The Cluttered Corpse

by Mary Jane Maffini

  I shook off the memories of Jack’s parents. Didn’t want to blubber. I said, “Now I’m not so sure if those people are her parents.”

  Jack shot me a puzzled look. “But didn’t Patti Magliaro tell you that they were?”

  “That’s her story, but you all know Patti. She’s a bit…Anyway, when I asked the man across the street if he was Emmy Lou’s father, he turned hostile.”

  Rose had been quiet all evening, but now she piped up. “How would Emmy Lou’s confession protect them, Jack? Do you think the parents killed this boy?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I am trying to find out if they are, to figure what might be going on in Emmy Lou’s mind. She’s obviously not thinking straight.”

  Margaret said, “Call me crazy, but even if they are her parents, most moms and pops would want to be protected from the shame of having their daughter arrested, although that might be my mother’s particular brand of weirdness.”

  Jack shrugged and snagged a couple of Rice Krispies squares. “Could be she thought these guys were threatening them. I mean, your parents, you’d do anything for them.”

  “They’re not her parents,” I said irritably.

  Sally chimed in. “If they are and they’re estranged, I know from my own experience there’ll be bitterness on both sides. She won’t protect them. They won’t protect her.” I noticed the small pained tightening of her mouth. Lot of history in Sally’s life. She added, “But what about that kid next door, what’s his name? Kevin?” She glanced upstairs to where we hoped her own kids were finally sleeping. “He was the one who had the relationship with this Tony. You said she was quite fond of him, Charlotte. Maybe he did it and she’s protecting him.”

  “I don’t think so. He wasn’t even there at the time.”

  “The other neighbor then,” Lilith interjected cheerfully. “Tall? Agitated? What’s his name?”

  “Bill. Bill Baxter.”

  “Didn’t he seem a bit overly involved with Emmy Lou? Like getting in a fight with the other guys over her. That’s nothing if not freaky.”

  I had a bit of trouble with that. “I don’t think he did it. The Baxters were both upset. It seems to have aggravated Bonnie’s medical condition. But even if Bill Baxter had done it—and he certainly had a hate on for Tony—why would Emmy Lou ruin her own perfect life by protecting him?”

  “Maybe they were having an affair,” Sally said, waggling her eyebrows.

  “How do you do that with your eyebrows?” Margaret said. “I’d love to be able to.”

  I sighed. “No. I saw how the Baxters were together. He’s a nervous, irritating guy, but I’d say he truly loves Bonnie.”

  Jack managed to swallow his current Toll House cookie in time to add, “For sure, that was real. I liked watching them together. And those cupcakes could only come from a happy home. I worry about this Dwayne.”

  I said, “Exactly. He’s the one with the most—”

  A voice cut through the air. “You’re leaving out the obvious answer.”

  We all whipped around to face Pepper.

  The room fell silent. Even Truffle and Sweet Marie failed to bark, and they hate Pepper. She was in serious glam mode in a black and white print dress with a crisscross top that showed enough cleavage to cause a serious car accident. She held a pale yellow gift bag, decorated with happy ducks. Curled streamers in pink, blue, and yellow cascaded from the handles. She sat down and crossed her legs confidently, showing off sexy party sandals. If anything, I thought she looked more dangerous than usual. Nick the Stick was behind her, grinning like the goofball he is. I didn’t pay attention to what he was wearing. Usually you can’t see past his handsome, useless face. He had a bottle of red wine tucked under one arm while he hung on to a twelve-pack of Corona. “Hey, guys. The door was open. I guess you didn’t hear us ringing.”

  I ignored him. That has always been the best approach with Nick.

  Sally struggled awkwardly out of her chair. “Pepper, what a surprise! First the shower and now this.”

  Surprise was putting it mildly, of course. Pepper didn’t have much to do with any of her old friends, including Sally, although I was the only one she hated enough to arrest.

  Jack managed to produce a convincing grin. “Hey, Pepper. Nick.” He gave Pepper a bear hug and jabbed Nick playfully on the arm. Jack likes a distraction more than most.

  “What’s the most obvious answer?” I managed to ask.

  “What do you think? A woman confesses to killing a guy who’s been tormenting her. There’s a record of her being harassed by him. End of story. It remains to be seen what the DA will go for, but it will be serious time. But why are you bothering to come up with all these dumb-ass speculations? She’s not protecting anyone. There is no secret. No conspiracy. She’s guilty. Just. Plain. Guilty. Relax and enjoy it.”

  “So,” Nick said, brandishing the twelve-pack, “let’s party.”

  I worked to conceal my dismay over Pepper and Nick’s arrival. I spent a lot of time talking to Margaret. She was busy concealing irritation as well. Sometimes you need a support group.

  “Look at that,” Margaret whispered as Pepper handed over her gift to Sally. Pepper had the strangest expression on her face.

  “What?”

  “She’s got the baby crazies.”

  “Pepper? Oh come on,” I whispered back. “She does not.”

  “Listen, I should know what the baby crazies look like, Charlotte. They run in my family. Big-time.”

  “I’ve never heard of the baby crazies. That’s different. Your mom wants grandchildren for some obscure reason. But Pepper’s a detective. What’s she going to do with a…?”

  Sally cleared her throat and shot us a warning look. “See what Pepper brought for the baby?”

  “It’s from Pepper and Nick.” Pepper linked her arm with Nick’s. Possibly to keep him from bolting, although perhaps that was my imagination.

  “It’s great,” Margaret said. “So…”

  Jack scratched his head. “What exactly is it?”

  “It’s a crib mobile. And these are little bumblebee boots to amuse the baby. See the bells?” Pepper picked up the boots and jingled them a bit. That set Truffle and Sweet Marie off. We had been living on borrowed time in the good-pooch behavior department.

  Jack shouted above the blizzard of barking. “Wow. That’s great. The baby’s going to love them.”

  Sally said, “Never mind the baby, I love them. Thank you, Pepper.”

  “And Nick,” Pepper said.

  Nick looked up from his beer. “What?” He flinched slightly when he caught Pepper’s expression. “The baby. Yeah, great, great news, Sal. Really great. The best.”

  Jack said, “Hey, Pepper, let me show you the bike I got for the baby. How cool is this?”

  Margaret leaned over to me and snickered, “It’s a world gone mad.”

  “You’re telling me. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

  Pepper said, “What are you going to call the baby, Sally?”

  “Depends on whether it’s a boy or a girl, of course, but I haven’t decided.”

  Jack said, “You have a theme going so far: Madison, Dallas, Savannah.”

  “How about Chicago?” Margaret said. “I like that town.”

  “Denver’s nice,” Pepper said.

  “Milwaukee,” Margaret said.

  “Houston is good for a boy,” Pepper said, giving Margaret a dirty look. Luckily Sally pretty well ignored them.

  Margaret is immune to dirty looks. And she doesn’t care if she’s being ignored. “I’m partial to Boise.”

  Pepper rolled her eyes. “Macon is actually a nice name. And a real one.”

  “Whatever you say. Let’s not forget Biloxi.”

  Jack said, “A name is a serious business. Sally could probably use some help.”

  “I’m always serious,” Pepper shot back. “I like Macon and Houston.”

  Margaret said thoughtfully, “There’s always Omaha.�
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  I stood up and made my way to the dining room. “I think I’ll get some more cookies to pass around.”

  I needed a break from what promised to be a litany of place-names. I arranged more treats on a plate, taking as much time as I could. When I turned to go back into the living room, I almost careened into Nick, big, handsome, clueless, and unfortunately blocking my exit. “She’s on the name thing again, isn’t she? She can go on for hours. Sometimes I think I’m going to pass out.”

  Nick responds best to crisp commands. Short words. Unambiguous meanings. Like “Go to hell.” This time I kept it to: “Out of my way, Nick.”

  He reached over and grabbed my wrist. “Come on, Charlie. Talk a bit. You know, old times. High school. You and me. Before things got so messed up.”

  “Move it or lose it.” Staying in the kitchen with Nick was right up there with root canal on my playlist.

  “I’m having another brewski. You gonna join me?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be like that, Charlie. Give me a call sometime and we’ll go for a ride in my ’Stang.”

  The last thing I would ever do was go for a ride in his pride and joy Mustang, or his black Dodge Ram. Nor did I want a tour of the garage he’d built to store his “babies” or a detailed description of the security and video-surveillance systems he had to protect them. Too bad he didn’t put half that energy into making his wife happy.

  I lowered my voice, but only in order to sound more threatening. “Don’t ever call me Charlie again. Let go of me and get out of my way, or you’ll be wearing these cupcakes.”

  “Well,” came a chilly voice from the door, “look who’s here.”

  Nick dropped my hand as if it had ignited.

  I looked Pepper in the eye. “You should feed this boy. I think he’s ready to kill for dessert.”

  Nick managed to look pathetically grateful. “Yeah. Just one, okay? Or two? What’s the good of having them if no one can eat ’em?”

  I moved away from Nick, past Pepper, and toward the living room, but not before I saw the vicious look Pepper delivered Nick. I said over my shoulder, “I hold you responsible, Pepper, to make sure he doesn’t clean the plate before anyone else gets a chance.”

  When I returned to the living room followed by a sheepish Nick and a slow-simmering Pepper, Margaret mouthed the words “baby crazy” one more time.

  “Haven’t you ever wanted a baby, Charlotte?”

  I swiveled my head to stare at Jack.

  “Oops,” he said, “maybe you should keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t make startling comments.”

  “Was that a startling comment? People have been having babies forever. It’s hardly breaking news. I think most people think about it. Don’t you think about it when you go to Sally’s? The way they’re all pink and squirmy and they smell of powder after their baths? And they snuggle up and—look out for that tree!”

  I swerved the Mini back onto the road and tried to concentrate on my driving. “I don’t get those feelings, Jack.”

  “Sally does. Maybe I should drive.”

  “I’m fine to drive.”

  He said, “And I think Pepper does too.”

  “I noticed. I realize it’s normal and a good thing. It’s not for everyone. I love Sally’s kids, but I don’t feel ready for any myself. I’m still trying to be a grown-up.”

  “I guess you have to get over what’s-his-name, that snake, back in the city.”

  “It’s not about him. It’s about me. I don’t even know if I’d make a good mom. I didn’t have such a storybook childhood. And all around me, I see so many problems. I don’t want to add to them.”

  “My childhood was excellent,” Jack said. “I’d like to be able to offer that to another little human.”

  “Margaret and I don’t feel that way. I mean we know you had a great life, and we do know it’s possible, it seems…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Like you say, not for everyone.”

  “Definitely not for Nick. Did you pick up on that?”

  “Oh yeah. But I’m sure Pepper thinks he’s part of her plan.”

  “That’s my point. No wonder Margaret calls it baby crazy.”

  “Anyway, I think you’d make a great mother. So keep an open mind.”

  “I will,” I said as we pulled into the driveway. “But don’t start pulling your philosopher tricks on me.”

  “Aw shucks,” he said.

  “And mind your own business,” I added.

  Jack swiveled in the passenger seat and stared at me. “But you are my business.”

  Keep your shoes in boxes.

  Label each box with a digital photo of the pair that is inside.

  You’ll save time hunting for the right shoes.

  15

  Tuesday morning, Lilith and Rose picked me up at home and deposited me at the Mazda dealership before they peeled off in Rose’s ancient LeMans. We had an hour before we needed to meet Dwayne, and she had plans to take Rose to Hannaford’s for groceries. We agreed to connect at the Rheinbeck house once I confirmed that we were going ahead with the project. I paid for the replacement tires, although I am sure I turned pale when faced with the bill. I made expensive tracks for Bell Street for my ten o’clock meeting with Dwayne. I was ten minutes early, which is the way I like things. I sat in the Mazda and waited. Dwayne’s car was not in the driveway. The top of Emmy Lou’s new Volvo C70 convertible, which remained parked in front of the garage, was already getting a bit dusty. I did my best to feel upbeat about working for him, especially since I’d had two other cancellations besides my former mudroom client.

  At the screech of tires around the corner, I turned to see Dwayne head down the street and then veer into the driveway on two wheels. He slammed on the brakes and barely managed to avoid hitting Emmy Lou’s car. I hurried up the pathway and met him at the door.

  His face was pale and pasty. Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought he’d lost a bit of the shine on his head. I caught the door before it slammed in my face.

  I said, “My colleague should be here any second, but I suppose we can start.”

  I wasn’t even sure he heard that. “You want something to drink?” he said as we entered the living room. He kept going into the kitchen and opened the stainless steel double fridge door.

  “Not for me.”

  “This has been three of the worst days of my life.” He popped open a beer, barreled out of the kitchen area, and slumped on the leather sofa.

  I took a seat on the chair. “I can imagine. Have you found out what’s happening with Emmy Lou?”

  He took a long swig.

  I waited.

  “I’m back from trying to see her. She’s had some kind of collapse. They have her in the psych ward. It’s in a secure facility.”

  “Oh no!” No wonder he was guzzling beer at ten in the morning.

  He ran one hand over his head. “How can this happen? How can you have a beautiful wife one week and then the next you don’t know if she’ll get out of jail? Or if she’ll even be lucky enough to get out of the psychiatric unit and into jail. At least in jail, you can have lawyers, trials, appeals.”

  All of which cost a bundle, I thought. How long would the Rheinbecks hold on to their home, cars, and business if they had to fund a defense? Maybe Dwayne hadn’t gotten that far in his thinking. He certainly seemed frightened for his wife. I would have believed him wholeheartedly, if it hadn’t been for the nagging memory of the girl with the long dark hair and the slinky red dress, and my lingering suspicion that Emmy Lou was protecting Dwayne. Maybe he’d chosen to let her shrivel in some hideous institution for the rest of her life while he went on with his. I had no reason to trust Dwayne Rheinbeck.

  “Explain to me why they moved her to a psychiatric facility.”

  Dwayne stared at me. “Because she’s acting crazy? Saying she killed someone that she couldn’t have? You wouldn’t classify that as some kind
of mental imbalance?”

  I didn’t mention that the lead detective thought Emmy Lou was guilty, not unbalanced. “But mental illness can be a legitimate defense. So it could be good news. Was she showing any signs of instability before all this?”

  “No, nothing.” He slumped a bit more and slammed his beer on the coffee table, spilling a bit. “But what if she was and I missed it? I keep asking myself the same question. What if she was losing it and I was too busy with Wet Paint and the expansion project to notice? You know what? Lately everything was all about me.”

  And maybe a girl in a red dress too, I thought. That might have been enough to send a woman over the edge.

  I said, “Emmy Lou seemed very nervous and jumpy when I met with her to discuss the stuffed animals. She even had a little tic in her eye. Her hands were shaking too.”

  “Oh my God. She was losing it and I didn’t even notice. Too wrapped up in myself.” To tell the truth, he was the picture of misery. Only my suspicions stopped me from giving him a reassuring hug.

  “More to the point,” I added, “she said she was having memory problems. I think that’s another sign of mental distress. Didn’t remember buying some of the toys, that kind of thing. Could have been overload from work.”

  “I missed all that. I can’t believe any of this is happening.” He threw up his hands. “I have no idea how to handle it.”

  “This has been a big shock to you. Do you want to pull the plug on the project?” I asked, expecting a yes.

  “What? No, no. We’ve got to start it. You can’t back out. You have to work with me. Whatever you need. Design. Storage. Display stuff. That way when she gets home, she’ll have something to look forward to.”

  “Oh,” I said, “we can definitely do that. I was wondering about the expense when you’ll have all the legal stuff to worry about.”