by Jeff Shelby
“You mean had an affair?”
She tugged at the lapel on her blazer. “Olaf told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, but I always had a suspicion. No proof so there wasn’t anything I could do about it.” A small smile creased her lips. “But when Olaf told me they were getting a divorce, I couldn’t help but hug him. He wasn’t too happy about that.”
“I’m sure,” I said.
“And either was Helen,” she said, still smiling. “Pretty sure there was a lot of crying and whining that night.”
I replayed that last sentence in my head again. “Wait. Helen wasn’t happy with the divorce?”
She glanced at me like I was crazy. “Shoot no, she wasn’t. She had it good with Olaf. He worked, made good money. The house was paid for. She was the happy housewife. When he told her wanted out, she saw the gravy train leaving town.” She shook her head. “She was not happy in any way at all.”
The wheels were spinning in my head. “But I heard that she was the one who wanted the divorce and that Olaf wasn’t sure about it.”
She shook her head. Adamantly. “No way, no how. She promised him that things would change and I think, at first, maybe he thought about staying with her. But then nothing changed and he was still miserable and he told her they were done.” Olga smiled. “And Helen cried and cried and cried.”
I pressed my lips together and thought back to my conversation with Helen. That was a far different story than what she’d told me in the library.
“And he would’ve asked you out again, like I said,” Olga said, the mug gripped tightly in her hands. “But she just wouldn’t leave him alone.”
I swallowed. An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. I’d been singularly unimpressed with my date with Olaf and had had no intentions of seeing him again. “What do you mean?” I asked. And then, for clarification, I added, “About Helen not leaving him alone?”
She frowned. “She wouldn’t give it up,” she said. “When they were going through the divorce, she’d ‘forget’ to show up at meetings with the lawyer. She’d ‘forget’ to sign papers that had to be signed. She’d call him over and pretend something needed fixing when all she wanted was to try and talk him out of it again. Anytime he tried to really separate from her, she used her tentacles to pull him back in.” She paused. “I know she did something after your date with him, but I can’t remember what. I know he was mad, though.” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “She just wouldn’t leave him alone. I’m not sure who you heard what from, but there was no way she wanted the divorce. Olaf did, plain and simple.”
So someone was lying. I just wasn’t sure who. Olaf certainly hadn’t seemed like the kind of person who had it in him to lie, but what did I know? I’d only spent a couple of hours with him. Olga was certainly biased in her opinion of Helen and toward her brother—and probably slightly insane—but that might’ve just been sibling favoritism. And I had yet to figure out Helen.
Which left me nowhere.
I set the mug down on the table. “So let me ask you this, then. Why did you think I killed your brother?”
A sheepish look crossed her face. “I was mad. You were an easy target.” She looked at me. “But I asked around a little. I don’t really think you did anything to Olaf.”
And yet she accused me several times before tackling me on the sidewalk. In the snow. Insanity was looking more and more plausible.
“Could Helen have done something to him?” I asked.
She stared into her coffee for a long moment, then turned her attention back to me. “I don’t think so.”
“But you said she was giving him such a hard time…”
“Oh, you bet she was,” she said, her brows furrowing together. “But he was her golden ticket. He took care of her. I think she thought he’d still come back to her. I know she still wanted him back. She was mad at him, but I don’t think she would’ve hurt him because that would’ve meant the end of her free ride.” She shook her head slowly. “As much as I’d like to blame her, I don’t think it was Helen.”
I shifted my weight, trying to get comfortable on her lopsided couch. “So then who?”
She thought hard for a moment. “I honestly don’t know anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt Olaf. It’s not like he had enemies or anything.”
Which made me think maybe Helen did actually have something to do with his death.
Olga glanced at the clock on the wall, a skinny clown whose arms moved in circles. “I don’t mean to be rude but I need to get downstairs. We have a viewing tonight and Mildred isn’t ready yet.”
“Mildred? Is that a co-worker of yours?”
Olga covered her mouth, snorting with laughter. “No.”
I nodded and stood. I didn’t think I wanted to know who Mildred was…or what she needed to do to get her ready.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I told her. “And for sharing your thoughts.”
Olga stood, too, and brushed at the lapels on her blazer. “I just want to know why.”
“And who,” I said.
She eyed me for a moment. “You really didn’t do it, did you? Tell me you didn’t do it.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t kill Olaf. I swear.”
She thought about that, then nodded. “Okay. I believe you.” Then something flashed through her eyes. “You have kids, right? I think I remember seeing them when we were, you know, fighting or whatever.”
“Yes,” I said, unsure why she was asking. If she was about to insinuate that one of them might be responsible for her brother’s death, I’d have definite confirmation of her insanity. “Four.”
“Well, I bet they have birthdays,” she said, smiling brightly.
I stared at her in confusion. How had we gone from discussing her brother’s death and personal life to my kids’ birthdays?
“So if you ever need a clown you should call me.” She wiggled her eyebrows and honked her nose, as if she was in full clown costume. “I’d be happy to do it. You know, to sort of make up for everything.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, nodding. “Um, thanks.”
The last thing I’d ever want to see was Olga, in my house, entertaining my kids, dressed as a clown. But, still. It was a nice gesture.
Sort of.
TWENTY
“It was like the circus,” I said to Jake.
We were sitting at the table, puzzle pieces scattered on the surface. It was after dinner and I’d pulled out a 300 piece puzzle, a Disneyland castle scene. The girls had helped us for all of five minutes before giving up and heading off to play Barbies instead. Emily was holed up in her room, chatting with Bailey on Skype and Will had disappeared to play Minecraft. For the first time that evening, we were alone and I was able to tell Jake about my conversation with Olga.
“A circus of dead people?” he asked.
I snapped together another edge piece. “Yeah, the mortuary thing is weird.”
“You don’t say,” he said, smiling. He craned his neck closer to the box, inspecting the picture. “Clowns and dead people are not my favorite things.”
“Especially when they are all looking at you,” I told him.
He raised his eyebrows and shifted his gaze to me. “There were dead people looking at you?”
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
He grinned.
“Anyway, you wouldn’t have lasted thirty seconds in her apartment.”
Jake wasn’t afraid of many things. He’d shown no fear in going up in the crawl space, nor in clearing out the army of spiders that had called our house their home. He didn’t mind confronting people when they needed to be confronted. He just didn’t show much fear of anything.
But he would squirm like a small child when he saw a clown. He’d cross the street to avoid them. He hated the county fair because they’d be there. Parades were dicey. Floppy shoes and red noses caused him to break out in a cold sweat.
He hated them.
“I wouldn’t trust anyone that decorates their
apartment with clowns,” he said. He fit together a piece of the sky. “Or obviously dresses up as one.”
“Well, you have issues.”
He picked up a new piece and looked at me. “Everyone should have issues with clowns. They’re horrible. I honestly think there should be a law banning them.”
“I’m aware.You’ve mentioned this before. About a thousand times.”
“At minimum, there should be a fine,” he continued. “Put on a wig and some makeup, bam. Five hundred dollar fine. Ride a unicycle and juggle with face paint? Make it seven fifty. Multiple citations mean jail time. I should run for mayor and make it happen.”
“The mayor doesn’t make the laws, honey,” I said. I hunted for another castle wall piece and snapped it in place. “But I’d support you anyway. And your anti-clown platform.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Now. Let’s talk about why exactly you went to see Olga today.”
“I told you why.”
“I mean, what your thought process was that got you to the point that you thought going to visit her and ask questions was a good idea.”
“I’m not following.”
There was a bottle of beer sitting on the table and he picked it up and took a swig. “Why did you take it upon yourself to play Jessica Fletcher?”
I frowned. “Jessica who?”
“The old lady from Murder, She Wrote,” he said, returning my frown with one of his own. “Didn’t you ever watch that show?”
“No.” I wasn’t going to admit that I’d never heard of it, either.
“Well, you should have,” he said. He handed the bottle to me and I took a sip. “We’ll remedy that another time. But let me ask this another way. You’re a wife, a mom, a teacher, a home engineer and a sex goddess. What you are not is a detective. Why were you playing one today?”
“I wasn’t playing detective,” I said. I set the beer down and looked at him. “I was just…trying to find out some more information.”
“Which is what Crocket and Tubbs used to do on Miami Vice,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Who? On what?”
“Oh my God,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Never mind. My point is that you were doing something you didn’t need to be doing. Why?”
I sighed. “Because I feel like it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. Unless you killed him. Wait,” he said, his eyes going wide. “Did you?”
I glared at him. “Stop. Of course I didn’t. But I feel like I was the one who brought him to our home. And Em was getting some flack from kids at school and the homeschool families at the co-op clearly aren’t comfortable with it. So it feels like it’s my fault.”
“But it’s not,” Jake said. He sifted through the edge pieces, looking for another blue sky piece.
“Still. Someone put him in our coal chute for a reason. And I think that reason was me.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” he said.
I shrugged. “There really isn’t another explanation.”
And there wasn’t, because I’d run all the possibilities through my head all day long. I was the one link between Olaf and our coal chute. There weren’t any other possibilities, unless you believed in totally random coincidences. And I didn’t. I believed in karma and good luck and wishes but coincidences? No way. Everything happened for a reason.
“Even if that’s the case,” Jake said, bringing the puzzle box closer and peering at it. “That doesn’t mean it’s up to you to solve the crime. You’re a homeschool mom, not a detective.”
“Yeah but we’ve done a crime scene unit study,” I argued. “I know stuff.”
He chuckled and covered my hand with his. “I do love your enthusiasm. Doing a unit study with the kids, though, is probably a little bit different than solving an actual crime. And also it’s probably a little less, I don’t know…dangerous?”
“I talked to a lady at a mortuary,” I said, my voice filled with disdain. “I didn’t chase down a knife-wielding maniac.”
“The lady at the mortuary was also a clown,” he said. “Which is worse than a knife-wielding maniac. Everyone knows that.”
“Of course” I said. “Clowns are deadly. I forgot.”
“Daisy.” His voice commanded me to look at him.
I met his gaze. “Jake.”
“Please don’t play amateur detective anymore,” he said. “There are plenty of people around to do that. They’re called the police.”
I tried to wrench my hand out from under his, but he tightened his grip and pulled me off my chair and into his lap. Part of me hated when he did that, but more of me loved it.
“Daisy,” he said, looking at me. “I’m serious. Don’t get carried away here. Let the police do their job.”
I wiggled my arms free and wrapped them around his neck. “Maybe. But right now, I think I’d like to do one of my jobs.”
He smiled and lifted his hips off the chair just a little, pushing into me. “I really, really hope it’s sex goddess and not home engineer.”
I kissed his ear and the half-done puzzle scattered across the table suddenly lost its importance. “You hoped right.”
TWENTY ONE
“Why are we going to Jake’s work?” Will asked from the back seat.
It was the next morning and I was focusing on my mom duties rather than my amateur detective duties. I’d pulled all three of the younger kids out of bed earlier than they were used to and they were still a little sleepy-eyed as I loaded them into the car.
“We’re touring the recycling plant,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Remember?”
He shrugged and looked out the window.
“I like Daddy’s work,” Sophie said, then yawning. “There’s always cool stuff there.”
“Oh yeah!” Grace said, squirming in her car seat. “Remember when he brought home that headless doll?”
“Yeah!” Sophie said. “And that teddy bear with no legs!”
“Those are so cool,” Grace said. “I hope we find something cool like that today.”
I just hoped I wouldn’t lose any of them on a conveyor belt or to one of the massive trash pickers.
We’d been to Jake’s plant before and the truth was, just calling it a recycling plant didn’t really do it justice. It was funded by the state and what it really did was sort people’s trash in an attempt to recycle as much of it as possible. So they started with large piles and continued sorting it down until they were down to what was truly waste. The plant itself was a maze of conveyors and robots and there tons of places to view the process. Fun and educational and helping to save the planet.
Like, three of my favorite things.
We saw one familiar car in the parking lot and the kids hurried out of the SUV to go look for their friends the conference room. Jake was there, waiting for us, when we walked in.
He kissed me on the cheek. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I said, peering into the room.
Brenda Witt was seated at the table with her five kids. The youngest, baby Mary, was snuggled in a baby carrier against her chest.
Brenda grinned when she saw me. “Hey, Killer.”
I smiled. “Knock it off or you’re next.”
Brenda and I had been friends since Thornton and I moved to Minnesota. Actually, we’d been friends before—I’d visited a few online homeschool groups before the move, trying to figure out co-ops and what the local homeschool culture might be like. Brenda had responded right away and a friendship was born.
“You’re gonna have to fill me in on what happened,” she said. Mary squirmed and a cry tore from her. Brenda fumbled for the pacifier attached to the carrier and gave it back to the baby, who sucked it furiously, eyes closed, her brow furrowed.
“Let’s just say I would have much rather been in Florida with you guys this last week,” I said.
She nodded sympathetically, her short brown bob bouncing up and down. “And not just because of the weather, right?”
; “Exactly.”
I set my purse down on the table and glanced out the window that faced the parking lot. No one else had arrived yet for the tour. I shifted my gaze to the clock mounted on the wall. Our tour was supposed to have started five minutes ago.
Brenda read my mind. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
“Probably hiding from the murderer,” I said bitterly.
She frowned. “What?”
“Oh, everyone apparently thinks that since Olaf was found in my house, I’m suspect number one. Even though we didn’t know we had a coal chute. Even though I’d only met Olaf one time. For a total of two hours. You know, completely logical.”
Brenda rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I hate people.”
I stifled a smile. “Me, too.”
I didn’t hate all people and neither did Brenda. But what we did hate were judgmental, narrow-minded people. Well, and people who walked slow and people who tail-gated us and people who cut in line at McDonald’s. Homeschooling might have been the foundation of our friendship but it was our kindred spirit-ness that was the glue that bound us together.
Jake walked back into the conference room and looked around. “Is this everyone?”
I’d checked the sign-up document online right before we’d left. There had been six families signed up. A total of eighteen kids. With Brenda’s five and my four, we were only at nine.
I sighed.“Apparently so.”
“Okay,” he said. He hesitated, and I knew he wanted to ask questions. But the kids had all stopped talking and were watching us with eagle eyes, wondering what was going on. Jake cleared his throat. “We’ll get started in just a few. And just to warn you ahead of time. We have another group coming today, too. A bigger group.” He leaned into my ear. “A public school group.”
I made a face. “That’s fine.”
“Well, you usually talk about school groups like they carry the bubonic plague,” he said, grinning. “Just wanted to prepare you for the invasion.”