignored my grumping. “What do you think, Josh? You want a dog?”

  He didn’t look up from his phone. “Whatever. Not like it’ll happen, Mom always comes up with an excuse.”

  His tone sounded borderline fresh to me. “You might want to rephrase that statement, Joshua.”

  Green eyes rolled around in the kind of exaggeration only a pre-teen could manage. “’Scuse me, what I meant was, Mom’s too busy being nosy and getting locked up to bother with an animal.”

  “Hey! Now just wait a minute—” My protest was cut off as Neil slammed down on the breaks half a mile from our driveway. We all lurched forward and were held in the vehicle by seatbelts and God’s will.

  “Maggie, drive Kenny home. Josh. Out. Now. We’re walking the rest of the way.” His cold tone brooked no argument.

  “Neil, I can handle this.” I muttered as I circled the car.

  “I know you can, and would, but Josh and I need to talk. We’ll see you at home.” Neil shut the door behind me and tugged Josh to the side of the road.

  “Josh is gonna get it.” Kenny predicted from the back seat.

  I was amazed at the changes in Josh, from even a few months ago. He’d gone from the little boy whose battles I’d readily fought, to a hormonal, snot-nosed pubescent young man in the blink of an eye. And I couldn’t help thinking that my preoccupation with both crime and cleaning was partially to blame for his attitude realignment.

  * * * *

  Marty and Penny were parked on the living room sofa when I arrived home. Kenny tossed his backpack inside of the front door. “Hey Uncle Marty, do you wanna go lift weights in the garage with me?”