Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series Box Set, page 36
part #1 of Misadventures of the Laundry Hag Series
Detached from my feeling center, I watched his head shake. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
“Just say it,” I whispered.
His shoulders shook. “I didn’t realize how it would look. No wonder you’ve been acting like a lunatic lately.” He started to laugh. “No wonder you made me sleep in that godforsaken camper!” Tears streamed down his face.
“What’s the joke here?” Dr. Bob’s expression could only be called bewildered.
“Maggie thought I was screwing around on her,” Neil giggled.
Not the reaction I would have picked.
“Are you?” Dr. Bob’s tone was deceptively mild.
Neil’s laughter dissolved like sugar in acid. “Of course not.” He looked at me. “I love you and only you. I’m sorry you doubted me for even a second.”
“So where have you been spending your time, Neil?” Dr. Bob asked.
Neil hadn’t forgiven the accusation. “I’ll answer, but only because I’m positive Maggie wants to know, too.”
“I’ve been working. That much is true. Just, the overtime hasn’t been with Intel. They have scaled back on overtime, that’s also correct.”
I swayed on the chair, having visions of Neil selling his body for a profit before I got a hold on my runaway imagination.
“I’ve been doing odd jobs, roof and window repair, a little plumbing. The woman from our neighborhood? She’s the room mother in Kenny’s class. We got to talking one day when I picked the boys up and she mentioned a pipe burst and her husband was away on business. The plumbers repaired the damage, but she had a huge hole in her kitchen ceiling, so I did the drywalling for her. I was just checking in on her that morning, making sure she didn’t have any other problems.”
I blinked. “So you’ve been working as a handyman?”
“Pretty much.” He rested a hand on my knee. The Laundry Hag and the Handy Man, go figure.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Now that the stupor had ebbed, the anger was back. “God Almighty Neil, why did you hide this?”
“Because I didn’t want you fretting about the money. No, hear me out.” He insisted and I snapped my mouth shut. “You always worry about money, but it’s been worse since we moved here. I didn’t tell you about the overtime because you’d only worry more when there’s no need. I thought doing this would kill two birds with one stone.”
“Who’s the other lucky bird?” I asked.
Neil grimaced. “Marty. I can’t stand the guy, but I was afraid if I went off on him again like I did in December, he’d leave and you’d be crushed. Again. Don’t you see, Maggie? Everything I do, everything I even think about doing, I do for you.”
“Time’s up.” Dr. Bob announced.
The feds were waiting on our front porch when Neil drove me home.
“I should have anticipated this.” I sighed as the Escort rolled to a stop. “I suppose I have to talk to them.”
“Do you want me to stay?” Neil offered.
“Don’t you have work?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should go.”
He lifted my knuckles to his lips and placed a soft kiss on them. “Try and stay out of jail, okay?”
“I always try,” I muttered and climbed from the car. Miracle of miracles, the sun was out and shining, and there was considerably less snow on the ground. Between Neil’s revelation and the turnaround in the weather, I felt calm and more myself than I had in weeks.
Neither of the FBI special agents shared my mood. “We’ve been attempting to contact you since last night, Mrs. Phillips.” Fatigue was evident in Salazar’s voice.
I shrugged, inserting my key in the deadbolt. “I shut my cell phone off.” Confident that my action wasn’t a federal crime, I gestured for the two men to enter.
“I’ve seriously contemplated arresting you for interfering with a federal investigation,” Feist stated as I shucked my coat.
“Wanting to tangle with my lawyer again already? And here I thought you were searching for Mrs. Valentino. Would you gentlemen care for some coffee?” I didn’t bother waiting for a response as I bee-lined for the kitchen.
“We need to ask you some more questions about your relationship with one Richard Head.”
“He was dating a friend of mine, Leopold Rothschild. Leo asked me to hire him as my assistant. I did, he didn’t work out, end of story.” I pushed the on button for the coffee pot and spun to face my audience.
“Mr. Rothschild told us that he stopped here last night before coming to the police station.”
“He was upset, he needed a friend. I’m sure you would feel the same Special Agent Feist, if someone you were romantically involved with turned out to be a stalker and/or corporate spy.”
“How would you characterize Mr. Rothschild’s reaction to his find?”
I scowled at Salazar. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Was he angry?”
The tingle started along the back of my neck. “More devastated than anything. Leo doesn’t open his heart very often; he’s been burned before.”
They exchanged glances and the tingling increased.
“Where were you between nine and eleven PM yesterday, Mrs. Phillips.”
“Here. Why?”
“Is there anyone who can substantiate your whereabouts?”
“Neil, Penny, the kids, my next-door neighbor, Sylvia Wright. Why do you need to know?”
“We’re the ones asking the questions.” Feist snapped.
I pushed past him, reaching for the phone. “I’m calling my lawyer. I don’t know what the two of you are up to, but I’m sick of feeling like there’s a giant target on my back.”
Another silent communication passed between them. Did the FBI train them in mental telepathy? Salazar nodded once and Feist grunted, “Richard Head’s body was discovered in an alley several blocks from his home. Medical examiner estimated the time of death between 9:30 and 10:30 PM.”
“Shit,” I dropped my weight onto a reluctant barstool. It groaned in protest. “I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident?”
“That’s classified,” Salazar said in a mild tone. “We’ve been in this business for a long time, Mrs. Phillips. It’s never a coincidence that the same person’s name resurfaces time and again through the investigation. You are tied to every single person involved in some way or another. If you were us, what would you think?”
I didn’t answer.
“Contact your counsel, we’ll be in touch.” Feist nodded once and led the way out.
I sat, staring into space. They were absolutely right about my name cropping up, but the reason for it was obvious, if only to me. I was being set up.
Why? And by who? Coffee forgotten, I paced the length of the kitchen. Who would have anything to gain by framing me?
Well, Richard Head’s killer, obviously. Followed closely by Candie’s kidnapper and whoever had torched the Valentino estate. It might be all one person. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
The phone rang. “Hey,” Neil said. “You all right?”
“Not so much” I whispered. “Someone’s setting me up.”
The line was quiet for a second. “Get changed into some sweats. I’ll be home in a few.”
“Are you sure you won’t get into trouble taking time off?”
“Don’t worry about it. Go get ready.”
Chapter 36
“This is stupid,” I huffed as Neil lapped me again on the high school track. We’d been at it for twenty minutes and I’d completed three laps to Neil’s eight. He pinched my behind on every pass, unimpeded by the thick sweats covering my lower half. Miracle of miracles, it wasn’t snowing on us and the temperature resided somewhere in the mid-forties.
Neil pivoted to face me, continuing to jog backward, the showoff. “Aren’t you having fun, Uncle Scrooge?”
“You’re giving me an inferiority complex,” I grumbled, picking up my pace.
“It’s not a competition, Maggie.”
I shot him a dirty look and stumbled over nothing for my efforts. Neil’s laughter faded as he turned forward and sped away.
I smiled to myself, glad my husband was having fun, even if I was the butt of the joke. Out of the multitude of worries I dwelt on, Neil’s happiness was high on the list. Ever since he’d left his SEAL team, I fretted about my own hum-drum existence boring him to death. While raising two boys kept me busy, it wasn’t as if I was saving the world, fighting terrorists or rescuing hostages. Cleaning and daydreaming didn’t get the old adrenaline pumping the way Neil preferred it.
We’d settled into a routine soon after moving to Hudson, albeit a somewhat strange one. But between canceling the gym membership and my utter failure as a small business owner, I’d destroyed the little stability we’d built and were now forced into starting all over again.
Neil would adapt. Navy SEALs are trained to acclimate in any situation. But there’s a big difference between surviving and truly enjoying life.
Candie Valentino, from what little I’d seen of her, had been surviving. Markus, I wasn’t so sure about. Although the man wore a slick veneer of confidence, my radar hummed that it was a false front, designed to fool people. The question was, who had he been fleecing and for what purpose?
“Come on Uncle Scrooge, kick it up a notch.” He goosed me again.
“Hey, Emeril, keep your hands to yourself.”
“Who?”
I shook my head. “You are completely devoid of pop culture knowledge.”
“I can live with that. Seriously though, I think you’re ready for the Social Security 5K.”
“Did you think Eric and Sylvia were happy together?”
“Jeeze,” Neil slowed to a walk. “How the hell would I know? Men don’t talk about that kind of shit.”
“Just from an observation standpoint. You spent time with them. Give me your impressions.” I persisted.
One of a great many things I loved about my husband, he always considered my questions, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. “They put up a front when they were together. But if I were to guess, I’d bet that no, they weren’t happy.”
“Why?”
Neil scratched his uber-sexy chin stubble. “They never sought each other out, when they were in public. No little glances, subtle touches, things like that. They looked good together, but I doubt there were any genuine feelings between them.”
“See, you are good at this.” I smiled at him. “I was kind of thinking the same thing about Markus Valentino. Like he was all for show, and Candie was the handy-dandy trophy wife.”
But he shook his head. “Trophy wives marry into money, but Candie came with her own, remember? No, I think their marriage is more of a business arrangement. She’s got the funding, he’s got the know-how.”
“So what went wrong?”
Neil shrugged. Then stopped dead. “Hey, I have an idea.”
He grasped my arm, towing me across the football field and back to the car. “Where are going?”
“To get a professional’s opinion.”
He unlocked the car and took the time to open my door. “You have your cell handy?”
I flipped up the center armrest, retrieving my phone. “Who am I calling?”
“Dr. Bob. See if he could meet with us for a few minutes.”
“Now?”
“Why not? But he’s not really going to be counseling us; he’ll be meeting the Valentinos.”
“I don’t understand.” I dialed anyway and listened as the phone rang on the other end.
“Dr. Robert Ludlum, marriage facilitator.”
“Hi, Dr. Bob. This is Maggie Phillips. Neil and I were wondering if we could stop by to see you.”
“Is something wrong? You two seemed to have reached an understanding this morning.”
“No, we need counseling all right.” Especially Neil and that slightly mad gleam in his eye.
“It happens I had a last-minute cancellation so my three o’clock slot is free.”
“Thank you. We’ll see you in a bit.” I shut the phone and slammed into the door as Neil took a corner at the speed of sound.
“For the love of God, what is churning in your head?”
Neil grinned at me and explained his plan.
“There’s something different about you, Mrs. Phillips.” Dr. Bob scanned me from head to toe.
I’m Candie Valentino, I’m Candie Valentino. I offered him a shy smile and concentrated on a spot on the carpet. “Why thank you, sir.”
Neil glanced pointedly at his watch. “Can we get this show on the road; I have a great deal of work waiting for me.”
Dr. Bob seemed somewhat taken aback by Neil’s uncharacteristic abruptness, but recovered quickly.
“How have things been going?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Neil got there first.
“Fine, everything is just fine.” He crossed one ankle to his knee and jiggled his foot.
“You seem tense, Mr. Phillips. Is there something you wish to share?”
I stared at my husband, but hardly recognized him. His usual humor and easy-going air had evaporated like mist on a sunny morning. What was left was a hard-eyed stranger wearing an expression like someone had slipped cat turds into his morning Wheaties.
“I need to get back to work, but she insisted on being here.” Neil spat the words, jerking his head toward me.
“Work is very important to you then, Mr. Phillips?” Dr. Bob watched Neil closely, studying his every twitch.
“Well, someone has to make money and since she sits on her ass all day—”
“Hey now!” My character slipped and Neil’s gaze met mine. Dr. Bob patted the air in a classic calm down gesture.
“You’ll get your turn, Mrs. Phillips. Neil, may I call you Neil?”
His foot jiggled faster. “Fine,” he clipped out.
“I thought your wife ran her own business.”
Neil rolled his eyes. “Like she could make that work. She’s a social pariah, just ask my mother. She tries to involve Maggie in the world, but my wife can’t see beyond the end of her nose. It’s one crazy scheme after another, with never one thought to sense and what’s best for our family. For me.”
Dr. Bob’s eyes were as big as duck eggs. “I see. Would you like to respond to your husband’s statements, Maggie?”
It’s not real; he’s playing the role of Markus. Even as sense whispered it, I sat stunned at the bile that had spewed from Neil’s mouth. This was like my worst nightmare, my husband underscoring all of my deficiencies and attacking me for them. I needed a moment and while Dr. Bob gestured me onward, Neil, the real Neil, picked up on my conundrum. He shot me a quick wink and addressed his audience.
“Go ahead, cry on his shoulder like you do with everyone else. Poor, poor wittle trust fund baby, too much money, not enough sense.” His voice went high-pitched and girly. “Oh, boo-hoo, no one understands me, no one loves me. My life isn’t perfect. Boo hoo hoo. Well, it’s time you grew up, little girl. Happiness isn’t handed to you on a silver platter. Some of us actually have to work for a living, work to get the things we want.”
“Mr. Phillips, please, restrain yourself. Maggie, tell us how you feel right now.”
Rip-roaring pissed. But even if Candie was angry, she was also afraid. Who wouldn’t be, when confronted by such a domineering tyrant? “I guess, I feel awful. Everything he said is true, and I hate that he sees me this way.”
Dr. Bob leaned back in his chair. “What can we do, do you think to change this?”
I mulled it over. “Well, I guess I could—”
“Here’s a thought; how about you quit whining and be grateful I put up with your shit.”
“Mr. Phillips, that’s enough!” Dr. Bob’s face was mottled red from the part of his comb-over to the neckline on his sweater vest. “Can’t you see your tactless words hurt your wife’s feelings?”
Neil shrugged and my eyes narrowed. I loved him, but in that instant, I wanted to hurt him. No, to annihilate him.
As if he read my mind, Neil relaxed and lost the asshole coating. “I’m sorry, Uncle Scrooge. You know I couldn’t do what I do without you, right?”
I smiled. “I see you, even when you are being a total prick.”
Dr. Bob was lost. It was comical the way his head whipped back and forth between the two of us, trying to put his finger on what he’d missed.
“It’s been a rough week,” I told Dr. Bob. “Neil and I really aren’t feeling like ourselves.”
“Are you mixing medications, Neil?” Dr. Bob stared at my husband.
“Stress is all. Maggie is currently under investigation by the FBI. One of her clients was kidnapped, then a former cleaning partner showed up dead.”
“Don’t forget the arson. Oh, and the bribery/extortion thing.”
Dr. Bob swallowed. “I see. And, uh, how does this make you feel, Maggie.”
They say there are no stupid questions but that one came pretty damn far into moron territory. “Shitty, thanks for asking.”
“Ah,” Dr. Bob glanced at his wall clock. “I seem to have forgotten about another engagement, if you both will excuse me….?” His eyes begged the crazy people to vamoose and never return.
“Thank you for seeing us, I really feel like we’ve made a breakthrough here.” Neil extended his hand. Dr. Bob backed into the door, fumbling for the knob.
“Really, no trouble at all.” He managed to open the door and we wasted no time departing. I contained my hysteria until we reached the car.
“Now that was fun with a capital FU.”
“You know he’s watching us through the office window.”
I turned and caught the blinds snapping closed on the second story. “You think he’s phoning the police? Or a psych ward?”
“No, but I doubt he’ll ever return our calls again.”
Mock sniffling, I flicked a pretend tear away from my eye. “Hold me, Neil; I don’t think I have the strength to go on.”
Neil chuckled and opened the car door, ushering me to sit. “So what did we learn, class?”
Waiting until he’d buckled his seat belt I ran over everything in my head. “Markus is a domineering ass. Not that I’m surprised but having that kind of condescension bearing down on me was truly awful. Humiliating even.”
