“The coroner estimated she’d been dead for over a week. Bodies often sink after a day, but then the internal gasses of decomposition cause them to float to the surface again. She had three bricks bound to her feet, three tied to her neck, and two to her hands. Forensics is tracing them to see if they’re locally made.”
Janie sat back on the edge of her bed, hand clasped to the lace on her nightgown. “Oh, how awful. Could it be Ra’naa?”
His deep sigh blasted through the receiver. “She wore a Maid to Order shirt and had dark hair. So, my guess is yes. Mrs. Arnold is to come in later today to identify the body.” He scoffed. “Before you ask, no you cannot be present.”
She scoffed. “Now would I really ask that of you?”
He cleared his throat.
“Never mind. But, Blake? May I inquire of one more thing?”
“Shoot.”
“Did she still have her kidneys?”
Silence reigned for a second or two. Then his voice came through the airwaves again. “I’ll check.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Within three hours, Blake texted her. No kidneys. Liver’s gone, too. Mrs. Arnold identified her as Ra’naa.
Janie, deep in thought, set her phone down as she stirred some soup in a saucepan. Obviously, organ harvesting rings were now in Alamoville. Surely, such gruesome acts raised red flags? Perhaps the organizers had already moved on to another city. Or more likely, another booming bedroom town with an understaffed police department where they could do their dirty work without raising too many eyebrows. She made a mental note to hint to Blake to check police reports from the outlying towns near the major Texas metropolises.
Something rustled outside her back door. A soft tap sounded three times. Then footsteps dashed away. She set down the spoon and tiptoed to peer through the mini-blinds covering the half-window. Craning her neck left, then right, Janie pressed her cheek against the glass to get as much of a peripheral view of the alley as possible. Not a movement, except for a raccoon waddling away from the trash bin two condos down. Critters don’t usually knock.
With a harrumph, she creaked it open and peeked out onto her neighborhood. Not detecting anything out of the ordinary, she started to pull the door closed. She halted as her eye noticed a white triangle at her feet. Someone slipped an envelope under her mat. One edge stuck out enough to detect it being there.
“What on earth?” She wedged the door open as she bent to retrieve the letter just as a flash of tan fur zoomed past her left leg. “Mrs. Fluffy! You get back here this instant. Bad cat.”
Her pet flopped onto the asphalt and rolled on her back, nudging the ground with her jowl. Janie counted to three to calm her nerves as she stuffed the letter in her pant pocket then stomped, sock-footed, across the lane to catch her pet. As soon as she reached down, the feline flipped onto its feet and zipped beneath her car.
“Oooh, that animal.”
She got down on her hands and knees. Her arm stretched as the beast inched further away behind the tires. She flattened on her belly and extended her hand as far as possible without ripping her shoulder from its socket. Two greenish-yellow eyes blinked at her.
Most likely satisfied her mistress could not grab her, Mrs. Fluffy proceeded to take a bath.
“Arrgghhh. Fine, come out on your own. But don’t expect dinner anytime soon.”
Janie scooted backward from underneath the car. The envelope slid from her pocket. She sat with her back against the bumper and slit the letter open. As her eyes scanned the message a thought popped into her brain. If anyone sees me reading a letter crouched by my car in the alley in my stocking feet, they’ll call the sanitarium.
Her eyes squinted to read the scrawled letters on the stationary. “Baby belong to my sister. She is dead. Stop snoop. Ra’naa.”
Janie covered her mouth with one hand as she re-read the note. The hair raised on both of her arms. Through the fog of emotions, a clear thought floated to the surface. Wait a minute. According to Olga, Ra’naa only had brothers.
Mrs. Fluffy emerged and crawled onto her master’s lap. Janie stroked her cat’s scruff as she stared at the words on the page hoping they would finally make sense.
She heard her name. Quickened footsteps dashed to her. “Janie. Did you fall? Are you OK?”
Ethel knelt next to her.
“Yes, I’m fine. Read this.” She handed over the letter.
“Hmm. Now I am more confused than ever. When did Ra’naa write this note and who delivered it?”
“I haven’t a clue, Ethel. Blake texted me a little while ago. Mrs. Arnold identified the drowned woman found in the stock pond as Ra’naa. But could it be her sister instead?”
“If she had a sister.”
“That’s what the note states.” Janie tucked Mrs. Fluffy under one arm. “Help me up, please. Getting down proved easier.”
“Sure.”
She rose to her feet with the assistance of Ethel’s elbow and the car fender as her pet squirmed under her armpit. “Why would Olga say she only had brothers?”
“Maybe she got pregnant, and Ra’naa hid her away out of embarrassment. “
Janie scrunched her nose. “I’m not sure...”
“Or she made up the story about her mother and baby brother, and the truth, in fact, was...”
Janie faced Ethel and finished her sentence for her. “She instead got the maid’s job to earn money for her sister and the baby she’d soon deliver. Good thinking, Ethel.”
“Thanks.” Ethel walked with Janie toward her kitchen then stopped. “Hold on. Then why dump it in a bathtub?”
Janie hung her head. “I don’t know.”
Mrs. Fluffy wiggled out of her arms and slipped inside the house, her tail aloft. Janie chuckled. “Obviously, she’s through playing the chase game.”
“She does love to be the center of attention.”
In a flash, the animal dashed out again, chased by a cloud of black smoke.
A rancid, burnt smell filtered through the partially open door. The shrill of her fire alarm pulsated.
“Oh no. My soup!”
~*~
The neighbors lined the alleyway as firefighters carried out the charred saucepan. Janie stood, arms hugging her waist in the carport. Mrs. Fluffy crouched in the back window of the car, not thrilled to be sequestered in the vehicle.
“My kitchen is a mess. Black soot everywhere, not to mention water and foam.” Janie’s voice quivered. “Oh, Melody will definitely worry. Last month, I fall and strain my foot, and now I leave something unattended on the stove. I can see an assisted living apartment in my near future.” She placed a hand on Ethel’s shoulder. “Tell me you’ll come visit me once a week.”
Her friend swatted it away. “Don’t be absurd. Could happen to anyone. It’s that darn cat’s fault. Both times.”
Janie laughed. “Thanks, Ethel. I can always count on your wit to cheer me.”
Her cell phone beeped three quick tones. She punched the screen to read the text. “U OK? Radio said something about a fire?”
She sighed. “It’s Blake. He heard the dispatched call come in.”
“Uh oh.”
Janie cocked an eyebrow and tapped her fingers over the QWERTY board. “Fine. Soup burnt on stove. But come by anyway. Got strange note…from Ra’naa.”
A few seconds later the three blips sounded again. “OK.”
Ethel leaned against the car hood. “Well, at least you have an excuse for an emergency visit by Maid to Order.”
Janie winked. “A silver lining. I’ll call right now and see if Olga and Mita can come first thing in the morning.”
Blake’s squad car came into view. He got out and sauntered over to them, tipping his Stetson. “Ladies. A bit of excitement, huh?”
Janie rolled her eyes and switched her weight to her other foot. “Much ado about nothing. Who knew these smoke detectors are made to signal the fire department if they don’t shut off in two minutes?”
Ethel bent toward
her ear. “It’s in the Sunset Acres safety brochure.”
“Whatever.”
Blake coughed into his fist. His eyes held a giggle waiting to burst forth. “So, you said you got a strange note from Ra’naa?”
“Yes. Here.” She dug it out of her pocket. “Read this. Someone tapped on my door and left it on my stoop. That’s why the soup burned when the brat cat,” she jabbed a thumb at her trapped feline companion, “decided to make a break as I bent down to retrieve it.”
Ethel scrunched her eyebrows. “The soup?”
“No, the envelope.”
“Oh.”
Blake raised his gaze to the back window and nodded. “Typical cat move.” Then his attention returned to the bizarre note. “Hmm. Very interesting.”
“Yes, isn’t it?”
He re-folded the message and slipped it back in the envelope. “Who else touched it?”
“You, me, and Ethel. Besides the writer and potential deliverer, of course.”
“Can’t assume them to be one and the same, can we? Good deducing, Janie.” He pulled an evidence bag from his jacket and slid the correspondence into it. “I gather you’ll let me keep this for a few hours. Then I’ll bring it back. Please tell me I don’t have to go through any rigmarole to confiscate it.”
“Take it. Happy to help.”
He scrunched his lips to one side. “Right. Well, if everything is under control here, I gotta git.”
Janie raised her finger. “Before you go...”
He spun back around on his boot tip. “Yes?”
“Only this. Ethel and I both clearly recall that Olga told us Ra’naa only had brothers. In fact, she worked extra hours so she could bring her mother and brothers to the States.”
“Olga is...?”
“One of the maids at Maid to Order.”
“Ah.” He rubbed a hand down his five o’clock shadow. “So let’s put this in sequence.” He held up fingers one by one. “First a newborn is discovered in an abandoned garden home Maid to Order had been hired to spruce up the day before.”
“Yes, Aisha.”
“Right. Second, another employee, Ra’naa, disappears out of the blue and is later identified as a drowning victim by her employer.”
Janie placed a hand on his shoulder to interrupt him. “And that woman and the one behind the Get ’em and Go were both Hindi and had their kidneys severed.”
“True.”
Ethel piped in. “Then Janie gets a note from Ra’naa stating her sister is the mother of Aisha and has been killed.”
Blake shook his head. “Correction. She said her sister died. There is a difference.”
Both ladies waggled their heads. “OK. We agree.”
He took off his cowboy hat and scratched his head. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Janie, call Maid to Order and get Olga over here to scrub down your kitchen. Pump her for info.”
Janie smirked. “Already done. She’ll be here at nine tomorrow. Mita, too.”
“Mita?”
“Ra’naa’s sudden replacement. She’s Hindi as well. Mrs. Arnold says she works with an employment agency that vets the maids and sends them to her. All she cares about is their references and that they have legal papers.”
The wrinkles on his forehead disappeared into his scalp as his eyes grew. “And you were going to share this information with me when?”
“When I discovered the owner of the agency. But Mrs. Arnold is quite tight-lipped, and I didn’t have time to peruse the Rolodex before she returned to the reception area.”
“Are you nuts? What if she caught you? There’s protocol involved, you know, and if anyone connected your poking around with this case, I’d be on permanent vacation.”
Janie tapped her foot. “Which is it, Blake Johnson? First you tell me to mind my own business, and then you tell me to snoop after buttering me up with posies. Now you chew me out for some harmless sleuthing after you assign me to do more?”
His cheekbones reddened. He replaced his Stetson onto his head. “Truce?”
A smile curled on the edges of her mouth. “Only if you tell your wife I’m in full grasp of my faculties and do not need assisted living, despite this little kitchen mishap.”
He extended his hand. “Deal. But next time, clue me in before you go off on one of your info gleaning expeditions so I can go through proper channels.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Olga arrived at nine o’clock sharp. Jane greeted her in her robe, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. She clutched the crisscross seams with her other hand. “Sorry. I stayed up too late last night. Still upset about the fire, I guess.”
The maid nodded. “We fix for you. All will be nice and shiny again.” She wiped her feet and entered. Mita followed behind, head down, with a bucket grasped in her fingers.
“Oh, thank you, Olga. I am so glad you could come today. I know you and Mita do excellent work, and it’s a comfort knowing I’m in good hands. Did you get your thank you notes?”
The two answered “yes” in unison and edged toward the kitchen. They stopped in the doorway. The range hood and backsplash behind the stove lay covered in a blackish film and muddy, black footprints scattered the floor like frenzied ballroom dancing step guides. Soot spread across the plastered ceiling resembling eerie curled fingers. Splotches from the residual flame retardant foam splattered the Formica countertops.
“See what I mean? Silly accident. My cat escaped, and I dashed after her. Left the soup heating on the range.”
Olga clucked her tongue. “Yes. No problem. We get started.”
Mita obediently bounced her head up and down as she placed the bucket filled with gloves, sponges, and cleansers on table.
Janie set her coffee cup down and sucked in a deep breath. How to approach them casually? She decided to jump in with both feet. If they spooked or clammed up it would be indicative as well. “Before you begin, I must show you this. Someone knocked on my door and left it. That is how the cat got out. This note upset me so much I totally forgot about my soup.”
She reached into her robe pocket and handed the envelope to Olga. I hope she reads English.
The Russian woman’s eyes widened.
Yep, she does.
She passed it to Mita and whispered in her ear. Mita’s face paled. She backed up several paces and put her finger to her lips.
Olga gave the letter back to Janie. “We no speak of this.”
Janie gave them her best pout. “This worries me. I think I need to take it to the police...”
“No!” Olga waved her hands in front of her. “No police.”
Janie motioned for the three of them sit at the kitchen dinette set. The maids obeyed.
“Look, ladies. Both of your faces tell me you’re scared. I am, too.”
Neither spoke.
“I gather that’s why you never returned my calls. Would doing so get you in trouble?”
Silence.
Janie tried a different approach. “Olga, you told Ethel and me that Ra’naa only had brothers and she worked to raise money for her baby brothers and mother to come to the States. This note says she had a sister who was pregnant. Which is true?”
Olga’s brow puckered. “She tell me brothers.”
Mita squirmed in her chair. She gulped a sob.
Janie reached for her hand. “Mita? What is it? You can trust me. Understand?”
The young woman’s eyes pooled with tears. “Note from me. I sign her name. Ra’naa and I from same village. We travel to US to donate kidney so we can send money home. Man say we make five-thousand American dollars. Enough to feed families for three years in Nepal.” She wiped a tear off her cheek.
Janie squeezed the maid’s fingers. “Please, go on. It’s OK. You’re safe here.”
Her gaze darted the room as if a thug would leap from the corner and nab her. She flared her nostrils to take in a deep breath and relaxed her chest on the exhale. “I want to tell. Yes, I am scared.”
Olga pla
ced a hand on her coworker’s shoulders, which now shook. Teardrops cascaded down the Hindi’s cheeks. She laid her head in her hands and wept, speaking in what Janie surmised as her native tongue. Praying, perhaps?
Janie rose to get some tissues. She returned with the box and slipped it in front of the Nepalese girl, whose sobs had reduced to sniffles.
She took two and dabbed her eyes. “I am sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize about. Tell us how we can help you.”
She sat back. “You nice lady. You keep secret?”
Janie gave her a warm smile. “Yes. Please trust me. Tell me your story.”
Mita played with the tissue in her fingers. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Finally, she raised her eyelids and focused on Janie’s face. “We come on airplane with two girls named Nanu and Chameli. The men feed us and put us in hotel room. We all given medicine to breathe and fall asleep. When we wake up, pain. We have cuts.” She rose and lifted her t-shirt. A still-pink scar puckered across one side of her torso.
Janie grimaced and Olga stared.
“Men take us in car to alley and tell us to get out. They drive off. We have no money. No clothes. No suitcases. We lost.”
“That’s horrible. And illegal. These men must be caught, Mita.”
Olga bobbed her head. “Or they do this to other girls.”
Mita shrugged. “Don’t know where they go.” She blew her nose. “A woman take us in. She gives us bed and food. We heal. Then she brings in men and lock door.”
Janie’s turn to squirm. “Oh dear me.”
“After few months, Ra’naa and I run. Nanu holds baby inside from so much time with men. She scared so she come, too. But Chameli stay and make money. She very pretty, and they pay a lot.” She glanced around the room and rose from her chair. “I say too much. We clean now and go.”
Janie got up as well. “Mita. Is Nanu Ra’naa’s sister?”
The girl lowered her eyes. “Nanu my sister.” New sadness quaked in Mita’s answer. “She now dead. Speak no more.” She raised her gaze. “Please. Afraid they find me, too.”
Baby Bunco Page 14
