Organize Your Corpses

by Mary Jane Maffini

  Margaret left hers sitting there. Relaxing’s not her thing.

  Just when I was starting to feel optimistic, Pepper dropped her bomb. She produced an article in a plastic baggie. She dropped it on the table. She met my eyes.

  “Is this your pen?” she said.

  I peered over at it. “My lucky pen!”

  Margaret turned her head toward me and gave me something very close to an expression. “Maybe not,” she said.

  I said, “It is! I got it for my sixteenth birthday. You remember that, Pepper You were there. You too, Margaret. I have been hunting everywhere for it. I thought my dogs hid it. Where did you find it?”

  Margaret sighed.

  Pepper said, “Can you account for why it would have been found under the body of Miss Helen Henley?”

  I opened my mouth to speak.

  Margaret said, “My client has no comment.”

  Pepper shot her a stare that could have melted the paint off a car.

  I commented, “But I have no idea how it could get there. Did you really find it there? Perhaps I left it at Henley House. Maybe she picked it up. It’s really hard to say. Can I have it back, please?”

  “I don’t think so.” Pepper gave a low, throaty chuckle. That was the warm-up for three hours of very boring questions.

  “Good cop, bad cop,” Margaret said by way of explanation when we finally emerged. “Watch out for that.”

  “Thank you so much for coming,” I blubbered. “That was the longest day of my life. I wouldn’t have survived without you. I thought I was going to be arrested.”

  “We were lucky to get you out of there this fast,” Margaret said. “Pepper means business. She just doesn’t have quite enough to lay charges yet.”

  “Yet?” I said.

  “They have to hang this one on someone. The media’s been all over it. All that beloved teacher bilge. The heat’s on Pepper. She needs a collar. And there you are with your lucky pen underneath the unlucky victim. Oh yes, and she hates your guts.”

  “Do you think she will arrest me?”

  “She’d need to make it stick. But if she can, she will.”

  I stared at Margaret, speechless, for once.

  She said, “It’s serious. If they do arrest you for this, you won’t be getting bail.”

  The media vans were still circling when I scurried furtively from the station. I couldn’t believe that they’d been there all along waiting for a glimpse. Was there no news at all anywhere else in Upstate New York?

  Margaret hustled me past them and into her car. “No comment,” she said, giving them a good shot at her outstretched palm. Unlike me, she didn’t blink when the flashes went off.

  Save time and money by stocking up on paper products when the price is right. Don’t buy more than you have room for or they become just another storage and clutter problem.

  16

  Tomorrow is another day. Not such an original statement, but hard to argue with, and anyway, it’s a motto that works for me. Get off to a good start, don’t drag yourself down with toxic memories from the day before, remember the lessons learned, and get going. Sally says I make her want to throw up when I talk like that, but I can’t help it. I’m an optimist.

  Monday morning I had just finished walking the dogs and eating breakfast, when I heard a small snap, crackle, and possibly a pop in my mouth.

  The bottom part of the tooth I had suspected of being cracked was now resting in the palm of my hand. I explored the jagged edge with my tongue.

  “Cwap,” I said. “Ith boken.”

  I did not check my messages; I did not turn on the radio or television. I did not approach my desk. I called my dentist and wailed.

  I hurried through the marble foyer of the Woodbridge Medical-Dental Building. My dentist’s office is across the hall from Benjamin’s medical practice. I didn’t really want to bump into Benjamin that morning. The dentist’s new receptionist has the whitest teeth on the planet and she loves to flash them. She also has the blondest hair and the glamour “do” such hair deserves.

  “Charlotte Adams! We were just talking about you.” Her smile dimmed slightly as the words came out of her mouth. What’s the policy about telling your clients you have seen them hustled into police stations and/or giving the finger to respectable citizens on the steps of the public library? Two pink spots appeared on her lovely cheeks.

  “Well,” she said, “how nice to see you. So soon after your last visit. What brings you in today?”

  Her smile seemed glued-on by this point. Plus a small frown line creased her perfect brow.

  She said, “You look a little . . .”

  I frowned back. “A lil wha . . . ?”

  “Oh nothing. I mean maybe a little out of breath. How can we help you today?”

  “I haff bwoken hoof.”

  “What?”

  “Bwoken hoof.”

  “Sorry?”

  I opened my mouth and pointed.

  “Oh gosh,” she said. “I’ll tell the doctor.”

  The dentist, you mean. “He knowth,” I said, and I settled sulkily into the cappuccino leather seats in the office to wait.

  She vanished behind the door, recently redecorated in a tasteful taupe. I was left alone, trying not to let my tongue explore the rough edges of the broken tooth. That had become like a full-time job. That tongue wanted that tooth. Now they both hurt.

  I gazed around the office, trying to keep my mind off the throbbing. I’d been coming to this dental clinic since childhood. I’d been to this current dentist’s father and my mother had been to his grandfather. They were old Woodbridge. I remembered the office of my childhood, full of oak and mysterious white enamel things and towers of National Geographics. I remembered the dentist’s mustache and his twinkly blue eyes. I remembered getting a new toothbrush every visit and my horrified fascination with the very pink model of the freestanding gums with the full set of teeth.

  The new dental generation was spiffy and stylish. Cavities might be in decline after all those toothbrush giveaways, but fresh business opportunities abounded. Hollywood smiles dazzled from every wall. Brochures for cosmetic dentistry grinned from the side tables.

  I didn’t feel much like smiling, and all those acres of teeth were making me twitch. I turned my gaze to the furnishings. Much more soothing. Business must be booming, if the solid wall of patient files was anything to go by.

  Where was that receptionist? She’d been gone forever. I had visions of her draped seductively over the dentist’s chair, gradually working her way up to mentioning my bwoken hoof. This dentist was one of the few truly eligible bachelors in town. Maybe her clock was ticking. I could have walked off with half the high-end furniture in the time she was gone if I’d been so inclined. Naturally, I simply sat there fidgeting.

  Eventually she reappeared. Did I just imagine that she was straightening her blouse?

  “The doctor will see you now.”

  I ignored the scowls from the patients who had arrived before me but would have to sit there longer. Minutes later I was in the chair with my mouth open. The one thing I hadn’t liked about this guy’s father was that he asked me complicated questions when my mouth was open. Junior had inherited that habit.

  “Keep seeing you on television,” he said with a merry chuckle. “You sure do know how to keep in the news. Wish I could find a way to get on the tube like that. That would bring them in.”

  The assistant giggled.

  I said something unintelligible.

  Perhaps my inaudible answer encouraged him. We moved on from the weather, Thanksgiving, how was my mother, how was business, and other topics to the one I dreaded.

  “Saw you at the funeral. Everyone in town was there. That was something, wasn’t it? So many people turning up. Quite a celebration at the reception, wasn’t it?” Blah, blah, blah?

  Mmmph, mmmph, mmmph.

  “Right. I wasn’t sure about all that chocolate though. Ha, ha, ha.”

  I could hav
e done with a fistful of chocolate right at that moment.

  “Still, there you go, you can’t beat the entertainment value. Of course, I’ve lost a patient, and that’s always sad. She might have been hard on other people, but she took good care of herself. And her teeth.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. It didn’t stem the verbal tide.

  “But she wasn’t all that likeable, even if you didn’t go to Catholic school. But I guess every family has to have one.”

  I made a sound indicating a question mark.

  “Henleys have been coming to us going back to my great-great-grandfather. Gotta say I liked the others better. Randolph used to flirt with the girls, but he didn’t smell too good so he never got lucky.”

  The assistant wrinkled her pretty nose.

  “And Olivia Simonett is always so sweet to everyone. Sad to see her going downhill so fast. She gets excited about her new toothbrush, just like a little girl.”

  The assistant shuddered. “It must be hard to lose everyone in your family.”

  Maybe not everyone, I thought. Let’s not count Crawford out until we know for sure.

  He leaned over. “Now let’s see what we can do about that tooth of yours.”

  I lay there for the duration, wondering if I’d ever get out of that chair. It was tied with the interrogation room for Most Miserable Place to Spend a Big Chunk of Time.

  It seemed like hours before he finally said, “We’ve got you fixed up temporarily, but both those front teeth are going to need work. We’ll get your appointments set up.”

  “Rlpph,” I said. Which meant, “Let me out of here.”

  “You were provoked,” Dominic said in a soothing voice. “That news reporter is a total jackass. And those women outside the library? What a bunch of pickled old prunes. And don’t ask me what the Woodbridge cops were thinking. They must have leaked the information that you were being hauled in again. That was nothing short of abuse of power.”

  “Even so, I feel like a jerk,” I said. Or something like that. My mouth was still frozen and it was interfering with my speech.

  “Never mind. I’m calling to ask you to meet me for lunch. I really enjoyed our dinner and . . .”

  I’d enjoyed our dinner too. “Lunth?”

  “Yes, you know, that stuff people eat in the middle of the day.”

  “Not a good day for me.” Meaning I was still drooling slightly from the freezing. Not my best look.

  “I was thinking of Bruxelles. I’ve been smelling those fantastic Belgian waffles and maple syrup every time I walk by that place. I’ve had to start using the other side of the street so I can think straight when I’m setting up for photos.”

  I knew that waffle scent. It smelled good enough to bottle as a new perfume line. But it was going to take every minute I had to get myself spiffed up to go into the library, possibly wearing a bag over my head. I needed that info on Crawford Henley from Ramona. Of course, I didn’t want to miss out on seeing Dominic.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I’m booked solid. I just had a cancellation for lunch,” he said.

  “That’s too bad.” I checked the mirror again to see if I could be rescued. Not a chance.

  “Oh well, I have to do some retakes out at Stone Wall Farm. Inez Vanclief, the administrator, is asking for some stuff from a different perspective. Man, she’s one demanding client. But while I’m there, without blowing my contract, I’ll see if I can talk to your Mrs. Simonett.”

  “Do you think they’ll let you?”

  “I want to take some more shots of Henley House later this week, daylight and dusk. Maybe some from the inside. Or at least from the verandah. I’d like to juxtapose the surrounding properties, so I’ll have to go onto the property itself. I’ll tell them I need permission from her.”

  “Henley House has been willed to the Woodbridge Historical Society. They’d have to give you permission.”

  “You know that, but I don’t. I don’t live here, remember?” he said. “So I’ll ask to see Olivia. She’ll probably tell me the house isn’t hers; I’ll still get a chance to talk. I can be pretty charming when I put my mind to it.”

  I knew that. “Good luck.”

  “Keep your fingers crossed. I’ll call you as soon as I get finished. And I have an idea. If I juggle my early evening appointment to the afternoon, we could have dinner together tonight, if you felt up to it.”

  “Sounds good. Waffles, mmmm.” With the rest of the day to pull myself together, I might be less scary.

  “I’ve picked up a couple more juicy jobs on this trip, so I’d like to celebrate. I’m not sure that waffles will do the trick. So what do you say we try O’Leary’s? We can keep the waffles for some other time.”

  O’Leary’s, contrary to the name, is the most upscale place in town. I would have been happy with waffles or even pizza and beer, but O’Leary’s was a chance for a girl to dress up. I hadn’t had many of those since I moved back.

  “Mmm.”

  “Pick you up at eight?”

  I felt a little tingle in my knees thinking about it. I could get out my little black dress and those new metallic strappy sandals I’d been saving for a very special occasion. I had a pair of chandelier earrings that would be just right. It would be dark enough to disguise the green chin, and with luck my dental work would hold up.

  At four o’clock I felt together enough to drive to the library. I held my head high as I walked through the reference department.

  “I need to speak to Ramona,” I said to the librarian at the desk.

  “Oh, you just missed her. She left early for a meeting.” Oh crap. “Did she leave anything for me? Charlotte Adams?”

  “Of course, we all know who you are. I’ll check.”

  Five minutes later, she shrugged apologetically. “I can’t imagine where she put it. She’s very organized and thoughtful. I know she felt awful about the other day when you got the short end of the stick because of certain pushy people. Anyway, I just can’t find it. Sorry you’ve had to make an extra trip. It’s some obituaries and an article, right? Well, at least it’s not an emergency.”

  O’Leary’s was everything I’d hoped: curved dark wood surfaces, starched white tablecloths, a menu to die for, and soft jazz in the background. My little black dress didn’t let me down and my teeth didn’t drop onto my entrée. My strappy sandals didn’t even pinch my feet. How good was that?

  Dominic was easily the most interesting man in the place. I could tell by the looks he drew from the other women. We had a corner table, with flickering candles and a waiter who knew when to hover and when not to.

  Dominic raised his glass of pinot noir and clinked mine.

  “End of a perfect day for you?” I said.

  “Continues to be perfect,” he said.

  “How did it go at Stone Wall Farm? Did you get to see Olivia?”

  The smile slipped. “I did.”

  “Didn’t she give you permission for the photographs?”

  “She did. Permission to take shots of her and of Henley House. Just in case there’s some issue, I’ve already spoken to the representative of the historical society. They have no problem with it.”

  “Did something go wrong at Stone Wall Farm? Were the administrators hanging around listening to everything?”

  He shook his head. “They pretty much were, but it wasn’t a problem. Just that she’s such a sad old lady. All that money but she never gets to go anywhere or do anything.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “We don’t know how lucky we are.”

  “I never want to live long enough to end up in a pretty prison like that. Never mind. The idea of the photo got her all excited.”

  “Were you pleased with them?”

  “Couldn’t do them today. She wanted to get her hair done first. She had her heart set on getting some special hairdresser. Doesn’t matter to me. I’d like her to feel happy about it. Tomorrow’s fine.”

  “That’s nice,” I said.

  “It w
ill give me a chance to probe a bit. I didn’t want to come on too strong and blow it today.”

  “Right.” I felt like screaming.

  He leaned forward and murmured, “This is our night. Let’s forget about the Henleys and Stone Wall Farm and everything bad that’s happened. We can get to know each other.”

  Three hours later, the restaurant staff had quietly set up for the next day, and Dominic and I knew quite a bit more about each other. Childhood secrets, memories, dreams, hopes for the future. I knew he was part of a big Italian family, fond of food, football, and fights. They were adjusting to having a photographer in their midst although it seemed just plain wrong to them.

  He knew how I felt about my childhood too.

  “Sounds like chaos,” he said.

  “Had its good points. I got to see the world.”

  He shook his head. “And your mother had four husbands?”

  “So far. My dad was the first. He was French Canadian.”

  “Did you get along with him?”

  “Never met him. Hubby number two is my earliest memory.”

  “Your dad didn’t stay in touch?”

  “I don’t even know if he’s still alive. But I guess I take after him. Maybe somewhere north of Quebec City there’s a small, dark-haired guy with a color-coordinated wardrobe closet and a very neat kitchen.”

  He said, “My mom has a very neat kitchen.”

  “Great, pray that she never meets my mother.”

  “Funny, I was hoping she might.”

  “Maybe.” I smiled.

  He said, “No rush. We’ve got the rest of our lives. And there are lots of restaurants in Woodbridge.”

  Wow. Just listen to that. Thousands of violins.

  I could feel the warmth of Dominic’s body as I fumbled with the key to my door.

  “I hope you’ll get used to the dogs,” I said, smiling confidently.