The rest of the street was normal. A mix of businesses: a dingy dry cleaner, a sandwich shop. The storefront office for the building project had the dustiest window I’d ever seen in a commercial enterprise. Behind the layer of grime was a glossy concept drawing of how the tiered condo would transform this street. Anabel had worked her heart out for Hope for Youth at Risk. That window was spotless, and the howling yellow sign brightened the row of businesses, all closed for Sunday. I didn’t spot any of the street kids or troubled youth who were the clients, although there was plenty of graffiti on the boards around the site. Still, there were signs of life and community. A few seniors were ambling by, and a jaunty man in his sixties wearing a straw fedora and riding a motorized scooter went buzzing past me. He tipped his fedora and grinned. I grinned back. An old Civic sputtered before it turned the corner where an elderly gentleman was making a slow approach to the mailbox at the corner. Friesen Street was still home to perfectly normal-looking people.
Lucky me, I had a baby gift in the tiny trunk of my car, waiting for the right moment to drop it off to my once again friend, Pepper Monahan. The right moment was defined as the one when her husband, Officer Nick (the Stick) Monahan, was nowhere to be seen. Next stop, Old Pine Street and the Arts and Crafts home that Pepper shared with Nick and the baby. I grabbed the gaily wrapped gift and turboed up the walkway.
Pepper answered the door in saggy jeans and a stained sweatshirt and carrying her son in her arms. They both seemed to be wearing a good deal of orange goop. Pepper even had some in her hair, which was due for a cut. The baby kept trying to make a swan dive toward the floor to reach the purple sock monkey he had tossed there.
I said, “Is this a good time?”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? I am desperate to socialize with someone who knows words and who won’t spit strained carrots at me.”
“I’ll do my best to deliver.”
“Cute.” She bent to pick up the sock monkey. The baby hugged it with his orange-stained hands. “He can’t live without this or his yellow ducky. Thank heavens they’re both washable. Come on in. Nick’s working overtime again, so Little Nick and I are hanging around throwing food at each other. Well, one of us is throwing food, the other one is wiping it up. Whoops! Almost lost him.”
I followed Pepper into her living room. The formerly trendy space had been transformed by acres of baby gear. I found an empty section of the sofa and sat down. I waggled the wrapped baby gift.
I refused to call the child Little Nick. “Look how big he is. It seems like yesterday when he was born.”
“I can’t get over that he’ll be eight months old soon. He has four teeth already. I have the bite marks to prove it. So much for breastfeeding. Anyway, we’re getting ready to show them off at his christening party.”
I hoped she meant the teeth. “But the christening was months ago.”
“We waited for the big party because Nick’s mom hasn’t been all that well, so she couldn’t come all the way up from South Carolina. Now she’s doing better and we are going to have a big bash. I meant to send invitations, but I’m behind schedule. I can’t even keep up with the house. It’s a disaster here. I sure miss my cleaning lady. I let her go because it’s not so easy on the one salary and I should be able to keep it up myself.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Pepper. Get Nick to help.”
“As if. I believe that he’d lay down his life for me or Little Nick, but that doesn’t mean he would change a diaper or run a vacuum cleaner. That’s a different part of his value system.” She positioned the baby so that he could hold on to the large ottoman, and he seemed to have fun alternating between clinging to the ottoman and bouncing while holding on to the purple sock monkey.
“Come on, Pepper. You had a hellish pregnancy and a difficult birth and a baby who was sick for weeks. Who cares if your house has a few things scattered around? Let it go.”
“That’s funny coming from you, Miss Obsessive-Compulsive Organizer Freak. Of course, I mean that in the kindest way.”
“I accept the title, but believe me, my obsessions are only about things that matter.”
The familiar grin showed. “I’m bitching because Nick’s never home lately. Little Nick is crazy about his daddy, and he’s missing the small amount of attention he gets.”
“My friend Lilith Carisse is always looking for an hour or two here and there, especially if she doesn’t get her shifts. She’s working a batch of part-time jobs to put herself through college. If you let yourself see past the teal blue hair and the new nose ring, she’s a dream employee. She could do some of the heavy work for you or even vacuum the house or weed the garden—”
“Weed the garden? My mind never even gets that far. Sorry, Charlotte, I’m so tired of eating canned spaghetti when Nick’s not around and it brings out the worst in me.”
Canned spaghetti? I had actually noticed the half-eaten plate of orange food congealing on the table. It went well with the strained carrots she was wearing.
Pepper continued. “Anyway, the party’s in St. Jude’s Hall two weeks from Saturday. To be followed by a big Irish party with religious overtones and lots of drinking.”
“Wonderful. I look forward to that.”
“I’m planning to invite Sally and Ben and Margaret and Frank.”
“Don’t forget Jack. He can help, too. He loves babies more than anybody I know.”
“I already asked him because he’s been by a couple of times to visit Little Nick.”
“He has?” I felt the little frisson of jealousy that comes over me when Jack, my own personal Jack, my best friend in the world and my landlord to boot, hangs out with other people and their babies. I have to work on that.
“You know what Jack’s like with babies. I wish Nick was as excited about being a father. Sometimes he seems to be a bigger kid than the baby. Have you been talking to him?”
“Nick?” I shook my head. “Nope. Haven’t seen him for months.”
I’d been dodging Nick for years. I didn’t find Nick in the least bit appealing, but Pepper sometimes got ideas in her head that there was something between us. It had led to a years’ long rift, and we’d only put that behind us in recent months. I wanted to protect the new harmonious friendship. A distraction seemed called for.
“Crazy question. Do you remember the accident that killed Anabel Beauchamp about six months ago?”
“Of course I do. I went to the funeral. Weren’t you there?”
I shook my head. “It happened when I was on vacation in Europe.”
“Right, of course. I forgot about that.” Pepper reached over to steady the baby. “She did a lot of work with a group that tried to divert kids from crime and poverty and life on the street.”
“Yes, the Hope for Youth at Risk organization makes a difference. Lilith Carisse was one of their clients. They helped her get a place to live and her first part-time job. Look at her now. She’ll have that college degree before you know it.”
Pepper said, “Anabel didn’t have to do that. The Beauchamps are loaded, and she would have been able to have a glamorous job somewhere. Anywhere. Paris. London. Rome.”
“Actually, Anabel never needed to work at all, but she was a very down-to-earth person, not at all materialistic. I always thought of her as a person with no edge at all.”
Pepper’s cop training showed. “But of course, I have edge. So I’ll have to inquire why you’re asking.”
“No reason. I’m doing a closet organization job for her mother.”
“There’s always a reason when you ask something, Charlotte. And I’m guessing it’s not closets. You might as well come right out with it.”
“Fine. Lorelei Beauchamp seems convinced that someone murdered Anabel. So I’m wondering what you’ve heard.”
Pepper shook her head. “I haven’t heard a whisper that it was anything but an accident. Nick was one of the first people on site. I’ve seen my partner Frank quite often, and he didn’t mention
it.”
“Of course, he might be distracted since he married Margaret.”
“He wouldn’t be too distracted to be a first-rate detective,” Pepper snapped.
“Right.”
Pepper must have felt the need for a little rant. “What is it with parents that they want to believe their kids were murdered instead of dying accidentally? I think I’d prefer the accident. Murder is so horrible, and to think that someone would kill your child, it’s incredible.” She gave Little Nick a tight squeeze. He pulled her hair.
“Agreed. Lorelei came right out and said it. I’m sure it’s the grief talking.”
“Yeah well, don’t let her talk you into driving everyone in the department nuts again.”
“Absolutely no warning needed, Pepper. I have no intention of doing anything but straightening out the closets at the Beauchamp home. Not interested in foul play or dirty deeds.”
“Or snooping around in investigations that don’t concern you and stirring up trouble.”
I straightened up. “Is there an investigation? I thought—”
“There isn’t one. It was an accidental death. And the local force has plenty to do without you meddling and wasting people’s time. I hope you’ve lost that habit.”
I can always tell when Pepper’s lying, the legacy of growing up together and telling our share of whoppers. If she believed Anabel’s death was an accident, that was good enough for me.
“I’ve been enjoying my quiet, normal life lately.”
Pepper gave me an appraising glance.
“Let’s open the baby’s gift.” I’d picked up a selection of books at Cuddleship, my favorite uptown kids’ shop.
Pepper squealed when the books came out “The Very Hungry Caterpillar! I loved that when I was a kid.”
“Me, too!”
Her face softened. “And Goodnight Moon. My mom used to read that to me.”
“Mine, too.” Well, at least she’d arranged for someone to read it to me. “I got them in the board book format so they may survive longer.”
Little Nick reached out for the caterpillar with both pudgy hands.
“He loves it,” Pepper said with a wide smile.
He clamped his new teeth on the corner and chewed away happily.
“He sure does.” I laughed. “While you two are enjoying story time, how about I get us some coffee?”
“That would be lovely. I forget what it’s like to get waited on a bit.”
Nick, Nick, Nick, I thought, better pull up your socks.
I could hear Pepper reading the text to Little Nick as I made a pot of her favorite Kona blend. When I headed back in with two steaming mugs, the door opened. Nick stuck his big handsome empty head in the front door. He swaggered into the room. Being a father hadn’t hurt Nick’s figure. He still looked good in his uniform, and as always, he was well aware of that. “Hi, babe, thought I’d come by and say hi to my girl.”
Pepper scowled. She knew Nick would have spotted my Miata in the driveway.
“Well, hey, Charley. What brings you here?”
“I wanted to hang out with Pepper and the baby for a bit.”
“You’re looking good.”
Honestly, Nick had the brains of a shoelace.
“I can’t get over how terrific Pepper looks. A lot of women would be jealous.”
“I guess.” Nick scratched his head.
“And I wanted some advice from Pepper, too. There was an accident a few months back. Anabel Beauchamp.”
Nick’s face clouded. What was behind that cloud, I wondered. He muttered, “I remember her. Good-looking chick. That was too bad.”
“Right. Her mother thinks—”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Her mom? The model? Now she’s hot!”
He seemed immune to the glares that both Pepper and I were shooting at him. You would have thought he’d have been rolling on the floor in agony. I decided it must be great to be as oblivious as Nick was. You’d never worry about anyone, unless of course, you thought they were hot.
As if I hadn’t heard, I said, “Mrs. Beauchamp thinks that someone murdered Anabel, and I wanted to get Pepper’s opinion. I’m glad to hear that there’s nothing—”
Nick scratched his blond head. “Huh. Murdered?”
I added patiently, “And I guess there’s nothing—”
Nick nodded. “You know, I was a first responder when she died.”
“He was pretty shaken.” Pepper stroked his hand. “He had nightmares for weeks.”
“Ah come on, babe. I didn’t have nightmares.”
Of course, Monahan men wouldn’t have nightmares.
Pepper clamped her mouth shut. As annoying as Nick was, she probably hadn’t intended to diminish him in front of me.
I steered away from the nightmares. “I’m sorry to hear that you were the first to arrive. That would be rough for anyone.”
Nick’s mind seemed elsewhere, remembering the accident perhaps. He kept nodding like a bobble head.
I found myself wishing I was far away. “Gotta run. Great seeing the three of you.”
Nick snapped back to the present. “I thought there was something funny about the way she died, but it turned out there wasn’t. Just an accident. That’s all.”
Now why didn’t I believe him?
3
Ditch your mismatched hangers. Invest in inexpensive sturdy hangers, all the same color and size. Your closet will instantly look neater and more organized.
Sunday night was party night in our little two-unit enclave. The attendees were, as usual, Jack, Truffle, and Sweet Marie. It was Jack’s turn to get the party food. Sure, he doesn’t cook and keeps the overstock from his bicycle shop in the kitchen of his first-floor unit, but he has a talent for ordering out. I was the last to arrive, and it looked as though they’d started the party without me. The Ben & Jerry’s had been in the car for a while, but at least it hadn’t turned into a puddle.
I puffed up the stairs to my apartment in the converted Victorian home that Jack had grown up in. I was met by the dogs. They barked on principle and hurled themselves at the Hannaford’s bag and the ice cream. “Be quiet and try to remember who feeds you.”
Speaking of food, I sniffed the air.
I’d been hoping for pizza.
Or a shawarma platter.
Even sushi.
But I was happy to settle for Chinese. The Kowloon has excellent food. Jack always buys enough for an army, so lunch tomorrow would be taken care of with leftovers. Extra points to the man.
Jack and I were working on rebuilding our companionable relationship, which had taken a pounding last fall. Jack had also taken a bullet. We were each slathered in guilt over the events leading up to that. I supposed that time would take care of those emotions and we could get back to the easy carefree way we’d always been. In the meantime, we were both far more polite than we’d ever been. I was looking forward to our post-politeness period, when we could go back to trading insults and stealing each other’s food. We weren’t there yet.
The dogs were very excited to see the jumbo box of Cheerios. Low in calories and small, they worked well for portly little pooches that required a lot of food-based positive reinforcement to be good citizens and not bark. “Quiet” was the word of the week. Too bad I was the only one who understood what it meant.
Jack stuck his head out of the kitchen. His hair was its usual spiky disarray, and his latest Hawaiian shirt looked as though he might have slept in it. Lucky for him, he’s one of those tall rangy people whose clothes always look good on them, regardless of wrinkles or whatever. “I’ve been working on the training with Truffle and Sweet Marie. I know you’re worried about the retake of their Therapy Dogs evaluation.”
“Worried doesn’t begin to cover it, Jack. I noticed they barked at me when I came in. I believe they’re actually getting worse.”
“Hysterical then. I didn’t want to come right out and say it.”
“I am not hysterical. It’s a ser
ious goal and having them bark all the time is hard on the nerves.”
“They’re dogs. They bark. Get over it. I bought a double General Tso’s chicken. You want lots?”
“Lots is good.”
“Moo goo gai pan?”
“Absolutely.”
“So do you want white rice or fried rice?”
“Both. And any other happy carbohydrate you have hanging around. I hope there’s plenty of MSG, too.”
I squeezed past him to tuck the Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer. Good thing it starts out hard as a rock. At least the two of us could still fit in my tiny galley kitchen. People have been telling me now that I’m past thirty (a mere matter of months) I won’t be able to eat the way I always have. So I have to make every junk meal matter.
I ducked into the bedroom and quickly changed into my frog pajamas. I took the minute to hang up my skirt neatly and toss the no-longer crisp white blouse into the hamper. The red platforms went on the shoe rack. Now I could relax.
I picked up the chopsticks and drinks on the way back to the living room before Jack arrived at the coffee table with our plates heaped high. I fed Truffle and Sweet Marie their kibble, while he was getting things settled, safely. Jack and I knew that all it would take was a random blink for them to pilfer our food. That’s why the containers stayed in the kitchen and Jack served.
“Truffle and Sweet Marie will do well the next time. People are rooting for them. Are there enough garlic spare ribs for you?”
Apparently everyone in Woodbridge knew that the dogs had blown their first evaluations. Of course, they always did everything that Jack asked them and did it right the first time and every time.
“I appreciate it, Jack. It’s not that they haven’t learned all the commands. They have. They either bark at the other dogs or the person doing the evaluation or both. I believe I have explained this a hundred times.”
Closet Confidential Page 3
