Closet Confidential

by Maffini, Mary Jane

  “It doesn’t matter how many. It only matters if Lorelei wants to get involved with the project. It won’t work otherwise.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will work.”

  “Well, if her first closet is anything to go by, she’ll most likely have to sort things out and get rid of some items.”

  Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Lorelei likes to hold on to things.”

  “I suppose there are ways around that. You could add some more closets or convert a bedroom to storage space with racks or get some off-site storage for surplus clothing and gear, but she’d still have to decide what items would go where.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. There must be more to this whole closet business than meets the eye.”

  You bet your champagne cocktail, I thought, and that’s why I can make a living at it.

  “It’s an expensive business, and if she’s not keen, it will be a waste of your money and my time.”

  By now, I was wondering how many ways I would have to make my point with Harry.

  Harry said, “I don’t give a fig about the cost, Charlotte honey, if it makes a difference. I’m at my wit’s end trying to find distractions for her, so she can let her mind rest a bit.”

  I cleared my throat. “I can only imagine how awful this whole situation is for both of you. Losing a child must be—”

  Harry’s brown eyes filled. “The day Anabel died, the light went out of my life. I couldn’t ever have dreamed how empty I would feel. Nothing can prepare you for that complete devastation. Imagine how your own daddy would react.”

  “Actually, I never knew my father. My mother divorced him a month before I was born.”

  Harry stared at me for a very long minute. “And you never met him? Your own daddy?”

  “That’s right. I had a series of stepfathers who were all very pleasant and kind enough. Generous, too. So the situation with Lorelei—”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “My father? I don’t know.”

  “Your mama doesn’t know?”

  “She never told me and she won’t talk about it. All I know is he was French from somewhere in Quebec. She’d moved on.”

  Harry shook his head. “Seems to me a child should know her own daddy, but Mama knows best. I guess she has her reasons.”

  “I imagine she does. They may even be good ones. But I prefer to believe that somewhere near Quebec City there’s a man who looks a lot like me and has spectacular storage units and a color-coded closet.”

  I sensed relief in Harry’s laughter and took advantage of it to say, “But on a serious note, Lorelei probably needs to deal with her grief. She needs to get professional help. The closets could come afterward. If ever.”

  “Honey, we’ve had lots of professional help. Psychologists, psychiatrists, grief counselors, even a medium. Like you say, she needs to deal with her grief. In fact we all do. Each in our own way. But the point is that all the professionals in this whole world won’t bring Anabel back.”

  That was true enough. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I am trying to help and maybe I am making things worse.”

  “Don’t you let yourself think like that. Now you make yourself comfortable and I’ll go check if Lorelei is able to get out of bed yet. I won’t be but a minute.” He patted my hand and left the room.

  Five minutes later he descended the long architectural staircase and shook his handsome head sadly. Lorelei would not be making our meeting today.

  6

  Clip photos of closets and storage solutions that appeal to you from magazines and newspaper articles. In time a pattern of the type of closet you want will become apparent.

  The trip home was a lot faster. This time I was a bit over the speed limit. As I crossed the bridge to Woodbridge, I didn’t even notice the fast-flowing Hudson below. I was too busy thinking about the charged atmosphere in the Beauchamp home. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hear the siren until the dark car was on my bumper.

  I pulled over with my heart thumping. How fast had I been going? It couldn’t have been that bad. I’m not much for speeding. I felt almost panicked as I rooted in my handbag for my car registration and license. Naturally, I always have them easily accessible.

  I jumped when I saw the man loom in the window.

  Connor Tierney leaned over and fixed those ice blue eyes on me.

  “Pants on fire?” he asked.

  “Very funny. I wasn’t going that fast.”

  “How fast were you going?”

  I hung on to the shreds of my dignity. “I don’t actually know the precise speed, but I am certainly not in the habit of . . .” I tried not to be distracted by the slight hint of his sexy aftershave. Why is that a weakness for me?

  “Rule one: Don’t argue with the nice policeman.”

  “Oh. Is there a nice policeman around here somewhere?” I glanced out my rear window.

  He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned into my open window. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Write the ticket. If I was speeding, I’ll pay the price. I didn’t even know detectives carried radar guns with them.”

  “We don’t. Like I said, I want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, about this situation with the Beauchamps for one thing.”

  “I’m not sure there’s going to be a situation. Lorelei can’t even get out of bed today. She’s not in emotional shape to take on a big complicated project.”

  “Big complicated project. Closets?”

  “Don’t denigrate my work. That is surely outside the scope of your job description, Detective.”

  “Speaking of, I hope you are not going to nose around about Anabel Beauchamp and get everyone all revved up.”

  “By everyone, do you mean the Woodbridge police?”

  “I mean some of the Woodbridge police and the library staff and who knows who else.”

  I was outraged. “The library staff? They’re supposed to keep inquiries confidential. Wait a minute. I do not believe that Ramona would—”

  “Rat you out to the fuzz?”

  “Hilarious.”

  “One of the patrons called the station to make a complaint that you were disturbing the peace in the library and stirring up controversy over Anabel Beauchamp’s death.”

  “Wow. Crime rates in our city must be at an all-time low if detectives collect information about people asking questions in the library. Do you keep track of everyone’s overdue books, too?”

  “Let’s say I happened to be passing by when the call came in.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “I need you to promise me you won’t get yourself involved in another investigation.”

  “Seriously, there’s no way I intend to get involved in an investigation. I am merely worried about Anabel’s mother, who may or may not be my client after today. She thinks someone killed her daughter. I don’t know why, and I don’t know anything about the circumstances. I have known Mrs. Beauchamp for years, and I knew Anabel slightly and liked her very much. I got the impression when I was talking to Nick that he saw something that didn’t look right. Now, I’m fully aware that Nick Monahan is an idiot, and I can always tell when Pepper’s lying. So as she believes it was a tragic accident, I am prepared to accept that.”

  “What about me? Didn’t you think I was telling the truth?” I heard the jingle of his keys.

  “Not sure. I don’t know much about you.”

  “But we had such a great evening out a few weeks back.”

  “Right. I have vague memories of that.”

  “I thought we’d have more of those.”

  “Did you?” My voice was chilly enough to frost up the windows.

  “Yeah. But then I had to take leave and fly back to my hometown to handle some urgent family business. My brother was injured on duty. He has a young family and he needed help. I should have called you, but everyone in my family dropped whatever they were doing and pulled together for his wife and kids.”

&n
bsp; “Oh.” I felt about as tall as Truffle and Sweet Marie.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner. I didn’t want to mention it today in front of your shadow.”

  “His name is Jack. And I apologize. I should have figured there was a good reason why you never called back.”

  It sure was my day to say sorry a lot.

  “I did try a few times, but that guy always answers.”

  “Jack.”

  “Is he always around?”

  “He’s my oldest and best friend.”

  Tierney watched me carefully for a while. “So I wanted to ask you out again this morning, but then you showed up with him. Is he your pet pit bull?”

  I couldn’t hold back a bubble of laughter. The notion of baby-crazy Jack as a pit bull was nothing short of hilarious.

  “Don’t curl your lip like that. Jack thinks you are going to arrest me or hassle me or something.”

  “I think he’s jealous. Did you take a look at his face?”

  “Not the case. You can always ask for me if he answers the phone, you know. Does he say I’m not there? He never even mentioned you called.”

  “I hang up. If you’re there with him, it’s not the time for me to explain why I didn’t ask you out again.”

  “What’s your excuse now?”

  He grinned. “My excuse must be in my other pants pocket. So would you like to go out to dinner tonight?”

  “Oh. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I guess if you’re a detective you get used to asking the questions and expecting answers.

  “It’s girls’ night with Sally and Margaret. It’s a sacred tradition. I wouldn’t dare miss it.”

  Tierney had met both of them, and in fact he’d been invited to the dinner after Margaret eloped with Frank, one of his colleagues. I didn’t mention that Jack often turned up for girls’ nights as the silly boy continues to be unclear on certain concepts, such as who’s a girl and who isn’t. When challenged, he claims reverse sexism and hauls out the heavy artillery from his many logic courses to win his point. Usually one of us real girls falls asleep from the sheer tedium.

  “Tomorrow then?”

  I looked up at those ice blue eyes and smiled. “Tomorrow will be great. My schedule’s absolutely clear.”

  I swung by Rose Skipowski’s place, hoping to catch Lilith between shifts, chowing down at Rose’s seventies-style dining table. Their deal for a roof over Lilith’s head in return for helping Rose was working well for both. I was lucky and caught her as she was leaving. Rose opened the door. She was resplendent in a lilac jogging suit and neon runners and lit up at the sight of me. Despite my protests, she immediately began to pack cookies for what she called my “trip home.” There seemed to be quite a few cookies, considering the trip was walkable on a good day. Still, I was thankful.

  Lilith was rushing to get ready to work the dinner shift at a nearby seniors’ residence. “I have fifteen minutes to get there. Six ladies need me to accompany them to the dining room for the five-thirty dinner. One at a time!”

  “Lilith,” I said a few minutes later as I walked with her toward Rose’s car, “I was curious. You are one of the few people who don’t sing Anabel’s praises. Is there something I should be aware of?”

  Lilith turned away. I waited. Finally she said, “Maybe it’s me.”

  I continued to wait, trying not to be distracted by the scent of the freshly baked cookies.

  Lilith blurted, “She had everything. The gorgeous home, the famous beautiful mother, the adoring father, whatever college she wanted, no worries about money. She was naturally beautiful.”

  This was all true, of course, but even if you left out narcissistic from the beautiful mother description, although it belonged there, you’d still have to think it was a tragedy that Anabel had died the way she did.

  “That sounds horrible, I know.” Lilith kicked a stone. “But she didn’t have to work at Hope for Youth at Risk. She didn’t have to work at all. She had the world. Why did she have to have—?”

  “Have to have what?”

  “Who,” she said. “Why did she have to have who?”

  “Okay.” I smiled encouragingly.

  Lilith snorted. “You look like you need an antacid.”

  “Fine, tell me who the ‘who’ is and I’ll go take one. Did Anabel get involved with someone you cared about?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “Ah. The old yes-no thing.”

  She laughed despite herself. “Not someone I cared about, although I think he’s okay. But one of my friends.”

  “Just so you know, I’m not giving up.”

  She sighed and I had to remind myself that Lilith was still in her teens and not long off the streets herself, in part because of Hope for Youth at Risk. Once again, I waited.

  “Jewel, my friend, was always good to me. She hasn’t had it easy.” Lilith could have written the book on not having it easy, but I refrained from comment. I nodded, though.

  Lilith continued. “Jewel had a thing for this guy named Dimitri. He does a lot of work with Hope for Youth at Risk. She had no one, nothing. She’s beautiful and lovely and sad. Trying to get her life together. Dimitri liked her, too. I know it and—”

  I interrupted, “Dimitri? Is he kind of attractive? Young?”

  Lilith snorted. “Kind of attractive? Um, yeah. Like every woman’s fantasy kind of attractive.”

  “I think I saw him at their office.”

  “Leather jacket? Tormented soul expression?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Anyway, then Anabel arrived at the agency. Even with her jeans and plaid work shirts, she still had those rich-girl looks. And pow! Dimitri got knocked off his feet.”

  “Well,” I blurted, “I know what that’s like.”

  “You mean your ex-fiancé?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t know. What did you have left at the end?”

  “No fiancé, for starters!”

  “But everything else. Your car. Your job. Your savings. Your friends? Your life?”

  I stared at her. “You mean that because of Anabel, Jewel lost everything? Didn’t she—?”

  “She left. How could she stay connected to Hope for Youth at Risk if he was there drooling over Anabel? It was horrible for her. And because of this, I didn’t think that Anabel was all that saintly, you know? She could have let him down gently. Or meanly. She could have left herself, found another agency to play with. Why did she have to take everything away from Jewel?”

  I considered what I knew about Anabel. “Do you think Anabel knew how Jewel felt? Or Dimitri for that matter?”

  Lilith stared at me solemnly as she opened the door to Rose’s car. “I think she did. But if she hadn’t noticed, that would make it worse, wouldn’t it?”

  The dogs were waiting with their legs crossed when I got home, so it took a while before I picked up my voice mail. I slipped them each one of Rose’s cookies and put the rest aside for Jack and me.

  There were a couple of hang-ups from an unknown number that I figured might have been Tierney. Maybe I’d have to start calling him Connor if we were going on a second date.

  There was one call from Wendy Dykstra, a pleasant and cheerful request that I call her back. The second was from Lorelei Beauchamp. Ramona had left a few brisk words to say that my clippings were ready. I had three potential clients wanting information about my services. I was slightly surprised by the message from Pepper.

  “Call me on my cell phone,” she insisted. “Not at home.”

  I couldn’t figure out what that might be about.

  I returned the calls in order, Wendy first.

  “Does it matter where I get rid of my old clothes?”

  “Not at all. I always ask my clients to think about a charity for the ones that don’t fit but are in good condition. We’ll figure out what we can do with the rest. Don’t try to match each item to the perfect new home. Find one or two deserving places and let the
m go.”

  “Oh boy, that’s great. I do a bit of volunteering at Galilee House and I was hoping I could donate them there. And I can take some of my old T-shirts to the animal shelter. They’re always looking for soft fabrics for bedding. I’ll do a bit of that ahead of time. Maybe it will make our job easier.”

  I knew that our job would be easier anyway because Wendy was positive and enthusiastic and spent the bulk of her time thinking of other people. She’d given me a good idea.

  I hesitated before I called Lorelei. Perhaps I could wait until after I’d returned the other calls. Get at it, I told myself. You can’t afford to waste energy because of procrastination.

  Harry answered, sounding gallant as always. “Lovely to hear from you, Charlotte honey. Lorelei was up and around and in much better spirits this afternoon.”

  Not if the tone in her message was anything to go by, I thought.

  “Charlotte?” she said when she came on the phone. “I must apologize for this afternoon. I don’t know what came over me. I assure you that I will be ready for you for the rest of this project. I’d like you to come again tomorrow if you would. I’ll be waiting and willing.”

  She was trying; I had to give her that.

  She added, “I know it’s an imposition.”

  I flipped open my agenda and said, “Sorry, Lorelei, I have only one o’clock tomorrow. Will that do?” It would come out of my business-planning time, but what the hell.

  She said, “One o’clock’s too early for me. Tomorrow night, then? Harry would love to make you dinner.”

  I noticed Harry hadn’t been consulted.

  I said, “I have a previous engagement.” Tierney’s date was coming in handy already.

  “You can’t change it?”

  “Sorry. It took several weeks to arrange.” I felt a smile bloom.

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I have more flexibility on Wednesday. You can show me around, and if you aren’t feeling well, perhaps Harry will. Or if you prefer, we can decide to do the main closet in your dressing room.”

  “Harry thinks it will keep me busy. He’s right. You may as well come tomorrow afternoon.”