Tina didn’t answer right away. That was a very good question, she realized. She wondered about the bedroom upstairs. “She may have had help we didn’t know about. Until today.”
The woman gave her a puzzled look, then shrugged. “I’m Sandy Hempstead, by the way.” She held out her hand, and Tina shook it. “Maybe Mickey here can help,” Sandy said.
Mickey looked dubious. “Need a ladder or step stool.”
Tina realized that Sandy wouldn’t be the only one who couldn’t reach all the boxes. They weren’t this high in the office, so she hadn’t noticed. She remembered that Mrs. McEllen had mentioned helping with the piles. “There should be a stepstool around somewhere. Mrs. Blackwell needed one to get them up there, after all.”
“Good point,” Mickey said. “I’d guess either kitchen or basement.”
“Hang in there, Sandy, while we go find it.” Tina turned to leave and bumped into Mickey’s solid form. She stepped back and her heel landed on something. She would have fallen, except there was no room.
Mickey grabbed her elbow. “Steady there.” He laughed. “No room to dance.”
“No room to move. If Sandy hadn’t already cleaned out quite a bit, we wouldn’t even be able to stand in here.”
“True.” Mickey glanced around. “I couldn’t imagine a room could be more crowded than the office, but this one is.”
“So are the rest. Please lead the way to the kitchen since I can’t get past you.”
Mickey laughed. “The only problem with that is I don’t know exactly where the kitchen is.”
“I’ll give you a clue. It’s downstairs. Sandy, we’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“That’s okay. As you can see, I have other boxes to open.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they changed positions, and Tina threaded the way to the back of the house. Barry stood at the sink, unloading the dishwasher, wiping off damp spots from the objects he removed with paper towels, and placing them in a box. Tina looked around. “You’re making good progress here.”
Barry didn’t appear startled. He turned around and smiled. “Just have to have a system and get in the rhythm. I assume you’d already started in here. When I opened the dishwasher I found the only clean dishes in the room.”
“Yes, but I didn’t get far. Mrs. Blackwell’s niece found a dead rat in the dining room, and we decided to work together in the office.” Tina could feel Mickey hovering behind her. There wasn’t room enough for them to stand side by side. “Have you seen a stepstool or small ladder in here?” she asked Barry.
Barry grinned. “I have. Between the fridge and the wall.” He pointed.
“I never noticed it when I was here before.” Tina made her way over to the refrigerator and pulled out a stepstool. She handed it to Mickey. “Thanks, Barry. I assume you have no questions?”
“Not so far. I’ll find you if I do.”
“Okay, we’re off to see who might be ready to get some boxes down from high piles. Have fun.”
“Oh, yeah.” Barry turned back to the sink, and Tina and Mickey went upstairs.
They had finished checking on everyone and were going back down when the doorbell rang.
Mickey answered it, Tina standing right behind him. A man and a woman stood waiting. “I’m Evelyn Simpson,” the woman said. “We’ve come to pick up the box Aunt Olivia left us.”
CHAPTER 31
“Aunt Olivia?” Tina blurted out before thinking.
The woman, tall, thin, make-up perfect, stared at Tina. “She asked us to call her that. Who are you?”
Tina didn’t know how to answer. Next door neighbor? Professional Organizer? Heiress? Confused? Certainly confused.
“We’re clearing everything out.” Mickey stepped onto the porch, and Tina followed. “Do you know where she kept the box? Was it labeled?”
“She said she put it in the laundry room. And that it had our names on it.”
“The laundry room.” Tina frowned.
“In the basement.”
Mickey and Tina exchanged glances. “Was there anything in the will about a box for Evelyn Simpson?” Mickey asked.
“No.”
“You didn’t answer my question before,” the woman snapped at them. “Who are you?”
Mickey slowly pulled his badge out of his front jeans pocket and showed it to her.
“Oh.”
Tina was beginning to wonder if the man with Evelyn Simpson ever spoke. He looked a lot like his wife, or were they married yet? Tina couldn’t remember. And if they were, he took Evelyn’s last name? How could they even be sure this was Evelyn Simpson?
“You have identification?” Tina asked.
“You police, too?” Mrs. Simpson countered.
“I’m assisting them.”
“Oh, you’re Tina Shaw, the professional organizer. I don’t believe I have to answer any of your questions.”
Mickey stiffened. “You have to answer mine, though. I need to see some ID.”
“Can’t we go inside?”
“No.”
“Look here,” the man finally said. “We have a right.”
“No, you don’t. This is a murder scene. When we find the box, we will go through it, and the Chief will decide when you may have it.”
“But she gets to be inside.” Mrs. Simpson pointed at Tina.
“Special circumstances.”
“Well, I never. I’m calling our lawyer.” Mrs. Simpson turned and stomped down the stairs. The man trailed her, but when they were on the sidewalk he turned around and glared at them. Tina and Mickey watched them walk to their car parked three houses down. A dark green Mercedes with dealer plates. Spending the money already, Tina thought. She hadn’t even had time to think about buying new underwear.
“To the basement with us.” Mickey went inside.
Tina glanced around the porch before following him, happy to see a lot of filled cardboard boxes. In the yard, piles of disassembled old cartons and stuffed black trash bags lay in a heap. “Do we need to call Lisbeth again?” she asked.
Mickey laughed. “I guess. She might as well just hang around here.”
“John’s going to be so happy.”
Mickey glanced back at her. “You got his number. Jolly John.”
“That’s what you call him?”
“No, I just made that up. Where’re the stairs to the basement?”
“I’m not sure. Probably in the kitchen.”
Barry was cramming one more dirty glass in the dishwasher when they got there. “You back again?” He grinned at them.
“Yeah.” Mickey pulled out his cell phone. “You explain it to him,” he said to Tina.
“We need to go down to the basement and see about a box.”
Barry grinned. “You think there may be a box down there? Just one?”
Tina laughed. “You’re right. It might be difficult to find one particular box in this house. But something tells me this one will be easy to spot. You know where the entrance to the cellar is?”
“Over there.” Barry pointed to a door. “I opened every door to see where they went, but I didn’t go downstairs.”
Mickey finished talking on his cell and hung up. “Lisbeth says to wait for her.”
Tina sighed. “Let’s go back to the office and do some work, then. We’re never going to finish in there at this rate.”
They had dragged two more boxes out to the porch, and a trash bag to the yard by the time Lisbeth and John showed up. Lisbeth looked around with approval. “You’re getting there.”
“We can probably get to work on the desks soon,” Tina said.
Lisbeth nodded. “Now, tell me again, Mickey, what’s this about the Simpsons and a box?”
Mickey explained as they followed him to the kitchen. He opened the door to the basement, found a light switch, and walked down, the wooden steps creaking as he went. Lisbeth and John followed, with Tina last. The basement smelled like any other basement—dank and musty. Tina watche
d where she set her feet. She didn’t want to trip over anything, like a dead rat.
They all groaned when they reached the bottom. Boxes lined the walls. Three doorways led off to the right, and a huge boiler, black as night, hulked in the far left corner. In a single line again, they followed Mickey to the first door. He opened it to find the laundry room surprisingly free of clutter. A large white gift box sat on top of the state-of-the-art red dryer. A window over the washer and dryer gave some light, but it was smeared with grime. Lisbeth found a switch and turned on the overhead florescent.
They could all fit into the laundry room with space to spare. They stared at the box for a moment, then Lisbeth walked over to see if anything was written on the top.
“For Evelyn Simpson. Open with care.”
Lisbeth put on latex gloves and removed the top off the box. She sifted through some pink tissue paper and lifted out an amber-colored crystal lion.
Tina gasped. “That’s a Lalique. I’ve seen it at Bloomingdale’s. For over two thousand dollars.”
Lisbeth rewrapped it carefully. “Probably Evelyn Simpson admired it, and Mrs. Blackwell decided to bequeath it to her.”
“What’s a Lalique?” John asked.
“A famous crystal manufacturer,” Tina said. “French Art Deco style. I’ve admired it since I was a little girl, so I know quite a bit about it. Mickey and I haven’t come across any so far, though, or I’d remember. I wonder where Ms. Simpson saw it. Maybe in the living room. Or maybe Mrs. Blackwell just decided she’d like it.”
“Also curious that she left it in the laundry room.” Lisbeth finished putting on the lid, picked up the box, and turned to leave.
“Probably the safest place,” Tina said, looking around again. “It is odd how hoarders’ minds work. She kept this room clutter-free, her sitting room, and two upstairs bathrooms. But not the kitchen. I guess the smaller spaces were all she could manage. I’d like to find out if she kept herself clean the last few months of her life. I suspect she did.”
“And that matters how?” John asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Tina frowned at him. “Maybe it doesn’t. Just curious.”
They climbed the stairs, Lisbeth still carrying the box. Tina was surprised she didn’t give it to John. She knew it was heavy. Maybe Lisbeth was afraid he’d drop it.
CHAPTER 32
When Tina and Mickey arrived back in the office, Tina glanced at her watch. Almost five. She looked around with dismay. They’d barely cleared the center of the room. Of course, part of the reason for that was their having to deal with the boxes piled in the middle and the doorway. Plus all the interruptions. Mickey was working the weekend, so Tina would be left twiddling her thumbs. She could go shopping. Not for a car, but some new underwear would be nice.
After everyone left and Mickey locked up, Tina went home and took a long, hot shower and spent a quiet evening with her mother and Uncle Bob. After she caught them up on what happened next door, by silent agreement, they didn’t mention Olivia or her house again.
When Tina stepped outside the next morning, she paused in the driveway, remembering Jenny’s scream. She shuddered and gave the Blackwell house a baleful look. After yesterday, she upped the amount of time it would take for the cleanout. She couldn’t wait to be finished. And she wished the police would find the killer because the reporters were driving her mom, Uncle Bob and herself crazy. One of them shouted a question at her as she walked to her car, but she ignored him.
She forced herself to think about shopping. With a jolt as she climbed into her yellow VW, she realized that she could buy just about anything that caught her eye. She sat a moment while the fact that she was going to be multi-millionaire finally sank in. Incredible.
Thames Street was packed as usual on a Saturday, even with tourist season over. She finally parked up on Spring Street and walked down. The shops ranged from tourist traps, a few chain stores, to expensive high-end boutiques with goods so expensive that she used to buy only sale items.
She ignored the chains and visited one of her favorite shops first. When she stepped inside, she saw the owner, Marcie Reynolds, helping a woman who wore more jewelry than most places carried. Bracelets climbed up both arms. Rings on every finger, several necklaces, and when Tina glanced down, she saw multiple ankle bracelets on each slender ankle. Huge, dangling earring hung from the woman’s lobes. Tina hoped Marcie could sell the customer some more jewelry.
Then she noticed Tabitha at the far end of the store, fingering something small. Tina started toward her to say hello, but stopped abruptly when she saw Tabitha put the article in the pocket of her jacket. For a moment, she didn’t believe her eyes. She looked over at Marcie, who was still engrossed with the other customer.
Maybe Tabitha owned what she’d put in her pocket, had been looking for something to match it. In a quandary, Tina stood still. Her impulse to shout, “Stop thief,” died on her lips. Because she realized she’d just seen a perfect motive for murder. Greed.
Marcie glanced up and saw Tina standing there. Tina shook her head and backed away, then left the boutique. She ducked into a coffee shop next door and collapsed onto a spindly chair. Took a deep breath. Then she called Hank.
“Hello, red, you doing okay on your day off?”
“Hank.” She took a deep breath. “I just saw Tabitha at Marcie’s shop. She was pocketing a piece of merchandise.” She waited for Hank to answer. It took a few moments.
“Did she see you?”
“Who? Oh, Tabitha? No, I left before she noticed me. Should I have alerted Marcie or called the police?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t tackle her.”
Tina closed her eyes. “Never crossed my mind. But all the other possibilities did.”
“I would imagine. You realized this raises her higher up on the suspect list for her aunt’s murder. If she is indeed the murderer, fingering her for shoplifting could put you in danger. You did the right thing, doll.”
Tina breathed a sigh of relief. “What should I do now?”
“Nothing. Pretend it never happened. I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it how?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Hank. Don’t do that to me. You know I don’t like it. What are you going to do?”
She didn’t hear him sigh, but she imagined he did, and maybe even rolled his eyes. “Put a bee in Lisbeth’s bonnet.”
“Because you and Lisbeth are such good friends.”
“Jealous?”
Tina’s grip on her cell phone tightened.
“Sorry.” Hank’s voice rumbled sexily in her ear. “That was uncalled for. Let’s just say Lisbeth and I have a working relationship. Nothing more.”
Tina took a deep breath, careful to let it out noiselessly. She wanted to ask if it had ever been something more but didn’t trust her own voice.
“Tina? You didn’t hang up on me?”
“No, Hank. But we’re done talking for now.”
“You’re angry.”
Why not admit it? “Some. You are so frustrating sometimes. But I expect you know that.” She pushed the end button and sat staring at nothing while her mind settled down. When she looked up, she saw the barista staring at her and realized she should order something. She stood on shaky legs and went to the counter and ordered coffee milk, an old, soothing childhood mixture. When she found out it was the Rhode Island state drink, she became even fonder of it.
She had just sat down again when the door opened and Tabitha stepped into the shop. Tina froze with her glass halfway to her lips. Hand trembling slightly, she put it back down on the table and watched Tabitha approach. Did she know Tina had seen her in Marcie’s?
Tabitha looked first surprised to see Tina, then she frowned. Tina figured she didn’t like the fact Mrs. Blackwell had left Tina more money. But Tina had to work hard for that. Tabitha just had to sit around. Or go shoplifting.
Tina ran through all the reasons she knew about shoplifters doing what t
hey did. Largest cause, depression. And impulse disorder. Tabitha probably felt tense before she took the article from Marcie’s shop, but had an immediate sense of relief after she did so. Tina wondered if today was a special day in Tabitha’s life. Birthday or some anniversary?
“Tina, how are you?”
“I’m fine. How’re you?”
“Just peachy. Let me go order, then I’ll join you.”
Tina watched Tabitha walk to the counter and ask for an eggnog latte. Perfect for the cool weather. Tina looked at her coffee milk, feeling some buyer’s remorse. A childhood drink. The eggnog latte was much more sophisticated.
Tabitha brought her coffee to the table and set it down. She pulled out a chair and gracefully eased herself into it, placing her large Coach handbag on the floor. Tina noticed for the first time what Tabitha wore. She had on an emerald green silk blouse and black linen slacks under a short, open red leather jacket. Ann Taylor Cleo suede boots. Tina recognized them because she had almost bought a pair a few weeks before but decided they were too expensive.
“You’re not clearing out Aunt Olivia’s house today?”
“No. We’re all taking a break. Trying to get the smell out of our sinus cavities.” Tina rubbed the back of her neck.
“I can imagine.” Tabitha’s tone was dry. “Finding anything interesting?”
Too much to count. But she couldn’t tell Tabitha that. She tried to think of anything interesting she could tell her about. The strange attic room? The bong in the master bedroom? Maybe the hideous vase Mickey had asked her about?
“Some nice stuff, a lot of junk. Did you visit your aunt at all after she started hoarding?”
Tabitha took a sip of her latte. “At first. She was an interesting woman, you know. She’d traveled all over the world and particularly liked Asia. She had a degree in anthropology. I don’t think she ever really did anything with it. Married young, then her husband died in a car accident in Italy. He was from a long family line of mill factory owners. Very rich, and kept it because they sold the factories off before all the mills started moving south. No children, and he had no other relatives, so she inherited it all. Our family was old Newport, and all died out except for us younger ones and her sister and brother. But maybe you knew all this?”
Buried Under Clutter (Tina Tales Mysteries Book 2) Page 12