1 Odds and Ends (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Margot frowned at the large potted plant and rubbed an arm across her forehead to catch the moisture. She tried to ease some of the pressure on her knees, but it didn’t do much good. “Are you sure this will grow winter squash, Greg?”

Greg glanced up from his own planting and grinned. “It will. Trust me, and it’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted. Whenever you’re ready, Debra and I will happily make you delicious meatless spaghetti squash.”

Margot didn’t have the heart to tell him that while she hadn’t eaten a lot of meat lately because of her budget, she missed it terribly. The first chance she got she would gobble some down. That was of course why she couldn’t resist Nancy’s invites to dinner, not to mention the desserts, none of them healthy.

However, Margot liked the Armitages, so she said, “I’ll be glad to join you. I love vegetables too.”

He seemed to consider her addition of the word
too
but then went back to planting. Margot brushed at the dirt clinging to her hands and raised them in the air, waiting.

“What are you doing, Margot?” Debra asked, coming up the stairs leading into the building.

Margot flushed and snatched her hands down. “Nothing.” She looked past Debra to a section of the roof that was inaccessible from where they stood. A low brick wall surrounded the space, but thick and plentiful evergreen plants lined the top from all the way around. No one, without destroying the plants, could see in very well.

Debra noticed her examining it. “That’s the third floor apartment’s space, the luxury apartment.”

Greg stood and stretched his arms above his head. “Everyone wants it, and normally, the rent there would be higher. First qualified, first gets it.”

Debra made a noise of annoyance. “But Coley kept it for himself! Who ever heard of the Super getting the best apartment? If you look at the wall, Margot, you can see it has most of the roof. The person who designed it was very unfair to the rest of the tenants.”

Margot agreed, but she thought the two sounded very bitter. They were also unfair, she thought in that they used a good portion of the roof for their plants. Maybe they had gotten the permission of the others, and roof space wasn’t the only advantage to the luxury apartment.

Odds ran out onto the roof.
“Someone’s coooming.”

“Who?” Margot asked.

“Who what?” said Debra.

Before Margot could answer, Nancy’s head popped into view on the stairs. She panted. “Oh, there you are, Margot. These steps! I live on the first floor for a reason. Let me catch my breath a minute.”

Margot walked over and looked down at her. “Are you okay, dear?”

Nancy waved a hand and rested it on her hip. Today, she wore still another housedress and soft slippers. Margot tried to remember if Nancy had ever left the building. Something glittered on her wrist, a gold bracelet that hadn’t been there before.

Greg joined Margot at the top of the stairs. “If you can’t make it up here, Nancy, how would you ever live in the third floor apartment?”

Margot blinked at him. He smiled, but she heard a bite in his tone.

Nancy was not to be discounted by his youth. “I would start out on the third floor instead of the first,” she shot back. “So there.”

Margot chuckled, and so did Debra despite herself. Her husband scowled at her, his cheeks red.

“Come down, Margot,” Nancy implored her. “You and I have something to do.”

“If you want to go, Margot, it’s fine,” Greg said, quite magnanimous now that Nancy had put him in his place.

“Well let me clean up my mess,” Margot insisted, and she did, painfully remembering how she had raised her hands, waiting for someone to give her a cloth to wipe them.

Afterward, she joined Nancy on the stairs, and they made their way down to the third floor. Nancy grasped her arm and drew her close.

“Let’s go into the apartment and look around,” she whispered. “It’s not locked.”

Margot’s eyes widened. “How do you— Oh, well, I mean why isn’t it locked? Aren’t Coley’s things still there? I don’t remember seeing anyone move them out.”

“They’re there,” Nancy confirmed. “As to why it’s not locked, I don’t know. Maybe the killer was searching.”

Margot stopped walking. “Searching? Why would he be searching?”

Nancy smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just that I heard they always return to the scene of a crime, don’t they? Isn’t that what they do on those murder mystery shows?”

“Uh—”

“Then again, Detective Peter did say he thinks the killer lives among us.” Her eyes grew wide and she looked at Margot. “Do you suspect
me
, Margot? I could do it if the victim was that nasty old Jimmy. He’s always ruining my parties.”

“I don’t think you should admit that, d-dear,” Margot suggested, feeling a little disoriented by Nancy’s excitement at the prospect of killing Jimmy. “I am curious about the famous apartment though.”

Odds’ tail brushed Margot’s ankle. She glanced toward the stairs leading to the second floor, but saw and heard nothing. Her heartbeat picked up. This adventure might be exciting. After all, she had survived the scary episode with Jimmy, and the whole thing had turned out to be a misunderstanding. She was still on the case, and a survey of the apartment in question was needed.

“Okay, let’s go.” Margot walked with Nancy to the door with the numbers 303. She looked to her right. “There’s another door down there.”

Nancy dismissed it. “Another apartment. It’s big too but built funny with columns in odd places. Plus, the bedroom windows look out on the wall of the next building. Hardly any sunlight gets in.”

“Surely, the front ones let in light?”

Nancy shook her head. “They do, but only when the sun is in that part of the sky. Also, there’s a neon sign that makes the outside glow at night like an alien invasion. I’ve seen it. Very spooky.”

Margot thought it sounded interesting, and she put it on her mental list to explore if ever the situation arose. Then a new thought occurred to her. “Nancy, there are a lot of people in this city, and I imagine affordable housing can get difficult to find.”

She recalled sifting through all the advertisements for apartments Lou’s solicitor had supplied her with and weeping over the rental fees. At the time, she wondered how anyone lived anywhere with such prices. Later, she had figured out with a little fortitude, she could scrape by. So far she was doing it, and she would continue.

“Yes, you’re probably right.” Nancy checked the doorknob to 303, and it turned easily.

Margot followed her inside. “But why are so many apartments in this building empty? Since I’ve been here, I’ve heard of at least three. Are they not fit to live in?”

“You know, I never thought of it,” Nancy said. “Why wouldn’t Coley fill up the apartments? There must be a waiting list. We’re not the best, but one can certainly do worse.”

Margot thought of the peeling paint and the faded wallpaper and wondered how one could do worse. Did that mean there were apartments in New York or anywhere for that matter that were in shoddier repair? She recoiled to even think it.

The apartment Nancy and Margot entered was twice the size of Margot’s. The wide-open living room would have accommodated many of the items she had brought with her. From what she could glimpse, she guessed the rest would have fit in the other rooms.

The walls were not much better here except they were painted instead of papered. A single step led to double glass doors, and with the blinds drawn back, she saw straight out to a cement passage and stairs leading up. “That goes to the roof?”

“Yes, isn’t it mysterious?” Nancy asked.

“Not especially.” Margot took in the ugly, clunky furniture Coley had chosen to place in the apartment, what there was of it. He had collected newspapers—the free kind she had been making use of—and dirty magazines, which Margot averted her eyes away from. Coley certainly hadn’t been ashamed of leaving them lying about.

A built-in bookshelf along one wall was cluttered with books on sports and more magazines, old mail, and it seemed, every odd and end Coley could find to shove onto it. A stench in the air nearer to the kitchen made Margot pinch her nose closed.

“Probably bad food,” Nancy said. “Someone will have to come in to clean before it seeps downstairs. Nothing good in this place anymore.”

Margot frowned. “Anymore?”

Nancy grabbed her arm. “Let’s go check the bedroom.”

Margot joined her but stopped in the bedroom doorway. More bad smells, this time she assumed from unwashed clothing or unwashed body. She swallowed, hoping it was just the passage of time and that this wasn’t the state even before he passed. If so, how had Debra withstood it?

“Oh look, Margot,” Nancy chirped. “These bookends are cute, aren’t they? Think anyone will mind if I borrow them?”

“Put them back, Nancy,” Margot said firmly. “If you take them without permission, that’s stealing.”

Nancy colored. “I’m not a thief.”

Margot raised her eyebrows, and Nancy sighed. She placed the bookends on the dresser where she found them. “He has a lot of books, but from what I have heard he doesn’t strike me as the type to read.”

“He was a pack rat,” Nancy explained. “You never know what causes people to become the way they are.”

Margot pulled her sweater over her nose and ventured into the bedroom. She studied the books stacked on the bureau. They were all by the same person. Maybe he was a fan.

“Nancy,” she said as her friend dug through a box in the corner.

Nancy looked up.

“I can’t stand it any longer. I have to wash the dirt from my hands, and this smell…”

“All right.” Nancy sighed. “I’ll come another time.”

Margot waggled a finger at her. “If you do, leave the bookends.”

Nancy grumbled but agreed, and they left the apartment. After Margot was able to breathe fresh air and she had washed away all traces of dirt from the planting, she was able to think clearer. With the mess Coley’s apartment lay in, she wasn’t sure if as Nancy said the killer had returned to search. The apartment was in shambles, but she couldn’t say for sure if it had been ransacked.

As she left the bathroom and entered the kitchen to find lunch, Odds jumped ahead of her to land neatly on the table. He curled his tail around his body and watched her with curious eyes.

Margot stopped in front of him, a hand on her hip. “Well, Odds? What do we do now? We weren’t invited to return to that cleaning job.”

He yawned and stood to stretch then sat again. His tail flicked the newspaper not far away, and she groaned.

“That again? I’m beginning to think there are no good jobs inside a free paper.”

“You’re quick. Maybe you’ll solve the murder next.”

“I do not need the sarcasm, young man!”

“I’m a cat.”

“You’ll be homeless if you keep sassing me.”

“So will you if you don’t find a job.”

“Fine!”

Margot pulled out a chair and began the arduous search for employment that would last more than one day.

Chapter Fifteen

“I can do it myself!” The shout floated in from the hall when Margot opened the front door at Odds’ scratch.

Her little cat moved past on the run.
“Drammmaaa.”

“What drama?” Margot asked. The cat didn’t answer, so she walked out to see for herself. At the base of the stairs, she spotted Nancy, tugging on a suitcase held in Mercer’s tight grasp.

“Let me help you, Mr. Mercer,” Nancy was saying.

“I’m not an invalid, Nancy. Let go!”

Nancy puffed, out of breath. Mercer seemed to have a lot more stamina, but he was fighting against more than Nancy’s strength. He had to contend with the image she had created in her own mind of them already married and her caring for him night and day.

The struggle continued until a loud click resounded throughout the hall. Margot knew what was coming long before the bag popped open, and papers flew out, scattering over the floor. Nancy yelped in alarm.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me—”

“Enough,” Mercer roared.

Nancy’s teeth clicked shut, and Margot froze when she was about to descend the stairs to help pick up the pages.

Mercer threw the suitcase aside, and it hit the stairs only to slide back down with a
bump bump bump
on each one. “You’ve humiliated me enough, Nancy,” he bit out, and Margot pressed a hand to her mouth as tears filled Nancy’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

He dropped to his knees, more spry than either Margot or Nancy. His hands moved quickly to gather most of the sheets, and when there were none close by, he hesitated. Then he reached out farther, and his hand rose and fell at random as it searched for other sheets.

“I…” Nancy began.”

“Go,” he said.

She spun away and hurried down the hall to her apartment. The door slammed, and the lock clicked into place. Margot sighed, feeling sorry for the poor woman. A second later, the lock on Nancy’s door clicked again, but it didn’t open. Margot smiled, amused. Nancy wanted
someone
to come cheer her up.

Margot shook her head and started down the stairs. Mercer upon hearing her seemed to search faster. He didn’t have to worry. She wouldn’t ask to help. Rather she understood wanting to keep one’s pride, which was why she struggled to learn on her own now that she had to depend on herself. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done it all these years anyway.

Odds jumped ahead of her down the stairs. Guess he was too nosy to keep hiding. He leaped from the step where Mercer’s suitcase had landed straight to the middle of one of the sheets Mercer hadn’t picked up yet. Margot picked up her own pace and scooped the foolish cat into her arms. She muttered an apology and hurried on to Nancy’s door.

At Nancy’s call to come in when Margot knocked, Margot entered. She found Nancy perched in a chair by the mantel, a face down framed picture in her hands and tears in her eyes.

“Aw, honey, there there,” Margot said and hugged Nancy. Then she sat in the chair opposite. “Just give him time. He will fall in love with you soon enough.”

Odds passed between them and paused to look at Margot.
“Should you be lying to her? She’s a klepto, you know. Pretty crazy.”

“Shush!”

Nancy pouted. “I know I shouldn’t cry, Margot, and you’re right. I should keep my chin up. It’s how I got both my first husbands. See? This is my John’s dad.”

She held up the photo, and Margot double blinked at the man. Nancy really did have a type she liked. The sun glistened off the clean head. Her former husband was different only in that he didn’t have a belly, and his build was a bit more filled out with muscle.

“When did he pass?” Margot asked.

“Oh, he didn’t pass,” she said with her usual cheer. John hates New York. He moved to California a decade ago, and our son decided to move over there too.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“I love New York. I grew up here, and I will pass on to my reward here.”

“Seems a little stubborn, don’t you think, Nancy? I mean your husband and son gone?”

She shrugged. “You’re probably right. After a while, John decided since we were separated, it might be better to just divorce. I agreed, and here we are.”

Margot nodded, but she wondered if Nancy had shared the real truth. No one wanted to admit their spouse had run off with someone younger. She knew that first hand. Of course, it wouldn’t stop her from maligning Lou’s name whenever she got the chance.

A commotion outside caught both their attention, and Margot stood to look out the window. Zabrina stood on the sidewalk arguing with a middle-aged man, and beside them a burgundy town car waited with the back door open.

“Who is that?” Margot asked. “A relative?”

“No, that’s a car service.”

“A taxi? But he doesn’t have any writing on it, and it’s not yellow.”

Nancy patted her hand. “There are some private services here in New York. Some have their number painted on the side, and some don’t. Zabrina uses this particular gentleman a lot. I’ve seen him before, but I’ve never seen them arguing.”

Zabrina, so much taller in very high heels, ripped her purse open and drew out money. She slapped it into the man’s outstretched hand, and he slammed the back door of his car, jumped into the driver’s seat, and pulled off.

Margot’s attention left the man and returned to Zabrina. She happened to know the temperatures had reached one hundred degrees that day. Zabrina wore black gloves on her hands. Not the driving kind with fingers out or knuckles. She wore a silky stylish type that covered her skin from fingertip to her wrists.

“How can she bear the heat in the those gloves?” Margot asked. “Then again, I don’t know anything about phobias and how they rule people’s lives to the point that heat means nothing.”

“I
think she’s a spy,” Nancy said, and Margot gaped at her. “An international spy from some country in Europe. She looks like a model, but that’s her cover.”

“What do the gloves have to do with being a spy?”

“Don’t you see? They’re part of her disguise.”

Margot took in the sleeveless butter yellow cropped top and the blue denim shorts Zabrina wore. Neither of these items looked like spyware to her, but maybe it was another subject she had no knowledge of. Believing Zabrina did indeed have an extreme phobia seemed more believable.

“I told you she’s crazy.”

Margot turned to give Odds a stern look and found him atop the mantel. Several of Nancy’s photographs, including the one she had just set up there of her ex-husband, teetered as if they would fall. Margot’s eyes widened, and she peeked over at Nancy.

“Get down, Odds,” she whispered fiercely.

The cat tipped its small head higher and pranced all around the items. Nancy’s mantel being clogged with more junk than Coley could have dreamed of having on his bookshelves, Odds’ journey was fraught with risk.

Margot hurried over and banged her knee on a table. She groaned in pain and rubbed it. Odds leaped to the floor and strolled to the door. Grumbling, Margot shook her fist behind his head.

“Margot,” Nancy all but shouted.

“Yes?” Margot banged her knee again and hobbled to a chair to sit down.

“I have a new plan,” Nancy confessed.

Margot sat forward, interested. “To figure out who killed Coley?”

Confusion settled on Nancy’s features. “No, were we working on that? Oh, that might be a good idea too.”

Margot shook her head. There was no use reasoning with the woman. At least between Nancy and Odds, her life had become much more entertaining. In fact, she realized the two of them helped her pass each day without despair. She would gladly thank Nancy when she had the chance, but Odds. Well, he was too cheeky lately, and she would tell him
that!

“I’ll invite him to dinner on Friday,” Nancy said, almost bouncing in her excitement.

“How is that different, dear?” Margot tried to see the logic but failed. “You have been chasing Mercer, and he’s been running away all this time.”

Nancy colored in offense, but Margot patted her shoulder.

“There now, don’t worry. The next one. He might be for you,” Margot suggested.

“What next one?” Nancy flapped her arms, both with her balled fists and with the loose skin.

Margot captured an arm and tried holding it down. She recalled her own experience flapping and losing energy. Not a good idea. “The next Super. They do have to get another one, you know. And he might be our age.”

Nancy gave this thought. “Could be.”

“And,” Margot added, “who knows if he will be your number three.”

“Yes,” Nancy squealed. The slight pout she had sported disappeared. “Maybe.”

“Could be,” Margot said.

“Won’t be.”

Margot glared at him. “Odds, I’m giving you away!”

He yawned, unfazed.