Cremains of the Day

by Misty Simon

  “What? No comeback? That’s so unlike you, Tallie. All this cleaning isn’t making you slow, is it? Must be all those chemicals.”

  The fluffy pillow lost some of its oomph when I grabbed it and aimed it at his head. I yanked it behind my back when he looked up from his paper. Subtle. Subtle. Don’t give him a reason to throw me out before I could get anything from him.

  “You never were funny and I earned every blessed penny I got.” I stuffed the pillow back against the couch, then turned back to him with my arms crossed over my chest. A parting shot here would be completely expected. “Not that there was nearly as much as I thought there would be.”

  He scowled at me. “I told you I had to put a lot back into the business. Regardless, you were the one who decided to leave. There wasn’t a good enough reason, as far as I was concerned. So what if we didn’t get along? Plenty of people stay married despite that. You could have just kept your own room and we could have remained as we were.” He snapped the paper back up in front of his face as my jaw dropped.

  During our marriage, it was obvious he didn’t pay attention to me, or really have any clue who I was inside, but that last line was a topper. I would never have stayed in a marriage where I couldn’t stand my husband. Quite frankly, I deserved more than that and, even if I thought Waldo was a pissant, he deserved more too. Not that he’d get it, but that wasn’t up to me.

  “So nice to know you regret me leaving you for nothing more than the money you had to give up.” Now, how to cleverly insert a tax question? I had no brilliant ideas. Damn. And being that it was only September, he’d be skeptical if I asked about filing for next year. Double damn. I realized that I didn’t even have our tax records from years past. I had never asked about them and figured I would just file my own this year. In fact, I didn’t even know who had done our taxes to try to get a copy. How could I have been so stupid?

  I was a failure at this whole sleuthing thing, not sure how to even introduce the topic, much less get him to cough up the goods. Maybe I needed to go home and rethink my whole approach before coming back. I would wash his car or even, God forbid, make him dinner if I had to in order to have access to that freaking money. I’d be so far in the hole as to be a resident of China if I got hit with a tax bill for all the money he’d made over the course of our six-year marriage.

  He didn’t respond, which was probably one of the smartest things he’d ever done.

  “I’m finished here,” I said, putting the cleaners back under the sink before grabbing my light jacket. “You need anything else, call someone else.” I gave him a patently false smile that he returned.

  “I won’t call you if you don’t call me.”

  “Got it in one, Waldo.”

  He made to get out of the chair, but wasn’t fast enough as I trotted to the front door.

  “Bitch!”

  “Yep, that too,” I said as I yanked open the front door and came face-to-face with Burton, who had his finger poised at the doorbell.

  “What are you doing here?” we both asked at the same time.

  He raised a bushy, gray brow at me. Sighing, I stuck my hands on my hips. “I had to pick him up from the hospital. No one else would come get him. Then he asked for a prescription to be filled and then I stuck around to clean up a little, since I felt bad that he couldn’t do anything.” That last part was a lie. I knew Burton knew it when the other brow crept up to join the first.

  “I hope you’re not sniffing around. I told you to stay out of this. And I have more questions for you.” His gruff demeanor set me on edge and gave me pause. I hadn’t thought of what I was doing as sniffing around, necessarily. Finding the money was paramount and I’d do what I had to do to get it. Darla’s killer was also now my concern. If I could find the money first, then things would go much more smoothly. Besides, it might not pertain to Darla’s case at all. Just because Max said Darla and Waldo were in league together didn’t make it true.

  The receipt for the restaurant dinner with the two of them decided to pop into my head at that moment. I ruthlessly shoved it back down. I would take the rest of the evening to figure out how to hand it over to Burton without having to lie about how I got it.

  Instead I smiled. “No sniffing going on here. If you need to talk to His Highness, I’ll let you in while I . . . make dinner.” Damn, I was going to have to open the refrigerator again after all. I wasn’t going anywhere if I could stay to hear what Waldo said to Burton.

  * * *

  Taking my sweet time, I made a Lebanon bologna and cheese sandwich while I eavesdropped on Waldo and Burton’s conversation. I, of course, would never admit I had been eavesdropping. No one but Max needed to know that. Max, who was probably wondering where I was, since I’d been here for almost ninety minutes when I’d told him I wouldn’t be more than thirty at most.

  “So when was the last time you saw Darla?” Burton asked in the living room. As much as I hated the intercoms, I was thankful for them now. Waldo had made them capable of opening up in a room to listen, not just talk, and though I’d loathed it, it was very handy now.

  “I have not had contact with Darla since the night of her party. Even then, it was minimal.”

  Truth or lie? It had occurred to me that maybe Darla had been the stun-gunner. How would she have managed that, though? Leaving the party and getting back before anyone noticed seemed impossible. With her brash personality and in-your-face hostessing and drinking, someone would have noticed if she were gone for that amount of time.

  “We found your car down the block by the hardware store. Did you drive it there after the party?”

  “I’d like the car brought to my home. Tallie can drive it if you won’t have someone drop it off.”

  Could I really now? He’d never let me drive the Beemer before.

  “There’s a matter of evidence, Mr. Phillips. Until I have some answers, I’m not releasing anything to you.”

  Oh, I would bet my best squeegee Waldo was not taking that well. Was it wrong that the thought filled me with glee? Nah, probably not.

  “You will return my car, Burton, or I’ll have your job,” Waldo growled through the intercom. I backed up because I remembered that voice. It never heralded anything good.

  Burton wasn’t having the same issue. “You can certainly try, Mr. Phillips, but I assure you that you wouldn’t like to be in my seat. I don’t think you have the balls for it, as it were.”

  I choked back a laugh at the last second.

  “You may leave now, Burton. I will have my attorney call you regarding the car.”

  “I’m not ready to go yet, as I have a question or two about Darla’s murder that I think you could answer for me. So you either answer now, or your attorney can meet us at the station where we can discuss all this, as well as your car.”

  Burton was not giving an inch. It made me wonder what exactly they had on Waldo. Especially when Burton had made it clear that I was a suspect in Darla’s murder.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m injured and was told to be on house rest. Beyond that, ask away. I have no idea what happened to Darla. Tallie just told me a moment ago that the woman had died. Surely I can’t be your prime suspect.”

  Burton grumbled something I didn’t catch, then said, “We’re exploring all avenues at this point.”

  “Which is cop speak for you have no idea what you’re doing and are just fishing around until you snag something. I know how this works, Burton. Your job isn’t as hard as you think it is. But if you’re looking at me, you’re grasping at straws. I was in the hospital when she was killed. I had nothing to do with it. You might want to look at Darren, her husband, though. He was recently asking me about divorce. This certainly solves his problem without having to give over half his money.”

  Bastard.

  “Can I get a glass of water?” Burton asked.

  I had a split second to disconnect, or when Waldo hit the button to ask, it would set off an electric squeal. Then he would know I had hear
d everything. I rushed to the speaker and hit the button one second before the unit beeped. I sighed in relief as Waldo’s voice came over. “Tallie, Burton wants water. You think you can manage that since it has nothing to do with cooking? And where’s my sandwich? It can’t take you that long to slap the cheese and meat onto bread, unless you think you’ve gone gourmet and are coming out with some ridiculous concoction.”

  Fuming, I ran a glass of water and stomped out with his plate and the glass of water. “I’ll be going in just a minute, Your Highness. Anything else?”

  He peeked under the bread to see what I’d done. Resisting the urge to smack his hand took everything I had.

  “No, that’ll be all. You know the way out. You’ve left often enough.”

  No wonder I’d left him. But as much as I wanted to leave, I also wanted to know what Burton would say about Darren’s part in this.

  “Thanks, Tallie,” Burton said before turning back to Waldo. “We’ve already looked at Darren. He has a rock-solid alibi. I guess you do now too.” He flipped his notepad closed, then gulped the water down in one swallow. “If you think of anything, let me know. You might not have cared for the woman, but we still need to figure out who killed her.”

  “So who are you going after now? The maid? The pool boy?”

  “Have a nice night, Mr. Phillips. Thanks for your time and the water.” He turned toward the front door, winked at me, and left.

  I flipped Waldo the bird behind his back where he couldn’t see it, then left too, without another word.

  Burton caught me outside. “Did you hear every word in there?”

  “Nope,” I lied.

  “I find that hard to believe, but we’ll let it go for the moment. Now what else do you know about the scene at Darla’s? Did you remember anything since our talk this afternoon?”

  I gave him the rundown of where I’d gone and what I’d done, but nothing appeared new to him. I wanted to mention the papers now, but I hadn’t had time to formulate a reason as to why I had them, nor did I have them with me. Tomorrow would be soon enough and I’d just fudge when exactly I found them. Not exactly honest, but being honest didn’t appear to be getting me anywhere with Burton at the moment, anyway. Scratching his head, he let me go with a warning to stay out of trouble. I promised before hopping into my car. After I turned on the engine, I sat for a moment.

  There was something more going on than I was aware of. Tomorrow morning, before I started my cleaning route, I would give over the receipt for dinner and the threat. Though the first might not be proof—perhaps there was one other person in the whole world who ate their potato with blue cheese—it could be a lead for them to follow that I was holding back. The second was definitely something, though I had no idea who had written it. And if I gave them over in a few days, then Burton might be getting in my face in a way he hadn’t yet. Decision made, I felt better.

  I’d run it by Max to see what he thought. Although why I should do that eluded me. I still didn’t totally believe his motivation. Okay, so my parents had been nice. My parents were always nice when my mother wasn’t nagging and my father wasn’t consumed with dead people. But why would Max come all the way here from Washington D.C. to save someone he hadn’t seen or talked to in fifteen years? Unless he really was just that kind of loyal guy. If that was true, then I might be in more trouble than I thought.

  Chapter 7

  Bodies coming in the back door had never been my favorite part of the business. Fortunately, my father and Jeremy were downstairs to deal with Darla being wheeled in the next day. I would see her at some point, but by then she’d be dressed and coiffed and done up to look as close to her old self as possible.

  Instead of thinking about her going down the elevator to the basement, I continued to wrestle with how to tell Burton about the receipt and the threat. It seemed like it should be a given that I hand them over right now, but I still didn’t know what I was going to say. Mainly, I didn’t know how to hand them over without getting in trouble for withholding evidence. There had to be some kind of law against picking up things that didn’t belong to me and taking them.

  When the word stealing came to mind, I shied away from it. Withholding would be bad enough, especially if it would put them on the trail of Darla’s killer, but stealing could just be the cherry on the top of my idiocy. However, I still didn’t know if the receipt was even proof. The threat, at least, I knew would be taken seriously.

  And I couldn’t just leave them in an obvious place, then hope Burton realized what they were. I hadn’t had a chance to talk with Max since yesterday, when I’d shoved him into Jeremy’s office. I’d heard they’d gone drinking after I’d returned from Waldo’s. Since I had no idea where Max was staying, or even a phone number for him, I’d have to wait until he got in touch with me again. In the meantime, I had nothing to do at the moment.

  Like the shoemaker’s children who had no shoes, I hated cleaning my own house. With nothing else to do and not wanting to go downstairs just yet, though, I was stuck with cleaning or watching television. Right now I was too agitated to sit even to watch my favorite hotties on the drool box.

  Which left me cleaning. I dusted, I spruced, and I wiped, but none of it took the picture of Dead Darla out of my mind. How long had she been in the closet? Who had killed her? What was that perfume she had been wearing? Who had done the deed?

  Admittedly, Darla had enough people who tolerated her for her social standing and her money, yet detested her otherwise, but who would have had the guts to actually kill her? Or even the inclination?

  The guy with the shoes popped into my head, but I had no idea who he even was. I would have thought I would have seen him at least at one party if he was invited into her office and felt secure enough to yell at her. And nothing seemed to have come from my mentioning him to Burton.

  Which led me back to Darla’s circle of friends. It was one thing to covet an invite to one of her parties, yet not like her. But to actually kill someone took a whole lot more than thinking she was a social climber who needed to be set down a peg.

  I was never so thankful when my cell phone rang. At this point I might answer it even if it was Waldo, if just to break the monotony.

  Instead it was Darren. Was I about to start begging for my job? I was supposed to be there soon due to his request yesterday, so why was he calling me now? If it was to make me beg for my job, as I feared, I could think of other things I’d like to do, including scrubbing my kitchen floor with my toothbrush.

  “Darren, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Right, thanks. You already said that.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Tallie, I’ll get right to the point. I need you to come pick out something for Darla to wear in the box when you clean the house for the after-the-funeral thing. We have time since your father told me the burial is late next week, but I’d prefer to get this done.”

  I hesitated. Did I want to be the one to pick out Darla’s funeral clothes? That was usually a task for the spouse or another family member. But as far as I knew Darla’s parents were both dead and obviously Darren was not interested—even going so far as to call the coffin a box.

  From my conversation with Waldo, there had been some tension in the marriage. However, this was more callous than I had thought he’d be. Then again, I could probably look around while I was gathering clothes. Max might appreciate that. Not that I needed his appreciation. Lordy. I just wanted my potentially devastating taxes taken care of and my name cleared.

  “I can do that this afternoon if that works for you.”

  “Fine. Today is Letty’s day off and I’ll be out golfing, so just let yourself in and do your thing. I’m sure you know where everything is.”

  I assured him I did, then hung up, feeling almost sorry for Darla. On second thought, if I was still married to Waldo, he wouldn’t have flinched if I turned up dead, so what was the difference?

  After sneaking out of my apartment, I stopped at the police station, figuring I�
�d just wade in.

  Our police station was small, so I could hear voices down the hall as Suzy tried to get Burton to come up front.

  “She can wait,” Burton said. “She’s not going anywhere and I have paperwork to fill out.”

  It went back and forth like that for ten minutes until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I have evidence that you’re going to want to look at, Burton,” I yelled down the hall. “Of course, that’s only if you can pull yourself away from all that lovely paperwork.”

  Funny how fast he came rushing out of his office after that.

  “What’ve you got?”

  After carefully placing the receipt and the threat on the counter, I pointed to the first one. “This is a receipt I found in my car. It must have fallen out of the clothes Waldo had on when he was stun-gunned.” I think I covered that well without implicating myself. “See this baked potato, here? The only person I’ve ever known who orders it with blue-cheese dressing is Darla. This puts them at dinner together two nights before she was killed, even though he hates her.”

  Burton barked with laughter. “That’s not evidence. And you expect me to believe it just fell out in your car? You can’t prove that Darla is the only person in the whole of creation who eats her baked potato like that. Sounds kind of delicious, if you ask me. Maybe Waldo just has a new flame who likes things a little different. That bother you, Tallie?”

  I was so tired of people assuming I still wanted Waldo. Didn’t anyone remember that I was the one who left him?

  I huffed out a breath as he shoved the receipt back at me.

  “What else you got? Something else to shift the blame off yourself? Something you just happened to have found?”

  Well, that put me in a crappy position, but I was going to at least try. If Burton was set on me being the bad guy, I wanted to give him every opportunity to know I wasn’t before we got to the jail part of my life.

  “This one I found at the Bean. Yes, I know. I found it again,” I said when he smirked. “It was on one of the chairs in the back room. I thought it was the list of jobs I keep in my back pocket. But when I looked at it, it was obviously a threat. That serious enough for you, Chief?” I challenged him.