Dirty Laundry

by Liliana Hart

  “We’re here to speak to you about Rosalyn McGowen’s death,” Jack said. “This is my wife, Doctor Graves. She’s working on the case with me.”

  JoAnn’s smile dimmed slightly at the introduction, but then she changed tactics and turned to me with sympathy. “Of course I know who you are,” she said. “And aren’t y’all the cutest crime fighting duo. I was reading about you just this morning. You’re so brave. I’m sure Jack appreciates your loyalty. Especially during election season. Voters like for their elected officials to be married. It’s never too early to campaign. It’s a good idea, doing door to doors together, letting people see the unity.”

  I’d already had enough of JoAnn Taylor. My bullshit meter could only take so much. “We’re actually here about Roselyn McGowen.”

  JoAnn sucked in a deep breath. “Of course, of course.” Her expression was tragic. “I expected something might have happened to her when I saw the police cars on the way back from my Rotary Club luncheon. I called Janet Selby a couple of doors down and she told me Carl had found her this morning, and that she’d been eaten by her cats. At first I thought Janet had already started drinking her wine, but realized it wasn’t three o’clock yet so she must be sober.”

  “Three o’clock?” I asked.

  “She has some rule where she won’t drink her daily bottle of wine before three o’clock in the afternoon. Of course, that doesn’t stop her from having mimosas at the spa and a Tom Collins when we go to lunch at the club.” JoAnn chuckled and shook her head like Janet was an incorrigible child. “But those cats are horrible creatures. They liked to taunt my husband. So I’m not surprised they turned on her.”

  “She was murdered,” Jack said.

  “Murdered?” she gasped. JoAnn’s hand went to her chest. “That’s impossible. No one gets murdered on Foxglove Court. It’s the safest neighborhood in all of King George County. Harrison is president of the crime watch.”

  “You said you didn’t see the emergency vehicles until after you got home from Rotary,” Jack said. “Why didn’t you see them this morning?”

  “The was my morning to volunteer at assisted living. I’m quite talented in the kitchen. Not that Roz had anything to do with that. She’d never share one of those damned recipes with me. It’s just selfish is what it is. She runs the most successful business in Bloody Mary then sells it, makes a fortune on it, but won’t sell the recipes. I’m just trying to give back to the community what she so selfishly took away. I volunteer quite a bit,” she said, beaming.

  “So if you had her recipes, you’d donate all your baked goods to the places where you volunteer?” I asked.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, giving me a look like I was gum on the bottom of her shoe. “That would be just plain foolish. But there’s a chance for Rosie’s to become bigger than she ever dreamed. Television, books…” She shrugged. “But she wouldn’t leave that damned house. Some sentiment about her husband and the memories they had there. I doubt she would’ve been murdered and eaten by her cats if she’d been living in a mansion with a bunch of live in staff.”

  “That’s very sensitive of you,” I said.

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  JoAnn put a coral tipped nail to her lips as she thought. “I guess on Sunday. She and Carl brought by some banana bread. But I just tossed it in the trash. We’re gluten free in this house. Only healthy living for the Taylors.”

  “Do you remember seeing anyone unusual around the neighborhood early Monday morning? Maybe a strange car?”

  “Actually, there was someone,” she said. “I have an eight o’clock spin class on Mondays, and then volunteer at the library. I left here about seven thirty. There was a white van parked right in front of Roz’s house. I noticed them because they were putting cones down that side of the street. It looked like they were with the power company or something. They had on coveralls. One of them looked just like Brad Pitt when he was younger. The Thelma and Louise years.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Do you think he lives here in Bloody Mary? The city would have a list of workers they send out, wouldn’t they?”

  “Or maybe he was disguised as a worker so he could kill an eighty-five-year-old woman,” Jack said, his patience clearly run thin.

  “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully.

  “What about you husband?” I asked. “Is he available to speak with?”

  “Honey, Harrison is a very busy man,” she said. “He doesn’t even have time to speak to me. He’s very influential in the community. Of course, you know that, Jack.” She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. “He’s devoted his life to this city. He’s loved being the DA, but there comes a time when higher aspirations come calling. It’s important to be on the right side at that point, don’t you think?”

  I understood perfectly what the Brights had been saying about Harrison and JoAnn trying to run the neighborhood like he was the president of more than the crime watch. They were bullies, plain and simple. I didn’t like bullies.

  “Those of us with influence have to support each other. Isn’t that right? There’s only one chance in an election season. It would be a shame for something to start circulating that could hurt your reputation before the election.”

  “I’m not worried about that right now,” Jack said. His voice had gotten quiet and if I were JoAnn Taylor, I’d be shaking in my boots. The quieter Jack got, the more dangerous he was. “I’m more interested in finding a murderer. But I appreciate the fact that you gave me motive. It seems like killing for those recipes is a likely scenario.”

  The color drained from her face and Jack handed her a card. “Maybe you could have Harrison give me a call when he gets home or he can stop by and see me at the station. My cell number is on the back. It’s possible he might have witnessed something important when he went out with the running club Monday morning.”

  JoAnn regrouped, but her cheerleader smile didn’t reach her eyes this time. “I’m sure if anyone saw anything, it would be Harrison. He’s very observant. He’s really whipped those runners into shape. When they first started, they could barely walk down the block without passing out. We believe communities need to be healthy in every aspect, and we’re just doing our part.”

  “Bloody Mary is lucky to have you,” Jack said. “We don’t want to keep you from the rest of the day.”

  “No worries,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m just dropping the kids at various practices and heading to the gym.” Her hand went to the door handle, but she didn’t open it. “Do you happen to know who’s going to get her recipes? She always carried a laptop with her. It was almost as big as she was. Maybe there’s a way I could purchase them from the sheriff’s office.”

  “No, ma’am. All electronics and files have been taken in as evidence,” he lied. She didn’t need to know that the laptop was missing. “It’s a murder investigation.”

  “Right,” she said. “Well, I’d love to get together and talk about your upcoming campaign. I’ve got some great ideas that will really put you over the top come November.”

  “Jaye and I would love to get together with you,” Jack said smoothly. “Maybe the four of us can go to dinner one night. Make sure you tell Harrison to get in touch.”

  We left JoAnn Taylor looking a little put out and moved out of the driveway so she didn’t back over us.

  I’d had chills on my skin from the second JoAnn had made the veiled threat of compromising information that could ruin reputations. There was only one person who had that kind of power.

  “She’s Madam Scandal,” I told Jack, grabbing his arm. “She’s got to be. She all but admitted it with that jab about people with influence supporting each other during an election. You said it yourself. She’s got motive. She wants those recipes. They’re worth a fortune. So she kills her, and then threatens you with scandal if you pursue the investigation of her.”

  “I’m not saying that she couldn’t have done it,” Jack said. “We’ll look into her and Harrison both. Which
is going to be fun and a headache all at the same time.”

  “Madam Scandal knows everyone’s secrets in this town,” I said. “And she’s clearly got political pull. She broke the news of Mayor Walsh’s Parkinson’s in the KGT this morning. She essentially ruined any chance he had of running for governor. That’s the perfect position for someone like JoAnn Taylor to be in. She can do her part to get her husband to the top. You heard her—Harrison has bigger aspirations on his plate. Neither of them seem the kind of person to let a little murder get in the way of something they want.”

  “All we can do is our jobs by the letter of the law. We’re not going to be intimidated by a blowhard like Harrison Taylor. He knows that about me. So if he’s guilty, he should be worried. If he’s not guilty, he’s still just the asshole he always was. Men like Harrison Taylor can only bully their way into getting what they want for so long. He’s taking too many kickbacks and doing too many favors for the wrong people. His day is coming.”

  “What about the white van?” I asked as we walked to the next house. It was two stories of red brick with a double balcony that had been painted blindingly white. According to Katie, this was Tom and Lynette Miller’s house. Hosts of the neighborhood barbecues and owner of the swimming pool.

  “I’ll put a call in to the city and see if they dispatched someone for this area at that time. But the timeline of their arrival seems a little late to me. Especially if Robert is saying her windows were closed when he got back from his run. It could really narrow the window of time of death.”

  “Looks like Tom and Lynette aren’t home,” I said when no one came to the door.

  “They Selbys are next,” Jack said, checking his list.

  We were about to head up Selbys’ sidewalk when I saw the blinds flutter in the house next to them. It was a house much like Mrs. McGowen’s, but it had a For Sale sign in the front yard. It was the house were the running club met.

  “Who lives in that house?” I asked. “I just saw the blinds move.”

  Jack turned to look at the house in question. Part of it was obscured by the trees, but there was a clear view of the row of windows in the front. We watched for a minute to see if they moved again, but there was nothing.

  Jack looked down at his notepad where he’d been collecting information, but it was more out of habit than for information. I knew he’d memorized everything as he was writing it down. He was incredible with the details.

  “No one’s said anything about it other than it’s where the running club meets, so I assumed it was vacant. Let’s go check it out.”

  I followed Jack to the front door and used my phone to type in the listing for the house. “Holy cow,” I said. “Do you know how much they’re trying to sell this thing for? Surely property value hasn’t gone up this much in Bloody Mary.”

  Jack’s brows raised when I showed him the price. “Maybe there’s gold buried in the basement.”

  “Hmmmph. Don’t say that. It makes me think of my dad.” And then a cold frisson of fear washed over me.

  It had been a while since I’d heard from my dad. Not since he’d stolen the boxes of flash drives, cash, and IDs from our safe. He’d told me at the time that everything in those boxes was his insurance. That things weren’t exactly what they seemed. I couldn’t trust him, but I didn’t know what to believe. I’d resigned myself to the kind of man he was, or at least I’d told myself I had. But he had to be staying somewhere. Maybe a place just like this one. Vacant while it waited to be sold.

  “We’ll check it out,” Jack said, clearly reading my mind.

  He rang the doorbell twice and then knocked. Nothing. We waited and strained to listen for any sounds on the other side of the doorway.

  “Yoohoo!” A high-pitched voice called out.

  We looked over in time to see a woman wobbling her way across the lawn in skyscraper heels and a red power suit. Her dark hair was pulled into a French twist and her lips matched the suit.

  “Would you like to see the house?” she asked enthusiastically. “I’ve already got interested buyers, but if you put in a competitive offer, you could probably beat them to the table.”

  She found solid footing on the sidewalk and had her hand extended before she even reached us. Something about her made me want to run in the opposite direction.

  “Janet Selby,” she said, practically grabbing my hand before I had it fully extended. “I’m the listing agent. I saw you walk over and thought I’d come introduce myself. I live next door.”

  She barely took a breath before she started talking again. I was mesmerized by her energy. It was exhausting. She had big blue Disney eyes and a blindingly white smile.

  “You two look very familiar,” she said, cocking her head. “Do you have family here? I pride myself on knowing all the founding families. Six generations of Selbys have lived in Bloody Mary.”

  She moved right past us and used her code to unlock the big key fob that hung around the knob. A key fell out into her hand and then she stuck it in the deadbolt, turning it with a decisive click. I looked at Jack and shrugged. We wanted to see if someone had been in the house. This was an easy way to do it. And it wasn’t like she’d given us a chance to introduce ourselves.

  “The house was built in 1945, but it’s been completely renovated and expanded. The structure is solid. I personally think it’s the best house on the street, but the couple in the farmhouse across the street would disagree.

  “I’ll admit the Planters did a great job renovating. That house was falling apart at the seams. But come on,” she said conspiratorially. “The whole Chip and Joanna thing is so overdone. Everyone’s got barn doors and lamps made of mason jars. You’d think someone with the way and the means to do that kind of renovation work could come up with something more original.”

  “You don’t like the neighbors?” I asked.

  Jack moved from room to room, checking for signs of another person. Janet hardly noticed he’d left. It was an open floor plan, but much too modern for my taste. Not that I was house hunting. Janet had obviously taken the time to make sure the house was ready to show at a moment’s notice. The scent of chocolate chip cookies was pumping through the air vents, and freshly cut freesia tied with a red ribbon sat in a tall, skinny vase on the kitchen counter. When I was a kid, we had wild freesia growing along the side of our house, and my mom would tie it with a ribbon before she put it in the vase.

  I shook my head, trying to dispel the memory. I knew running from my past wasn’t the way to heal from my past, but it never ceased to surprise me when even the smallest reminder of my parents could trigger me into the abyss.

  “Oh, it’s not like that,” she said. “Carl and Robert are lovely people. Very down to earth. Though poor Robert struggles from housewife syndrome, if you know what I mean.”

  I had no idea what she meant, but I was almost a hundred percent certain that Robert wouldn’t like being called a housewife. I raised my brows in question. Getting Janet Selby to talk definitely wasn’t a problem.

  Jack came back from the bedroom areas and shook his head subtly at me. No one else was in the house.

  “Poor thing is bored out of his mind,” Janet went on. “Carl is working all the time, and Robert tries to fill his days and nights with endless hobbies. It’s only a matter of time before he starts looking for comfort elsewhere. I hope they don’t divorce, especially since they were finally able to get married. Seems to defeat the purpose, if you ask me.”

  No one had asked her anything, but she continued to vomit at the mouth. I wondered if assaulting her client’s hearing and holding them hostage was how she got them to sign on the dotted line.

  “They had a lovely wedding,” she said. “The whole street was invited. Of course, if they did divorce I’m sure they would come to me to sell the house. We’re all very close. We have a neighborhood potluck once a month, we have a running club, and a neighborhood watch. Foxglove Court is one of the safest streets in Virginia.”

  She walke
d into the open space and spread her arms. “As you can see, the kitchen, dining, and living area is completely open. It’s a great family home. Everything has been modernized and upgraded. And what a great back yard. The pergola and fans alone are a godsend in this heat. And there’s plenty of room to put in a pool. Do you have children?”

  “Not yet,” Jack said, and I felt my face flush. We’d briefly talked about children, as far as the fact that we wanted to have them. Eventually. But that had been the extent of the conversation.

  “Mrs. Selby,” Jack said.

  “Oh, please call me Janet. We’re all friends here on Foxglove Court. In fact, we lost one of our own early this morning,” she said, her eyes filling with sadness. I had a feeling she was the kind of woman who practiced her expressions in front of a mirror. “It’s like losing a family member. She’d lived a good life though, poor thing.”

  “Janet,” Jack tried again and this time he held up his badge. “I’m Sheriff Lawson and this is Doctor Graves. We actually would like to talk to you about Rosalyn McGowen.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” she asked, clearly put out. “I thought you looked familiar. So…what do you think of the house? I heard you’ve got a place out on Heresy Road. I haven’t seen it, but I bet it’s spectacular. That’s prime real estate overlooking the Potomac. I could get you top dollar for it if you’re looking to downsize.”

  “We’re actually happy where we are,” Jack said. “Does anyone live here?”

  “No,” Janet said. She reached down and took off her mega-high heels and then sat on one of the barstools, obviously giving up on the hard sell. “This place has been vacant about six months. The owners won the lottery of all things and they moved to Florida. They don’t seem in a hurry to sell and it’s a little overpriced for the market, so who knows how long it will take?”