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

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “Sure thing, tough guy.” Mary handed the remote to Penny and stood, stretching his back. “I could use a little action.”

  “Keep it to half an hour; you have homework to do before dinner.” I said to Kenny. He raced down the hall to change out of his school clothes.

  I turned to face my brother. “How did it go?”

  “Well enough, I suppose. The lawyer said he’d get back to me in a few days.” Marty leaned down and pecked Penny on the cheek. “No worries, right?”

  Penny offered him a wan smile and nodded. Seemingly satisfied, Marty left.

  I searched out the front window for any sign of Neil and Josh. Fabric rustled as Penny shifted on the couch, cleared her throat.

  “You could have told me, you know.” I said, not bothering to face Penny. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep the truth from me.”

  “I’ll leave, if you want.” Penny’s voice was small, reluctant. “I never meant to cause so much trouble.”

  I glanced at her over my shoulder. “Don’t be stupid. You’re more than welcome to stay here.”

  “But the baby’s not Marty’s. She’s not kin to you.”

  I whirled on her. “Do you want my brother to be a father to your child?”

  Shoulders slumped, she nodded.

  “Then you and your child are kin to me. I have no idea what the two of you are planning, but you have family here, all right?”

  “I’m so afraid Marty’s going to get into real trouble. He’s such a good guy and I couldn’t bear it if he….” She stared off into space.

  I knelt down next to her. “Listen to me. Marty’s been in trouble before, and he’s always wormed his way out of it.” No need to point out that the team of Maggie and Neil usually had a hand in the extraction. “Everything will work out.”

  I could read the disbelief in her eyes. I sighed and settled on the floor more comfortably. “Did Marty tell you that Josh and Kenny aren’t my biological children?”

  Since I was watching for it, I saw surprise flitter across her face. “It’s true. Neil was in the middle of an extremely hostile divorce from his first wife. I was hired on as their nanny.”

  “How old were they?” Penny’s questioned so softly, I barely heard it over the erectile dysfunction commercial blaring from the television. I clicked the set off.

  “Josh was two years, nine months and Kenny not even a year old. Their mother was….well, let’s say she was a piece of work and leave it at that. Up and left them with a virtual stranger.”

  Penny sucked in a breath, clearly at a loss for words.

  “Yeah, so there I am, never having been around babies before, not a clue in the world as to what I should do. Neil was a wreck; she’d really messed with his head, you know? And as a Navy SEAL the amount of time he was around the kids was already limited, never mind custody arrangements and restraining orders. So I literally had no clue, no help, nowhere to turn.”

  She swallowed. “So what did you do?”

  I shrugged. “The only thing I could do, I dealt. “ I smiled, remembering. “Neil didn’t like me at first. In fact, he hated me.”

  Penny’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. You guys are, like, made for each other.”

  “Thank you. But neither one of us realized it at the time.”

  “So, what happened?”

  The front door opened and a sullen Josh tramped through, followed by his equally perturbed father.

  “That’s a story for another time.” I told Penny, rising to my feet.

  Neil nudged his son into the room. Josh cast him a black look, then focused on his tattered shoelaces. “I’m sorry Mom.”

  “A man looks a person in the eye.” Neil informed him.

  Josh looked up and I almost took a step back from the righteous indignation etched on his face. “I apologize for what I said earlier.”

  Typically, my first instinct was to shout, but every so often cool reasoning triumphed. “You hurt my feelings.”

  The cold look melted away and he shifted his weight.

  “I think I’ll go get dinner started.” Penny stood with facile grace and made for shelter. I made a get outta here motion with my head to Neil and he nodded once before exiting silently.

  “Talk to me, Josh. Did something happen at school?”

  He didn’t respond, so I pulled him over to the couch. “I can’t defend myself if I don’t know what happened to set you off.”

  His lip trembled and the words spilled out like a tsunami. “Sammy calls you Mother Mayhem. He said nothing bad ever happened until we moved here. Now, there’s all this stuff about people being killed or kidnapped and houses burning down and you’re always involved. I kept telling him it wasn’t your fault; that you just happened to be wherever and know whoever. And then you get arrested!” Betrayal glinted at me from his green eyes.

  “Aw, crap.” I groaned and sat back. “Let me guess, Sammy’s dad is a police officer.”

  Josh swiped at a few escaped tears. “His mom, too. So Sammy knows what he’s talking about.”

  “Bull,” I told Josh. “He might have heard that I was involved with a few incidents but I’m absolutely positive stuff happened here before I made the scene. And I was working with the police, remember? I’ve been trying to help fight the bad guys, just like your dad did.”

  Inspiration struck. “Hey, pal, you know how Dad was always being sent to poverty riddled countries, places with terrorists and war all sorts of bad stuff? Did the whole country get together and say, “Hey, Neil Phillips is coming, let’s tear this place up!”

  Josh giggled and sniffed. “That’s stupid.”

  “Exactly. You can’t go blaming one person for the world’s problems. Well, I guess you could, but that means you’re delusional.”

  This time the eye roll was playfully exasperated. “Mo-om,”

  “What I’m trying to explain here is that I’ve ticked off some people around here, Sammy’s folks among them. But is it right that they’re spending their time griping about me when there are real criminals out there?”

  “No, it isn’t.” Josh scowled. “I’ll tell him that next time he opens his stupid mouth.”

  “Nuh-uh. You’ll smile and walk away. Some people are just mean and petty and you can’t win with them. So don’t play his game, okay? You’re better than that.” I kissed his forehead. “And don’t say stupid.”

  The doorbell chimed. “Why don’t you go get changed and start on your homework?”

  Josh nodded and I pulled my coat on, pretty sure my house didn’t need another police interruption today.

  “I was just on my way out.” I told Detective Capri as I pushed past her, securing the door so she wouldn’t be seen by anyone in the kitchen.

  “What in the hell were you doing at Lucas Sloan’s house today?” Capri flicked the business card and I winced in sympathy for the young officer who was probably donning a crossing guard uniform at this moment.

  “He owes me money, for cleaning his house. Normally, I’d let it slide awhile, but since my contacts have dried up thanks to my rap sheet, I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. You’re the nutcase who insisted on meddling where a civilian shouldn’t like some goddamn vigilante.”

  “Well excuse the hell out of me! I thought you wanted me to nose around and find dirt for you! Isn’t that what the CI position was all about?

  “You’re not supposed to solve the flipping case single handedly!”

  “Well, that’s just what I did. Do you want to hear it or not!”

  “Fine.” Capri folded her arms across her chest.

  So I told her about my ruminating with Neil, the role-playing session at Dr. Bob’s, and Sloan’s possible involvement.

  “So, you see, Candie’s behind the whole thing. It makes sense for her to off Lucas Sloan after his usefulness has run its course.”

  “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you.” Capri shook her head. “I see one big pro
blem with your theory.”

  My hands slammed onto my hips. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

  “We didn’t find Lucas Sloan’s corpse. It was Candie Valentino inside the house.”

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sleeping was out of the question. Knees curled under my butt, I perched on the couch in the dark, staring out the window as snow drifted by. The dying embers from the fire Neil started several hours earlier glowed eerily in the grate.

  Logically, I knew I hadn’t caused Candie’s death. I didn’t hack her into five pieces or toss kitty litter over the floor and the back path in an effort to hide the crime and make it look like Lucas Sloan had done the deed before rushing out to work. Fortunately for Lucas, he’d been in court, awaiting a new custody hearing with his lawyer at the estimated time of death, which the medical examiner placed between nine and eleven a.m.

  After witnessing my distress, Capri had eased her own attack. “You did what you could for her, to find her. More than most people would bother doing for an acquaintance. The FBI accepted that you had nothing to do with this, even if your husband made the 911 call. Sloan verified you’d cleaned his house; that he owed you money. Between Dr. Bob and the FBI, you’re solidly alibi-ed for this.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I now whispered into the dark. That finally, the feds couldn’t harass me about a horrible crime, just because my alibi would hold in court? A man and a woman were dead, two people I’d met, whom I’d believed the worst about, even for a short moment in time. Obviously, Candie hadn’t staged her own dismemberment. I shuddered at the mental picture.

  “Come to bed, Uncle Scrooge.” Neil fumbled across the cushions a minute, before locating my foot, rubbing gently. “There’s nothing else you can do for her.”

  “I don’t understand this.” Snow swirled and the house groaned as wind battered from the north. “None of it makes any sense. It’s not about money, or technological accolades or revenge. So what’s the point?”

  “You’re forgetting that whoever kidnapped Candie and set up first you, then Sloan, isn’t a rational person. You’re talking about a madman, someone who likes to cause misery and chaos wherever he goes. There’s no logic in that.”

  His sage words washed over me. “It’s got to be about Markus Valentino. The Phoenix; the first letter. There was a reason Valentino didn’t report the fax or the dead bird. He’s hiding something. Someone wants him to suffer.”

  Neil grunted and sat up, the comforter falling into his lap. “So the feds, or Detective Capri or whoever have to extract the whole story from him. What more can you do?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “You’re right.”

  “Oh, music to my ears.” Neil changed his hold on my ankle and pulled me to the air mattress. “Say it again.”

  “Not in this lifetime, pal.”

  He cupped my face in his hands. The kiss was soft, almost delicate, the merest brushing of his lips over mine. “You’ve done enough worrying in the past few weeks to last a lifetime. Give yourself a break.”

  Ready to take his advice, I leaned up to kiss him when the phone rang.

  Neil rolled off of me and flung a hand over his eyes. “Christ Almighty, it never ends.” I scurried to the kitchen and, forgoing the light, fumbled to answer the cordless.

  “Hey Maggie, you’re up.” Sylvia’s voice, more chipper than I’d heard in weeks greeted me.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked her, wonder what demon spirit possessed her to call after midnight. “You haven’t been drinking again, right?”

  “No, but I was lying in bed and I had this epiphany. Can I come over?”

  “Sure Sylvie. Come on over.”

  I hung up the phone and returned to the living room. “Sylvia’s coming over. She’s had an epiphany.”

  “Cripes, she couldn’t have had it during normal business hours?”

  I flicked on a table lamp then went to the door, opening it for my friend. “Be nice or go sleep in the camper.”

  Neil grunted. “Is there a third option?”

  Sylvia lighted onto the porch and shook the snow from her head. “Isn’t it pretty?” She gestured toward the snow.

  “Fabulous,” Neil said and I shot him a withering look.

  “What’s going on, Sylvie?” I took her coat, hung it on the hall tree.

  Well, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about poor Candie Valentino and Lucas Sloan too. First his marriage ends and now his house is the scene of a brutal murder. That’s a lot of bad juju.”

  “Agreed.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”

  “Not right now,” She practically bounced down the hall. “So anyway, I thought about all the bad karma in that house and it hit me. A spiritual cleansing.”

  “A spiritual cleansing.” I intoned, waiting for the punch line.

  “Yes. So many people suffer from lack of positive energy. They get bogged down by the daily grind, become jaded, and lose hope. Like I did. You come in and cleanse their homes of dirt and grime, but the negative energy festers. What if, you offered a spiritual cleansing along with a physical one? I could teach people how to set up their homes to encourage a positive energy flow, help focus their lives in a more productive direction.”

  “So, you wanna scrub the death cooties out of Sloan’s house?” I set the kettle on the back burner, ignoring her refusal of tea.

  She actually considered my words. “That’s one way to view it. Think for a second, Maggie. Your business is suffering; this will open new doors for you and for me as well. We have an opportunity to help ourselves here.”

  I plunked two lemon zinger teabags into mugs. What was it Josh’s classmate had dubbed me? Mother Mayhem. . “I don’t know Sylvie; it’s probably not wise for you to link your name with mine right now.”

  “We’d have to expand on your territory, maybe into Boston or Cambridge. I could offer spiritual counseling, maybe hold an internet workshop.”

  The kettle let out a shrill whistle and I removed it from the burner. “Sylvia, did you hear me? I think your idea is fantastic and I’m sure you’d have some takers, but you’d be shooting yourself in the foot by associating with me professionally.”

  “No, Maggie, don’t you see? What better way to advertise that I can solve and metaphysical mess than by pairing up with the notorious Laundry Hag?”

  I plunked the mug down more forcefully than intended. “Metaphysical mess, am I?”

  Sylvia grinned and brought the mug to her lips. “Undoubtedly, but you’re my metaphysical mess.”

  “Okay, so what would I have to do to be cleansed spiritually?” A vision of me sacrificing a live chicken under the full moon airing on Youtube flitted across my mind.

  “Well, first we’d need to set up a website, maybe take out an ad in the paper. One of my former yoga students would probably take us on, especially if we offered her a trial discount.” Despite her staunch belief in all things woo-woo, Sylvia’s mind was sharp and tuned to practical matters.

  “What are you two plotting in here?” Neil leaned against the door jam, squinting due to the harsh overhead light.

  “My career comeback,” I told him. “The Laundry Hag meets…?”

  Sylvia cocked her head. “The balance guru?”

  Neil made a face. “How about Sylvia’s Shui-way?”

  “Sounds like a sandwich shop.”

  “Well, since you’re the mastermind behind the Laundry Hag you think of something.”

  I yawned. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  * * * *

  For once, the snow from the night before didn’t hinder the morning schedule. Neil dropped Josh and Kenny at school on his way to another handyman gig. Sylvia returned at first light and we sat down to map out our business plan. Penny and Marty were still in bed and the house was blessedly quiet.

  “I can’t wait for spring.” I told Sylvia over my second cup of coffee. “I want to walk outside and not be bundled up like a
pig in a blanket.”

  “That’s only natural.” Sylvia didn’t look up from her blackberry. She’d already filled half a page on her memo pad with names of her friends and clients who might hire our service to rid their homes of dirt and chaos. “Spring symbolizes rebirth and brings a lighter kind of energy along with the new possibilities.”

  “Yeah, I could deal with a few of those.” I stirred my coffee and watched her work. Having always admired Sylvia’s glass-is-half-full attitude, I kept my misgivings about the new business to myself. Personally, I wouldn’t hire us, a Hag with a rap sheet and a Barbie Zen master, but hey, what did I know?

  My cell phone pealed the standard ring for an unfamiliar number. I dug through my bag, wishing the technology gurus would stop making such dinky devises. My compact was bigger than my phone for heaven’s sake and I tended to fat-finger the numbers on this munchkin model.

  “I’ve got you now,” I said as I flipped the top open “Laundry Hag cleaning services, Maggie speaking.”

  “Is this Maggie Phillips?” The unfamiliar female voice sounded watery, even over the tinny connection.

  “Yes, who’s speaking please?” The call had come up private name and number. Not at all unusual in the age of rampant phone solicitation.

  “This is Sierra, Mr. Valentino’s executive assistant. I don’t know if you remember me…?”

  “Of course, what can I do for you?” I pictured the outrageously well groomed bombshell who guarded Valentino’s inner sanctum.

  “I, um, I found something. Something of Mr. Valentino’s. I think he might have killed his wife.”

  “Not possible,” I said, even though her words peaked my interest. “Valentino’s still in the hospital and he’s being monitored by the FBI. No way could he have caused Candie’s death.”

  “Yes, but I found this file locked in his desk. He hired a private investigator to follow her. In the report, the PI claims she was cheating on him, with another woman. I’ve worked for Mr. Valentino for a long time; he would never stand for that.”

  No he wouldn’t. “But the timing…” I mused aloud. Sylvia was watching me, her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to my end of the conversation.