by B R Snow
“That shouldn’t be a problem if you have the cops with you,” she said.
“I can’t take them with me,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because they both have the flu,” I said, frowning.
“Ooh, you were so close,” Josie said, laughing. “Well, it was a good try.”
I sat quietly fuming on the couch, fiddling with the access card. Then my neurons landed on something I hadn’t expected, and I broke into a wide grin.
“I need to run out for a while,” I said, standing up.
“In this weather?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m not going that far.”
“Suzy,” she said, her voice rising in warning.
“Relax,” I said, heading for the door. Then I stopped and turned around. “Max said he’d probably be home in time to shower and change for dinner. If I don’t make it back by the time you guys are ready to go, just head to Jennifer’s place. I’ll meet you there.”
“And what do I tell Max when he asks where you are?”
“Just tell him I headed out to handle some housekeeping chores.”
“Suzy, Max is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Please don’t start lying to him.”
“I’m not lying.”
Chapter 16
I punched the address for High-End Housekeeping into my navigation system and followed the directions closely while keeping two hands tight on the wheel and my eyes fixed on the road. The snow continued to fall and accumulate, and I drove slowly. The weather was keeping a lot of people off the roads, and I pulled into the unplowed parking lot directly in front of a one-story building that was located in a mini-mall not far from Max’s house. I stamped the snow off my feet, then headed inside where I found the place empty. I headed for the counter and tapped a bell sitting next to a computer.
“Oh, hi,” a woman said, approaching the counter from the back. “I didn’t hear you come in. I was actually just getting ready to close for the day. How bad is it out there?”
“Bad and getting worse, I’m afraid,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Suzy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Suzy. I’m Georgette. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to talk with you about signing up for your services,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“Certainly,” she said, smiling. “I can help you with that. Follow me.”
I walked around the counter and followed her into a large office. She gestured for me to take a seat.
“Nice digs,” I said, glancing around. “You must be the boss.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, beaming. “I started the business several years ago. How did you hear about us?”
“A friend of mine recommended you,” I said. “John Naylor.”
“Oh, Mr. Naylor,” she said, grimacing. “What happened at his place was a horrible tragedy.”
“It certainly was,” I said, nodding. “I hope things settle down soon.”
“He called earlier,” Georgette said. “Apparently, he’ll be able to move back in sometime tomorrow.”
“That will make him very happy.”
“Unfortunately, his regular housekeeper, Svetlana, won’t be back until next week. She was so distraught about what happened, I gave her some time off.”
“That was very nice of you,” I said.
“Well, she’s one of my best people. And she deserves a break. But I’m sure Mr. Naylor will be more than happy with the replacement I’m sending over.”
“I’m sure he will. When will she be coming?”
Georgette paused and raised an eyebrow at me.
“I only ask because we need to reschedule a photo shoot,” I said, deflecting. “But we’ll be able to work around your schedule.”
“I see,” she said, putting her glasses on and tapping her keyboard. “Let me just confirm that. She’ll be there the day after tomorrow.” She removed her glasses and set them down on her desk.
“Perfect,” I said. “That should work just fine.”
“Now, about your housekeeping needs. Are we talking about an apartment or a house?”
“It’s a house. My boyfriend’s house, actually,” I said, giving her a coy smile. “He’s not the best housekeeping in the world. And truth be told, neither am I.”
“I see,” she said, handing me a brochure. “Our rates and range of services are all outlined in there. Just take a look and let me know what you’ll need. Or if you wish, you can discuss it with your boyfriend and give me a call in a day or two. We’ll be able to handle everything over the phone.”
She glanced out the window at the storm and frowned.
“I really should get going,” she said. “My street always seems to be one of the last ones plowed.”
“I understand,” I said. “I do have one question though.”
“Go right ahead,” she said, sneaking another peek out the window.
“My boyfriend has some very serious allergies,” I said. “It seems like he’s allergic to everything.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So, if it’s not too much to ask, would it be possible for me to take a look at the cleaning products you use?”
It wasn’t my best effort, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice.
“You want to look at our cleaning products?” Georgette said, giving me her best what planet are you from stare.
“Yes, I have a list of everything he’s allergic to. And a lot of them are commonly found in various cleaning products. I’m assuming that your staff picks up the products they use from here.”
“They do,” she said, nodding. “We standardized all our cleaning products a few years ago, and I keep all the inventory here.”
“Smart. Buying in bulk from one supplier, right?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, still staring at me in disbelief.
“We do the same thing with our business.”
“Good for you,” she said, shaking her head as she got up from her chair. “I suppose I have a few minutes. If you’ll follow me into the warehouse.”
I hopped up out of my seat and walked next to her as we entered an area that took up about three-quarters of the overall space. I noticed a wide variety of products on shelves, a large collection of brooms and mops, and finally spotted what I was looking for.
“This is one of our all-purpose cleaning products,” Georgette said, handing me a plastic bottle. “All the ingredients are listed on the back.”
“Geez, that’s a small font,” I said, squinting at the bottle. “I left my glasses in the car. You wouldn’t have a pair of readers I could borrow, would you?”
She patted her pockets, then frowned.
“I must have left them in my office. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks so much,” I said, calling after her, then whispered to myself. “Probably not my best moment.”
I made a beeline for the racks of uniforms with the High-End Housekeeping logo embroidered across the left breast. I snatched one off a rack and stuffed it into my bag. Moments later, Georgette returned and handed me her glasses. I put them on, and my world turned fuzzy. I rocked on my feet, then stared at the bottle I was holding.
“Do they work for you?” she said.
“Close enough,” I said, staring at three blurry bottles. “Yes, this looks fine.” I removed the glasses and handed them back. “Are the rest of your products all from the same manufacturer?”
“They are,” she said, fidgeting with her glasses. “I’m sure you’ll find that all our products are all natural and environmentally sound.”
“Great,” I said, glancing around. “Well, that should do it. Thanks so much. Maybe we should get on the road, huh?”
“Yes, I think we should. It was nice meeting you, Suzy. Just give me a call after you and your boyfriend decide what you need.”
“We’ll do that. Drive safe,” I said, waving as I headed back toward the entrance. “I am s
o going to hell.” I chastised myself as I went out the door then shrugged. “At least it’ll warmer down there.”
Chapter 17
My original plan for the day had been to have a quick chat with Melinda’s roommate, head back to Max’s place to hang out with Josie, then have a nice dinner at Jennifer’s. But the hand of fate had intervened, and I was now driving toward John Naylor’s building wondering if my plan to get past security would work.
Some of you may not be buying my hand of fate argument, but how else do you explain the fact that in the space of twenty minutes, the roommate had turned over Melinda’s journal, a collection of personal reflections I was sure held the key to what was going on, as well as the access card to Naylor’s loft. And despite my personal resolution about taking a step back to let the cops take the lead and do their thing, both Bill and Shirley were flat on their backs in bed with the flu.
As I drove, I realized that my new resolution about trying to mind my own business had produced an unusual side effect. Several nagging questions bounced around my head that sounded a lot more like warnings than they did ways to solve the question of who was trying to kill John Naylor. I did my best to push them away and focus on the task at hand, but my neurons were relentless, and I frowned and gripped the steering wheel even tighter when I finally realized what was happening.
Wonder of wonders, when it came to my crime-solving efforts, apparently, the Snoopmeister was developing a bit of conscience. Now, instead of merely having to deal with Josie and my mom’s carping, I was being forced to confront several nagging questions bubbling up from my subconscious. And if there’s one thing I hate more than out of control neurons, it’s when they start debating with each other.
Why don’t you just turn over what you have, then get out of the way and let the cops do their thing?
I got this question from Josie and my mom all the time, and I quickly swatted it back with one from the other side of my brain.
Who knows how long they’ll be out of commission?
They could easily end up being sick for a week, and the murder trail could turn cold by then. Besides, I needed to get home in a couple of days and couldn’t wait around a week for Bill and Shirley to get back on their feet.
Take that, restless-leg neuron.
Fair enough, but why the need to sneak into Naylor’s loft tonight?
Easy one. Since Naylor was moving back in tomorrow, this would be my last chance to take an unfettered look around the place. Whether he was involved in the murder or not, I didn’t imagine he would appreciate me snooping around his loft for a secret that Melinda might have hidden in plain view.
And I already have plans to be in the neighborhood for dinner, right?”
Okay, now that one’s a bit of a stretch.
Perhaps, but technically accurate.
But how do you explain the ruse you pulled on the owner of the housekeeping service? Not to mention the fact that you stole one of her uniforms.
I tapped the steering wheel with my fingers while I tried to formulate an adequate response. Unable to come up with anything convincing, I nodded and conceded the point.
Yeah, that definitely wasn’t my best moment.
Which leads us to the real question. How are you planning on getting past the security desk?
Just watch.
I grinned and reached for my phone. I called information for the number, put the phone on speaker, then slid it into the dashboard holder.
“This is the Wilkerson. Security desk. How can I help you?”
I didn’t recognize the voice but needed to confirm that the security guard I’d met during our initial visit wasn’t working.
“Is Walt there?”
“No, he’s off today.”
“That’s great.”
“What?”
“I mean, good for Walt. He deserves a day off.”
“I guess,” the confused man said. “How can I help you?”
“I’m calling from High-End Housekeeping.”
“Sure, how’s it going?”
“Great. Look, we need to make a slight change to our schedule, so I thought we should give you a call,” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“What sort of change?”
“We were originally scheduled to have one of our housekeepers there the day after tomorrow to clean John Naylor’s loft.”
“Hang on a sec,” he said, then began tapping his keyboard. “Yes, I see it here.”
“Well, he just called us and let us know that the police have given him the go-ahead to move back in tomorrow,” I said, slowing down as I approached the building.
“Yes, I heard,” the guard working the desk said. “So, what do you need to change?”
“Mr. Naylor has requested that someone come over tonight and get the place cleaned up.”
I held my breath as I waited for his response.
“Tonight? In this weather?”
“Yes, our staff member says she’s comfortable making the drive. And we’re going to make it worth her while. The Wilkerson residents are very important customers, and we like to keep them all happy.”
“I guess that won’t be a problem,” the man said. “She knows that she’ll need to sign in with me before she goes up to his place, right?”
“She does indeed,” I said, grinning.
“Okay, thanks for calling.”
I ended the call, turned my signal on, then made a right into the guest parking lot. I parked, glanced around to make sure I wasn’t being watched, then hopped out and quickly removed my sweater and jeans. Goosebumps appeared immediately all over my body, and I rubbed my arms and legs then pulled the High-End Housekeeping uniform over my head. It was way too big, and I had to cinch it around the waist with my belt. I shivered then pulled my coat on and took a quick look at myself in the driver side mirror.
“Close enough,” I said, tossing my jeans and sweater on the passenger seat.
I locked the car, grabbed my bag, then headed for the elevator that would take me to the lobby. I glanced around when I got out of the elevator and noticed the first floor was empty. Everybody’s probably hunkered down because of the storm I decided as I walked toward the security desk. The guard looked up when I approached the desk.
“Hi,” I said, giving him my best smile. “I’m here to clean John Naylor’s place. High-End was supposed to call and let you know.”
“They just called,” he said, sliding a clipboard toward me. “I’ll just need you to sign in.”
I scribbled an illegible Sally Jones on the page then slid the clipboard back. The guard stared at it, then glanced up at me with a frown.
“I can’t read it,” he said.
“Sorry. I have terrible penmanship. I’m Sally Jones,” I said, flashing him a weak smile.
“Sally Jones,” he said, typing the name into the computer. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. You been with High-End long?”
“No, I’m pretty new,” I said.
“Okay, you’re all set,” he said, smiling. “Don’t work too hard.”
“Thanks,” I said, making a beeline for the elevators.
“Hey! Hang on a sec.”
I froze in my tracks and shook my head. Busted. And I’d gotten so close to pulling it off.
“You mind doing me a favor?” the security guard said.
I turned around and walked back to the desk.
“What do you need?”
“We’ve been holding Mr. Naylor’s mail down here. I was going to drop it off later, but since you’re going up would you mind taking it with you?”
“Not at all,” I said, exhaling audibly.
I grabbed the stack of mail that had a large rubber band around it, then headed for the elevators. When the doors opened on the fifth floor, I did my best lumber down the hall until I reached Naylor’s loft. I slowly slid the access card into the slot and held my breath until I heard the click. I pushed the door open, flicked the kitchen light switch on, then hung my coat on on
e of the hooks. I walked to the center of the loft, glanced around, and noticed that the drapes that ran along the wall of windows were closed.
I decided that if Melinda had left something hidden in plain sight, either the bedroom or Naylor’s office were the most logical choices. I started in the bedroom, turned the light on, and got a good look at myself in the mirror and shook my head.
“Wow,” I said, staring at the baggy uniform that hung off me like a sheet accented with thick woolen socks sticking out of the tops of my work boots. “Sexy.”
I spent several minutes checking inside the table lamps, behind the cabinets and dressers, and underneath the bed, all locations, I soon decided, that the cops must have already searched extensively. I took a look in Naylor’s closet that ran the length of the bedroom and thought about doing a search through his clothes. But my conscience suggested that would be way out of bounds, so I turned the light off and headed for his office.
I slowly worked my way through the Japanese screens and frowned in the darkness as I tried to remember the office layout and location of the light switch. Then I took a step to my right and tripped over something. The clattering of metal on metal reverberated through the loft, and I ended up flat on my back buried underneath several unfamiliar items.
“Smooth,” I whispered in the dark.
I got to my knees and reached up, fumbling for the light switch. Then the office was bathed in light, and I saw I’d tripped over three portable lights and a couple of reflector boards that had been in the far corner of the office the last time I’d been here. Other than that, everything else in the office seemed to be in the same spot.
I got to my feet and glanced around as I tried to formulate a game plan. But first, I needed to put the lights back to where they’d been before I’d fallen over them. I reached for one of the lights that had tripod legs and carefully positioned it on the hardwood floor. I grabbed another light, this one with a large, round base and picked it up. I turned it over in my hands until it was vertical and gently set it down on the floor.
I was about to reach for the remaining light when I stopped. Unsure about the sound I’d heard when I’d set the second light down, I picked it up again and turned it horizontally, then flipped it vertically. A soft scraping sound I assumed was also metal on metal was followed by a gentle thud. I rotated the light in my hands, then shook it. The soft rattle the shake produced set my neurons on fire. I sat down on the floor and examined the long aluminum tube that was attached to the heavy metal pedestal. I twisted the base with a grunt, then it gave, and I unscrewed it. Eventually, the pedestal dropped into my hands, and a small storage device fell out of the hollow tube and clattered on the floor. Stunned, I stared at the device then picked it up and tossed it into my bag.
