The Cluttered Corpse

by Mary Jane Maffini

  I figured it would be a matter of time until she told me why those Rheinbecks weren’t exactly what they seemed.

  “That’ll be nice,” she smiled. “I can use some company from time to time.”

  A thunk in the hallway caused us both to whirl. Kevin stood in the living room door, his eyes wide, mouth open. Freckles stood out against his pale skin. It was the first time I’d been close enough to notice them. He leaned forward and pointed a finger at me.

  He shrieked. “It’s you. You said we would be sorry if we didn’t leave Emmy Lou alone. You killed him! You killed Tony!”

  Work can clutter up your life. Make time to see friends.

  12

  I protested to Pepper when she showed up on Bell Street in front of the Dingwalls’ less than five minutes later. I was getting into the Miata after failing to calm either Kevin or his mother.

  “Of course I didn’t threaten to kill him and you know that. So don’t pretend.” Must have been the sneer on her face that brought out my next comment. “Surely you can tell this boy is not quite normal, Pepper.”

  She was dressed to impress this Monday. Except for her unexpected weekend garb, Pepper always does her detective thing dressed like someone who’s just stepped out of a fashion shoot. Today she had on a black-and-white print jacket, sort of a seventies vibe with a bit of sheen to it, and a pair of very stylish black “city” shorts to her knees. She had the legs for them and had obviously spent time at the tanning salon. She was carrying a large glossy purse and stood a bit taller than usual in a pair of open-toed leather shoes with high cork soles. You had to be tall and whippet-thin to pull off city shorts and a jacket like that. Pepper managed it perfectly. She’d be well aware that I would resemble a garden gnome in that outfit.

  Never mind. I was glad I’d chosen a pair of silver kitten-heeled shoes. Silver was a big look this spring. I’d picked out my fave swirly little skirt and a fitted twinset in a shade of coral that looked very good on me, but, if my high school memories served, that shade made Pepper look jaundiced.

  She said, “All I know is the kid claims you threatened him. He’s pretty upset about it. And we’d already had a complaint about that.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I did not threaten him. I said…you know what I said. I’d already explained the whole thing to you. And I can’t understand why you would race out here based on Mrs. Dingwall’s call and at the same time you won’t even return my messages.”

  “Consequences.”

  “For what?”

  “You are running around snooping. There are consequences to that.”

  “Listen, I went over to ask Mrs. Dingwall a few questions. I wanted to find out if she knew what Tony was up to yesterday—”

  Pepper interrupted. “Exactly. Snooping. Not your job and not your business.”

  “It is my business, because I found the body. And don’t forget my client is involved.”

  “I’m not likely to forget that. Let’s see, ‘involved’? Is that a euphemism for confessed to murder?”

  “She didn’t murder anyone, so stop trying to yank my chain. I couldn’t even sleep last night worrying.”

  “And I would care about that because…?”

  I raised my chin. “Because I reconstructed the crime.”

  “You what? You went back to the crime scene? We had that house secured until well after midnight. If you did that, then your ass is grass, Charlotte Adams.”

  “Obviously, I couldn’t reconstruct it on the spot. For one thing it was in the middle of the night. I did it, um, conceptually.” I decided to omit the detail about tossing the pillow down the stairs.

  Pepper rolled her eyes.

  I kept on talking. “And my reconstruction told me a couple of things: one, Tony could have pounced out at Emmy Lou, pulling one of his little jokes, then, naturally, she might have panicked and pushed him away and he could have fallen. That’s one scenario. The other one is that he could have really tried to get physical in some way and she could have defended herself, fought him off, with the same result: he tumbled down the stairs and…we know the rest.”

  Pepper yawned. Didn’t bother to cover her mouth either. How rude was that?

  I ignored that. “The third possibility is that he might have been trying to go upstairs or trying to get downstairs. Either way, he could have tripped on those toys on the stairs. He was clumsy and…they were all over the place. I tripped on a couple myself, and whatever my failings, I am not clumsy or accident-prone.”

  Pepper muttered something, but I didn’t fall into that little trap either.

  “So,” I said, “the end result could be the same for someone like Emmy Lou Rheinbeck. She would feel responsible for his death either because she didn’t diffuse the situation or because she couldn’t control her compulsion to collect these toys. I know this woman and—”

  Pepper said, “She’s been your client for how long?”

  I wasn’t about to say half an hour and a couple of phone calls, although it was true. Pepper seemed to know this too. She smirked. It went well with her repertoire of yawning, muttering, and eye rolling.

  I said, “It doesn’t matter how long. Another theory might be that she’s protecting someone that she—”

  Pepper interrupted yet again. “Any word on Sally?”

  I blinked. “Sally? Oh, yes, the kids are starting to feel a bit better. Little Savannah’s not quite out of the woods yet. Sal’s pretty tired too. We’ll give you a call as soon as we’re ready to get together for the sort-of shower thingie, gifts and all.”

  “I’m sure you will. And in the meantime, here’s a little gift for you: you don’t know anything about Emmy Lou Rheinbeck. So stay away from my witnesses or you’ll be sitting in the cell next to her. Got that?”

  She got into her unmarked police car and burned rubber. I guess I’d gotten to her, although I had to admit she’d won that round.

  I’d been outgunned.

  I hadn’t had time to tell her that it definitely hadn’t been Kevin’s mother who called her the first time, claiming that I’d harassed the boys. I didn’t know who’d done that, but although I was one hundred percent sure it was relevant to Tony’s death, I had no idea how.

  Although it was a free country last time I checked, I decided to move the Miata, in case Pepper came back to check and found out I’d continued to work for Dwayne Rheinbeck. I parked behind the giant Dumpster across the street from the Rheinbecks and the Baxters. Despite the Dumpster and the two half-demolished houses, there were no workers on the site. Not too surprising. The current building and renovation boom in Woodbridge made it hard to hang on to skilled trades. Someone else had obviously snagged this crew. The Miata would be fine there.

  I checked my watch. Plenty of time before Dwayne showed up. I locked the car door and was ambling over to see Patti Magliaro when I spotted an opportunity. A stooped man who looked to be in his late sixties was emerging from the side door of the garage belonging to the well-kept house across the street from the Rheinbecks, next to the demolition site. I’d seen him before, strolling down the block and watching the scene unfold when Emmy Lou was in full hysteria mode on the street.

  I approached and smiled disarmingly. Up close I could see he had large green eyes like Emmy Lou’s, although I didn’t detect any warmth or, in fact, any emotion in his. I felt an icy tingle in the small of my back.

  “Hello,” I said.

  I found myself shivering under his gaze. Talk about someone who didn’t like small talk. No answer. “I am working with Emmy Lou Rheinbeck. Or with her husband, Dwayne, to be precise.”

  His eyes flickered toward 10 Bell Street and then back to me. He knew who Emmy Lou was and where she lived.

  “Am I right that she’s your daughter?

  I thought I saw him shake his head.

  “Could I ask you a couple of questions? It could help.”

  He turned his back and started toward the house.

  I followed him onto the paving-stone
walk that led to the house. Maybe he was hard of hearing. I raised my voice. “It’s very important. I need to talk to you about your daughter, Emmy Lou.”

  He stopped, glared over his shoulder, and said icily, “I am not deaf.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “But perhaps you are.”

  “What? No, I’m not—”

  “I heard you the first time. Let me make myself clear. I do not have a daughter.”

  I stared as he turned his back to me for the second time.

  “Well then,” I called after him, “is her father around?”

  “You’re on private property. Better get yourself off it before I call the police.”

  He walked along the path, up the stairs, and disappeared into the house without a backward glance. As he opened the door, a tiny woman with a pinched face peeked past him for a second and then they both vanished. The door slammed shut.

  Who was that woman? And why did she look so frightened?

  Patti Magliaro held her door wide open. “Right on. I see you met the Munsters. Of course, they call themselves the Wrights, but we know better. Come in. You’ll need something to warm you up after that. Do you have ice on your ears?”

  I glanced around Patti’s place. I’d half expected it to be furnished in macramé, peace symbols, and hemp fibers, but it was minimalist and practical. IKEA meets The Container Store. I approved. She had several wall-mounted shelves with a collection of charming vintage teapots displayed. Several of them had a cat theme.

  I said, “Almost. This Mr. Wright was something. All I did was ask if he was Emmy Lou’s father. I explained that I was doing some work for Dwayne so he’d know I was all right.”

  “What is it the English say? A nasty piece of work? I love the way they talk, don’t you? I’m a total Masterpiece Theatre freak.”

  I didn’t have time to get sidetracked by Patti’s many digressions. It was hard enough to concentrate with Princess wrapping herself around my ankles. I wasn’t sure how I’d explain that when I got home. I said, “But he looked like Emmy Lou, especially those eyes, so I assumed that he’d be like her. Warm and chatty.”

  “You struck out there. He’s as cold as they come. You know what? I have no idea how you can walk in those shoes. I’d be lost without my sandals. I’d tumble to my death in those. Oh maybe I shouldn’t make jokes like that after yesterday. Kind of thoughtless, but I didn’t mean it. Still I don’t know how you can walk around in shoes like that.”

  My shoes had two-inch kitten heels. It wouldn’t take a circus performer to wear them. But again, I wanted to stay on topic. “He said he didn’t have a daughter.”

  “Did he? I know for a fact that he does. I’m not surprised that he denied it, but I am a bit that he actually answered you. Never speaks to anyone, has that poor little mouse wife of his under his thumb. She looks scared to breathe. I’ve tried so many times.”

  “I got a glimpse of her. I didn’t have a chance to ask her anything.”

  “And you won’t either. She never gets out of his sight. She always looks like that, so it may not be anything in particular. She wouldn’t dare contradict him about a little thing like who’s a member of the family. He has a real bad aura. Did you notice it? Yours is good. Did anybody ever read it? I’m pretty good at that.”

  “Maybe when all this stuff is sorted out. You’d think, even if they were estranged, that they’d want to help her. She is in jail for murder and that’s awful.”

  Patti said, “For sure. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

  I’d already had coffee across the street, but I figured Patti needed to do something. Maybe it would help her concentrate. “That would be great.”

  “What would you like? Ginger peach? Chamomile? Sleepytime? Lemon Zinger? Green? White? Jasmine blossom?”

  “You pick.”

  “Jasmine blossom,” she said. “Special treat.”

  “Patti,” I said, “you’ve lived here for quite a while.”

  “I’ve been here for more than twenty years, in this apartment. Forty years in the Woodbridge area. I was sixteen when we first set up a homestead for a long time. But after George got sick, we had to move into town. Sometimes I miss my little garden. We had carrots and radishes and the best tomatoes you could—”

  Time to interrupt. “Was Emmy Lou living at home when you moved in?”

  “No. She’d already left by then. In fact, I didn’t even realize they had a daughter until she moved back in across the street this year.”

  “How did you know she’d lived here?”

  “Emmy Lou told me. We were outside chewing the fat a bit one night, and she pointed to the house and said that’s where she grew up, across the street.”

  “But her parents don’t acknowledge her.”

  “Guess not. That jasmine tea is real nice, isn’t it? I love the way the flower opens up when you—”

  “I wonder what made her move back to Bell Street, where she’d see them every day.”

  “The father anyway. That mother’s stuck in the house all the time. In twenty years, I’ve never had a conversation with her. I wonder if he knocks her around a bit. I wish I had some cookies or something for you, Charlotte, but you know I’m alone here and I get so much stuff over at Betty’s that—”

  “But it sounds like such a dysfunctional situation, doesn’t it? Puzzling.”

  “Maybe she got a good price on that house. Or she thought if she was in front of them, that sooner or later she’d get a smile out of the old bastard.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Anyway, it never seemed to bother Emmy Lou any. She was always cheerful and smiling. She waved to them every day when she went out. He’d turn his head, and if the mother was around she’d scurry away. They have a beautiful garden. Did I mention how much I miss mine? Emmy Lou has done a nice job on hers too.”

  I rubbed my temple briefly, not that Patti noticed. I said, “Do you think deep down she wanted to reconnect with them?”

  “I don’t know that they were all that connected in the first place. Could be she wanted to spite them. Sunflowers, I think that’s what I miss the most. That’s what she reminded me of too.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  She said, “You know, Emmy Lou: big, bright, full of color and life. She was doing well, happy, fancy house, beautiful property. She spends hours out there. It’s going to be a wonderful spot in the summer. Anyway, I don’t think she had a very good childhood growing up there. So perhaps she wanted them to see that she was happy, well-off, living the good life without them. Giving them the finger without having to lift her hand, if you know what I mean. Sort of saying, you can’t get to me now.”

  “Makes sense. And in a way, it might explain the two thousand plush toys.”

  Bill was getting into his car when I strolled toward the Baxter house. He returned my grin. “How’s Bonnie?” I said.

  “Not so good today. Headaches. Any kind of upset is bad for her MS. After yesterday’s upset, she’s pretty anxious. It could take days for her to recover.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  A wave of worry crossed his face. “Yeah. She’s real worried about Emmy Lou. I am too. She even feels bad about the boy, not that I can understand that. She says I was too hard on him.”

  “Okay for me to visit? I’m in the neighborhood.”

  “She’ll be glad to see you. Got to say, I’m surprised you came back to Bell Street.”

  “I have that job to do for Dwayne. He wants it done before Emmy Lou gets back.”

  “Huh. Well, go on in. You’ll make Bonnie’s day. She gets lonely.” He opened his car door, grimaced, and turned back to me. “Be careful!” he called.

  “Oh, I won’t tire her out or talk about anything stressful.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean with Dwayne. Watch out for that guy. I don’t think he’s exactly what he makes himself out to be.” He slid into the Dodge and spun gravel leaving the driveway.

  I was still wondering what h
e meant by that when Bonnie limped to the door. The smell of a thousand delectable cupcakes wafted out when she opened it. “Checking to see how you were,” I said.

  Bonnie sighed. “Been better, for sure.” Her pretty heart-shaped face was greyish today. She leaned on her cane, knuckles white with the pressure.

  “Hard to avoid feeling stress under the circumstances.”

  She smiled wanly. “I’m not the only one. I keep seeing your face on television even though you managed to avoid the cameras.”

  “WINY. They’re relentless, but if they come up empty, they’ve got file shots.”

  She glanced toward the Rheinbeck house. “I’m glad they’re gone. WINY, I mean.”

  “They’re probably circling the courthouse or the county jail. Or sniffing around elsewhere. Speaking of sniffing, it sure smells good here.”

  “Thanks. You want to try my latest experiment? White chocolate amaretto fudge cupcakes. I was playing around with new combinations to take my mind off things.”

  “No need to ask me twice.”

  Of course, my ulterior motive was not to eat cupcakes, although that was good too. It was to sound out Bonnie about whether she’d seen Dwayne the day before. All the questions I’d asked her before had pretty well flown out the window once I’d developed my twin theories: a) either Emmy Lou was protecting Dwayne because she thought he’d killed Tony, orb) Emmy Lou had accidentally killed Tony and was overcome by guilt and remorse. I hated both these theories, but I was pretty sure that one of them would turn out to be true.

  The cupcakes were enough to bring tears of joy to my eyes. I said, “I want to become your best customer. Honestly.”

  The smile lit up her eyes. The first sign of animation I’d seen. “Thanks.”

  “Out of curiosity, who are your customers? I’m always interested in how other small businesses run.”

  “I supply some of the new cafés here and in the surrounding towns. It’s a delicate balance: every café wants to have something special, so you don’t want to stock two in the same neighborhood. If my health was better, I’d set up a storefront, but I can’t manage it now. Can’t stay on my feet that long. I get exhausted, but it’s getting better with therapy. When we first came here, Bill had to carry me downstairs in the morning and back up at night. It’s been hard on him, looking after me. He’s getting going with his business too. It takes a while before you start making a profit after you meet all your expenses.”