The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag: All Washed Up: (Book 3 in the Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series)

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “What the hell, Neil? You scared me half to death.” I shoved him, though not hard enough to do any damage or even make him budge from his crouched position. “What did you think you were doing, lurking outside the door like that?”

  “I was camping out there.” He pointed to a rumpled sleeping bag on the porch. “But I heard you shifting around in here and was coming to check on you. Is your hand bothering you?”

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, giving my pulse time to rein in my panic. Atlas took the opportunity to jump on the bed, turn around and flop down with an exhausted sigh. He must have sensed I was too distracted to yell at him.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” Neil helped me up off the floor. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

  I shook my head, still a little dizzy. “So, that was you groaning?”

  “Groaning?” I heard the frown in his voice.

  Atlas growled when, as if on cue, another moan erupted from the wall behind the bed.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Maybe it’s the house settling,” I murmured without much hope. Just in case, I pounded on the wall and called out, “Hey! Can you hear me? Do you need help?”

  No actual answer, just another wordless groan.

  “It sounds human.” Leo stood, candle in hand, and surveyed the moaning wall.

  The power was most definitely down for the count. Alerted by my shrieks, he and Sylvia had charged downstairs and into our room. Assured that I was safe, Neil had gone to find his Maglite.

  “Could you hear it upstairs?” I asked.

  He looked at me, then away, but even in the flickering light I saw the blush that stained his cheeks. “I thought it was you and Neil, um… making up.”

  “It sounds like a dying moose trapped in the wall!”

  A shrug. “I figured he was really good.”

  Sylvia made a choked sound that told me she’d also believed Neil and I were in the throes of passion. Good grief.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” My husband was back with a second Maglite in one hand and a sledgehammer in the other.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Emergency exit,” Neil said.

  We’d long since pulled the bed away from the wall and he shone the flashlight beam along the patterned wallpaper.

  “It can’t be human.” Sylvia’s laughter had faded and she braided her hair with fingers that shook. “I mean, how could anyone, or anything, be inside the walls?”

  And still be alive. Though she didn’t say it, we all heard the final part of her thought.

  “Maybe we should leave it be.” Leo shifted his weight, his manner uneasy.

  “No.” I shook my head, though terror had turned my blood to slush. “Who or whatever is in there needs help.”

  “Maggie, stand back and hold the light for me.”

  Neil handed me the Maglite and then hefted the sledgehammer. I stood with my back pressed to the far wall with Leo, who held the candle in one hand and Atlas’s collar in the other. Sylvia stood on my other side with her phone out, ready to dial 911.

  Neil swung and the hammer connected with the wall with a dull thump. He drew it back and aimed for the small dent he’d made. Plaster dust rained down as the hammer went all the way through. I listened, but didn’t hear any sounds of protests from the other side.

  Neil removed his shirt and even in the glow of the candlelight I could see the bruises on his skin from the accident, along with sweat and a fresh coating of plaster dust.

  “If this is your idea of a restful vacation,” I said in a mild tone, “somebody goofed.”

  “Later,” he grunted and heaved the sledge hammer at the wall again.

  I had no idea if he meant we’d discuss it later or the vacation was later but decided it was not the time to quibble.

  He made slow but steady progress as he enlarged the hole until he could poke his hand inside.

  “Be careful,” I hissed. With our luck there’d be a whacko in there with a chainsaw ready to cut off whatever body part had been offered.

  He groped and then pulled at the loose sheetrock to expand the opening until he could fit head and shoulders into the space. “Give me the light.”

  I moved forward with the flashlight but didn’t hand it over. Instead, I shone it down into the dark depths of the wall and peeked inside, prepared to see eyes or gore or just about anything other than what was actually there.

  “Well?” Leo’s tone was a tad impatient.

  Neil bodily pulled me from the wrecked wall, snatched the flashlight and peered inside, too. “Nothing.”

  The moan came again, louder without the barrier of a solid wall to muffle it.

  Sylvia jerked as if someone had stuck a pin in her backside. “It’s the ghost, it has to be and now we’ve released her.”

  “Bull,” Neil said and shone the light at a slight downward angle. “Get me a broom or a mop, something with a long handle.”

  Leo vanished, only to reappear seconds later with a Swiffer in hand. “Will this work?”

  Neil nodded and took the cleaning implement from him.

  “What do you see?” I stood on tiptoe but he blocked the freshly made opening.

  He stuck the long Swiffer handle into the hole and jabbed it around as though to stab something with it. I grimaced at the thought, but decided to keep the observation under wraps until I saw what he unearthed.

  He made a triumphant noise and there was a sliding sound behind the wall, followed by a thump. Neil reversed the Swiffer and stuck the wider end inside the hole, then ordered, “Give me some room.”

  I backed away and waited as he laboriously hooked something with the cleaning tool and pulled it up and out of the hole. He set it on the ground and we gathered around it.

  I blinked, feeling stupid. “It’s a boom box.”

  It moaned again, then there was a faint rustling noise, like dry bones moving on leaves.

  Neil stopped the playback and popped open the CD slot. “Halloween Sounds from the Grave and Beyond,” he read.

  “Who put that in there?” I asked. “One of the construction workers?”

  It was a faint hope, one Leo dashed almost immediately. “No. This house hasn’t been remodeled since the sixties.”

  Neil crouched beside it. “The technology is old, but not that old. Eighties maybe. And besides, it’s still running, so the batteries have to be fresh.”

  “So you think someone put it in the wall on purpose?” Sylvia asked. “Why?”

  Neil shook his head, but I was the one who answered. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it wasn’t in there last night. I would have heard it.”

  Neil got down on his hands and knees and searched the lower part of the wall. I shined the flashlight at his questing hand. At first blush he appeared to be touching solid wall but then he peeled the paper aside to reveal a neat little square opening, the clear entry point for the boom box.

  “So no ghost?” Sylvia asked. I thought she looked a little disappointed but that might have only been a flicker of the candlelight.

  “No ghost,” Neil agreed.

  “How anticlimactic.” Leo sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “But who would do that?” Sylvia stared down at the boom box.

  It occurred to me that she hadn’t spent much time around adolescent males. “Just someone pulling a prank. It sounds like a stunt Kenny or Josh might pull. Or for that matter, Marty.”

  Sylvia hesitated and I touched her shoulder. “We’ll figure it all out in the morning, okay?” I meant more than the prank and could tell from the way her shoulders sagged that she knew it.

  Since the power was still out and we only had one flashlight, Neil made the call. “I’ll escort you upstairs. Wait on the porch, Uncle Scrooge.”

  I bristled at the order. He’d gone all alphahole on me ever since we’d heard the first disembodied moan and I hadn’t forgotten why he wasn’t in bed with me. I didn’t
want to fight in front of Sylvia though and there was still a decent bit of moonlight outside, so it was better than waiting in the darkness of the ruined room. He’d pay for it later, though.

  Atlas danced around my feet in greeting when I joined him on the porch. He hadn’t liked being shoved outside while all his humans cavorted indoors and he’d shredded the top part of Neil’s sleeping bag in protest. I could respect a creature that did damage for the sake of spite.

  Sometimes, spite was all I had going for me.

  “Who’s a good boy, huh?” I said to him in that voice reserved for talking to animals, babies and idiots. “You’re a good stinky doggie, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”

  “Nice to see the two of you getting along.” Neil joined us on the porch and clicked off the flashlight.

  I sniffed and continued to pet the dog. “He’s big and hairy and clumsy and I’ve seen him eat things that would choke a donkey. But underneath the slobbery mess, he’s got a good heart. He tried to protect us.”

  Neil stared down at the remains of his sleeping bag. “Are you implying something about me?”

  “I’m too exhausted to imply anything.”

  He toed the sleeping bag and then his head lifted. It was too dark to tell if he actually looked at me, but I would have bet my bagless vacuum that he was. “Then say it outright.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “I’m pissed off that you arranged this like some creepy puppet master and if my hand didn’t hurt so much I’d belt you a good one.”

  “But…?” the perceptive SOB said.

  I sighed. “But, I miss you, even if you are an evil genius. Now drag that mattress out here and give me a shot of whatever booze you’re hiding and let’s get some sleep.”

  He chuckled and handed me the flask. I inhaled and smelled whiskey. Naturally. I took a swig while he dragged the box spring and then the mattress out to the deck. I didn’t wait for an invitation, just climbed beneath the covers and pulled the tattered sleeping bag up. A moment later, Neil slid in behind me and drew me close so we shared our body heat. He kissed the top of my head.

  It wasn’t a fix, just another Band-Aid on the festering wound, but for now, it was enough.

  We’d lance the bugger later.

  ****

  The bed was much more comfortable outdoors. Or maybe that was just having my husband in it with me. I slept like the dead, lulled to unconsciousness by the steady roar of the churning river. When I woke, it was to the sound of tires on gravel. From our makeshift pallet, I couldn’t see the driveway but the slamming of car doors assured me that we did have company.

  I rolled over to face Neil. In the dappled sunlight streaming between the new leaves, his bruised face looked hideous, all purple and blue and black, with just enough red for shock against the stark white of the bandages. It was hard to tell if he or Atlas snored the loudest, Neil because he couldn’t breathe through his swollen nose, the dog, well, simply because he was a large, smelly, snoring beast.

  Neil’s dark hair was disheveled. His beard had grown in over the past two days to give him that Wild Man of Borneo vibe. A bruised and bloodied warrior who’d taken pain to protect his woman. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

  Of course, with my own aches, the incoming visitors and our exposed position, I couldn’t do anything about it but admire him. That fact filled me with relief.

  “You’re staring,” he said, eyes still closed.

  I realized belatedly that the snoring had ceased a few minutes earlier.

  “I am,” I agreed. “I’m wondering if there’s a pot of gold under your left ear because that’s where the rainbow ends.”

  He smiled, but then made a noise of acute pain. “Damn it, that hurts like hell.”

  “Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson.”

  “To not catch an airbag with my face? Yeah, message received.”

  I shook my head. “No, that karma’s a vengeful bitch.”

  He opened his mouth, but then closed it again without speaking and nodded once.

  Though it was too early to get into it with him I had to ask, “Are you sorry?”

  “About the accident?”

  I sat up, kicked off the covers and then snatched them back when the damp morning air cut through my thin pajamas. “No, about lying to me.”

  The sound of male voices drifted to us. The workmen had arrived for the day and we were out of time. I rose and let the covers fall away, braving the chill. “Never mind,” I began, but his fingers circled around my wrist, capturing me. I turned and took in his rumpled, battered visage.

  “I’m sorry I felt the need to trick you,” he muttered.

  It was probably a good thing I hadn’t had coffee yet or he would have had to peel me off the ceiling. As it was, I managed to cloak myself in righteous indignation and rounded on him. “That’s dreck, and you know it. You’re playing word games but you know you’re in the wrong.” I poked him in the chest.

  “Am I?” One eyebrow went up, about the only thing left on his face that retained its original color. He caught my finger before I could jab him again.

  I tugged my hand out of his grip, unwilling to endure his hands on my skin a moment longer. “Don’t answer a question with a question. It’s snotty and rude.”

  He flopped back onto the mattress in mock defeat. “So, I’m snotty and rude, battered and bruised, arrogant and wrong. Why did you marry me again?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.” I wanted to kick him. If I’d had anything on my foot other than a grubby sock I would have. With my luck though, I’d probably break a toe. Instead, I turned on my heel and made for the bathroom.

  The wreckage in the room looked even worse in the daylight. Torn sheetrock, crumbled plaster, construction dust everywhere. Not to mention the two gaping holes in the wall and the empty bed frame that had been turned on its side. We were doing more harm than good to the place.

  After dusting some wall chunks off my suitcase, I lugged it into the bathroom with me. The hot water did wonders to dispel the chill and lingering aches. I dressed and felt more myself than I had in weeks.

  Not wanting to run into Neil, I exited the bathroom and made my way toward the kitchen. Leo, bless him, had picked up a cheap coffee maker and there was a full pot prepped for my arrival. Freshly brewed, obviously Leo’s peace offering. Neil could learn a thing or two about women from my gay friend.

  I changed my mind as I poured the first mug full to the top. No, this was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. And for that matter, smelled. “Yeah, that’s the good stuff.”

  “Junkie,” Leo said from the doorway. The smile in his voice matched the one on his face. “Did you sleep well?”

  “The wild gorilla sex helped.”

  “Fibber.” His face was strained with forced cheerfulness, almost to a painful degree.

  “It’s okay, Leo. I can’t say no to Neil either. Most of the time.”

  “He’s worried about you, you know.” Leo interrupted my inner contemplation. “We’ve all been. Even the dragon lady.”

  One of my eyebrows nearly reached my hairline. “Laura’s worried about me?” Why did I find that hard to believe?

  “Just because the two of you have never gotten along, doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you. In fact, she picked out this house as a fixer up specifically with you in mind.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “I shit you not,” he quipped. “Call her and ask her if you don’t believe me.”

  I shook my head, full of coffee and incredulity. “Why would she pick this place though? It’s not like I’ve ever been here before. What could this place possibly have to do with me?”

  “It was the legend.” Leo snagged some nondairy sugar-free coffee creamer from the fridge and poured himself a cup before I set up a coffee IV with it. “She’s acquainted with the Greys and they told her about the bean nighe. She thought that would appeal to your investigative side.”

  Oddly enough, I was touched at the thou
ght. The explanation in no way made everything all right, but it did go a long way to reassure me that they all hadn’t had a laugh at my expense.

  Sylvia, already dressed and fresh as a daisy, joined us in the kitchen. She bypassed the elixir of life and headed for her herbal teas. Once she made her selection, she set the filled kettle on the stove and ignited the burner, then turned to face us. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

  “Well,” Leo rubbed his freshly shaved chin, “I have to supervise the goings on here. The three of you should go out, maybe explore the area a bit.”

  The kettle started to whistle. Sylvia filled her mug and dunked the bag slowly. “Good idea.”

  They both turned to face me for my input.

  “I want to find out how the Grants’ daughter died.”

  They stared at me, both of them wearing matching expressions of disbelief.

  “What? It’s a solid lead. If she died in childbirth, she might be the bean nighe.”

  They exchanged a look and Leo spoke slowly. “Well, we thought, after last night you wouldn’t want to, um, investigate the ghost anymore.”

  “Because of the accident? If anything I’m even more invested because a ghost caused the wreck.”

  Leo shook his head. “No, because we put you up to the whole thing.”

  “That was a crummy thing to do,” I said. “But, I’m curious now, so I want to see it through. I’ve seen one ghost and the other one is a sort of local celebrity.”

  “But what about the boom box in the wall?” Sylvia asked. I could tell from the paling of her already fair complexion that part worried her more than all the spooky stories we’d sifted through. “Don’t you think that was like a warning of some kind, like people don’t want us nosing around?”

  I waved that off with a dismissive gesture. “Sylvie, when people want to warn you off they threaten, shoot at you, write nasty notes full of suggestions and ultimatums. Typically you know you’re being threatened when you hear the words or else. Believe me when I say, we haven’t been threatened.”

  “It scares me that you know that,” Leo mumbled into his cup.

  I winked at him and handed over my coffee mug. “Better top me off. Or else.”