Atlas barked and raced after him, always eager to join in the excitement.
I smiled and set to unpacking the groceries. That reaction was almost worth asking Laura for money.
An hour later the garlic bread was in the oven and the no-bake ziti was ready to eat, but the company still hadn’t shown up. I called Marty’s cell to check on their ETA, but hung up when it went to voicemail.
“Relax Uncle Scrooge,” Neil murmured as he took plates down and handed them to Kenny. “Their flight was probably delayed.”
Like a stalker, I peered out the window at the house next door searching for any signs of life. “And where the heck is Sylvia? She was supposed to call me after her doctor’s appointment damn it all.”
“Is Aunt Sylvia sick?” Kenny asked and held up his hands for me to examine.
“No, Sport. It was just a checkup. Yuck, your fingernails are filthy. Go wash again and this time use warm water and soap.”
Kenny groaned and skulked off to the bathroom.
“Maggie, relax.” Neil wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me away from the window. “I can’t believe you’re so excited to meet Penny’s family.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, they are family now, sort of. I should get the cloth napkins ironed.”
“Still,” Neil kissed the side of my neck, holding me still. It was difficult to think, never mind stress while he was doing that. “You’re going to a lot of trouble to make a good impression for Marty’s sake.”
I turned in his arms. “We’re his only family Neil. It’s up to me, to all of us to show them Marty comes from good stock.”
He lifted my chin and searched my face. “I see you, Maggie.”
He did see me too, saw that all my neurosis came from a place of deep caring for the people in my life. I wanted everything to be perfect because they, Marty and Penny, Neil and the boys all deserved perfect, even if it was only one dinner’s worth.
My cell phone rang. “Maybe that’s them.” I lunged for my bag.
“Woman, when I get you alone….” Neil let the threat hang and I couldn’t stifle a shiver. It took a minute for me to choke out a hello.
“Maggie? It’s Sarah.”
“Hi, Sarah, what’s up?”
“I saw something.” She whispered the words as if she were afraid someone would overhear her.
“Are you in danger?” I asked and Neil straightened, shoulders squaring off. “Are you at your house? You can call the police or come over here if you’re worried.”
“It’s not me.” Sarah breathed. “It’s those nice old men at Shady Elm. They are going to die.”
“Sarah,” I began but she made a squeaking sound and hung up the phone. I cussed and then related the entire story to Neil.
“To be clear, she’s not in any danger?”
“I honestly don’t know. This is harder to pin down than the whole ghost debacle.”
Neil grimaced at the memory. “Look, tell me what you want me to do. I think Sarah Dale is certifiable, but it’s your call.”
I couldn’t love the man anymore if he were twins. “I’m going to call Shady Elm, check on the crusty old guys. If everything seems copacetic, we’ll leave it be. Who knows, her vision might have been set years down the line.” At least I hoped, though Chester’s poker buddies were pushing their expiration dates.
Just then headlights appeared in the driveway next door. “Shoot, talk about crappy timing.”
“I’ll make the call,” Neil said. “You focus on the company.”
The company descended like a freaking tsunami of teased hair, cheap perfume, and every other sentence ended with some variation of the words, “Bless your pea pickin’ heart.”
“Oh, would ya just look at this cute little house? So quaint, bless your pea picking heart.” Penny’s mother said. “Sugar, you must call me Louise.”
“And such handsome boys. Y'all got all gussied up for us, bless your pea picking hearts.” That was from Jeanine, the middle sister.
Loretta, the youngest didn’t say much until Neil returned to the room, then it was all “Hello, sailor.”
“Former sailor.” He corrected her with a smile. Then met my eye and gave me a nod. Everything was as it should be at Shady Elm.
Loretta giggled like she’d been dosed with nitrous oxide. “Bless your pea pickin’ heart.”
And so it went. Mae sneezed whenever Grandma Louise held her, probably from the toxic combination of cosmetics and hairspray. I offered to hold her but Jeanine swooped in and carried the baby off like some bedazzled bird of prey.
“Who’s hungry?” I asked a bit desperately.
“It sure smells good, Maggie.” This from Penny who looked worlds better than she had a few days ago. More like her old self, dolled up, if not to the same war paint as her family.
“What are we having, sis?” Marty’s expression was a tad strained around the eyes but he held Penny’s hand the entire time.
“It’s a new recipe I found. No-bake ziti.”
The three newcomers sucked in a collective breath.
“What?” I asked a bit desperately. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh honey,” Loretta patted my hand as if I were a simpleton. “You eat carbs? Bless your pea pickin’ heart.”
Chapter Seventeen
The company wore out their welcome long before they left for the night. Technically speaking they didn’t leave so much as depart and then pop back in to use the facilities since the bathroom on the RV didn’t work. After the third “Knock knock, just me again” from Penny’s mother, I retired and immediately lapsed into an exhausted sleep.
Unfortunately, I woke at three in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. Not wanting to disturb Neil I got out of bed, tripped over Atlas and inelegantly made my way out to the kitchen. Jeanine was asleep on the fold-out so I turned on a pot of coffee and, for lack of anything better to do, decided to clean out my shoulder bag.
I’d sorted through the envelope full of coupons, the receipts, and tossed the used tissues when I found the book I’d accidentally lifted from Chester Dale’s bedroom. Oops, I’d forgotten all about that.
Shoot, the donation truck had cleared all the books out already. Maybe I could just donate it to the local library. Checking to make sure there were no personal photos lodged between the pages I flipped the small tome open, only to discover handwritten pages.
I turned from one to the next, realizing that what I’d thought had been an old novel was actually one of those mega fancy address books. The handwriting was neat and clear, not exactly elegant but definitely legible. I found Bert Grayson’s address with a neat diagonal line through it and a notation to see Shady Elm’s address. Flipping back a few I recognized Donald Dale’s name, though his address was still listed as the one Mackenzie had dug up that the man had shared with his wife, not his coed lover/ baby mama.
Well, it was a good thing I checked, Sarah might want to keep this at least. I was about to close the book when a familiar address caught my eye. My neighborhood, though I didn’t recognize the name. Dr. J. Davenport. Could this have been Chester’s personal physician?
Closing the book I shoved it aside and tried to ignore my bouncing knee and the equally idiotic notion spinning through my overly agitated brain. Pushing away from the table, I made my way into the open office area and booted up the computer. Fifteen minutes later I’d found two Doctor Davenports in the greater Boston area. One was a fertility expert and the other a retired GP. Considering Chester’s age, I doubted he was interested in having a baby. So maybe the other Dr. Davenport had come out of retirement to work as a private physician for Chester. He’d been the one to sign Chester’s death certificate. I was so absorbed in thought that I didn’t know Neil had snuck up behind me until he put a hand on my shoulder.
“What’s going on, Uncle Scrooge?”
A feminine murmur came from the living room and I headed for the back yard.
Always needing to be the first one through any d
oor, Atlas charged out into the night. Neil’s eyebrows went up when I followed and beckoned him to come out too.
“I want to go see Chester Dale’s doctor. They live on Hilltop Lane.”
“Now?” Neil asked. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
“You have to go to work in the morning,” I told him. “I just want to see where this guy lives. Just a quick drive-by. I won’t do anything screwy.”
He let out a breath. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”
Immediately I felt guilty. The man did have to go to work in a few hours, he shouldn’t have to babysit my restless hide. “You don’t have to—"
He put a hand over my mouth. “The longer you fight me on this, the longer it’ll take to go there and come back. There’s an adult here with the boys. Let’s just load Atlas in the car and go.”
I made a face, having forgotten about the big hairy baby who would howl the house down if we took off without him. “Needy beast,” I murmured and then ducked back in to grab his leash and my car keys.
Neil got behind the wheel and I scrunched my seat up as far as it would go to make room for Atlas. In the back. Of course, halfway down the block, he decided he’d rather sit on my lap. When an animal the size of Atlas decides he’s going to park it on your lap, the best thing to do is suck in as much air as possible and just go with it. My ribs creaked under the strain. Even with the choice seating he panted and drooled and whined—pretty much the canine equivalent of are we there yet? Luckily, it was a short ride.
“Back,” Neil snapped as he parked the car and the dog immediately got off me. “Don’t let him do that, Maggie. He’ll hurt you.”
“Like I had a choice in the matter?” I coughed and tested my lungs to make sure they would fully inflate. “Is that the house?”
We sat across the street from a modified Cape Cod with white trim and immaculate flower beds. A tan SUV sat in the driveway and the license plate read M.D. A flickering blue light came from one of the downstairs rooms, most likely a television. No other lights on, other than an outside floodlight that fell across the begonias. “Hmmm.”
“Not what you were expecting?” Neil tilted his head.
“Considering the Dales wealth, no. It looks very middle class.”
“Well, he’s a doctor, not a corporate attorney,” Neil said, tongue-in-cheek.
He put the Mini in drive and was about to pull away from the curb when I put a hand on his forearm. “Wait.”
He blew out a sigh. “What for. We’ve seen the place.”
“Look at the car,” I muttered.
Neil looked and I saw the moment he noticed the For Sale sign. “Oh no.”
“It can’t hurt to take it for a test drive. And we are in the market for a car.” I had my phone out and was punching in the number.
“You can’t call about it now,” Neil said. “It’s the middle of the night!”
“Sssh,” I said. “It’ll probably go to voicemail. I’ll just leave a message and—”
“Hello?” A raspy male voice picked up.
“Hi. Sorry to disturb you, but I drove past your house earlier and I was interested in the SUV you have up for sale? I meant to call earlier but my husband works graveyard and I was wondering if I could take it for a test drive?”
“Now?” The man sounded surprised, which made sense given the hour.
“If you don’t mind. I don’t want it to get sold out from under my nose.” I intentionally made my voice lighter than usual. Better if the good doctor thought I was an inconsiderate airhead than a nosy neighbor.
A chuckle carried through the line. His voice, though rough as sandpaper, was carefully accent-less, as if he’d taken elocution lessons. “It’s fine. I don’t sleep much these days anyhow. Come by anytime.”
I hung up the phone and smiled at Neil.
“What are you doing?” My husband growled.
“Hey, you said it yourself, we need a second car. Don’t worry, I’ll take Atlas with me. And you can follow us in the Mini.”
I snagged Atlas’s leash but Neil grabbed me by the front of my shirt and let out a string of profanity that would be a blue ribbon winner in any county fair.
“It’ll be all right,” I told him. “Trust me.”
“I do. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.” He pulled me to him and kissed the everlasting gobstoppers out of me.
Breathless with my giant dog in tow, I made my way across the street.
“That was fast,” Doctor Davenport murmured when he opened the door. He was in his late sixties, with tufts of white hair and twinkling blue eyes. Add another thirty pounds and a beard and he would have made a convincing Santa Claus.
I extended the hand that wasn’t holding Atlas. “I really need a car. Maggie Phillips.”
Doctor Davenport frowned. “Phillips? I swear I’ve heard that name before. You live around here?”
“Not far,” I kept my answer intentionally vague then changed the subject. “Sorry about the hour, I have trouble sleeping.”
“You’re not alone in that.” Keys in hand, Davenport locked his front door then shuffled toward the SUV. “I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night.”
No wonder he hadn’t been put out over the hour. I waited until he remotely opened the SUV and held the door for me. He didn’t ask why I’d brought my dog, though he frowned when Atlas leaped into the passenger’s seat. I snapped my fingers and the dog skulked into the back.
The SUV started up easily enough and I backed it out of the driveway with ease.
* * *
“Smooth ride,” I commented as we moved down the street. Neil and my Mini sat idling a few houses down and I spotted him doing a broken K turn to follow us. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you selling?”
He shrugged. “It’s a pain in the rump to park, too much vehicle for just me. I was going to give it to my daughter, but she just bought herself a brand new Audi. She’s a doctor, like her old man.”
So the two doctor Davenports were related. It took a great deal of effort not to ask about the Dale family, but I didn’t want to blow my cover. Instead, I took a left onto Viking Ridge Road and murmured, “You must be proud.”
Davenport stared out the window, seeming lost. “She’s all I have in the world. You have kids?”
“Two,” I said, maneuvering through hairpin turns.
He nodded. “I wished we’d had more, but my wife’s health was always an issue, God rest her soul. You know though, you do anything for your kids.”
“Anything,” I agreed and cast him a sideways glance.
He smiled at me and cleared his throat as though embarrassed. “Don’t mind me, I’m just an old fool with too little sleep under his belt.”
“So what kind of doctor are you?” I fished. Neil’s headlights reflected on my face. I bet he’d like this vehicle.
“You ever heard of a concierge doctor?” He asked.
“Oh, for like the rich and famous? Anyone I’d know?”
He chuckled. “Can’t tell you that, doctor-patient confidentiality and all.”
Drat. I was hoping Chester’s posthumous state would have factored in, but Doctor Davenport was obviously a man with integrity. I wondered at his insomniac tendencies, but after a few minutes in his company I had the answer I didn’t even know I’d been looking for—he wasn’t a killer and if there had been anything hinky in Chester Dale’s death, I felt certain he would have informed the police.
We talked car for the rest of the test drive and as we pulled up in front of the house, I handed the keys back over. “It’s a nice vehicle, though I’m afraid a little outside of my budget.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll knock off three thousand. Does that help?”
It did and I blinked, stunned at the offer. “Why would you do that?”
He patted my hand. “Just a friendly discount, from one sleep-deprived friend to another.”
“Wow, thank you. I have to talk to my h
usband about it.”
Davenport chuckled. “That the guy following us in the tiny car?”
I shook my head. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”
He grinned. “Got to get up even earlier in the morning to pull one over on me. I take cash or check, just so you know.”
“I’m worried about Sylvia,” I said to Neil as he climbed out of the SUV in the parking lot of Shady Elm the next afternoon. “I haven’t heard from her since the other day. She missed Penny’s welcome home dinner and she’s not answering her phone.”
“Hello to you, too.” My husband bent down to press his lips against mine.
I kissed him back, some of my tension easing. “Hi. Have I said thank you yet for coming here with me?”
He swatted me on my backside. “You can thank me this weekend after the boys head out. I have big plans for Sunday.”
I wanted to discuss those plans with him in intimate detail, but my apprehension for Sylvia was too consuming. “It isn’t like her to not call me back. She once called me from a hook up while the guy was in the bathroom.”
Neil grimaced slightly, but then his expression turned serious. “Do you think she’s taking a little time to herself do deal with the baby situation? Or, are you afraid she might have been abducted?”
I bit my lip. “I really don’t know. Her car’s gone. Short of driving around town and looking for it, I don’t know what else to do.”
He glanced at his phone, frowned and then looked up at me. “Call Detective Capri and tell her about what happened the other day at the diner.”
“But McKenzie said—”
“Maggie, you might need police help on this one, they have resources you don’t and they’ll treat it more seriously if they know about the attempted abduction. You can call McKenzie first, set her on Sylvia’s trail. She might find her right away and then we don’t have to go to the cops. But if she comes up empty, you’ve got to bring Detective Capri in on it.”
My shoulders slumped. He was right, damn it all. “Okay, I’ll give McKenzie a few hours head start.” Digging through my shoulder bag, I pulled out my wallet, a stack of receipts, coupons, and shopping lists before I found my phone.
Hung Out to Dry: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #4 Page 15
