Bun in the Oven: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #6

by Jennifer L. Hart

  The warm water helped ease my tension and I took my time toweling off with a big fluffy towel, doing my level best not to think about anything of consequence.

  Neil was waiting for me in our bedroom. “All right. I’ll call Grace.”

  I let out a breath and sagged against him. “Thank you.”

  His body was stiff and still riddled with tension. “I have conditions.”

  If this was a compromise, I’d be glad to meet him halfway. “Go ahead.”

  “One, I don’t want her alone in the house with you or the kids and she’s never to be left alone with the baby. My parents, Leo, Mac or Mackenzie, just someone else needs to be here too. Nonnegotiable.” His face could have been chiseled from granite.

  I could work with that. “Okay.”

  “Number two, she’s not living under this roof. I’ll take off more time at work, the boys will have to help out at night, but Grace is days only and only until you feel you can handle the baby on your own.”

  “Got it.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “Are you sure? Because this isn’t something I want to renegotiate in a week.”

  “I really just need her for labor and delivery. You’re still planning on two weeks after the baby’s born, right?”

  He nodded. “If I can manage it.”

  That should give me more than enough time to recover. “If not, I’ll guilt your mother into lending me Leo.” Not that he knew anything about babies or even liked them, but he could deal.

  Because I couldn’t get up on my toes without risk of overbalancing, I pulled his face down to mine. “Anything else?”

  “Tell Detective Capri about Marty breaking in.”

  And there I’d been feeling all soft and gushy towards him. When would I learn that Neil was just as manipulative as me? “Neil, I can’t. You know I can’t.”

  “It’s my final condition.” He folded his arms across his chest, his posture radiating end of discussion. “The sooner she catches the killer, the safer we’ll all feel.”

  “You mean the sooner she suspects someone other than Sylvia Neil, she has no motive. I don’t think Capri even considers her a suspect.”

  “You don’t know that,” he countered. “You hardly know her at all. Capri can wheedle information out of Marty, find Sylvia and solve the murder. Trust me, I’m hoping Grace is after exactly what she claimed she wanted. Redemption for her father’s bad blood. But if she’s not, we need to know.”

  He made it sound so simple, but I knew better. “I don’t trust Capri not to bungle everything.”

  “Do you trust me?” He took a step closer, reaching out to rest his hands on my shoulders.

  A snort escaped. “I probably shouldn’t.”

  “That’s not a no.”

  I closed my eyes, blew out a breath. He was playing hardball but honestly, could I blame him?

  No, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t sweeten the pot in my favor. “Okay, I’ll tell Capri as long as you agree to let Grace help me through labor and delivery and you agree to escort Leo to his nephew’s wedding.”

  “Deal.” Neil stuck out his hand.

  I blinked. That wasn’t the response I expected. Usually Neil tried to talk me out of my harebrained schemes. “You realize you actually have to pretend to be his date, right?”

  “Take it or leave it.” The former SEAL never backed down.

  I looked frantically for the loophole, something I might have missed, but couldn’t spot one. “It’s a deal.”

  Neil pulled me in close to seal our bargain with a kiss. Then he whispered in my ear, “Leo had already texted me about the wedding and your little plot. I agreed in exchange for free babysitting. You just got played, Uncle Scrooge.”

  “Stupid pregnancy brain.” I grumbled.

  AFTER A BIT OF DEBATE, I decided it would be best to talk to Detective Capri in person. Neil drove me to the precinct, though he said he’d wait in the car.

  “How will you know if I actually fess up?” I asked.

  “I trust you.” He spoke with all the smugness of a man who knew he’d won.

  “Big stupid jerk,” I grumped.

  He actually laughed, a sound that had been absent of late. It lightened some of the load on my heart.

  Capri was talking to the woman manning the front desk when I entered the building. Her face flickered in surprise. “Mrs. Phillips? I heard you’d checked into the hospital.”

  Embarrassing news sure traveled fast. “And back out again. Do you have a few minutes?”

  She nodded. “Of course. We can talk in my office.”

  Capri’s office was like an episode of hoarders, the law enforcement edition. Stacks of files on and around the desk, empty coffee cups, dead plants and one ancient desktop computer that smelled faintly of burnt electronics whenever she booted it up. My mild case of OCD went nuts every time I entered the musty space.

  Capri gestured to the hard plastic chair and closed the door. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Phillips?” She leaned against her desk, her well-toned backside perched on the lone clear spot that had me wondering if she kept free of clutter for just that purpose.

  Easier to just blurt out the truth, even if I did feel like a rat. “I was lying yesterday. I know who was in Sylvia’s house. It was my brother, Marty.”

  “I see.” Her tone was even, controlled and gave away nothing.

  “I didn’t want to lie, especially after I called in the B&E. And he didn’t really break, he just entered. He had a key. He used to live there, you know. Before.” I knew I was rambling but couldn’t seem to make myself shut up.

  “The house is a crime scene, as you well know,” Capri said. “Do you know what your brother was doing in there?”

  “He said he’d left some stuff there, from when he moved. Said he still had a key and that he’d cleared it with Sylvia. Before, not since everything...happened.” I made vague circles with my hands to encompass all the events that had led up to that moment.”

  Capri was no dummy, she picked up on what I’d said and how I’d admitted it. “That was his story, but you have another theory, correct?”

  I nodded miserably. After a lifetime of looking out for Marty, I didn’t know if I could rat him out to Capri, even if it was for his own good. Deep down I knew that Neil was right to push for this outcome, that there was nothing I could do to help my brother or Sylvia but maybe Capri could.

  The thought of my bargain with Neil gave me an idea. “You have to promise not to arrest him.”

  “You just admitted that your brother tampered with an active crime scene.”

  I shook my head. “The tape was down, the CSU had finished. He might not know about the murder at all. Sylvia took him and his family in when he had nowhere else to go. Marty would think nothing of doing her a favor if she asked him for it.”

  Her gaze turned instantly sharp. “You think your brother has been in contact with Mrs. Wright?”

  Damn it, I needed to be quicker off the mental mark. I was losing any leverage I might have had. “Promise me.”

  Capri crossed her ankles, one over the other. “At this point it’s all speculation. I’m not making any promises until I know the extent of his involvement in the Wright case. Fair enough?”

  It would have to do. “Yes, I think Sylvia has been in contact with Marty. I think she asked him to get something from their house.”

  Capri uncrossed her ankles and walked around the desk. She bent over an open notebook and plucked a pen from the midst of the mess. “Where is your brother now?”

  “In Boston. He’s in town attending a project management and customer care conference. He just got promoted.” My stomach was a mess as I thought of all Marty had to lose if Capri stormed the hotel, clapped him in handcuffs and perp walked him to her car. “Please, please, I’m begging you to be discreet.”

  She didn’t answer, instead striding to the door. With her hand hovering on the handle she hesitated. “Is there anything else?”

  If that wasn�
��t a loaded question.... “Well I kinda stopped by Eric’s coworker’s house yesterday.”

  An indistinct sound that might have been exasperation escaped her. Judging from the look on her face it surprised her as much as it had me.

  “It was an impulse. One of my neighbors stopped by while Marty was there and mentioned this party Eric had hosted to celebrate the Juice Jet commercial. Franklin White, was the guy’s name.”

  “What did Mr. White tell you?”

  I noticed Capri didn’t mention if she’d spoken to Franklin. “That Eric had been shagging some skank at the very same party. He thought it was Mindy, the hostess from the commercial, but he was too busy looking at her, um, other assets.”

  Capri made the same face I must have made when Franklin told me about the encounter. All she said was, “I’ll speak with him.”

  “Mindy’s married.” I said, trying to be helpful. “Maybe her husband has a record and a temper?”

  “I’ll look into it.” This time Capri didn’t ask if I had anything else. I struggled to my feet and followed her out into the station house.

  Neil sat on the steps outside, wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses. I grimaced at my doublewide reflection in the lenses as I waddled his way. “Well, she didn’t arrest me.”

  “That’s always a plus.” He rose and offered me an arm, which I took.

  “I got a call while I was waiting for you. From Mackenzie.”

  “Oh really? What did she say?”

  “That the Boston P.D. have a suspect in custody for the Jamie Greer murder. His son.”

  “What?” I tugged on his arm so he knew to slow the pace. Walking and talking was just one more multitasking endeavor that was damn near impossible. “Did he confess?”

  Neil shook his head. “No, but apparently they found the murder weapon, in a Dumpster about a block from his apartment. No fingerprints, but ballistics are a match and they tracked down the wholesaler who recognized Greer junior’s photo.”

  That sounded fairly solid. “What about motive?”

  “According to Mackenzie, daddy raided his trust fund to keep Fitness Gurus going and he went nuts when he found out.” Neil held the car door for me. “Talk about entitled brats.”

  “When did this all happen?”

  “Early this morning, apparently. They found the sidearm last night.”

  Once secured inside, I drummed my fingers against the door and let my mind absorb the latest tidbit. The arrest in the Greer case was good, especially for Eric’s killer. Though the Greer case and Eric’s murder had been linked in my head, there hadn’t been a solid connection between the two. Yes, Greer owned the company that Eric worked for and the homicides had been similar, with both men being shot at point blank range. But that could have been coincidental. Or, even more likely, the Greer murder had made the papers. Eric’s killer might have copycatted the crime based on the information available to toy with the investigation.

  The more I considered that possibility, once I focused on the differences instead of the similarities, the more likely it seemed that Eric’s murder was staged to approximate the Greer case. Jamie Greer’s body hadn’t been moved, while Eric’s had. If the police had the firearm for the Greer murder, they would be able to tell if it was the same one used on Eric. Capri might have mentioned it to me if she thought there was a viable suspect. But most importantly, Jamie Greer’s son had no motive for killing one of his father’s employees, especially a new hire.

  All in all, things weren’t looking good for Sylvia. And I’d just handed Marty over to the Hudson P.D. on a silver platter.

  “Crap,” I grumbled. “Crap, crap, crap.”

  “You did the right thing.” Neil put a hand on my knee. “It may not seem like it now, but you did.”

  “Only because you forced me to do it.” I wasn’t taking any points for finking on my brother.

  His dimple flashed as he grinned, gaze still locked on the road. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Make each other better?”

  I heaved an enormous sigh. “Lately it feels like we just make each other crazy.”

  “That’s the part they don’t tell you about in the movies. And they lived happily ever after and drive each other batshit probably wouldn’t sell as many tickets.”

  “Ya think?” I snorted, which turned to a scowl in time with the car turning onto our street. “Oh no.”

  “What?” Neil’s relaxed posture had vanished. He looked over at me, every cell in his body tense. “What’s wrong?”

  “Text from Josh. I was in charge of snacks for tonight’s practice.” The boys had been playing in an intermediate soccer league run through our local park. “I totally spaced on it.”

  Neil was staring at me as though wondering where the crisis was. “So?”

  “So, we’re supposed to provide enough healthy snacks for thirty active boys in under an hour. Frick.”

  Neil pulled into the driveway. “I’m sure we have something at home.”

  “We have nothing at home, at least nothing that will pass the whole food mom brigade. Quick, turn around and head for the supermarket. We need oranges and lots of ‘em.”

  He blew out a heavy stream of air. “Don’t we have enough going on without creating a freaking orange crisis?”

  I held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” Another text pinged and I swore long and loud as I read it. “And Kenny forgot his uniform. He’s benched until we get it there.”

  “What would have happened if you were in the hospital tonight?” Neil wanted to know. “It’s not like you could have done the snack thing from the maternity suite.”

  “Then Mac would have been in charge and she knows about the oranges Hell, she would have been there early with the oranges.”

  “A lack of planning on their part shouldn’t constitute an emergency on ours.” Neil loved rolling that one out.

  “I know, but the only thing I feel good about these days is that we’ve kept Kenny and Josh at a distance from the worst of the craziness. That their lives have been as stable as possible and that they can count on me no matter what else is going on. Please, just help me out here.”

  There was a long silence and then he shook his head, put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. “If it will make you feel better, Uncle Scrooge, then fine. We’ll get the damn oranges.”

  The closest market was ridiculously overpriced. As a result, I hardly ever shopped there but at least they had quality produce.

  I bought thirty five oranges, a disposable cooler and a bag of ice. We packed the trunk and then sped home to grab the uniform and let Atlas out.

  “Keep the car running,” I ordered and threw the passenger door open before he’d come to a full stop.

  “This isn’t a bank heist!” He shouted, but I’d already broken land speed nine month pregnancy records in getting to the front door.

  The house was warm and dark, having been shut up all afternoon. I whistled for Atlas as I made my way to the laundry room, where sure enough, Kenny’s uniform sat folded neatly on top of the dryer. It would have taken him all of five seconds to put his uniform in his backpack this morning.

  Neil was right, the boys needed a serious reality check. Take some responsibility for their own actions, or in this case inactions. I was faced with a real honest to God teachable moment. It would serve him right if I just left the uniform behind. If he sat out practice tonight, especially with Neil there to watch, he’d remember the uniform the next time for sure.

  Problem was I felt like a big, fat hypocrite since I’d forgotten about the stupid oranges. The object lesson would have to wait until I had firmer footing on the moral high ground.

  Decided, I plucked up the uniform, just realizing that Atlas hadn’t responded to my calls. Usually he’d bolt up out of a sound sleep and start his gallop and prance routine as soon as the key had been inserted into the lock.

  “Atlas?” I hollered again, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Where are you, boy?�
��

  I clapped and whistled and thought I heard a faint whining coming from my bedroom.

  Oh, for the love of grief. “Are you stuck under the bed again?” Ever since he’d been a pup, he’d hidden under our bed whenever there was a thunderstorm, a garbage truck or anything else that made noises that filled his gallant self with terror. Problem was, he’d grown too big and while he could scramble under the bed, he could no longer scramble back out without someone lifting the mattress and box spring up until he got clear.

  Pushing open the door, I fully expected to see the ass end of a confused Great Dane sticking out from under the bed skirt, so it took a moment to register what was really going on in my bedroom.

  The woman had long dark hair and big sunglasses which hid most of her face. She wore a zipped up black hoodie and yoga pants and was holding a baby carrier that contained a sleeping newborn. Atlas sat alongside her as though offering the intruder protection.

  I opened my mouth, ready to scream for Neil when she removed the sunglasses. My jaw dropped.

  “Sylvia?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Hi,” Sylvia set the baby carrier on the bed, then pushed the hood back so I could see the rest of her face. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

  I cleared my throat and croaked. “Kind of a tall order at this stage.”

  She forced a smile, her lips trembling slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to drag you into this, but I really need—”

  She didn’t get a chance to tell me what it was she really needed because the front door opened and then the sound of heavy, masculine footsteps followed by a distinctive, “Uncle Scrooge? What’s taking so long?”

  Sylvia’s eyes rounded. “Don’t tell him I’m here!”

  “What? Sylvia, it’s just Neil.”

  “Please, Maggie. I’m begging you.” She didn’t seem to hear my protests as she scooped up the baby carrier and booked into the closet. The door closed behind her a half a heartbeat before Neil appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

  Well if that wasn’t just the question of the day. Not much dear, our next door neighbor is hiding in our closet with her newborn daughter is all. We better hurry up or we’ll miss that soccer game.