“No. Oddly enough, no one has really told me about her history. I hardly knew her. When I was really young, she used to work outside and invited me in for cookies and milk sometimes. I don’t remember seeing any evidence then of hoarding, but I may have been too young to notice.”
Tabitha fingered a wide silver bangle on her right wrist and shook her head. “No, that started, let’s see, about twenty years ago. And slowly at first. I’m not sure what triggered it. Wait, I remember she was in the hospital around that time. I’m trying to think. Fell and hit her head?” Tabitha’s eyes widened. “Could that be it? Could that cause someone to start hoarding?”
“As a matter of fact, the latest findings indicate that’s a possibility. They’ve found indications of injury to the right mesial prefrontal cortex in people who hoard and in people with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Scientists have felt for a long time that the two conditions are somehow related. But as yet, there’s no cure. In the sense that they can’t fix the prefrontal cortex.”
“That’s amazing. We always just blamed her, thought she was a crazy old woman. That’s so sad.”
Tina blinked with surprise. First impression of Tabitha had not included any compassion. Reassessment time.
“But,” Tabitha said, “her mother was also close to being a hoarder. At least a huge collector, and as she got older, not so neat.”
Tina took a sip of her coffee milk. “No final answers yet. Could be a combination of things. Probably is a combination of things. Have you seen anything like this in any other members of the family? Your aunt Rebecca is obviously very neat. How about the rest of you?”
“Good question. I’d say we’re all about average. So, how does it feel to be a multi-millionaire?”
Tina blinked again at the abrupt change of subject. “It hasn’t thoroughly sunk in yet. I’m too busy concentrating on getting the house in order. You have any plans for your own inheritance?” She figured since Tabitha had brought it up and gotten so personal, so could she.
Tabitha looked down at the table. “A cruise. Maybe a new car. After being in Aunt Olivia’s house, I’m not sure I’m into buying a lot of things right now. Ezio and I have no plans to move. In today’s world, actually, one million doesn’t go very far. You buy anything big like a house or boat, you have to have the income to pay the taxes and insurance every year.”
“Jenny told me you’re in the real estate business.”
“I dabble, actually. I enjoy it, mostly, but don’t like spending all my time at it. Ezio brings in enough so that I don’t have to worry about making a certain amount, or anything, really. The inheritance will make it even easier for us in that respect.” She cocked her head at Tina. “You must have been a good therapist. You’ve gotten me to open up more than I do to most people.”
“You started it.” Tina smiled. “You asked me about what I was going to do with my inheritance.”
“Okay. So you answered without a quibble, and that worked to get me to answer your questions. I’ll have to remember that technique when the next person asks me a rather personal question.” Tabitha stood up, pushed her chair in, and grabbed her handbag. “I’m off to do more shopping. Window shopping, I guess, since I shudder every time I think about Aunt Olivia’s house. Sounds as if from what you said about that frontal whatever, it could happen to any one of us.”
Tina said good-bye, then sat watching Tabitha leave the café. She now had more questions than she had when she first met her. She seemed like a nice, sincere woman. But she remembered that hand moving the object to her jacket pocket. That was still a puzzle.
CHAPTER 33
Tina enjoyed a quiet Sunday by attending church, then lounging around at home. She’d only spoken to Hank on the phone, telling him about her talk with Tabitha and the gift for the Simpsons in the basement. He probably knew about it already, but she prattled on anyway. He’d been busy all weekend. She didn’t bother to ask any probing questions about what he was doing. She knew she wouldn’t get a straight answer.
Monday she again braved the small crowd of newspeople to meet Mickey at Olivia’s front door. He unlocked it, and when they stepped inside, Tina took a tentative sniff to see if the stench had gotten any better. Not much. They left the front door open so everyone could just come in and get to work. Two of the volunteers had begged off. Tina didn’t blame them, but wasn’t happy it would take longer to finish with two fewer helpers.
She stopped short when she looked toward the office. For the second time, it was blocked, this instance from the dismantled stacks they’d left against the adjoining door inside. She had planned to leave them there while they worked on the paperwork at the desks. Now they’d have to either pile them all up again or just work on them to get rid of them.
Tina leaned against the wall, thankfully clear on that side of the hallway. “Someone’s been in here again.”
“I can see that.” Mickey pushed past her and shoved one of the boxes against the rest to make room. They barely moved. “I think they don’t want us to work at the desks.”
Tina’s eyes widened. “You’re probably right. I wonder if they’ve been going through stuff there. If they have, we’d never know. And never know if they found anything.”
Hank walked in and frowned at the jumble of boxes. “What happened here?”
“It was this way when we arrived.” Tina tried not to stare. He looked more delectable than usual for some reason. What was it? Oh, the gray sweater matched his eyes, which she’d always called silver to go with his last name. She dragged her thoughts back to the problem at hand. “Time to call Lisbeth again. I guess any one of us could do that—we must all have her on speed dial.”
Hank and Mickey chuckled. “I’ll do it.” Mickey took his cell from his pocket.
“How are you?” Hank asked Tina.
He took her breath away. “I’m fine. Nice, quiet Sunday.”
He stepped closer and talked low so Mickey couldn’t hear him. “Miss me?”
“Oh, no, I was too busy being quiet.”
Mickey ended the call. “Lisbeth’s on her way. She did not sound happy.”
“Well, what’s she going to do?” Tina asked. “Help us go through them?”
Mickey looked shocked while Hank laughed. “Where’d the boxes come from? The hallway doesn’t look any different.”
Several more officers tried to enter, but couldn’t get by. Everyone said hello and shifted around so they could get in then stood looking at the blocked office doorway.
Tina answered Hank. “They were piled against the one wall and the connecting door in the office. As you can see, we’ve got a problem. And I think I have an answer. Detective Dotson is on her way. After she sees the situation, I suggest we line up in the hallway and everyone work on one stack. Mickey and I will work clearing the ones in the office doorway, and when more room is made available in the hallway, we’ll move the rest of the ones in the office out and get them unpacked. Then there will be no nearby boxes for the person to do this again.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Hank turned to face the others. “A couple of you go down to the end now and start. After the detective gets here, the rest of us can work this end.”
Lisbeth and John tried to come in. A few people moved down the hallway so there’d be room. John frowned, then began taking pictures of the boxes in the doorway.
Lisbeth came to stand next to Tina. “You notice anything in particular, anything odd, about this?”
Tina looked more closely at the pile. “None of the labels are visible. They’ve all been arranged so we can’t see them. Or at least it looks that way, although it’s possible when they were pulled away from the wall, the labels ended up at what we now see as the backs of the boxes. And Ms. Blackwell didn’t label them all, anyway.”
Lisbeth turned to watch the volunteers going through the cartons lined up against the hallway wall. “I thought they were all working in rooms.”
Tina nodded. “They were. We decided it w
ould be a good idea to clear out all the boxes from this area.”
“To make it harder if the person or persons who did this come back.” Lisbeth sighed. “But we’re going to have to post a guard now. This is totally unacceptable, that someone can get in here and obviously look for something that would incriminate him or her.”
Should have posted one after I reported the first time it happened.
As if she could read her mind, Lisbeth said, “We just don’t have the manpower to do what I’d like every time.”
John had stopped taking pictures. “Can Mickey and I get to work now?” Tina asked.
“After we dust for fingerprints. I’m sure whoever it was wore gloves, but we have to follow procedure.”
“Well, I’ll see if I can help with the hallway then.” Tina moved about halfway down, Mickey on her heels, and found a spot where she could work, but the boxes were piled too high for her to reach.
“I’ll get the stepstool.” Mickey walked toward the kitchen.
Tina assembled a box and snapped open a trash bag while she waited. He came back quickly and lifted the top box down to her. “Good thing the hallway is so wide.” Tina glanced at the top of the box. It had no label.
The tall woman who had needed the stepstool on Friday worked next to them. She gave an exclamation. “Ms. Shaw. Come look at this.”
Tina turned and saw the label on top of the box—FOR TINA TO OPEN
Mickey saw it, too. “Lisbeth!” he shouted.
Everyone stopped working and looked at them. Tina shivered. She felt as if Olivia Blackwell were hovering above her. She shook the feeling off when Lisbeth arrived, John on her heels.
“Interesting.” Lisbeth gave Tina a dubious look.
Does she suspect me now? Damn Olivia Blackwell and her little games.
Lisbeth raised an eyebrow. “You may open it.”
Tina wasn’t sure she wanted to. She used her box cutter to slice through the tape and removed some bubble wrap. Carefully, she pulled out an object wrapped in newspaper and undid it. It was figurine of Red Riding Hood with the wolf standing next to her, red tongue hanging from his gaping mouth. Tina looked at it, bemused. Then she noticed a tiny tag hanging from Red Riding Hood’s wrist with one word written on it. “Jenny.” She stood holding it, shock running through her.
Slowly, she handed it to Lisbeth, whose face also showed surprise as she read the tag and set it down on a nearby box.
Next came a bisque Sleeping Beauty doll on her bed, tagged “Rebecca.” Then a Goldilocks soft doll, “Tabitha.” Another soft doll, Little Bo Peep was “Mrs. McEllen.” A Prince Charming marionette, “Harold.” Robin Hood labeled “Colin.” Popeye the Sailor Man with a plastic head and soft body, pipe, bulging muscles and all, tagged “Robert.” Tina was a hard plastic doll like Barbie—Cinderella. Snow White, a beautiful china doll, depicted her mother, “Laura.”
At the bottom of the pile was the Gingerbread Man, without a tag.
“What could all this mean?” Tina asked. Everyone around her looked as puzzled as she felt.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else in there? Some hint, something written?” Lisbeth asked.
Tina sifted through the bubble wrap and newspapers. “Nothing. These are all the people in her will. Except the Gingerbread man. Who could he be?”
No one had an answer. John and Mickey exchanged glances, clearly showing disdain for Mrs. Blackwell and her dolls.
Lisbeth said, “Okay, everyone, back to work.” They all moved to their places and the rustle of objects being unwrapped and set down filled the hallway again.
“What should I do with these?” Tina couldn’t stop looking at the collection. “Can I take a picture?” She’d set them on two unopened boxes. The ceramic ones could stand on their own. The dolls she’d propped up.
“Good idea,” Lisbeth said. “Maybe something about them all will come to you.”
Tina snapped away with her phone. Hank now stood beside her, and he also took pictures. As did John and Mickey.
When everyone stopped, Lisbeth said, “Please wrap them up again. John will put them in our cruiser, and we’ll get out of your hair.”
“There might be some hint in the newspaper she used to wrap them,” Hank said.
Lisbeth’s eyes widened. “You’re right. Is there something else around you can wrap them in?” She began to smooth out one of the sheets of newsprint.
Tina smiled. “Lots.” She picked up some paper from the trash Sandy had discarded and began to wrap up the figures.
When she finished, Tina watched John take the box and leave the house without regret. She didn’t want Olivia Blackwell’s dolls. She wondered if when this was all over the police would give them to her. And if they did, what would she do with them?
She shook off any more thoughts about the odd collection and went to work with Mickey on the boxes blocking the office doorway. She was glad she wore gloves. The fingerprint dust was nasty, and she and Mickey sneezed often.
Because the two of them didn’t have room for each to open and deal with the contents of the boxes, Mickey opened them, and Tina took out each item. Then she handed it to Mickey and said either “box” or “trash.”
When they only had four boxes left, Tina said, “Time for lunch,” Outside, they joined a group of others.
“I think she had one crystal animal from every manufacturer out there,” Sandy said. “I’ve found boxes and boxes of them in the hallway and bedroom.” She turned to Tina. “I should be finished in the bedroom by the time we leave tonight.”
“That’s good,” Tina said. “How about the rest of you? How far along is everyone?”
Except Barry, who was working in the kitchen, and the two women working in the living and dining rooms, everyone said they thought they’d be done that afternoon.
“We still have the attic and basement to do, you know. So, you can move on to those tomorrow. I need one person to volunteer to clean up the attic hallway and one of the rooms. Squirrels have been up there and trashed the hallway.”
“You mean more than the rest of the house?” Barry asked.
“Afraid so. The floors need sweeping and the trash picked up.”
“Ugh.” Sandy shuddered.
“At least we have enough empty boxes to put the trash in,” Barry said.
Everyone laughed. One of the male officers volunteered to do the job.
“I think it would be a good idea for you to do that this afternoon,” Tina said. “That way people can work up there when they’re finished downstairs. Leave the room you’re doing for now, and you can go back to it while others work in the attic.”
Tina and Mickey finished with all the boxes in the office by mid-afternoon and settled down side by side at the messiest desk. “Believe it or not,” Tina said, “this is going to be more tedious than the boxes. And it’s going to go slow since we both have to look at every single piece of paper.” She squirmed inside at Mickey’s closeness. He was young and good looking after all. He hadn’t made a move on her, so she wasn’t sure what was making her so uneasy. “You have a girlfriend?” she blurted out. Hopefully.
“Yes,” he said. “But I’m not sure how long it will last. You available? Or are you and Hank…”
Well, she’d stepped in it, hadn’t she? Quickly, she said, “Yes, Hank and I are dating.”
“Exclusively?”
She hesitated. They’d never discussed it. She’d assumed he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She certainly wasn’t. She’d go with that for now. “Yes, exclusively.” She made her voice as firm as she could.
“Too bad.” But Mickey didn’t sound very disappointed. Maybe she didn’t appeal to him. The thought was both annoying and reassuring.
She gave him a quick smile and picked up the closest piece of paper. A postcard from a local dentist. She showed it to Mickey. “Trash.”
“Right. I don’t think Mrs. Blackwell will be needing his services.”
Tina put it into a wastebasket under the desk
. She’d lined it with a black trash bag that overflowed down the sides and onto the floor. When the basket was full, she’d take the bag out of it and continue to throw stuff in it. “Before we go any further, let me see if I can find the file folders Jenny and I made up when we were doing this.” She saw them underneath some papers, so she knew the intruder had been at the desk. She showed them to Mickey. “Most of this stuff will be junk mail. But some of it will need tending to by the lawyer. Since we’re going through it anyway, it’s a good idea to sort as we go.”
“Okay.” Mickey looked at the labels. “This makes sense. You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”
“Thanks. I got interested when helping one of my patients, who knew she was becoming a hoarder and wanted help.” She showed him another piece of junk mail, then threw it in the trash.
“I heard you were a practicing psychologist before coming back to Newport.”
She knew what his unasked question was: Why did you quit? But she didn’t answer it. Just showed him another piece of paper, this one an electric bill. After he looked at it, she put it in the bills folder.
They worked a few minutes in what Tina considered an uncomfortable silence. Finally she asked, “How long have you lived across the street? I don’t remember you or Ryan from when I was still living at home.”
“Three years. We found out we both liked the old Painted Ladies and decided to buy one together and renovate it. We finished up the outside first because it was in bad shape.”
“I remember. One of the worst on the street. I always regretted that because I think it might have the same floor plan as ours.”
Mickey looked thoughtful. “You may be right. Similar, anyway.”
“But yours was never quite as bad as this one. How far along are you on the inside?” Tina showed him another ad, this one for siding, then tossed it.
“We’ve done the living areas and each of our bedrooms. We still have the other bedrooms, the back sun porch, the attic and basement to go. All the bathrooms and the kitchen need updating, but they’re all usable now.”
Buried Under Clutter (Tina Tales Mysteries Book 2) Page 13