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

by Jennifer L. Hart

  He shot me a warning look. “Don’t say that. It matters to you, I know it does. You’ve been more alive since we’ve been here than I’ve seen you in months, so don’t give up on it just because I screwed up.”

  “Neil,” I said, then didn’t know what to say.

  “I should go back, but I don’t want to leave you here. No way in hell will I leave you here after last night.”

  I breathed in a relieved sigh, glad I didn’t have to make the suggestion. “That’s not even an option worth considering. I go wherever you go, period.”

  He was silent for a time and then came toward me and plucked the marker from my hand. On my wall he wrote strange events, underlined it and wrote, 1. woman in the road.

  My brows crinkled into a scowl. “You mean ghost.”

  “It wasn’t a ghost that I saw in the road.”

  “What?”

  “It was a woman. A real honest-to-God flesh and blood woman. The thing we saw last night,” he shuddered, “that I could believe was a ghost, but the woman in the road was alive.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it again. Could he be right? I had a better look than he did, but he seemed so sure. I, on the other hand, wasn’t. I had ghosts on the brain after all, that’s why I’d been sent here, so there was a possibility I’d superimposed a ghost-like quality.

  “What about the ghost in the library?”

  “Are you sure it was a ghost?”

  Stubbornness prodded me to insist that yes, she was definitely a ghost, but again, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. I’d taken pain meds after the accident and that basement had been dark other than the reading lamps on the tables. “It was a woman, and I’m even willing to wager it was the same woman who was standing in the road, but maybe she wasn’t really a ghost.”

  Neil wrote boom box in the wall as his second list item and library shelf as number three. “So, operating under the assumption that it has been a woman and not a ghost messing with us, what can we conclude?”

  “She’s nuts.”

  “That’s not very helpful, Uncle Scrooge.”

  “I’m serious. It seems even crazier that a real person would stand in front of our car. A ghost we would have driven right through, but a person would have been hit.”

  “I didn’t hit her,” Neil said with confidence. “I flipped the damn truck but I didn’t hit her. There was no blood, no body, nothing.”

  “Sheriff Ruiz said there was no sign of a vehicle nearby. So where did she come from?”

  “She has to live nearby. Walking distance.”

  “That narrows it down to like two thousand people.” I stared at the words boom box and frowned. “Here’s something we didn’t consider yet. Technologically speaking, a boom box is pretty old.”

  “It’s archaic, really,” Neil agreed. “So why use that instead of an iPod or even a cell phone that would have been harder for us to spot?”

  “Unless that’s all that you have,” I muttered. “One of the elderly women I clean for was upset because her son wanted to replace her CD collection with an iPod for Christmas. He thought he was doing something nice, but she was comfortable with the technology she had.”

  “But the woman in the road, the same one you saw at the library, wasn’t elderly, right?”

  “No older than I am,” I agreed. Never mind that I felt as old as Methuselah after sleeping in the car. Chronologically, I was in my thirties. “I’ve even mastered the smartphone. Well, mostly.”

  “So let’s just say it’s disposable tech. That whoever put it in the wall used it simply because they didn’t mind not getting it back. Still, why was it that you were in that room half the night before you heard it?”

  I frowned. He was right. I hadn’t thought of it that way but I’d been in bed for several hours before I heard anything. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Neil said, his gaze steady, “that someone had to turn it on. And they had to sneak past us to do it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Grants and Greys and ghosts, oh my!” Leo sing-songed. He was in the middle of happy hour, all by his lonesome self, with a whiskey-based concoction he called a Seething Jealousy. His slurred speech and irreverent words, plus the fact that he was off tune—which would have horrified him if he were sober—clued me in to the fact that the cocktail in his hand wasn’t his first. “It is alliteration gone wild in the wonderful land of Oz!”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Sylvia furrowed her delicate brow.

  “I think I broke Leo,” I mock whispered. Stupid laundry hag. Never should have talked crazy killers with him.

  “What did you do?” Neil asked.

  “I drew on the wall and bounced a few ideas off him.”

  “Don’t you worry about Leo,” Leo said with a salute of his drink. He took a healthy slug and then gestured out at the river. “Leo is just fucking fabulous.”

  “I’ve never heard him swear before,” Sylvia said in wonder.

  “Leo.” I put a hand on the arm. “You need to slow down. Have you had anything to eat?”

  He snatched his arm away, obviously afraid I’d take his drink out of his hand. “Eat? What’s the point in cooking? No one eats here.”

  “Sure we do,” I soothed. “We love your cooking.”

  “She doesn’t,” he spat at Sylvia as though the words were coated in poison. “Nothing I make is good enough for her.”

  Sylvia’s jaw dropped open. I couldn’t blame her. Where the hell had the animosity come from?

  There was no use talking to a drunken man, especially one in a confrontational mood. “Neil, get him a glass of water and scrounge up something for him to eat. Sylvia, grab his diabetic test kit out of his bag. All this alcohol can’t be good for him.”

  “Yes, Sylvia, scurry off like the good little girl you are,” Leo sneered.

  I waited until the two of them had vanished into the depths of the house. “You are being a jackass.”

  He narrowed his eyes on me. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

  “Okay, what the hell is wrong with you all of a sudden? I thought you liked Sylvia.”

  He fidgeted and looked away, mumbling something incoherent.

  “Try it at a level people can hear.”

  “I said,” he enunciated, “I liked her just fine until she took my place.”

  “Your place?” I frowned, not understanding.

  Color flooded his face, though I couldn’t tell if that was from embarrassment or overindulgence. “With you. She’s your BFF now. Admit it.”

  “Huh?”

  “You asked her to join your business. You never asked me.”

  “Because you already have a job,” I said slowly. “Leo, we’re not in fifth grade and you know I can have more than one friend at a time. What is this really about?”

  He zoned out at the water. I folded my arms over my breasts and stared him down, the same way I did with the boys.

  He sighed. “It’s Hilda.”

  Now I was really lost. “Hilda? The Grey’s housekeeper?”

  “No, the Phillips’ former housekeeper. I’m turning into her.”

  Sometimes having a conversation with Leo was like pulling teeth from a sleeping grizzly—time consuming and could end with one’s head bitten clean off. I put my hands on my hips and dug in. “I swear, Leo, you better tell me straight out what exactly got you in this state or so help me—”

  “I’m being replaced!” he shouted. “Is that clear enough for you?”

  I blinked. “That is cra—”

  He wagged a finger in my face. “Don’t tell me I’m crazy. You’ve seen them do it before, to Hilda! They found somebody better and BAM! That bitch was gone, do not pass go, do not collect $200.00.”

  I refrained from pointing out that he was the somebody better, sure he wouldn’t appreciate that in his current mood.

  “Did you know they have a new guy in the kitchen? In my kitchen! Laura calls him my sous chef but we both know he’s
my replacement. That’s why I’m here making myself useful and ‘supervising.’” He made air quotes around the word, such a Leo gesture.

  “But what happens when this place is finished? I’ll tell you what, they don’t need me anymore.”

  Tears glistened in his eyes and he turned away so I couldn’t see if they fell. Both Neil and Sylvia stood in the doorway with the items I’d requested, but I waved them away. He needed privacy more than anything else.

  We sat for a time, just us and the sound of the river. I gave him space but finally I said, “You know I’m the first one to believe Laura is up to no good. But I think in this instance, she wants you here because she trusts you to oversee this project.”

  A sniffle.

  “Leo, look. Laura isn’t delicate or subtle. If she was going to can you she’d just come out with both barrels loaded for bear and fire away. The fact that she didn’t tells me she has no intention of letting you go.”

  He opened his mouth to protest but I bulldozed over the top of him. “And even if she did, well, then I want you to come work with me.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “Truly. And that sous chef of theirs? He’s nowhere near the chef you are. Neil didn’t even finish the meal. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”

  He grinned. “That’s why you’re my BFF.”

  “Good. Now, go check your damn blood sugar, drink some fricking water and eat something, for crying out loud.”

  “You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” he said with a grin.

  “Isn’t she though?” Neil asked, reappearing with the glass and plate, which he handed to Leo.

  “I’ve had plenty of practice. Go on with you now,” I said. After a beat I added, “No, I really mean it.”

  Leo downed the glass of water and picked up a cracker slathered with peanut butter, a Neil specialty. My husband was a terrific cook, he just didn’t enjoy it the way Leo and I did. To Neil, food was fuel and what was the point in fussing when you could be doing something productive?

  “Okay. I’ll make dinner tonight,” I announced.

  Leo moved to set his plate aside. “I can do it.”

  “Not until you test your blood sugar and the levels are good. And apologize to Sylvia for being a mondo douchebag.”

  “Fine, Mom.” Leo did a great imitation of Marty in mocking my mommy voice.

  “It’s all good.” Sylvia stepped out onto the porch, grace personified. “We’re all under a great deal of stress.”

  If it had been anybody else, I would have responded with a No shit, Sherlock, but she’d already taken enough flack for one night.

  Instead I asked her, “Do you know anyone who can perform hypnosis?”

  She nodded. “I can. Why?”

  Neil rolled his eyes. “So she can prove me wrong.”

  Oh ye of little faith. “In my head I see a ghost, but her features are indistinct. It happened so fast and everything is blurry. Neil insists she was real though. If you can hypnotize me back to the moment I saw her and keep me there long enough, I can describe her. And Leo can draw her. Then we’ll have a sketch and a description to bring to Sheriff Ruiz.”

  Sylvia beamed. “That’s a fantastic idea. I’ll get my crystal.” She dashed back into the house before I could stop her.

  Leo groaned. “Right now, I doubt I could draw a straight line with a ruler.”

  I caged my impatience, since he didn’t have the market completely cornered on being a neurotic mess. “I know, hon. Just hang out. We can do it later.”

  Neil followed me inside. “Do you really think she’ll be able to hypnotize you?

  I was a skeptic at the best of times, which this venture certainly wasn’t. However, I had nothing else to go on. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

  “A wild shot in the dark. As ridiculous plans go, this one takes the cake.”

  “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it.” I pulled a pot from under the sink and filled it with water. “Don’t just stand there being all brooding and sexy-like. Make yourself useful.”

  He grunted, one of those indistinct masculine sounds that you need a Y chromosome to translate. “What are we having?”

  “Vegetarian chili.”

  “I’m sorry I asked.”

  After dinner, which both Sylvia and Leo ate but Neil did not, Leo snagged his sketchbook from the car. We sat out on the porch again and the river added a pleasant white noise lull. I reclined on the chaise lounge with my feet up. If this didn’t work, at least I was in prime position to nap.

  “Try to relax one muscle at a time. Take deep, cleansing breaths.” She inhaled in a slow rhythm, demonstrating what she wanted me to do.

  She held up a clear crystal with a pinkish tinge on a thin silver chain. “Now, keep your gaze on the crystal.”

  I half expected her to swing it back and forth like a pendulum but instead she twirled it like a yo-yo on a string. It spun lazily, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise. She didn’t say anything, no you are getting sleepy or any of that nonsense, she just twirled away. I could sense Neil and Leo nearby, even though they didn’t turn a hair. The only sound was the steady drone of the river and the slow beat of my heart. My eyelids grew heavy and I didn’t struggle, just let them droop….

  Chapter Twenty

  The next thing I was aware of was someone clapping. Not like applause, more the sharp reprimand of a mother to a small child. I jerked awake and Neil was there with a hand on my shoulder.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” Sylvia said. “I know the clapping is too abrupt, but I can’t snap. I tried to do it softer but you didn’t respond.”

  I blinked. “It worked then?”

  Neil answered my question with one of his own. “You don’t remember?”

  “Just the crystal spinning.”

  “That was a full twenty minutes ago.” He handed me a glass of water.

  I struggled to sit up straighter and took it. Leo sat on the end of the chaise, pencil flying. Hope surged in my chest. “Did I give you anything to work with?”

  He ignored me, intent on the drawing.

  Sylvia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “I was worried there for a minute. You’re very strong-willed, but you didn’t resist at all.”

  I decided to take that as a compliment. “It probably helped that I was ready for a nap anyhow.”

  “How do you feel now?”

  I took a quick inventory. “Good, actually. Better than I have since before the car accident.”

  Neil got up and moved to look over Leo’s shoulder. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  Leo shot him a dirty look. “I’m not finished.”

  Neil ignored him. His gaze lifted from the drawing to meet my eyes. “That’s her.”

  “May I?” Not waiting for Leo’s answer, I plucked the sketchpad from his fingers.

  “You spoke quickly. Sylvia made you repeat the description three times. If you gave me more time I could have done more shading but…,” he made a frustrated sound, my pal the perfectionist.

  “Wow, she’s not a happy camper.” The picture was eerie in its stark black and white reality. Leo hadn’t just drawn the woman, he’d also included the darkened woods, to show her position on the road. She was tall and slender, almost waifish, with scraggly dark hair. Her age could have been anywhere from mid-fifties to early sixties. She wore a loose white gown, like an old fashioned nightgown complete with ribbon ties, but it was dirty, as was her flesh underneath. Leaves stuck to her feet, which were bare. The details of her face were the most amazing part of the drawing, a tight, grim mouth, sharp bladed cheekbones and a long aquiline nose. And her eyes….

  I shivered. “She has crazy eyes. I remembered thinking ‘soulless.’” A murderer’s eyes.

  “She might be mentally ill. There could be a group home somewhere and she got out and was wondering around,” Neil suggested. “It would explain a lot, like why she’s barefoot and why she disappeared.”

&
nbsp; “But then she showed up at the library the next day,” I said. “Okay, it’s more than we had before. Maybe we should call Sam and—”

  I cut myself off as I really noticed the exhausted faces of my companions. They’d spent the previous night in the car and been going nonstop all day. I might have indulged in a little hypnotic R&R, but they appeared done in. “It’ll wait until morning. Let’s all get some sleep.”

  Relief showed on three faces and we all moved off to our respective bedrooms.

  Neil did his SEAL thing of passing out the second his head hit the pillow but sleep eluded me. My mind bounced around with ideas and I wished I’d swapped Sylvia for the upstairs room so I could fiddle with my murder board.

  Grants and Greys and ghosts, oh my! Leo’s words from earlier had struck a chord in me. The three were connected, I would bet my industrial strength toilet cleanser on it. The Grants bought a house and claimed it was haunted. But no one else had heard of ghosts here until after the Grants sold the estate to the Greys. Why? And how did the woman in the drawing fit in?

  A thought occurred to me. Veronica Grey had said that Aileene Grant had cursed Chris Grey for buying the house. I’d employed people before, cleaning partners. If any of them had hexed me to my face, I would have fired them on the spot. Yet Aileene Grant had been working for the Greys up until her death. Again, Why?

  I snuggled closer to Neil and listened to Atlas snore. There was more to the Grant-Grey situation than I knew, some connection I was missing, but for the life of me I couldn’t imagine what.

  Blackmail? The Grants had been employed by the Grey family for half a century. They had to have dirt on the family. But the Grants displayed no sign of overt wealth. They lived humbly as caretakers on the Grey’s estate.

  So why had they sold this place?

  I closed my eyes, frustrated at my lack of insight. Damn it all, I was spinning my wheels in the muck and getting nowhere with the investigation.

  Leave it until tomorrow. My mother’s sage advice echoed in my head. Was this weird, that I heard her? That I believed those who were gone still could impact the world I lived in? I’d never questioned it before, but the lines between life and death seemed more like streaky blurs anymore.