Misadventures of the Laundry Hag series Box Set, page 38
part #1 of Misadventures of the Laundry Hag Series
“I was just on my way out,” I told Detective Capri as I pushed past her, securing the door so she wouldn’t be seen by anyone in the kitchen.
“What in the hell were you doing at Lucas Sloan’s house today?” Capri flicked the business card and I winced in sympathy for the young officer who was probably donning a crossing guard uniform at this moment.
“He owes me money, for cleaning his house. Normally, I’d let it slide a while, but since my contacts have dried up thanks to my rap sheet, I didn’t have much choice.”
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty. You’re the nutcase who insisted on meddling where a civilian shouldn’t like some goddamn vigilante.”
“Well excuse the hell out of me! I thought you wanted me to nose around and find dirt for you! Isn’t that what the CI position was all about?”
“You’re not supposed to solve the flipping case single-handed!”
“Well, that’s just what I did. Do you want to hear it or not?”
“Fine.” Capri folded her arms across her chest.
So I told her about my ruminating with Neil, the role-playing session at Dr. Bob’s, and Sloan’s possible involvement.
“So, you see, Candie’s behind the whole thing. It makes sense for her to off Lucas Sloan after his usefulness has run its course.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you.” Capri shook her head. “I see one big problem with your theory.”
My hands slammed onto my hips. “And what, praytell, is that?”
“We didn’t find Lucas Sloan’s corpse. It was Candie Valentino inside the house.”
Chapter 38
Sleeping was out of the question. Knees curled under my butt, I perched on the couch in the dark, staring out the window as snow drifted by. The dying embers from the fire Neil started several hours earlier glowed eerily in the grate.
Logically, I knew I hadn’t caused Candie’s death. I didn’t hack her into five pieces or toss kitty litter over the floor and the back path in an effort to hide the crime and make it look like Lucas Sloan had done the deed before rushing out to work. Fortunately for Lucas, he’d been in court, awaiting a new custody hearing with his lawyer at the estimated time of death, which the medical examiner placed between nine and eleven a.m.
After witnessing my distress, Capri had eased her own attack. “You did what you could for her, to find her. More than most people would bother doing for an acquaintance. The FBI accepted that you had nothing to do with this, even if your husband made the 911 call. Sloan verified you’d cleaned his house; that he owed you money. Between Dr. Bob and the FBI, you’re solidly alibi-ed for this.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I now whispered into the dark. That finally, the feds couldn’t harass me about a horrible crime, just because my alibi would hold in court? A man and a woman were dead, two people who I’d met, who I’d believed the worst about, even for a short moment in time. Obviously, Candie hadn’t staged her own dismemberment. I shuddered at the mental picture.
“Come to bed, Uncle Scrooge.” Neil fumbled across the cushions a minute, before locating my foot, rubbing gently. “There’s nothing else you can do for her.”
“I don’t understand this.” Snow swirled and the house groaned as the wind battered from the north. “None of it makes any sense. It’s not about money, or technological accolades or revenge. So what’s the point?”
“You’re forgetting that whoever kidnapped Candie and set up first you, then Sloan, isn’t a rational person. You’re talking about a madman, someone who likes to cause suffering and chaos wherever he goes. There’s no logic in that.”
His sage words washed over me. “It’s got to be about Markus Valentino. The Phoenix; the first letter. There was a reason Valentino didn’t report the fax or the dead bird. He’s hiding something. Someone wants him to suffer.”
Neil groaned and sat up, the comforter falling into his lap. “So the feds, or detective Capri or whoever has to extract the whole story from him. What more can you do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “You’re right.”
“Oh, music to my ears.” Neil changed his hold on my ankle and pulled me to the air mattress. “Say it again.”
“Not in this lifetime, pal.”
He cupped my face in his hands. The kiss was soft, almost delicate, the merest brushing of his lips over mine. “You’ve done enough worrying in the past few weeks to last a lifetime. Give yourself a break.”
Ready to take his advice I leaned up to kiss him when the phone rang.
Neil rolled off of me and flung a hand over his eyes. “Christ Almighty, it never ends.” I scurried to the kitchen and forgoing the light, fumbled to answer the cordless.
“Hey Maggie, you’re up.” Sylvia’s voice, more chipper than I’d heard in weeks greeted me.
“Is everything all right?” I asked her, wondering what demon spirit possessed her to call after midnight. “You haven’t been drinking again, right?”
“No, but I was lying in bed and I had this epiphany. Can I come over?”
“Sure Sylvie. Come on over.”
I hung up the phone and returned to the living room. “Sylvia’s coming over. She had an epiphany.”
“Cripes, she couldn’t have had it during normal business hours?”
I flicked on a table lamp then went to the door, opening it for my friend. “Be nice or go sleep in the camper.”
Neil grunted. “Is there a third option?”
Sylvia lighted onto the porch and shook the snow from her head. “Isn’t it pretty?” She gestured toward the snow.
“Fabulous,” Neil said and I shot him a withering look.
“What’s going on, Sylvie?” I took her coat, hung it on the hall tree.
“Well, I couldn’t sleep, thinking about poor Candie Valentino and Lucas Sloan too. First, his marriage ends and now his house is the scene of a brutal murder. That’s a lot of bad juju.”
“Agreed.” I gestured toward the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
“Not right now,” She practically bounced down the hall. “So anyway, I thought about all the bad karma in that house and it hit me. A spiritual cleansing.”
“A spiritual cleansing.” I intoned, waiting for the punch line.
“Yes. So many people suffer from a lack of positive energy. They get bogged down by the daily grind, become jaded, and lose hope. Like I did. You come in and cleanse their homes of dirt and grime, but the negative energy festers. What if, you offered a spiritual cleansing along with a physical one? I could teach people how to set up their homes to encourage positive energy flow, help focus their lives in a more productive direction.”
“So, you wanna scrub the death cooties out of Sloan’s house?” I set the kettle on the back burner, ignoring her refusal of tea.
She actually considered my words. “That’s one way to view it. Think for a second, Maggie. Your business is suffering; this will open new doors for you and for me as well. We have an opportunity to help ourselves here.”
I plunked two lemon zinger teabags into mugs. What was it Josh’s classmate had dubbed me? Mother Mayhem. “I don’t know Sylvie; it’s probably not wise for you to link your name with mine right now.”
“We’d have to expand on your territory, maybe into Boston or Cambridge. I could offer spiritual counseling, maybe hold an internet workshop.”
The kettle let out a shrill whistle and I removed it from the burner. “Sylvia, did you hear me? I think your idea is fantastic and I’m sure you’d have some takers, but you’d be shooting yourself in the foot by associating with me professionally.”
“No, Maggie, don’t you see? What better way to advertise that I can solve any metaphysical mess than by pairing up with the notorious Laundry Hag?”
I plunked the mug down more forcefully than intended. “Metaphysical mess, am I?”
Sylvia grinned and brought the mug to her lips. “Undoubtedly, but you’re my metaphysical mess.”
“Okay, so what would I have to do to be cleansed spiritually?” A vision of me sacrificing a live chicken under the full moon airing on You-tube flitted across my mind.
“Well, first we’d need to set up a website, maybe take out an ad in the paper. One of my former yoga students would probably take us on, especially if we offered her a trial discount.” Despite her staunch belief in all things woo-woo, Sylvia’s mind was sharp and tuned to practical matters.
“What are you two plotting in here?” Neil leaned against the doorjamb, squinting due to the harsh overhead light.
“My career comeback,” I told him. “The Laundry Hag meets…?”
Sylvia cocked her head. “The balance guru?”
Neil made a face. “How about Sylvia’s Shui-way?”
“Sounds like a sandwich shop.”
“Well, since you’re the mastermind behind the laundry hag you think of something.”
I yawned. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
For once, the snow from the night before didn’t hinder the morning schedule. Neil dropped Josh and Kenny at school on his way to another handyman gig. Sylvia returned at first light and we sat down to map out our business plan. Penny and Marty were still in bed and the house was blessedly quiet.
“I can’t wait for spring,” I told Sylvia over my second cup of coffee. “I want to walk outside and not be bundled up like a pig in a blanket.”
“That’s only natural.” Sylvia didn’t look up from her blackberry. She’d already filled half a page on her memo pad with names of her friends and clients who might hire our service to rid their homes of dirt and chaos. “Spring symbolizes rebirth and brings a lighter kind of energy along with the new possibilities.”
“Yeah, I could deal with a few of those.” I stirred my coffee and watched her work. Having always admired Sylvia’s glass-is-half-full attitude, I kept my misgivings about the new business to myself. Personally, I wouldn’t hire us, a Hag with a rap sheet and a Barbie Zen master, but hey, what did I know?
My cell phone pealed the standard ring for an unfamiliar number. I dug through my bag, wishing the technology gurus would stop making such dinky devices. My compact was bigger than my phone for heaven’s sake and I tended to fat-finger the numbers on this munchkin model.
“I’ve got you now,” I said as I flipped the top open. “Laundry Hag cleaning services, Maggie speaking.”
“Is this Maggie Phillips?” The unfamiliar female voice sounded watery, even over the tinny connection.
“Yes, who’s speaking please?” The call had come up private name and number. Not at all unusual in the age of rampant phone solicitation.
“This is Sierra, Mr. Valentino’s executive assistant. I don’t know if you remember me…?”
“Of course, what can I do for you?” I pictured the outrageously well-groomed bombshell that’d guarded Valentino’s inner sanctum.
“I, um, I found something. Something of Mr. Valentino’s. I think he might have killed his wife.”
“Not possible,” I said, even though her words piqued my interest. “Valentino’s still in the hospital and he’s being monitored by the FBI. No way could he have caused Candie’s death.”
“Yes, but I found this file locked in his desk. He hired a private investigator to follow her. In the report, the PI claims she was cheating on him, with another woman. I’ve worked for Mr. Valentino for a long time; he would never stand for that.”
No he wouldn’t. “But the timing…?” I mused aloud. Sylvia was watching me, her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to my end of the conversation.
“I think he might have hired someone. You know, before the fire? I don’t know what to do.”
“Contact the police, ask for Detective Capri. She’ll put you in touch with the FBI.”
“I know it’s horrible of me to ask, but do you think you could come over and stay with me while they’re here? I read about you in the newspaper and I know you know how to handle this sort of situation.”
The wince escaped despite my best efforts. Holding up under police interrogation was not something I wanted people to remember about me. She made a decent point though. Valentino had set me up, cast suspicion on my good name and made my life hell. Didn’t I have a vested interest in seeing the evidence of his perfidy?
“Where are you? Where’s the file?”
“I’m at the office and I left the file on his desk. I didn’t know what else to do.”
She sounded so distressed, I made up my mind. “I’ll be there shortly. Call the police now; they’ll probably be right behind me.”
“Thank you,” Sierra sniffed.
“What’s up?” Sylvia stood, stretching her back.
“I’ll update you on the way.” I snatched up my bag, unhooked my car keys from the ring, donned my jacket.
The drive to Safari took less than ten minutes and I filled Sylvia in on what Sierra had unearthed.
“So now you think Candie was innocent of staging the abduction? Valentino was behind it all?”
I made a left into the parking garage. “No, I think he played her, just like he did me. She stepped out, went back to her girls behaving badly phase, tried to undermine him by sneaking crucial information to Richard Head. He retaliated by hiring some thug to kidnap her, to show her who was in charge.”
“What about the fire? I doubt that was part of his plan.”
“Right, I think whoever took Candie got pissed off with Valentino, tried to teach him a lesson. Candie’s death was part of it.”
“But who?” Despite the heat pumping from the vent, Sylvia shivered. “Who killed her? And Richard?”
“That, I don’t know which is why I agreed to come here. Maybe if I get a chance to look through the files, I can piece it all together.
“Do you want me to come up with you?” Sylvia asked, looking as though she might vomit if I said yes.
I shook my head. “No, the police will be here any minute.” As if to punctuate my words, sirens blared in the distance. “Do me a favor though, call Neil and tell him what’s happening. Marty too.”
Sylvia squeezed my hand. ”Be careful. And don’t get arrested.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Parking garages always creeped me out. Even though they were monitored via video camera, something about the absence of light, the absolute quiet unnerved me. I power-walked over to the elevator, assuming I needed to check-in at the security desk before going up to see Sierra.
I pushed the down button and the doors opened immediately. Pools of filthy water probably tracked in from various boots were visible on the floor of the car. I tiptoed around them, and pushed floor number one. The car lurched, and I yipped in fright, but the ride progressed smoothly. Fishing in my bag so my ID would be handy, I didn’t pay attention to the lit numbers tracking the car’s progress.
A soft ding sounded before the doors slid open. Where the heck was my driver’s license? Security might give me a hard time if Sierra hadn’t already notified the desk of my impending arrival.
Distracted, I stepped off the elevator, glancing up when my boot heels clicked against concrete instead of the anticipated carpet. The elevator hadn’t delivered me to the brightly lit lobby. Instead, I found myself in some sort of basement.
“Oh, what the hell?” Annoyed, I turned to face the elevator when I felt the prick of something sharp penetrate my jacket right below my left shoulder blade. Then a jolt of energy and unexpected pain ripped through my system and the world slid away.
Chapter 39
The smell of mildew invaded my nostrils, forcing consciousness back. Something gurgled. Water I thought, rushing through pipes. Face pressed against cold, damp concrete, I had no idea if my eyes were open or closed. I tried blinking, but nothing came into focus. My body, sluggish and weak as a newborn, didn’t respond as I willed my arm forward to check my eyelids.
My hands were tied behind my back.
What the hell happened? Remembering the elevator, the basement, the sting as something sharp bit through the layers of clothing, I pieced together that’ I’d been zapped, most likely by a Taser or stun gun. Who’d done it though? And why?
“Hello?” My voice was as weak as my body, my tongue thick and heavy in my mouth. “Who’s there?”
I listened, but no one replied. “Sierra?” She was the only person who knew I was coming. “What’s going on?”
Footsteps sounded distantly and I struggled to sit upright, no easy feat with my hands tethered. Florescent light sputtered to life, blinding me as effectively as the darkness. Scrunching my eyes closed, I called out again. “Sierra?”
“Oh, she’s not available right now. I have her stashed elsewhere.” The man’s voice and cadence sounded familiar and foreign all at once. I slit one eye open but still couldn’t see worth shit.
“Who are you?” I asked as I felt more than heard him move closer.
A high pitched giggle, almost effeminate was my only answer. Retrenching, I asked, “Why did you tie me up?”
“You’ve proven yourself to be resourceful and I can’t have anyone mucking with my plans.”
Dread, slimy and cold settled in my gut. “What plans?”
“The destruction of Safari and all of Valentino’s minions, of course. The time has come, and out of the ashes of his wicked empire, the phoenix will rise and live for a thousand years.”
Hell, my unconscious mind had set me up in a crappy B movie. This couldn’t be real. “Tell me who you are, why you’re doing this.”
A flashlight with enough juice to power the greater Boston area clicked on directly in my eyes. I yelped and slammed my eyelids down before my retinas sizzled up like fatty bacon. The man laughed again, and perspiration popped out on my forehead as I picked up on the hysterical note.
“Every villain must have a foil and I am Markus Valentino’s. My father was the lead engineer on Valentino’s power solutions team in Austin. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of signing an intellectual property rights agreement that allowed Valentino to have first dibs on his every innovation. Years, I spent, watching him profit from my father’s work, reaping all the benefits of someone else’s labor. I watched as my father withered while that bastard flourished, married a rich debutante and soared to even greater heights. Too weak to fight the evil, I was with him when my father breathed his last. And then, Maggie, the most amazing thing happened. My father’s essence filled me.
