“I don’t see how—”
She set her mouth in a firm line. “I am not having you near my children.”
“You don’t have to do this project if you don’t want it, Bernice. But your children certainly won’t be in any danger.”
I attempted to make eye contact, but she averted her gaze.
“I understand,” I said. “I’ll send you a bill for my time. If you decide to go ahead later, we’ll apply it to the contract.”
It was easy to figure out who was to blame. The ubiquitous nabob of noxious news, Todd Tyrell. What did he want from me? Ruin? Disgrace? Better ratings?
I knew in my heart it wasn’t personal. But I’d already made up my mind that whatever Todd wanted, he wasn’t getting it without a fight.
I was feeling ridiculously dejected. That’s not like me, but seeing your face flashed on the television implying that you kill children can get you down. I motored off to North Elm and parked at the bottom of the hill in front of the house with the cheerful yellow door. I needed to talk to Lilith about working for Dwayne. My friend Rose Skipowski, coincidentally Lilith’s landlady and client, was the person to cheer me up.
Rose answered the door, as usual wheeling her oxygen apparatus. She was resplendent in a jogging suit in vivid spring green, with double white stripes down the arms and legs and a pair of blindingly white sneakers. “You’re in luck,” she said. “Our girl’s conscious and making sense. Come on in.”
I followed Rose down the short hall to the authentic seventies orange and brown living room. Her sneakers squeaked cheerfully as she shuffled along. Schopenhauer, one of Jack’s more spectacular rescue projects, followed, wagging his large sweeping tail in welcome.
I looked around. “I thought your daughter was visiting.”
“She was. Had to leave a bit early. Career matters and all that. She got a chance at a shoot and she was off. Once you hit forty in the movie business you take what you can get. Can’t blame her. She’s terrified she’ll end up playing character roles in straight-to-DVD horror films.”
“Oh.” Every time I thought about Rose and the distance between her and her daughter, I felt a flash of guilt. I’m pretty good at dodging my own mother’s phone calls, although, in fairness, it’s usually because I don’t want to find out that she has news, say, another husband or something.
“Don’t worry about it, Charlotte. People have to live their own lives. But I have Lilith here to keep me company. She keeps me guessing. And you know what? This old gal’s learning to cook vegetarian. As a matter of fact, almost all cookies are vegetarian. Not vegan, I hear, but vegetarian. I have some Toll House cookies cooling on the racks. Your favorite. Want some?”
Rose always has cookies baking in the oven or cooling on the counter. There was no way I was going to say no, or mention the cupcakes, although I had been so upset by the note on my windshield that I had left them all to Jack.
Lilith bounced down the stairs and stretched, rubbing her tousled turquoise and ebony hair.
“Good morning,” I said.
Lilith laughed. Maybe because it was about four in the afternoon. “Welcome to the wonderful world of the night-shift worker.”
“Have I got a deal for you,” I said. “You may be able to give that shift a miss. The stuffed-animal gig is available again.”
Rose, who is always up-to-date on what’s going on, said, “You mean your client’s out of the hoosegow?”
I said, “Not yet.”
Lilith said, “What’s a hoosegow?”
“Emmy Lou’s stuck in jail. Her husband wants us to continue on with the project as a surprise for her when she gets out. Of course, we won’t be actually eliminating any of the toys, but nevertheless, we will get started. We can take inventory—”
“Pack ’em and stack ’em.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe it’s the brain damage from my troubled youth,” Lilith said, “but aren’t we suspicious of that guy because of the lady in the red dress?”
“Yes, we are, even though when you are with him, he could—”
Rose shook her head. “It’s quite terrible, that young lad dying and that poor woman being questioned. It’s such a nice old neighborhood too. Not fancy, but respectable, good people living on Bell Street. I met a lot of them over the past fifty years. Now I guess it’s dangerous. What do you call that? Urban decay?”
“Actually, Bell Street seems to be upgrading. I think the neighborhood’s safe, but we’re not a hundred percent sure about Dwayne’s role. Which is why Lilith, if she agrees, will be working with me, and neither of us will be in the house alone, whether he’s there or not.”
“I can come too,” Rose said. “I have a great scream.”
“Are you serious?” Lilith said, giving her a hug. “We need you here on cookie detail.”
“Oh fine. Break my heart. Better build your strength with this latest batch,” Rose said.
I reached for my first one. “I hear they’re full of vitamin CH.”
Lilith said through a mouthful of cookies, “Chocolate’s my favorite vitamin. So, you want to start today?”
“Can’t. I have to get ready for a baby shower.”
“A baby shower. What! You’re not?”
I recoiled. “Me? No, not me, of course not. How would I be? I mean, I’m not even…”
Lilith said, “Oops, a sore point. Sorry.”
“No, it is not a sore point. I am very happy with my life,” I said somewhat shrilly. “I have my dogs. I have my friends. I have my job, which I love.”
“Except when your clients end up involved in a murder.”
“Except then, yes.”
“It’s starting to become a habit.”
“Twice does not mean a habit. And the two situations are quite different.”
“Okay, I’m going to stop putting my foot it in,” Lilith said. “So whose baby shower is it?”
“Sally’s.”
Lilith squealed and did a little dance. “Really? That’s great. I love Sally. Do you think I could come?”
“Why not?” I said. “Everyone else wants to. Seven at Sally’s.”
Rose cleared her throat. “Sally and I have a history, you know. Doing some joint snooping on your behalf.”
“Ah yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I never thought. Would you like to come too, Rose?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for asking. Lilith and I can get out there together. Good thing I made those cookies.”
“I can run out and get something from Rose and me.” Lilith seemed even more excited than Rose. They were both considerably more excited than I was.
“See you there,” I said, trying not to grumble.
Many times your best bet is to visit the public library. This was one of those times. My next stop was the Woodbridge Public Library. My favorite librarian, Ramona, was where I wanted her: at the reference desk. She was wearing her trademark denim. Today that meant an ankle-length slim skirt with some exotic embroidery down the side and a delphinium blue top that looked spectacular with her silver brush cut.
“Glad to see you, Charlotte,” she said. “You always perk things up around here. I see you’re back in the news again. So what can we do for you today?”
“I’m looking for city directories for Woodbridge. I want to find out who lived at 7 Bell Street in the early eighties.”
“Sure thing, Charlotte,” she said. “Lived? Hmm. We only have the current one. But tell me what you’re looking for and I might be able to find it somewhere else. One of our libraries has a great historical collection.”
You can always count on Ramona.
I filled her in on Emmy Lou Wright’s name and the likely years.
She said, “There was a big to-do on Bell Street yesterday.”
“Right.”
“Coincidence? Not that I’m supposed to ask these things.”
“It’s probably a waste of your time and mine. We’ll never find it.”
“Never s
ay never,” Ramona said. “Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do. If it’s public information, we might be able to track it some other way.”
“What about the name of the person who owns the lots being redeveloped on that street? Can you find that?”
“Sure. That should be a matter of public record. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks for everything.”
“Think nothing of it. Have fun at the shower tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Ramona showed her wicked librarian grin. “All part of the service. We’re thinking of putting up a sign: ‘We know everything, including your business.’ What do you think?”
Welcome back to Woodbridge, Charlotte, I thought, the small community where, if you don’t know what you’re doing at any given time, ask the first person you see.
Maybe it was crazy but I buzzed over to Bell Street in the Mini. I knocked on Bonnie’s door. She looked even worse than she had during my earlier visit, but her eyes lit up when she saw me. In that minute, I realized how lonely she must be, starting a new life, new business, new town, while battling MS.
“I heard about your car. That’s terrible.”
“Don’t tell me that was on the news.”
She shook her head. “No, Bill ran into your friend Jack outside the shop. I can’t believe anyone around here would slash your tires. I guess I might have believed that Tony would have. But of course, he’s the one person who couldn’t have. It’s so distressing. Is there some lunatic in the area? Maybe that’s who killed Tony. We were starting to settle in and now this. Bill thinks it might be Dwayne trying to keep you away. But why would Dwayne ask you to work for him and then slash your tires?”
“You’re right. I doubt that it’s Dwayne. But I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it soon. I don’t think you should worry at all. The hostility seems to be aimed at me. Everyone’s mad. The Dingwalls. The guy across the street who may or may not be Emmy Lou’s father.”
Bonnie grimaced. “I’ve seen him. He looks miserable. And his wife always seems like a beaten dog. If I even see him so much as raise a hand to her, I’ll have the cops on him.”
“It does seem awfully coincidental that my tires were slashed after I was talking to him. Of course, speaking of cops, maybe one of them did it.”
Bonnie blinked.
“Just kidding,” I said, “although the detective in charge does hate me. But then, so do the media. But anyway, enough about murder. Any chance you can rescue me with a supply of something fun for a last-minute baby shower? We don’t know boy or girl yet.”
“That’s fun. And I have the ticket. I have some blueberry cupcakes and some raspberry cupcakes. So we have pink and blue, and for good measure I can throw in some nice neutral but tangy lemon meringue. How’s that? And maybe a few chocolate. For good luck. This is good for me too.”
Bonnie refused to take a cent for the cupcakes, although I pushed it. “You had your tires slashed on my street,” she said, “and I want to make up for it in some small way.”
“But—”
She raised a shaky hand. “No buts.”
I left looking on the bright side. At this rate, I might never have to learn how to bake.
Put a teaspoon of ground cinnamon
in your vacuum cleaner bag to cut pet odors.
Save time, money, and storage space.
How organized is that?
14
Margaret’s glower was the first thing I spotted when Jack and I got to the shower. She’d arrived before us and was perched on Sally’s white leather sofa, surrounded by Barbie dolls and Thomas the Tanks. Her legs were crossed, and one foot was tapping dangerously. I checked around for tricky and protruding Lego projects. I hate sitting on them. There was no sign of Sally, but I heard screeching children from upstairs and the thundering of tiny hooves as the kids raced to escape bedtime.
Truffle and Sweet Marie stuck close to me, probably worried that children would materialize and pull their long silky ears.
“I thought this was the three of us, nice and relaxing,” Margaret hissed. “Then Jack had to invite himself. And now Lilith and Rose are here too.”
“And I thought the kids would be in bed. Anyway, what are you talking about, you love Jack.”
She made a face. “Love would be pushing it.”
“And Lilith is wonderful. So is Rose. Chill out,” I whispered.
“I was hoping for wine and confidences, no party crashers.”
“Consider yourself lucky: I forgot to tell Pepper. I’ve had, as you know, not the best day.”
“And you forgot to tell me we were all supposed to bring some food.”
“It’s a shower. Everyone brings food. Otherwise there wouldn’t be more than we could eat and that wouldn’t be as much fun, would it?”
Margaret stared at me. “It is my first shower, so I don’t know all the arcane rules.”
“It’s not actually a shower, as I keep explaining to you. You don’t need to worry.”
Margaret sniffed. “I’ll worry if I want to.”
I set out my cupcakes on pretty plates in the dining room, next to Rose’s mountain of Toll House cookies. I wanted to give Margaret time to get over her hissiness. She seemed to recover quickly: that might have been because Lilith had made Rice Krispies squares. Margaret, Lilith, and Jack were sitting around getting ready to trash-talk anyone who wasn’t in the room. I made sure to get back soon. “You should too, Rose,” I said. “No one is safe from them.”
Sally, who can manage to look gorgeous even when hugely pregnant, tiptoed down the stairs holding her crossed fingers to her lips.
Jack said, “Open my gift first.”
I glared at him and lowered my voice to say, “You are supposed to drag it out at a shower. Not thrust gifts at people before they even know it’s a shower.” It was bad enough that Jack was a newbie, but a useless newbie was something else entirely.
“A gift!” Sally bubbled, shaking her blonde curls. “I love gifts! Where is it?”
“I didn’t do a great job wrapping it,” Jack said. “Then it blew around a bit on the roof of the car. Kind of wrecked the paper.”
“Wow, that is so thoughtful of you, Jack.” Sally bent forward as far as her belly would allow her and whipped the messy paper off the lumpy present.
“Oh really,” I muttered to Margaret. “He’s lost it. The baby’s not even born yet. What is he or she going to do with a bicycle?”
“It’s a gender-neutral color,” Jack said proudly.
I said out loud, “Yes, but a baby can’t ride a bicycle. Even if it is yellow.”
Jack said huffily, “It’s a tricycle, Charlotte. Three wheels. And it’s only a matter of time until the baby can ride it. Do you know if it’s a he or she, Sal?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Sally said. “Healthy baby, that’s the order form I filled out.”
“This is great. I’ve never been to a shower before,” Jack said. “When do we eat?”
“What did you say? Shower? Is this a shower?” Sally squealed.
“It is now,” I grumbled.
Sally said, “I love showers! So I say we eat after I open the gifts. My shower, my rules.”
Margaret stood up. “Me next!”
“It’s Margaret’s first shower too,” Jack said.
The floppy bunny was a huge hit, and Margaret shot me a little smirk. I guess I had it coming. Not everyone was as disenchanted with fuzzy plush critters as I was.
“Actually, it’s my first too,” Lilith said. That wasn’t much of a surprise since I knew that there probably hadn’t been many when she was homeless. She passed over a lilac envelope. I wasn’t sure that Lilith could afford to buy shower gifts, but the girl’s got heart.
Sally opened it and screamed. Nobody screams like Sal. “You angel!”
Lilith said, “I didn’t know what to get you and I thought this would come in handy.” Lilith flushed as Sally passed around the homemade certificate f
or two afternoons free babysitting. We were all filled with admiration and probably a bit of relief since Sally would need a break and Margaret and I would be absolutely hopeless with anything babylike.
“Will you look at that! Jemima Puddle-Duck,” Sally said enthusiastically as she got to my offering. She began leafing through the Beatrix Potter books. “I haven’t seen these books since I was a kid. You had them all, Charlotte. You had so many wonderful children’s books. I wasn’t allowed to have books in my house. Too messy.”
Oh crap. I hoped we weren’t going to play the my-dysfunctional-family-trumps-your-dysfunctional-family game again.
Rose cleared her throat. “I am afraid that I stole Lilith’s idea of a certificate. Mine will get you home-cooked meals delivered on whatever days Lilith takes care of your little ones. So you can rest or go out with your friends and come home and not worry about dinner. I remember what it is like to be a young mother with twenty-one meals a week hanging over my head like a…” She paused.
Jack said, “Sword of Damocles?”
Sally said, “Grand piano on a fraying rope?” She lurched out of her chair, lumbered across the room, and gave Rose a bear hug.
Once we’d hit the dining room and heaped plates with cookies, squares, and cupcakes, we returned to the comfortable sofas and big easy chairs in Sally’s living room and the focus shifted to my latest problem. You know, the usual: dead body, client in jail, evil pictures of me flashing hourly on every television screen, possibly dangerous assignment, same old, same old. Theories flew. Of course, everyone’s preconceptions colored their opinions.
Jack said, “Charlotte thinks Emmy Lou’s parents live across the street. Maybe she wanted to protect them.”
He would think that. Jack’s parents had been a pair of Tweedledum and Tweedledee twins, simple, warm, and affectionate. They’d been the ones with the homemade pancakes and fresh preserves. Jack’s mom had treated Sally and Margaret and me as if we were the girls she’d always wanted and never had. For our birthdays we each got a special treat: marble layer cake with coins wrapped in waxed paper baked into it. And sparklers. One for each year and one for good luck. Jack’s dad fixed the flat tires on our bicycles. Jack’s mom wiped our tears and gave each of us misfits hugs when we needed them. One year she made everyone Halloween costumes. Our own mothers had more important things to deal with.
The Cluttered Corpse Page 15
