Hung Out to Dry: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #4

by Jennifer L. Hart

  “Her hair’s getting lighter,” I remarked as he strapped her in.

  “I think she’s going to be a blonde.”

  Marty pushed the stroller and soon the soft snuffling sounds quieted. I peeked over the canopy to see if she was sleeping. She wasn’t. Her head rested on one side and she stared, mesmerized at the light filtering through the branches overhead, sucking on her binky, serene and content.

  The park was nowhere near the size of the one Neil had taken me to in Boston, but it had a few decent walking trails, bridges arching over small creeks and gullies, and benches spaced every few hundred yards. A decent place to spend a summer afternoon.

  “Why?” Marty began when we’d sat side by side on one of the abandoned benches, “Does Penny think I’ve been cheating on her? Because I’m not.”

  I looked him over carefully. “She didn’t say that outright but she thinks you don’t want her anymore.”

  His face flamed bright red and he looked away. “I, well, um you see—”

  “Look,” I said before we got into territory better left unexplored, “I’m just passing on the message for now. I think a big part of her problem is she doesn’t know who she is supposed to be now that Mae’s here. Who the two of you are together. She’s a little lost, Sprout, and you need to help remind her that she’s still a person beyond being Mae’s mom. Caregivers need to be cared for sometimes, too. Especially if they don’t or can’t take care of themselves. Do you get what I’m saying? You have to treat her the way you did before there was a baby in the mix. Help her remember who she is and show her she can be that and Mae’s mama too. ”

  He nodded. “Like Neil does for you.”

  I smiled. “If you’re going to imitate someone on how to be a husband and father, Neil’s the best example you could possibly pick.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you two just have a fight last week?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t say he was perfect, just perfect for me. Truth be told, he can be a pigheaded showoff know-it-all at times. But I never doubt how much he loves me, in spite of my many faults, which are too numerous to get into.”

  “Oh, we could make time for that.” Marty grinned.

  “Those who live in glass houses,” I cautioned.

  “Yeah yeah yeah.” He looked down at his sleeping daughter, the smile slowly disappearing. “Mae Sampson. Do you think Mom would be proud of me?”

  “She would,” I said without a thought. “She and dad would be as proud of you as I am.”

  Marty put an arm around my shoulder. “Thanks for that, pig face.”

  I shoved him away, “Jerkoff.”

  Mae made a soft cooing sound and I looked down to see her smiling her toothless grin at us.

  “If that’s her first word, I’m blaming you.”

  “It’s only fair, since you taught Kenny how to say asshat when he was two. I swear, that was the only word he said for a month.”

  “Little boys are supposed to cuss,” Marty said. “I was just helping him expand his vocabulary.”

  “And what about girls?” I rose so I could stare down my nose at him. “Is this one of your backward idiotic double standards?”

  “Real ladies don’t swear,” Marty confirmed.

  I flipped him the bird. “Then it’s a good thing there aren’t any of those around here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you guys know anyone who could run a background check?” I asked my crew at dinner that night.

  Marty took a hamburger from the platter and passed it to Kenny. “You mean other than the police?”

  I bit my lip and shot a glance at my husband. “Yeah.”

  Neil spooned some potato salad onto his plate and since I had Mae in my hands he dished some out to me as well. “You can put her down, Uncle Scrooge.”

  “No because the damn dog is in her face every time I do. I’m afraid he’ll step on her. Speaking of which, Kenny, did you feed him?”

  Kenny groaned theatrically, set his fork down and then pushed back from the table.

  “Private investigators,” Neil answered my question. “They have access to all sorts of databases like the police.”

  “Mac’s mom is a PI,” Josh added. “She does background checks for her all the time. I bet you she could get whatever you need.”

  “She babysits and runs background checks and works as an intern at Intel and goes to MIT?” My eyebrows rose as I looked from Josh to Neil. “Watch out slick, it looks like there’s a new superhero in town.”

  Neil shrugged. “What is it you want to know?”

  There was a crash from the other room as Kenny poured dog chow into Atlas’s dish and the idiot canine charged for the meal as though it would get snatched away if he didn’t lunge fast enough. No one turned a hair, we were all used to his antics by now.

  “You okay?” I called to Kenny.

  A pause followed by a quick, “I’m good, but he broke the lamp. Again.”

  I sighed and was about to rise when Marty jumped up. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “What was that?” Neil asked as my brother retreated.

  I shrugged. “Beats me but I’ll take what I can get.”

  Neil inhaled the food left on his plate and took Mae from me. “So, the background check?”

  I took a drink from a large tumbler of iced tea. “Financials for the Dale family mostly. They threatened to contest the will and I’m wondering if there’s more than just indignation over Sarah’s getting the house. Something that would force them to take more drastic actions.”

  “Mac could totally do that,” Josh said. “I’ll call her.”

  “Ask her if she can walk on water too while you’re at it,” I teased.

  Josh blushed but pushed back from the table.

  “He’s got it bad,” Neil grinned.

  “First crushes are like that.” I watched our oldest make his way to his bedroom for privacy.

  Marty and Kenny returned to the table and made short work of what was left on the grill platter.

  We ate in silence for a bit. I finished my hamburger and took Mae into the living room while the guys handled the dishes. She was asleep on my lap, Atlas snoring on the other end of the couch when Sylvia showed up.

  “Hey,” she said. “I just got a call from Sarah. They’ve released her from the hospital but her house isn’t cleared yet. I was thinking about stashing her in my apartment over the garage if I could sleep on your couch.”

  “Sure, as long as you don’t mind sharing with Atlas.” At least I’d done laundry earlier so the sheets were clean. Our house was on a constant rotation of musical beds.

  Sylvia waved it off. “Don’t worry, I’ve shared with worse.”

  I saw her hand dip to her stomach before falling to her side. Our gazes locked and she looked away first. So, Leo was right.

  I raised a brow. “Anything you want to tell me, Sylvie?”

  She blushed. “I wasn’t ready to say anything.”

  I desperately wanted to ask if she knew who the father was, but couldn’t figure out a way to bring it up without offending her.

  “Okay,” I said. “But just know I’m here if you need anything.”

  She gave me a watery smile. “I’ll see you later.”

  I watched her go and felt Mae’s warm weight on my belly.

  Marty came in and took the sleeping baby from me. I missed her warm weight immediately and grabbed a pillow to hold. It was a crappy substitute.

  “You okay?” Neil asked from the doorway.

  “Yeah,” I said, setting the pillow aside. “Come here.”

  He did, setting down the ice tea tumbler he’d been carrying before sprawling lengthwise across my lap, in much the same way Atlas did.

  I smiled and stroked his light brown hair, graying just slightly at the temples. There were more lines around his eyes than there had been a year ago, I realized with a pang. It was easy to forget that my husband wasn’t invincible, that he was just a mortal man.

&nb
sp; He sighed, his lids sliding shut. “What a week.”

  “And it isn’t over yet.”

  “How did your chat with Capri go?”

  “Well, the fact that she didn’t toss my carcass in the nearest cage is probably a good sign.” My tone was dry.

  Neil’s eyes flashed open. “That bad?”

  “Actually it was better than I thought it would be. She apologized for her part in what happened and asked me to keep my eyes open to any hint of criminal activity at the Dale estate.”

  Neil’s expression turned thoughtful. “So, if she’s looking into it, why are you asking about the background checks?”

  I thought about it for a second. “I’m trying to control the situation better, gathering as much intel as possible so I know what I’m up against.”

  Neil grinned. “Gathering intel, huh? Wonder where you picked that up.”

  I shoved him slightly. “From you, of course, oh master of intel.”

  “So again, how come you don’t just ask Capri? Or Detective Finn for that matter?”

  “Mostly because I don’t trust her to share pertinent case details with me. And I want to know what questions to ask the various members of the Dale family.”

  Josh poked his head around the corner. “Mac asked if she could come over to share the information she’s got.”

  I blinked. “She has it already?”

  Josh smiled. “She’s good.”

  No freaking kidding. “By all means.”

  Neil rose up off my lap in a smooth, graceful motion, then offered me a hand. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Uncle Scrooge?”

  “Hell no,” I replied cheerfully. “That’s how I know I’m on the right track.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mac was seated at our dining room table. She had her laptop open and I stood behind her to stare at the screen.

  “This was just a basic surface search,” she told me. “Easy enough, even without date of birth or social security numbers, since they’re all related and living in the greater Boston area. This is seven years’ worth of credit history, employment history, education history, recent addresses, marital statuses, arrest records, and tax return information.”

  “Good God,” I looked at her. “This was all just floating out there on the net for you to scoop up?”

  “You can find anything if you know where to look,” Mac said. “I’ve had some practice.”

  I got the feeling that was a massive understatement. “So, who’s up first?”

  “Donald Dale, Ph.D. age 63. Divorced, has two children who live with their mother. He’s a clinical shrink for Boston College. House is mortgaged to the hilt and credit cards are maxed out. Looks like his wife got pretty much everything in the divorce, plus he pays her child support and alimony. The forwarding address he has listed belongs to Janet Leeds, who is also a student of his. I’ve deducted IQ points for the cliché.”

  “Okay, so he’s swimming against the current. Next?”

  “Linda Dale, age 59. Married, no children. She’s a manager of a struggling department store, like a low rent Macy’s, but she’s managed to keep it afloat. Lives in a restored brownstone with her husband. They both work long hours, and, from what I can tell, don’t have so much as a houseplant. Finances all look good, though the husband was busted for possession a few years back. No formal jail time, just some community service.”

  “Hmmm,” I said because I felt like I ought to say something to acknowledge what I was hearing.

  “Third on the list is Theresa Dale, age fifty-four. Single, lives alone in a nice penthouse overlooking Boston Harbor. Real swanky ‘hood. Regular spa dates and a member of the Boston country club. No taxable income for the last decade, which is weird. There aren’t many under the table jobs that would provide that sort of lifestyle. If she’s doing something illegal, she hasn’t been caught with her hand in the cookie jar yet. You got anything to eat?”

  It took me a moment to catch up to her question. “Uh, sure. I made brownies earlier. And there’s sandwich stuff in the drawer. Help yourself to whatever looks good.”

  “Sweet,” Mac said, pushing out of the chair. “I’m out of points on my dining card and didn’t have a chance to hit the Top Ramen stash in my room, so I missed dinner.”

  Poor kid. “You can come by here for food anytime you like. We have dinner around six every night. Consider it an open invitation.”

  “I’ll totally take you up on that,” Mac said as she rummaged in the fridge.

  I turned back to the computer screen. So, from financial track records alone I couldn’t rule out any of Sarah’s relatives. “Can you dig deeper?” I asked Mac.

  She was slathering bacon-flavored mayo on a slice of bread. “I can, but it depends on what you’re looking for.”

  “Motive for murder.” I gave her the CliffsNotes version of what had happened to Sarah and my hunch. “What would you recommend?”

  Mac added pickles to her sandwich. “If you want dirt, you hire someone like my mom for full surveillance done on any of them.”

  “I think that would be Sarah’s call, not mine.” I rose and extracted a bag of potato chips from the pantry. Mac grinned and added several to her concoction.

  “You said she’s a psychic, right?” Mac stacked turkey and ham and then added a few more chips for good measure. The sandwich made a huge crunching sound as she pressed the ingredients between two slices of rye. She took a big bite and then chewed, her eyes rolling back in bliss. “Dis es awesome,” she said with her mouth full.

  I smiled and poured her a tall glass of milk, then another for myself as I fetched the brownies from my hiding spot in the toaster oven. “Yes, Sarah’s psychic.”

  Mac gulped milk and swallowed. “And she didn’t see any of this coming?”

  “She says she has a block about personal stuff.” I hedged. It sounded lame, telling it to someone else.

  Mac gave me a skeptical look. “Doesn’t sound like much of a psychic to me.” And she took another massive bite.

  Mac left about fifteen minutes before Sylvia arrived with Sarah. I’d been sitting out on the front porch, Atlas snoring at my feet and waved when the Prius rolled to a stop.

  “How are you feeling?” I called to Sarah.

  “Better.” Her smile lacked its typical brightness but at least she didn’t have the sickly hospital pallor anymore.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” I shouted as Sylvia helped her up the staircase that led to the garage apartment.

  “Should I admire your restraint in not rushing over there or worry that you’re hatching a plot?” Neil asked from the front door.

  I waved a hand in dismissal. “Sylvia’s got it covered. She’ll sing out if she needs anything. It’s good for the two of them to get more comfortable with each other. If nothing else, the incident forced Sylvia to see beyond her prejudice of psychics.”

  Neil moved closer, handing me a glass of wine. “Do you really think she’s psychic?”

  “Did I ever tell you about my mom? She visited a psychic regularly.”

  “Really?” Neil lifted a brow and sat on the bench beside me.

  “Mistress Zenobia,” I said with a smile. “It was a lark since my mom was such a pillar of our church and all, but yet every Wednesday after she finished her shift at the school cafeteria, my mother would go to this creepy little bungalow at the edge of town and get a reading. Mistress Z did it all, palm reading, tarot cards, tea leaves, you name it. My father thought it was hogwash of course, but he’d indulge her in just about everything as long as it made her happy.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Neil murmured and brought my hand to his lips. “You don’t talk about your parents much. At least not to me.”

  I shrugged. “If I’m not talking to you about them, you can bet I’m not talking to anyone else about them either.”

  Neil didn’t let go of my hand, instead laced his fingers through mine. “You can, you know. Talk about them if you need to.”

  “I
know that. I guess I just got out of the habit. Marty couldn’t talk about them for years after they died. Maybe because if we referred to them in the past tense it was a way to acknowledge that they were never coming back.” Curling my feet up under me, I leaned against his shoulder. “Madame Zenobia left town about six months before the fire. I’ve always wondered what would have happened if she had stayed. If she would have been able to warn them somehow, about what was coming.”

  Neil didn’t say anything for a minute. I watched as a light came on across the street and Old Mr. Glossner slipped outside to dump his trash in the Rutherfords bin so he wouldn’t have to wheel his own down his own steep driveway to the curb on Tuesday night. Sneaky old devil.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Scrooge.”

  I scowled and turned to face him. “About what?”

  “Not asking about your folks. Pressuring you about the future when you’ve never really gotten a chance to deal with the past.”

  I opened my mouth to reassure him I didn’t feel at all pressured but closed it again without saying anything.

  Neil’s smile was a touch rueful. “You know how I get when I see a goal. And I guess I’ve always had it in my head that us having a baby was the last step in completing our family.”

  “You really want this, don’t you?” I asked him.

  “I do but it’s more than that. It won’t be too many more years before we’re looking at colleges for Josh and then Kenny. And then it will just be us.”

  There was a thought. “It never has just been us before.”

  “Would I be enough for you?” He asked, so quietly I had to strain to hear him.

  I let out a shaky breath and shoved him. “For a smart man, you can be such a freaking idiot.”

  “What?” He blinked down at me as if I’d lost my last marble.

  “I enjoy having time with you, moments like this. I’m nervous about losing this now that we finally have it. You know what it’s like when there’s a baby in the house and kids running and screaming. You don’t even have a chance to think. This is part of what I’m reluctant to give up. Neil, I might want a baby, but I need you.”