1 Odds and Ends

by Audrey Claire

  Jimmy hopped to obey the command, and the zipper stuck on the track. He gave it a good jerk, and something shifted inside the black vinyl pouch. A wave of horror-filled gasps passed over the crowd.

  “Hang on. Almost got it,” Jimmy said. Margot hoped he didn’t get it. She put her hands up to her eyes intending to block out any unsavory views, but she couldn’t help peeking through her fingers.

  The zipper popped and whirred along the track, and then the bag opened. What spilled from within wasn’t remains. Rather it was… “Spaghetti?”

  “Not just any spaghetti,” Nancy butted in. “I recognize that brand. They sell it down at the dollar store.”

  “And those cookies,” Greg added, “and the pancakes.”

  Margot took in the strange sight of a body bag full of what looked like cheap items. All of the packaging was one or at the most two colors. A few boxes were crushed, and someone had taped a bag of cookies closed. A hole had reopened, and a cookie fell out. Odds went to investigate.

  “Odds, leave that alone,” she said. “It’s creepy to eat from a body bag.”

  Peter removed his hand from his gun and walked over to stoop beside the bag. He picked up a box of spaghetti, studied it, and then tossed it aside before selecting something else. “What did you plan to do with this?”

  Jimmy nabbed the cookie from Odds and stuffed it into the bag. “I don’t have to answer that.”

  Peter eyed him, and Jimmy flushed.

  “I got it all from my job at the mall, but I didn’t steal it!”

  “No, because it’s all expired,” Peter said in disgust. “I’m guessing they asked you to toss it.”

  “Yeah, but most of it’s still good.” A glint of excitement sparked in his eyes. “I figure I can sell everything for a quarter of what the store was selling it for and make money that way. And before you say anything, it wasn’t my idea to use the bag. My buddy said he had something big enough. I never thought it was this.”

  “Very poor taste, Jimmy.” Nancy sniffed.

  “You can’t sell this.” Peter stood up. “Dump it.”

  “But I can—”

  “Go to jail now or later when you try to sell it.”

  Jimmy thrust the cookies with haphazard force into the bag. “Fine, but now you know I didn’t kill Coley. I was in the basement because that’s where I had this stuff hidden. Then after Coley was found, it was creepy to leave it down there.”

  “The basement was creepy but not the bag?”

  Jimmy scowled. “I wanted to take it all to Zabrina’s apartment, but she said I couldn’t. So I broke in…I mean, I tried this unlocked empty apartment instead.”

  Peter ran a hand over his face and tugged Jimmy to his feet. “On second thought, I think you and I need to go to the station and have a nice long chat. Everyone else, clear out. No one touches this stuff. Got it?”

  Everyone murmured consent, and Margot returned to her apartment. She went over in her head how Jimmy had grabbed her when she tripped backward. At the time, she had thought he attacked her. Now she realized he probably wanted to stop her from crushing his contraband.

  She didn’t know anything about dollar stores, but maybe it was time to visit one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Bucket, check. Mop, check. Cleaning supplies, got them.” Margot studied the line of items as she stood in the bathroom of her new employer.

  “You’re obsessed with bathrooms.”

  She peered at Odds sitting atop the sink and balancing on the edge. “I’m not obsessed. I’m starting here to get it out of the way. It’s the worst of the tasks I received. I have to stick the dishes in the dishwasher, do the vacuuming, wipe off all the counters, and throw in the load of laundry that’s waiting.”

  “Sounds like you’re spending the weekend in this dungeon.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Odds,” Margot scolded, but it sounded like that to her too. Especially since she wasn’t sure how the dishwasher or the washing machine worked. “She said I should be able to finish everything with time to spare in four hours.”

  “Good luck.” He jumped down from the sink.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I smell something interesting. Going to check it out.”

  Margot grumbled. “I thought you were here to help. Otherwise I would have left you home.”

  He moved delicately across the bedroom, but at her mention of helping, he paused and glanced back as if in disbelief. Pointed ears twitched, and he made a funny noise in his throat.

  Margot shook her fist at Odds’ retreating back and turned to her task. Well, the bathroom wouldn’t clean itself. She was determined to do a great job and get a good reference she could take to the next employer and the next. Before she knew it, she would be turning done jobs people were so eager to hire her.

  Picking up a green cylindrical container, Margot examined the side. “Yes! See, Odds, it has a picture of a sink here.”

  Since Odds wasn’t in the room, she shrugged and pulled the sticky tab off the top of the can. Round holes such as would be found in a salt or peppershaker appeared, and she dumped the can upside down over the sink. Greenish white powder poured out, and she shook harder to cover the entire surface of the sink. After that, she looked around for something to wipe it, found a sponge, and set to work.

  A half hour later, Margot was still trying to get all remnants of that darn green stuff to disappear. Every time she rinsed and wiped, the surface of the sink dried with residue. “Why?” she moaned. “I don’t understand.”

  Frustrated, Margot moved on to the tub and the floor. She left the toilet for last and winced every time she had to dip the brush inside the bowl. In the process of this, she thought she saw something move from the corner of her eye. She looked for find Odds staring at her.

  “Still at it?”

  “Shush!”

  “You know that’s not the toilet brush?”

  “I know what a toilet brush looks like, Odds,” she grumbled. “I am not stupid, nor do I need you—” She stopped.

  Of course she knew the difference between a toilet brush and a…oh no! Toilet brushes were never left in her bathrooms. Lou didn’t like such things around him, but Margot had seen them more than once. She had thought she would never mistake one because surely everyone used sponges in the shower to wash themselves.

  She removed the brush she held from inside the toilet and looked at it. Long, curved handle, pink. “Oh, dear.”

  The brush was ruined, and she couldn’t place it back in the shower without telling her employer. That would be wrong. However, if she told her, she might get mad and fire Margot without paying.

  Margot put the toilet seat down and then sat on it thinking. Odds sat before her, cleaning himself. She shooed him. Even the way he groomed had her thinking he made fun of her. After deliberating five minutes, which she didn’t have to spare in the first place, Margot came to a decision. Finish the job as fast as she could and as well as she could. Then she would go to the store and buy a new brush, and offer it to her employer.

  “After she pays me,” she muttered.

  Margot nodded approval of her plan and got to her feet. Muscles she had never used before cried out for mercy, and she winced.

  “Easier said than done, I guess.” She gathered the rest of the products and made her way carefully out of the bathroom over the slippery floor. “One down, the rest to go. We can do this, Odds!”

  “Rah,” he muttered and fell into step behind her as she headed toward the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Margot’s steps were heavy as she clambered off the bus and stepped onto the pavement. She paused a second to heft the bag holding Odds higher on her shoulder. Already beads of sweat had begun to form on her lower back.

  The bus pulled away from the curb in a cloud of black smoke, and Margot coughed waving her hand. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, and Odds leaped free of it.

  “Well, come on, Odds. We’ve got two blocks until we reach
the apartment.”

  Odds stared at her without moving.

  “Come on,” she insisted.

  “Are you…?”

  “I’m fine! She docked our pay, but at least we got some money. And after I got her the new brush too. She seemed to think it was my idea of a joke. Who, I ask you, would make a fool of themselves that way on purpose?”

  Margot began walking, and Odds joined her.

  “You.”

  She reached the apartment building and paused with a hand on the railing. Then she made the slow climb to the door, used her key to get in, and then started down the hall toward the stairs.

  “Is that you, Margot?” Nancy appeared at her door all smiles. Something delicious wafted in the air from her apartment, and Margot’s stomach growled.

  “Good evening, Nancy. Yes, it’s me. I was working.” Margot blushed.

  “Working?” Nancy said in disbelief. “At your age? Where is your retirement or your disability? Oh, excuse me. That’s none of my business. Would you like to come in? I’ve just finished cooking—”

  “No, thank you!” Margot raised her chin. “I cooked earlier myself, and all I need to do is get it out of the refrigerator when I get upstairs.”

  She stomped on down the hall and up the stairs to her place. In all honesty, she had been embarrassed and ashamed. The feelings kept resurfacing. She wanted to believe what she did was normal. After all, the people she saw every day had jobs, and they did menial tasks. Most, if not all, had never had servants in their lives. Margot didn’t feel she was better in the past or now, just blessed. If she was blessed then, what was she now?

  In her kitchen, she pulled out a box from the cabinet and set it on the table. Then she took down a pot from another cabinet. Odds had said the pots probably didn’t go up there, but she told him it was her kitchen. At the time, her mood had been foul, so she had refused to listen to his suggestions.

  Margot checked box instructions and added eight cups to the pot. When she was done, she lifted it from the sink and promptly dropped it on the floor. “Oh!”

  Odds yelped from the first splash and jetted from the kitchen. Margot soaked up all the water with paper towels and tossed them in the trash. Then she started over again. The pot was still too heavy.

  She burst out crying, covering her face with both hands and sobbed hard.

  “Margot,” Nancy called.

  Darn it. Margot had forgotten to lock the door. She sniffed and scrubbed her face with another paper towel. By the time Nancy appeared in the doorway, Margot had pasted on a smile.

  “Nancy, I apologize about earlier,” Margot began. “I’m just tired after a long day.”

  Nancy waved her hands. “Pish posh, dear. I’m used to sharp words here and there. I do it myself. Wait, is this what you’re having for dinner?” She picked up the boxed macaroni, and Margot winced. She had a lot of it because she had found the mother load at the dollar store.

  “Um, to start,” she said, giving a soft chuckle. “I also have some…um…”

  Nancy’s expression darkened. “Margot!”

  Margot started. “What?”

  “Let me see your hands.”

  Margot’s eyes widened, and she stuffed her hands behind her back. “Why? I told you I have to cook my dinner.”

  Nancy marched over to her. Margot backed up until she bumped against the sink. Her neighbor held out a plump hand, palm up and fingers wiggling. Margot sighed and laid one of hers in Nancy’s.

  Nancy gave a low cry of alarm. “Your hands are bruised and swollen. What have you been doing?”

  Margot said nothing. She had never worked a day in her life, and she wouldn’t admit it to anyone. “Just working. It will go away soon.”

  “Yes, with my salve and a couple of hot water bottles. Come on downstairs so I can get you fixed up. Then we’ll eat dinner and have a nice chat.”

  “Nancy.”

  “I’ve got pudding for dessert.”

  “What kind?”

  “Banana.”

  Margot heaved a sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Margot frowned at the large potted plant and rubbed an arm across her forehead to catch the moisture. She tried to ease some of the pressure on her knees, but it didn’t do much good. “Are you sure this will grow winter squash, Greg?”

  Greg glanced up from his own planting and grinned. “It will. Trust me, and it’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted. Whenever you’re ready, Debra and I will happily make you delicious meatless spaghetti squash.”

  Margot didn’t have the heart to tell him that while she hadn’t eaten a lot of meat lately because of her budget, she missed it terribly. The first chance she got she would gobble some down. That was of course why she couldn’t resist Nancy’s invites to dinner, not to mention the desserts, none of them healthy.

  However, Margot liked the Armitages, so she said, “I’ll be glad to join you. I love vegetables too.”

  He seemed to consider her addition of the word too but then went back to planting. Margot brushed at the dirt clinging to her hands and raised them in the air, waiting.

  “What are you doing, Margot?” Debra asked, coming up the stairs leading into the building.

  Margot flushed and snatched her hands down. “Nothing.” She looked past Debra to a section of the roof that was inaccessible from where they stood. A low brick wall surrounded the space, but thick and plentiful evergreen plants lined the top from all the way around. No one, without destroying the plants, could see in very well.

  Debra noticed her examining it. “That’s the third floor apartment’s space, the luxury apartment.”

  Greg stood and stretched his arms above his head. “Everyone wants it, and normally, the rent there would be higher. First qualified, first gets it.”

  Debra made a noise of annoyance. “But Coley kept it for himself! Who ever heard of the Super getting the best apartment? If you look at the wall, Margot, you can see it has most of the roof. The person who designed it was very unfair to the rest of the tenants.”

  Margot agreed, but she thought the two sounded very bitter. They were also unfair, she thought in that they used a good portion of the roof for their plants. Maybe they had gotten the permission of the others, and roof space wasn’t the only advantage to the luxury apartment.

  Odds ran out onto the roof. “Someone’s coooming.”

  “Who?” Margot asked.

  “Who what?” said Debra.

  Before Margot could answer, Nancy’s head popped into view on the stairs. She panted. “Oh, there you are, Margot. These steps! I live on the first floor for a reason. Let me catch my breath a minute.”

  Margot walked over and looked down at her. “Are you okay, dear?”

  Nancy waved a hand and rested it on her hip. Today, she wore still another housedress and soft slippers. Margot tried to remember if Nancy had ever left the building. Something glittered on her wrist, a gold bracelet that hadn’t been there before.

  Greg joined Margot at the top of the stairs. “If you can’t make it up here, Nancy, how would you ever live in the third floor apartment?”

  Margot blinked at him. He smiled, but she heard a bite in his tone.

  Nancy was not to be discounted by his youth. “I would start out on the third floor instead of the first,” she shot back. “So there.”

  Margot chuckled, and so did Debra despite herself. Her husband scowled at her, his cheeks red.

  “Come down, Margot,” Nancy implored her. “You and I have something to do.”

  “If you want to go, Margot, it’s fine,” Greg said, quite magnanimous now that Nancy had put him in his place.

  “Well let me clean up my mess,” Margot insisted, and she did, painfully remembering how she had raised her hands, waiting for someone to give her a cloth to wipe them.

  Afterward, she joined Nancy on the stairs, and they made their way down to the third floor. Nancy grasped her arm and drew her close.

  “Let’s go
into the apartment and look around,” she whispered. “It’s not locked.”

  Margot’s eyes widened. “How do you— Oh, well, I mean why isn’t it locked? Aren’t Coley’s things still there? I don’t remember seeing anyone move them out.”

  “They’re there,” Nancy confirmed. “As to why it’s not locked, I don’t know. Maybe the killer was searching.”

  Margot stopped walking. “Searching? Why would he be searching?”

  Nancy smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just that I heard they always return to the scene of a crime, don’t they? Isn’t that what they do on those murder mystery shows?”

  “Uh—”

  “Then again, Detective Peter did say he thinks the killer lives among us.” Her eyes grew wide and she looked at Margot. “Do you suspect me, Margot? I could do it if the victim was that nasty old Jimmy. He’s always ruining my parties.”

  “I don’t think you should admit that, d-dear,” Margot suggested, feeling a little disoriented by Nancy’s excitement at the prospect of killing Jimmy. “I am curious about the famous apartment though.”

  Odds’ tail brushed Margot’s ankle. She glanced toward the stairs leading to the second floor, but saw and heard nothing. Her heartbeat picked up. This adventure might be exciting. After all, she had survived the scary episode with Jimmy, and the whole thing had turned out to be a misunderstanding. She was still on the case, and a survey of the apartment in question was needed.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Margot walked with Nancy to the door with the numbers 303. She looked to her right. “There’s another door down there.”

  Nancy dismissed it. “Another apartment. It’s big too but built funny with columns in odd places. Plus, the bedroom windows look out on the wall of the next building. Hardly any sunlight gets in.”

  “Surely, the front ones let in light?”

  Nancy shook her head. “They do, but only when the sun is in that part of the sky. Also, there’s a neon sign that makes the outside glow at night like an alien invasion. I’ve seen it. Very spooky.”

  Margot thought it sounded interesting, and she put it on her mental list to explore if ever the situation arose. Then a new thought occurred to her. “Nancy, there are a lot of people in this city, and I imagine affordable housing can get difficult to find.”