The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #1 Skeletons in the Closet

by Jennifer L. Hart

  I made an ungracious sound and was about to sit when the doorbell rang.

  “Are we expecting anyone else?” I asked Laura with an arched brow.

  She shook her head mutely, and I focused on walking to the door. I never noticed before how hard walking could be.

  I pasted my most welcoming smile on my face and breathed in the fresh November air as I took in the two uniformed officers at the back door.

  “Now, gentlemen, this is getting to be old hat,” I informed them.

  “Um, are you Mrs. Phillips?” the impossibly blond young man asked.

  I touched a hand to my chest. “That I am.”

  “Your husband reported a missing wheelbarrow this morning, is that right?”

  Neil appeared behind me. “Yes, yes I did. Have you found it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh good. Where was it?” I asked on a giggle.

  “I know it’s the holiday and everything, but do you think the two of you could come down to the station?”

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Ralph blustered. “Neil, who are these people?”

  “Pay attention, Ralph, look at the uniforms.” Laura was by his side. The doorway felt very crowded, so I took a step outside.

  “Sir, we have some questions to ask, and we think it would be better down at the station.”

  “What kind of questions?” Neil looked as baffled as I felt.

  “Do you need us to ID the wheelbarrow or something? Has more than one rusty old wheelbarrow gone missing?” Champagne plus my mother-in-law equaled a belligerent Laundry Hag.

  “No, ma’am.” The chubby red-haired officer cleared his throat.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  The blond one looked at Big Red and back to me. “There’s a body in it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you derive some sort of amusement from asking the same questions in forty different ways? I’ve been here for three hours, while my house is full of holiday guests. I told you, I didn’t know Greg the Gym Rat all that well and I’m very sorry that he’s dead, but that’s no excuse to keep me locked up here for the rest of my life!”

  The champagne had worn off a while before, and I was working on belligerent all on my own. It wasn’t hard. Neil and I had been separated as soon as we reached the police station; presumably so they could cross compare our ‘stories’. In all honesty, I can’t say I blamed them; it was a pretty weird tale.

  “Humor me, Mrs. Phillips. You took the wheelbarrow to the supermarket and then…?” the butch female detective asked me.

  I sighed and took a sip from the axle grease coffee they’d given me, which had turned cold twenty questions ago.

  “I took the wheelbarrow so I could do my Thanksgiving shopping. I was running late, it was an impulse. I left it around the back of the building and went inside.”

  I paused to take breath, and Butch interjected, as she had done every time I reached this point in the tale.

  “Approximately how long were you in the store?”

  “Somewhere between half an hour and forty-five minutes. It would have been less, but I picked the wrong line, and checkout took a while.”

  “When did you discover someone had taken the wheelbarrow?”

  “After I checked out.” I fought a losing battle with my temper, and the pointless string of redundant questions only fueled the fire. “If you’re Hudson’s finest, I’d say we’re all up shit creek.”

  Butch ignored my insult. “What did you do when you discovered the wheelbarrow had been taken?”

  “I called my house, and my brother came to pick me up.”

  “So why didn’t you have him give you a ride in the first place?”

  I really didn’t like the smug look on her face.

  “Because he wasn’t home when I needed to go!” The stress of the past few weeks was wearing me down and having Butch imply that I was either shady or stupid annoyed the crap out of me, so I stood up. “In case you’ve missed it, Detective, I’m trying to help you out here. I can leave anytime I want, but I feel it’s my job as a good citizen to do what I can, so either ask me something new or get out of my way.”

  “You were the ghost writer on that book, How to Win Friends and Influence People, weren’t you?”

  I guess I had to hand in my title of Master of Observation, since I’d missed the hulking presence of Detective Bradley Patterson in the doorway. That Detective Butch was just as startled was only slightly mollifying.

  “Detective Capri, can I speak with you for a moment? We’ll be right back, Mrs. Phillips.” Patterson was dressed casually in a knitted sweater that should have looked ridiculous on his bulky frame but was strangely fitting. He had this, so what if it’s ugly, my mother made it, air about him. Butch sent me a withering glance and departed behind Patterson.

  I sat back down and laid my head on my folded arms. Anger had kept me conscious to this point, but I was so tired my ears rang. I wanted to find Neil and go home; anything else was too much effort.

  The door squeaked, and I looked up. Bradley Patterson had returned with a fresh cup of coffee.

  “The way I see it, you have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Did you know him well?”

  I shook my head before holding the Styrofoam cup to my lips. Greg the Gym Rat was dead, shot once execution style in the forehead and tossed into my wheelbarrow five miles from the supermarket where I’d last seen it. “I barely knew him at all. I’d only seen him in person three times. He wasn’t up for any humanitarian awards, but he was all right.”

  “Maggie, we’ve found Mr. Kline.”

  I gripped the coffee cup in both hands to keep them from shaking. “And…?”

  “He was pulled over for speeding along I84, heading southwest into Connecticut. He claimed to be at a campground for the last three days, but there was no one to provide an alibi for him.”

  I locked stares with the detective, and the unspoken words hovered between us. This time.

  “He had motive and opportunity, so he’s being held without bail, charged with murder in the first degree.”

  I nodded glumly. “What about me. Am I being charged with something?”

  Patterson studied my face for a minute before answering. “No. Detective Capri was reluctant to let you leave, and I have no authority here. Hudson is her jurisdiction, but I convinced her that our murder cases are linked. Unfortunately, you’re also connected, so before I let you leave, is there anything you want to tell me?”

  “Mr. Kline’s lawyer called me last night and asked if I could go check on him since he wasn’t answering his phone.”

  Patterson swore, and I flinched. “Did you?”

  I shook my head. “Neil went. He said the place was all shut up and dark.”

  “What time was this?”

  “A little after ten.”

  Patterson stood up, so I followed suit. “I don’t know why you’re connected to all this, Mrs. Phillips. On the surface, it seems like coincidence, but my gut is telling me there’s something else at work here. Do you know of anyone who holds a grudge against you or your family?”

  “Well, the woman at the end of the cul-de-sac was less than thrilled when I talked her down to twenty-two cents per paperback at her yard sale a few months back.” I’d been aiming for levity, but the words fell flat.

  He offered me a weak smile anyway. “Please be careful out there, Maggie. I’ll check in on you later.”

  I nodded and exited through the door he held for me. Neil sat in a chair with fingers steepled across the busy room. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was utterly serene, but I made out the tense lines around his mouth. He rose in one fluid movement, his gaze trained on me. I scurried to his side, and he grasped my trembling hand in his steady one.

  “All set?”

  I nodded again, thinking that since the cleaning gig wasn’t working, I could sell myself as a life-sized bobble-head doll.

  The march to the ca
r was quiet, and I settled myself in the passenger’s seat without comment. Neil shut the door behind me and made his way to the driver’s door. He sat and shoved the keys in the ignition but made no move to start the car. Instead, he leaned against the seat and closed his eyes. I looked at his beaten-down expression, one that I knew so well. Neil had the ultimate poker face. According to the SEALs who’d served with him, he was adept at showing no weakness in the hot zone, exuding confidence to encourage his team and strike fear into the enemy. When he came home from a strenuous mission, however, he’d let all of the tension out. I suppose it was like a pressure cooker—you had to vent the steam at some point or risk an explosion.

  I watched him for a moment, since it was easier than giving in to my own misery. I didn’t want to think about the deaths or the connection I had to these people. Neil took some even breaths, and I studied his handsome profile with the same awe I’d felt for close to a decade whenever I looked at him. He hadn’t aged visibly, and if anything, his confidence and determination were stronger than ever.

  “You’re sexy,” I told him.

  That got one eye open. “Don’t try to butter me up. I’m so mad and I’m doing my best not to yell at you, but I need a minute here.”

  “Why are you mad at me?” I loaded my tone with extra naïveté.

  “Maybe because you lied to me about the wheelbarrow? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I told you, the van wouldn’t start, and I had to get to the store!” I knew I had no right to be outraged in the face of his wrath, he was absolutely right to be upset, but I’d learned long ago not to give any ground when going up against a difficult man.

  “Maggie, don’t even try to justify your actions. You were thoughtless, and you hid things from me. In my book that means you’re the one in the wrong.”

  “Oh, get off your high horse Mr. Perfect; you don’t have a clue what I went through trying to put on a dinner for your parents and their guests! Everything I do is to help protect and support our family, so don’t sit there being all uber sexy and thinking you are in the know about everything! I didn’t hide anything from you, but things started happening so fast, and your parents were coming, and you were at work, so I did what I had to, Neil! It’s what being a SEAL’s wife taught me, that when I’m home, I can’t sit around and worry about what might happen, I have to do whatever I can.

  “You don’t know; you don’t understand what I had to go through, worrying about whether you were safe, not knowing when you’d be back and looking to the right and the left and not seeing any relief! Being married to you and your military career made me this way, so you have no frigging right to complain now!”

  Tears tracked down my face, and Neil stared at me like I’d grown a third eye, but I was beyond caring. It was my turn to take some deep, even breaths before I got out of the car. I couldn’t be in a confined space with him right now, not because I was angry, but because he was right and I had sucker punched him with a backlog of issues deeper than the Atlantic.

  I stepped over the curb, glad I’d put boots on before going to the police station, and headed for home. The trek would have been excruciating in heels. I knew Neil wouldn’t come after me, not right away. There are certain things married couples may never say to one another, but are understood and accepted. I’d trod on sacred ground with my complaints about being a SEAL’s wife, and Neil needed some time to accept that history was not repeating itself.

  I fumed for three blocks and was just starting to cool off when my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.

  “Mrs. Phillips? This is Janice Montgomery.”

  Against my better judgment, I had asked Janice to accompany me on the three cleaning jobs I’d scheduled for the weekend. With the holiday season gearing up, the elite of Hudson and the surrounding communities were busier than usual, entertaining and throwing lavish parties, and my reputation as a cleaning service was not only notorious, but reliable too. There was a great deal of background noise from Janice’s end of the line, and I thought I heard a crash.

  “Hey, Janice, how’re you doing?”

  “Super, Mrs. Phillips, but I wanted to call and let you know that I’m going to be moving.”

  “Oh? You’re getting your own place, huh? Smart idea.” I toed a dislodged chunk of concrete and kicked it into the street. There was definitely a crash, followed by some volatile yelling. “Where are you, a construction site?”

  A pause ensued, and I picked up on some more foul language.

  “Um, no. I’m on my way to North Dakota.”

  I stopped torturing the sidewalk. “I’m sorry; you’ll have to repeat that, I thought you said you were going to North Dakota.”

  Another crash and what sounded like an animal yelping in pain.

  “No, I am going to North Dakota as soon as Daddy lets Jeremy off the hood of the car. We’re getting married, isn’t that cool!”

  I heard the words worthless no good son of a whore, followed by another crash.

  “Uh oh, looks like we won’t be leaving until tomorrow. See, Daddy is payin’ Jeremy back for abandoning me in the first place and once he’s done were gonna go to North Dakota, only I don’t think we’re gonna be able to drive his car with the hood dented in like that. I guess we should get it looked at first.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” My voice was faint, and I sat down on the curb. “I guess this means you’re not going to clean with me tomorrow afternoon?”

  “No, cleaning is way too hard, and don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Phillips, but you’re kind of demanding to work for.”

  This kid didn’t have a clue.

  “Well, good luck to you, Janice. And congratulations on the wedding.”

  “I don’t think we’ll get married until after the baby is born. I wanna get my figure back, ya know?”

  Not to mention her fiancée was probably going to need reconstructive surgery by the time Jack Hammer finished pounding the stupidity out of him.

  “Take care, Janice, and I’ll mail your check to your dad.”

  I hung up before the girl could say anything else. This was freaking perfect. I had no assistant, three cleaning jobs, and a murderer to catch. Not to mention facing up to the wrath of Laura Phillips. Rock bottom was a skyscraper’s height above me.

  * * * *

  I was on my fourth loop around the block directly behind my house when my mother-in-law’s car finally left my driveway. Call me craven, but a girl can only handle so much in one day, and holidays were for resting, right?

  The sun had turned the western horizon a brilliant shade of purple by the time I let myself into the house. Neil lay sprawled on the floor, legs crossed at the ankle, and head pillowed on his forearms. The football game was on, but his eyes were closed.

  “Did I miss everybody?” I asked.

  “Mom saw you skulking in the Wilson’s gardenia bush, and I told her she should go before you tallied up another stalking charge. Everyone else was gone by the time I got home.”

  “Neil about before—”

  “Let’s stick a pin in that bug until later. I may have left you to walk home, but at least I waited to eat with you.”

  “You didn’t really leave me, I saw you driving on the thru streets. One of the parade floats started cursing at you to get out of the way. I thought we were going to see a reenactment of the final scene in Animal House there.”

  “Yeah well…I was worried about you. No matter how aggravated I am, I don’t want to find your body in the wheelbarrow.”

  “Ah, Mademoiselle Jailbird has returned to the nest.” Leo sashayed out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a dishtowel and struck a pose that Madonna would have envied. “You missed my finest work yet.”

  I was too wrung out to banter. “Feed me.”

  Leo tsk-ed in my general direction. “Manners, darling.”

  “Feed me. Now.”

  “That’s better.”

  Leo set out plates at the island. I saw
the beautiful array of fats and carbs which would soon be sticking to my thighs and kissed his clean-shaven cheek.

  I loaded my plate with wild abandon, drumstick, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cornbread, cranberry, and an entire pumpkin pie on the side. Neil was busy scavenging what I had bypassed and while I had no plate showing, he beat me in stacking fortitude and claimed the apple pie.

  Leo shook his head in disgust. “Some people have no couth.”

  “The couth has left the building,” Neil told him around a mouth full of turkey.

  “What about your diet? You’ll never get published if you can’t stick to your own diet.”

  “My diet has gone the way of the couth.” In perfect form, cranberry sauce dripped on the opposite boob as the bleach stain, which had over-powered the Crayola marker.

  “Hey, Neil, look, light meat and dark meat.”

  His laugh was accompanied by beer out the nose. “Oh, dear sweet Jesus, that stings like a bitch!”

  Leo gave up trying to civilize our eating and joined the fun.

  “Mom!” Kenny ran in from the backyard where he’d been playing football.

  I ceased my marathon mastication long enough to slide off the stool and give him a long hug. “Hey, Kenny, where’s your brother?”

  “Trying to get Uncle Marty to come inside. He’s been talking to Mrs. Davidson for over an hour.”

  “It wasn’t that long, kiddo,” Marty objected from the back door. Josh skirted around him and kicked his shoes off, but my brother tracked leaves over the kitchen floor. “She was only being neighborly.”

  “Yeah, until Mr. Davidson came out and started shooting you dirty looks,” Josh reprimanded his uncle.

  I gave my oldest son an equally fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, guys. Was dinner awful?”

  “Nah, it was great! Especially when Grandpa called Grandma an overbearing harpy. Then she got all red and dumped cranberry sauce in his lap.”

  I looked to Leo for verification and got a short nod in response. What a day.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I tell you what, let’s move the food into the dining room, and we can have our real Thanksgiving right now.”