Organize Your Corpses

by Mary Jane Maffini

  The thing was, did that person want to kill me too? Or was it more fun to frame me for the other murders?

  On Rose’s television, Todd Tyrell’s teeth were flashing. “Breaking News” splashed along the bottom of the screen. At the sight of my own face, I picked up the remote and turned up the volume.

  “Following the discovery of a second body at Woodridge’s historic Henley House, police are seeking Woodbridge businesswoman Charlotte Adams, aged thirty, for questioning.”

  My image splashed across the screen again. This time, I was flanked by two police officers. My expression gave new meaning to “guilty as charged.” You could practically hear the gavel coming down. But Todd wasn’t finished.

  “WINY has also learned that Adams has been placed at the scene of the recent uptown drive-by shooting of fifty-nine-year-old Wynona Banks, who died tragically last week in a hail of bullets. WINY has confirmed this information with independent witnesses.” A clear shot of Tang’s Convenience filled the screen.

  “Adams’s whereabouts at this moment are unknown, but caution is advised before approaching her.”

  “Oh puleeze,” I shouted. “I am an organizer! I do not kill people. Caution is so not advised.”

  “Adams is known to drive a late model Mazda Miata.” My license plate number flashed on the screen. “Anyone seeing her should contact Woodbridge Police immediately.”

  The pounding of my heart was also reverberating in my head. What could I do? Turn myself in? Was that the best thing? I hadn’t killed anyone. But someone was going to a great deal of trouble to make it look like I had. I just had to think about the heel of my boot near Dominic’s body to remind me of that.

  I needed a few minutes to clear my head. So many things to worry about. Would Rose be okay? Would Wynona’s daughter hear this awful lie? Would the police show up and arrest me? What if someone spotted my car in the backyard? Or Mona Pringle decided to mention my name? I locked the dogs in the bedroom and headed quickly to the back door. I lifted the blind and peered out first. I didn’t see anyone, and it made sense that no one could see me.

  In my car, I poked around under the seat until I finally located my cell phone wedged behind a seat belt. I stuck that in my pocket and got busy. I lifted the canvas from Rose’s ancient Grand LeMans. I pulled off the tarp, then wrestled it over my little Miata.

  I headed back to the house thinking of Todd Tyrell. His news announcement had been flashing before the last cruiser left Henley House. There was only one person who could have known that Dominic was dead and that I’d been at the scene. Had the murderer alerted the media? Had the person who made sure my pen was found near Miss Henley also stuck my heel near Dominic? Either way, someone who knew me had committed two well-planned murders. Three if Wynona Banks was part of the game. To say nothing of Randolph.

  The front door banged. Truffle and Sweet Marie raced toward it, barking. I stood frozen. There was nowhere to hide; even the drapes were gone. I straightened my spine and prepared myself to face the police.

  “Hello? Are you in here?”

  A wave of relief washed over me as I recognized the voice. “Lilith?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Sure. But how did you find me?”

  “If you’re going to try hiding out, you’ll have to do better than this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me you had a friend near the Henley House. You told me her name. You sent me to the library where there are directories. How hard was that?”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “What? You asked me to pick up an envelope at the library, remember?”

  “But that was before I was wanted by the police. Oh, maybe you don’t know about that.”

  “Well, I went by your place to deliver the envelope and the house was surrounded by cops.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah. I got the hell out of there. I hate cops. For historical reasons.”

  “I’m beginning to understand how you feel.”

  “Anyway, I headed off to the nearest bar and caught the news alerts.”

  “But how did you find me?”

  “Process of elimination. Where else are you going to go? The cops are surrounding your house. I knew you weren’t at the library.”

  “They’re saying I killed people.”

  “Cops make mistakes, and I’ve learned that the hard way. So, I’ve decided to trust you.”

  “That’s—”

  “Because you trusted me. And I’m not sure if it was the right thing or not, but I opened your envelope from the library. You better sit down.”

  I sat.

  She pointed and said, “Are you wearing two different shoes?”

  I glanced at my feet. Sure enough, I was sporting one battered green and silver running shoe and one half of a pair of faded red Keds. No wonder the paramedic had given me that strange look. “Right, remind me to change. I have another pair just like them.”

  Lilith handed me the envelope. It wasn’t sealed. I sat on the orange sofa and unfolded the papers inside. A Post-it note from Ramona saying “SORRY!” A few more items on the Henley family. I practically stopped breathing as I came across the newspaper article and another obituary.

  I read the tragic account of a ten-year-old child killed in a house fire along with his mother, Laura Lo Bello. Poor little Dominic. He’d never had a chance.

  Sort your possessions using containers labeled GIVE AWAY, SELL, TOSS, REPAIR, and KEEP. Only organize what you’re keeping.

  19

  “But if he wasn’t Dominic Lo Bello, then who was he?” Lilith asked.

  I bit my lip. “I have no idea.”

  “This just gets weirder.”

  “No kidding, but you’d better leave, because it’s just a matter of time until the cops do door-to-door interviews here. If you’re found with me, you’ll get hauled off to the police station. They’ll probably decide you’re an accessory. Having your face on WINY won’t help you much in rebuilding your career.”

  She said, “What can I do?”

  “We have to find Rose Skipowski’s daughter. She’s somewhere on the West Coast, I believe.”

  “Sure. What’s her name?”

  “I don’t know anything about her. Rose’s address book is missing, which is very weird. If you could get an address and a phone number, that would help.” I glanced at the wall clock. “Too late for the library.”

  Lilith said, “I’ll try the Internet café. Can’t be that many Skipowskis to check out. Anything else I can do?”

  “If you had your own place, I’d ask you to look after Truffle and Sweet Marie.”

  “I’d be happy to. They’re so cute.”

  “They can be real . . . hey, where are they?”

  “They met me when I arrived.”

  “Oh crap! The front door!”

  The yellow door stood wide open. Outside, the wind whipped sodden leaves along the rainy street. Truffle and Sweet Marie were nowhere to be seen.

  “We have to find them,” I wailed.

  “Let’s go.”

  “They hate the cold. They’ll come to you right away.” Unless, I thought, unless they ran in front of a car. Unless a bigger dog got them. Unless . . .

  Lilith grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t panic. We’ll find them.”

  “Right,” I said.

  Lilith glanced at my shoes but kept her mind on business. “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know. If you find them, call my friend Sally. Tell her I sent you.” I raced back to the living room, grabbed a flyer, and scribbled Sally’s phone number and address. I reached for my purse and fished out twenty dollars.

  Lilith looked offended. “What’s that for?”

  “Internet café fees. Cab fare. Whatever. Leave a message if I don’t answer. Thanks for everything.”

  The wind picked up as Lilith and I headed in opposite directions, shouting the names of two small endangered creatures.


  An hour later, I stood on an empty street and felt despair wash over me. There was no sign of Truffle or Sweet Marie. No phone call from Lilith. Nothing but wind, cold, and slippery leaves. I couldn’t give up.

  I tried every driveway, every backyard, looking for someplace they would have taken shelter. I didn’t dare knock on doors, since everyone in Woodbridge would have seen my face splashed across their television screen.

  A thought hit me as I tiptoed into a stranger’s backyard. These were spoiled little dogs. They could never find their way home. If they returned to Rose’s, the door was closed. What would they do? They certainly knew my car; maybe they’d hide under it. Was that crazy wishful thinking? I turned and dodged into a driveway just as a squad car screeched in. A police officer emerged. “Stay right there,” he said.

  He drew his gun and said, “Drop your weapon.”

  What? The only thing that dropped was my jaw.

  “Is that you, Nick?” I said.

  Officer Nick Monahan said, “Charlotte?”

  “What do you want me to drop?”

  Nick crept closer. “What’s in your hand?”

  “It’s my purse. What would I be doing with a weapon, Nick?”

  “We got a couple calls about a prowler.”

  “Oh right, that would be dangerous little me,” I said.

  “Don’t joke about. There’s an all-points bulletin out for you. You’re wanted for murder.”

  “Of course there is. Tell me, Nick. Do you think I killed people?”

  “Don’t matter what I think. I have to arrest you.”

  “For what? Looking for my dogs? Is that illegal now?”

  “Your dogs?”

  I reminded myself that Nick Monahan might be a very beautiful man, but he had never been known for his brains, which tended to reside in his pants. Even so, I marveled that he’d made it as a cop. Connections really counted in Woodbridge.

  “My two little wiener dogs ran away. I’m really scared they’ll get hit by a car.”

  “The thing is, we’re in the middle of . . . are you wearing two different shoes?”

  “Listen. You have to help me find them.”

  “Different shoes. Man, that’s not like you, Charlotte. You are always really hot looking.”

  “Help me find them, Nick.”

  “I can’t help you look for wiener dogs. I’m supposed to arrest you. I’m going to call for backup now. Then if you promise to go to the station, I’ll come back to hunt for the dogs. What do they look like?”

  I bit my tongue. Then I said, “Backup? For what? Protection from me? Big bad Charlotte Adams? Be a man for once, Nick.”

  “But there’s an APB . . .”

  I had only one card up my sleeve. I played it. “The only person you are going to need protection from is your wife.”

  Even in the dim light, I could see him blanch. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you better shoot me now, because if you arrest me, I am going to tell Pepper the truth about what happened between us. I kept my mouth shut before because she was so happy about getting married to you. She was my lifelong friend and I didn’t have the heart to tell her how many times you made passes at me. But I bet the honeymoon’s over now. I imagine she knows you better. I’ll look her straight in the eye and fill her in on everything you tried to do and every cheating word that came out of your mouth.”

  “C’mon, Charley. You wouldn’t do that.”

  Ew. Charley. I just hate that. “Sure I would.”

  “But you know what she’s like,” he said.

  Oh yes. I knew what they were both like. A smart, ambitious, ruthless woman who happened to love a guy heavy on sex appeal and light on morals. In those circumstances, shit can happen.

  “She’ll kill me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think she’ll actually kill you. She’ll hurt you, definitely. And make your life miserable for years, I imagine. She’ll watch you like a hawk. You won’t be able to—”

  “But Charley . . . you were the one I had the hots for all during high school. Remember? It was you. I was crazy about you, babe. I couldn’t help myself. It’s not my fault. I still—”

  “Yeah, whatever. Pull the trigger or let me go.” I didn’t think that Nick Monahan had the guts to shoot me or the brains to find a solution. The worst I could expect would be a grope. In his nervous state, I was pretty sure even that wouldn’t happen.

  I said, “Tell you what. I’ll head off now and you call for backup. No hard feelings.”

  Nick stood there and slowly reholstered his weapon.

  “There’s an all—”

  “I know, APB. So chances are one of your colleagues will get me.”

  “But listen, the other guys think you killed a bunch of people. They might really shoot you.”

  “I didn’t kill anybody, but Pepper wants to think so.”

  “Well, Pepper’s . . . hotheaded. And she can be kind of mean. But they still need proof to be able to charge you with murder. Why don’t you just come into the station? No one’s gonna be able to prove you killed anyone. I even think Pepper knows that. No one will get hurt if you come in. It’ll just be a bit of inconvenience, and that Korean chick will get you out.”

  He had a point. It was a sensible approach. And I am almost always sensible. And no one would get hurt. Who was left at that point anyway? I must have gasped out loud.

  Nick said, “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I whispered. I’d just realized who else could get hurt.

  A window squeaked open in the house near us. A quavery elderly voice called out, “Did you catch the prowler, officer?”

  Nick turned toward the window. “No, ma’am. No prowler here. Just a nice lady, looking for her dogs.”

  “Sorry, officer, I can’t hear you. Did you arrest him?”

  Nick raised his voice. “No prowler, ma’am.”

  “You’re putting him in the van?”

  Nick moved closer to the window. “It’s just a case of mistaken identity, ma’am.”

  “Do you need me to identify him?” she quavered.

  Nick put his face right up to the window and shouted, “It’s all right, ma’am. Nothing to worry about.”

  If only that were true.

  He turned back to face me. He shrugged in a big, goofy, lovable way and flashed the famous Monahan grin at me. “Nothing to worry about at all,” he repeated soothingly.

  Even my tired, overwrought brain knew there was plenty to worry about. So many people dead. Would Olivia be next? I knew I had to do something. Fast. What were the chances that if I told Nick my crazy suspicions, he would do the intelligent thing? Nonexistent. In my heart, I knew that Nick would make it worse somehow. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Nick was back at the window again. Declining an offer of hot cocoa and s’mores. I heard genuine regret in his voice. If I hadn’t been there, I was certain Nick would have accepted. He was always nice to old ladies and small animals. Those were his good qualities. He leaned in farther to reassure the woman in the window. I seized that opportunity to make a run for it. I raced along the driveway, hurtled over the broken-down fence, and dashed over to the next street.

  I was grateful to Nick for being a spineless dimwit who was unlikely to shoot me and to Rose for living close by. I found the dogs huddled in front of the yellow door, barking to be let in. I clicked the lock on the door behind us. I slid down to the floor and let the troublemakers scamper off to see if the cat was still in the bathroom.

  Okay. I have a policy about doing the right thing. But what exactly was the right thing in a case like this? The idea unfolding in my brain was so wacky, I couldn’t imagine even trying to explain it to any police officer, let alone Pepper, who was in charge of the case. First of all, I could no longer pretend I didn’t know the police were looking for me. Even Nick would remember that he’d told me. I needed time to think my way through the mess of thoughts battling in my head. I needed peace and quiet.

  Of course, t
he police were bound to put two and two together and start banging on Rose’s door. In fact, I wasn’t sure why the person who attacked Rose hadn’t told them to look for me there, but that would probably happen. I thought I heard sirens in the distance, getting closer. I reached for Rose’s key rack and grabbed her keys. The neighbors might be in Florida, but their houses were available. With a dog squirming under each arm, I hightailed it out the back door and across the yard.

  Luck was with me. The third key fit and I was in. I slithered along the floor through the kitchen and hallway and up the stairs. Of course, I couldn’t turn on the lights. I definitely didn’t want the police catching sight of my slithering backside. I felt my way through a bedroom. One of the beds had an extra blanket folded at the foot. I tucked it around the dogs, covering their heads. That always sends them to dreamland. I tried not to think of how far I’d sunk in life. How had I gone from being a helpful professional organizer to a furtive home invader? I promised myself I would do something nice for these neighbors of Rose’s as soon as I got my head straight. Through the drawn bedroom curtains, I could see the pulsating lights of police vehicles. It sure made it hard to think calmly. Finally, I flopped on the bed, closed my eyes, pulled a pillow over my head, and tried to deal with the crazy questions in my brain.

  Who could help me? Margaret? No, as an attorney, she’d have to advise me to turn myself in. Maybe she’d have to notify the police. Another thought hit me: even though Margaret didn’t know about Miss Henley, her mother could have told her I was in the neighborhood when Wynona Banks was killed. Definitely no calls to Margaret.

  A small, nasty voice in my head told me I had to be careful. Someone who knew me well was behind these killings. But who had known about my involvement in Miss Henley’s project aside from my friends? Who knew I planned to meet Dominic at Henley House? I’d left messages for Sally, Jack, Lilith, and even Margaret. I’d even called Rose. Sally and Jack had both known Miss Henley was going alone to Henley House on the night she was killed. Sally, Jack, and even Margaret would recognize my formerly lucky pen. They knew from my phone messages that Dominic might be the Henley heir.