Death Loves a Messy Desk (11 page)

“No luck. So not the vet, I guess.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Darned if I know what’s going on. She’s crazy about that cat.”

I took a gamble. “Maybe we can ask her husband?”

“She doesn’t have a husband. Single gal. Works a lot.”

“Boyfriend then? Maybe he picked her up?”

He shrugged. “The wife’s convinced she might have a fella, but I’ve never laid eyes on him.”

“I just asked because the dining table is set nicely for two.”

“I didn’t even notice that. For all I know it was set for that darn cat.”

“Right. Well, I hope nothing happened to it.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. So you’re going to measure and let me know about the piano? If you want it, we can talk about the price, maybe do a deal.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Paula, that’s the wife, will be really happy to know if it’s going to a good home. She’s sentimental about stuff as well as people.”

“Artistic temperament,” I said. “I can tell by the nice job she did here.”

“I’ll tell her. And here, let me give you our telephone number so you can get back to us. Do you mind letting us know one way or the other? I’m going to have to put it in storage otherwise.”

“Sure thing,” I said.

Even as I walked down the outside stairs, my head was clambering with questions. The biggest one was obviously, how could this serene and well-organized spot possibly belong to the owner of the desk from hell?

“And the bedroom! You should have seen it. That bedroom was absolutely pristine,” I said to Sally as we sat on her leather sofa watching the toddlers play and baby Shenandoah sleep. Truffle and Sweet Marie were snuggled in, as far as they could get from the rest of the children. One of the nice things about having a stay-at-home mom friend is that she will give you a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch with no prior notice required.

“Hard to believe how some people live. Do you think perhaps because there were no children?”

I nodded. “That could do it.”

Sally shook her blond curls and stroked Shenandoah’s tiny tummy. “Discarded socks, then. Must have been a few. Yesterday’s underwear? Everyone drops those on the floor.”

“Speak for yourself, Miss Messy. This bedroom was a regular oasis. It made me think it was time for me to redecorate mine. I like the taupe-and-white look.”

“Listen, Charlotte. Don’t make me smack you. You just decorated your bedroom when you moved back last year. Don’t put me through another endless discussion of paint samples and fabric swatches. I couldn’t bear it. Life’s too short. Don’t pull the doggie’s tail, Savannah. Mommy told you that’s a no-no.”

“Friends are there for friends during redecoration. You can’t just bail on me when I have the next one. But no matter, let’s get back to the subject, which isn’t paint or fabric, it’s incongruity.”

Sally said, “I suppose it is really weird for someone they called ‘Miss Piggy’ to have a spotless home.”

“Yes it is. It’s beyond weird.”

“Although you also have to wonder about people who would call a co-worker ‘Miss Piggy.’ ”

“Just one co-worker, really. Dyan the schemer. And I don’t know, there was more to it than that. The whole scene just seemed wrong. And it makes me wonder what’s really going on with that desk. I can tell you, Sally, my spider senses were tingling.”

She shrugged and reached over to pick up a fallen toddler. “People can be very different at work.”

“Maybe. And another strange thing, I can’t believe anyone who loved her indoor cat would just leave the door open so it could run out. Awful things could happen. Her pet could have been hit by a car. Do you think she’d do that?”

“I’m not so in love with cats, so I couldn’t say.”

“Who are you kidding, Sally? You with four kids? You’re a patsy for anything that needs to be looked after. Even me, sometimes.”

“That’s true enough. Even you frequently. By the way, that’s why I really don’t like to see you getting involved in something else that might be dangerous. I think we should have gotten that out of our systems by now.”

“Dangerous? How could it be dangerous? It’s broad daylight with people around. Everyone’s always exaggerating.”

“Call me nuts, but didn’t you tell me that this Barb tried to run you over with her SUV?”

I shrugged and leaned back on the sofa. “Maybe she did. I’m not really sure. Maybe I just overreacted because I’m so jumpy. But I still wouldn’t want to spot her coming toward me on the road again.”

“Right, the too-much-murder thing. That is exactly my point. Dallas, don’t put that in the socket.” Sally heaved herself off the sofa and confiscated a fork. “What the hell happened to my plug guards?”

“Well, no one’s been murdered. Fredelle wants me to speak to Barb because of this misunderstanding. We want to set the record straight. That’s all. Maybe I’ll talk to those two truck drivers again, in case I just misinterpreted what happened. I got their names wrong, so maybe I did.”

“Listen, stay out of it. You’ve had too much bad stuff happen to you. Rest your brain. Do relaxing little organizer things. Sort my Christmas decorations by color and size and shape, for instance. Or maybe my spice drawer according to the color wheel. I have tons of ideas to keep your mind busy.”

“Very funny.”

“You get way too wrapped up with your clients. Let it go.”

“Good advice, I guess.”

“You betcha. Now let’s catch the news.”

“Noooo! Come on, Sal. Not Todd—”

Sunlight glinted off the most celebrated chompers in town. Of course, that could have been a trick of the camera. This time Todd Tyrell was on location in front of the Woodbridge police station. It was too late to cover my eyes. And I would have still been able to hear him.

Todd’s giant face was replaced by footage of the wooded area and the blue Impala. The scene surrounded by fluttering yellow police tape filled the screen. A white tent had been erected, over the site where the car must have been, I suppose. The red-haired detective was still there, still juggling his silver keys, still wearing what looked like the same suit, shirt, and tie as the day before. Perhaps he’d made the announcement about the execution-style killing. This time he was accompanied by Nick the Stick, who was wandering around looking goofy and probably trampling evidence. A small crowd of curious people hovered near the tape. I gasped and leaned forward to stare at one of them. An agitated woman with short dark hair paced back and forth behind the tape. She was wearing jeans and a hoodie and didn’t seem to be aware of the rain. She held her hand over her mouth and appeared to be talking into a cell phone. She turned away from the camera, but not before I caught a glimpse of her face. Pleasant, thirtyish, and oddly familiar.

“Sally, you’re always watching WINY.”

“Not
always
.”

“Okay, but you follow the news on that channel.”

“Sure. You know how I feel about Todd.”

I let the Todd part slide. “That wasn’t the footage we saw the other night, was it? When he first talked about the body being found in the woods? Todd was in those shots and I’m sure that tent wasn’t there.”

But, of course, the news had moved on to another item by that time: Todd had put his “brain” to work talking about rising prices in our town.

Sally had turned her attention back to him.

I grabbed the remote and flicked off the television.

I said more to myself than to her, “In that case, they must be using voiceover with earlier footage of the crime scene.”

“What are you talking about?”

“See? That red-haired guy hasn’t changed his clothes.”

“And that’s important because?”

“It means it wasn’t from today. We were able to see the car before, although I couldn’t make out what make it was. Now it’s under that tent.”

“Have you lost your—”

“Plus, and this is really important. It was raining in this footage, but the sun’s shining today and Sunday was a beautiful day, so the WINY camera must have been there during that rain shower yesterday afternoon.”

Sally shook her curls. “What difference does it make?”

I sat up straight. “It started to rain just before two, although it could have been a bit earlier or later wherever that stretch of wood is.”

“Todd said Vineland Estates. It’s off the highway north of Woodbridge. You take the exit near the bridge.”

“Not too far out of town. And the rain didn’t last very long. Maybe an hour.”

“Is that important?”

“I think it is, because she would have been there sometime between two and what, three?”

Sally said, “Who?”

“I just saw the woman who almost ran me off the road yesterday.”

“You mean the owner of the weirdly messy desk and the flawlessly spotless apartment?”

“Exactly. Barb Douglas. Now what was she doing at the site of this murder?”

Sally was right, of course. I did have my job to do, and I didn’t mean to get overly involved in the Barb Douglas situation. By way of being normal, I dropped off a detailed work plan contract to my new closet client. It felt good having her squeeze my hands in gratitude when I hadn’t even done anything yet. We agreed that I could start the next week with an inventory of her contents, much of which I knew would make my mouth water. I promised to drop off some closet designs and ideas on Thursday night, just to keep her in the mood for the purge the following week. Once that tough part was over, we’d work together to find just the right space for every object that remained. I loved my job.

Next, I headed back to Quovadicon. I hurried past Autumn without being noticed. I poked my head into Fredelle’s office and said, “Barb wasn’t home. I’ll try again later. I’d like to have a quick look at that desk again. Will I run into Robbie?”

She shook her head. “He’s gone. Do you need me with you?”

“Not at all,” I said.

I thought she looked relieved, and I couldn’t blame her.

In the office, I hurried, not just because of the nasty smell of old cups and sneakers, not to mention the sardine can. I didn’t want Robbie to come back and threaten me again. Fredelle didn’t think he was dangerous, but I had my doubts. I headed for his desk. The file folder was still there. I peeked back into the hallway and glanced around just in case. Then back to the desk, where I lifted the file folder. Sure enough, there were a number of photos of the woman I now knew as Barb: several shots of her at her desk, on her cell phone, smiling, tying her shoes, gazing at her computer screen. Did she know Robbie had taken these? My guess was no. I slid the photos back under the file, minus one with a clear image of her face. With one backward look at the unbelievable desk next to Robbie’s and a shake of my head, I got the hell out of there.