Skeletons in the Closet (9 page)

An involuntary twitch started in my right eye—the reaction comes about when the men in my life are brought together. It pains me that my husband and my brother can’t get along, and their trading of insults takes sibling rivalry to a perverse level.

“So, where am I crashing out?” Marty looked around the kitchen skeptically.

“You can stay with us, Uncle Marty; you can even sleep in my bed!” Kenny was eager to sacrifice his own comfort for more time with Uncle Excitement. My brother may be a complete baboon’s behind when it came to a career, but he’s the fun relation.   

Of course, the competition is pretty thin.

The boys were getting Marty all squared away, and I turned on Neil with a vengeance.

“Would it kill you to be decent to him? Or, Heaven forbid,
nice
?”

“It might.” Neil’s gaze traveled down the hallway. “It’s hard to believe he beat out a million other sperm.”

“
Neil!
”

“Uncle Scrooge, I tolerate him because he’s your brother. But the navy has a term for his life. Malingering. It’s a punishable state of being.”

“Well he’s not in the military, and while he may be lazy some of the time—”

Neil whirled on me. “
All
of the time. And I don’t want to hear anything from that cache of excuses you keep at the ready for his defense. You did the best you could with what you were given, and he’s an adult. He’s responsible for his own pile of crap and he has been for the last decade.”

My lip trembled, and Neil softened in his attack. “I’ll try harder. For you. But if he calls me brother-man one more freaking time, I’ll….”

I put my fingertips over his mouth. “Duly noted. And I appreciate it.”

Neil slung an arm around my shoulders and steered me to the front porch.

“While we have a moment of peace, I want to hear about this morning.”

The words came pouring out of me like air from a deflating balloon, and I felt just as empty when I finished.

Neil shook his head. “No, that detective is playing games with you, Uncle Scrooge. He’s using your fear to manipulate you.”

“Maybe. I was thinking I’d ask Francesca to hire me and recommend me to some of her and Alessandra’s acquaintances, you know, to get my foot in the door?”

“Less than a week ago you were ranting like a loon about how you didn’t want one cleaning job, and now you want to pick up more?”

“Things change.” I wasn’t exactly thrilled by that fact, but I had been scheming all day, and denial wasn’t going to help any of us. “I’ll hire someone to go with me; you know, an assistant or partner, so I’ll never be alone in a potential murderer’s company.

“I should have killed that detective when I had the chance,” Neil muttered.

“You have to admit he has a point. I’ll have access to the Kline’s social circle, and most people don’t look twice at the help.”

“Maggie, five minutes with you, and anyone can see you’re no help.”

“The insults aren’t helping,” I said as quietly as possible. I was trying
not
to antagonize Neil.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll be your partner.”

I laughed in his face; I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t very often that Neil was the one to come up with the ridiculous suggestions.

“What?” Neil put his hands on his hips, which only enhanced my giggle fit.

“You have a job, remember?” I said between gasps for breath.

“Yeah, but I can take some time off or rearrange my schedule or something.”

“Neil, you put in your time saving the world. I know you want to keep me out of harm’s way, but it seems that fate has other plans. I’m no warrior, but I can help, and it’s better than sitting around here worrying about whether or not our sons are in some maniac’s crosshairs.”

We sat in silence for a time, staring up at the moonless night, and I caught the faint hint of chimney smoke. The moment was utterly serene, and I knew it wouldn’t last.

Neil finally asked, “Who did you have in mind to ride shotgun?”

“I wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular,” I admitted.

“How about I make a few calls tomorrow, see what the network can come up with?”

The network is Neil’s list of contacts, some SEALs, both former and active duty, as well as a handful of other people he trusts. It operates on the whole six degrees of separation theory, you know, ‘I know someone who knows someone who can do….’ fill in the blank. Neil and a few of his buddies started the network before we’d met, and it’s grown to almost global proportions.

“Please, find someone discreet, not like the thugs who helped us move in.”

Neil grinned. “You didn’t like Little John and Tiny Tim?”

“Like has nothing to do with it. One of them did number two in our bathroom, and an hour later my air fern was all withered.”

“You shouldn’t have left it in the bathroom.”

“
Discreet
, Neil. No plant killers or toxic avengers, please.”

“Ever at your service, milady.”

* * * *

I spent most of Monday on the phone. Francesca was more than willing to help when I told her I wanted to expand my cleaning service. I intentionally neglected to mention the subsequent information hunt, since I wanted to be circumspect with my investigation. She told me to come over and ‘do my thing’ on Tuesday night, since she had guests coming in for the holiday. “It’ll be the perfect opportunity for me to talk you up,” she said with enthusiasm.

“Is your brother-in-law going to be there?”

“No. The poor dear is so traumatized by what happened to Alessandra, he wanted to be alone. I’m going to go over with some leftovers and grieve with him on Friday. Maybe you could check in on him, Maggie? He’s going to have to fend for himself, especially since the cook quit.”

For selfish reasons, I was glad I wouldn’t have to face the woman who’d seen me clumsily attempting to comfort Mr. Kline.

Neil had been burning up the PC keys and emerged from the den, triumphant with a half dozen contact names and numbers he’d unearthed through the network. He assured me that all were available and living in our area. On that score, he was right, but none were interested in cleaning other people’s houses. When I hung up the phone at three-thirty, I was no closer to securing a partner than before.

“Maybe I should ask Marty to come with me for tomorrow evening’s job,” I suggested when I told Neil about the results.

“We’re looking for
Remington Steele
here, not the guy in the red-shirt on
Star Trek
. What was his name? Oh yeah, Ensign Dead-meat.”

The phone rang, and I answered on the second ring while managing to roll my eyes at Neil.

I’ve got mad skills.

“Mrs. Phillips? This is Josh’s teacher, Ms. Martin.”

“Hello, Mrs. Martin.” My tone was neutral, but as the silence reigned, I realized exactly what had happened.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Ms. Martin! I forgot about our meeting! Are you still at the school because I can leave right now and I’ll be there in ten minutes, less if I make all the lights. Oh, I am so sorry, really, for wasting your time like this and….”

I couldn’t stop the verbal diarrhea from bubbling out. Neil made calm down motions with his hands, and I stopped my rant in order to show off my driving finger. He knows I hate to be told, even wordlessly, to calm down.

“I have to leave now, Mrs. Phillips. I’ll be traveling out of town for the holiday, so we can reschedule our missed meeting for after the vacation. For now, your son’s F for the missed assignment stands.”

I really didn’t appreciate her huffy tone and I felt awful that poor Josh had to suffer the humiliation of an F because his mother was a spaz. “But—”

She cut me off. “You can call the administration office and reschedule at
your
convenience.”  

The receiver clicked in my ear, followed by the dial tone.

“I guess you have to return that Mother of the Year award, huh?” Marty snarked from the doorway. Neil started toward him, but I got there first and slugged him. The oof sound he made when my fist connected with his gut satisfied my bloodlust, and Neil and I left Marty doubled over in the doorway.

A
fitful night and too many thoughts to process had left me strung out by Tuesday morning. My mind was like a washing machine, agitating through potential cleaning partners and had spun out nothing. Life 1, Laundry Hag 0. Neil had offered repeatedly to come and clean with me, and while I knew he would do an excellent job at both the cleaning and the protecting (he was ex-military after all), I didn’t want to leave Marty in charge of the boys at night. My brother may be a great uncle, but he’s my last resort for a baby sitter, right behind Pee Wee Herman and Joseph Stalin.

Kenny and Josh had a half day at school due to parent-teacher conferences. I had a two-thirty appointment with Kenny’s teacher, but since Ms. Martin had vamoosed to parts unknown, our book report conversation was set up for a week from Thursday. The sinking sensation in my stomach had turned to anger at both my own thoughtlessness and Ernest Hemingway. It’s true—alcoholics hurt more than themselves, even after death.

I’d taken a toothbrush to the baseboards by the time Marty staggered into the kitchen at eleven-thirty. He poured a mug of coffee, which I was sure had grown cold hours before, and sloshed a healthy amount on my gleaming countertop. After adding sugar to both the cup and the mess on the formerly clean work area, he took a sip and grimaced.

“Coffee’s cold. When did you make it?”

“Around six-thirty, when I got up.”

Marty squinted at me. “Do you wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day?”

“Actually,” I responded as I took a sponge from the sink and cleaned up after him, “I was awake at five, but didn’t get out of bed until six-thirty. So it was before the ass crack of dawn.”

“Like the plumber’s crack of dawn then.” Marty snorted and took another swig of coffee. “You know, Maggs, you should probably take a little more care with your appearance; you look like death warmed over.”

I had tied my hair back with a red bandana and I sported my bleach-stained jeans and a ragged flannel that I refused to let Neil wear anymore. “I’m dressed for cleaning, for
work
Marty, you should try it sometime.”

“Hey, I have a job, a potentially awesome job, which is going to make me some serious capital.”

I put the sponge aside and gave my brother my full attention. “Okay, I’m braced for it. Hit me.”

“Well, I met this guy….”

I wondered if my brother had decided he was gay and that was why he’d left the beautiful zoologist. I was very encouraged by the thought because at least it would mean Marty had settled on a course.

For once.

“…so he invited me to invest in the project.” Marty looked at me hopefully, but I’d zoned out.

“The project?”

“Yeah, you know, I’d be part owner in a lake community.”

“And where is the community?”

“Uh….” Marty bit his lip, the same way he’d always done when my parents had busted him for not washing behind his ears.

“You don’t know?”

“Real estate is always a good investment.” Mr. Wizard had gone on the defensive.

“Not if it’s in the middle of Lake Erie.” A sharp pain took up residence behind my left eye.

“I’m sure it’s not like that.” He didn’t look sure. In fact, he looked palpably worried.

“How much have you invested?”

Marty studied his mismatched socks. He didn’t look like he was about to turn thirty, but maybe that was my big sister tunnel vision kicking in.

“Ten thousand.”

“
Marty!
”

“It was only half of what I needed, a deposit of sorts.”

“And where did you expect to get the rest?” The question was redundant, since the pain had spread to encompass both my eyes and a ringing in my ears.

Marty wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Well, you made some money when you sold your house in Virginia Beach, and I thought you’d be willing to throw a little my way as an investment. You’d get it all back and—”

“
Made.
Past tense, Marty. Everything we made on the sale of the Virginia Beach house went into this one. You know how I am about money; I’m not taking out a second mortgage to support some whim!”

Marty’s temper flared. “Hey, you weren’t always like this! I remember a time when—”

“Don’t. Go. There.” Neil had arrived home from the gym. He still wore his sunglasses, and I saw my ashen reflection in the mirrored lenses. In true hero form, Neil has an impeccable sense of timing.

Marty backed down, as he always does when confronted by Neil. “Maggie, I needed a little help, that’s all.”

“Did you ask Dee for money? Is that why the two of you broke up?” I asked quietly. Unlike my brother, I had learned a while ago not to poke the hornets’ nest.

Marty offered a wordless nod. I implored Neil with my gaze, and he sighed. “Maggie has a great deal of work to do, Marty. Maybe you and I should head to the den and have a talk.”

I smiled at my husband and squeezed Marty’s arm as the two of them left the room. Neil would boot up the computer while gleaning the whole story from the business tycoon, and I was sure he’d have a plan of action before lunch.

I finished with the baseboards and began polishing the antique dining room table.

The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Maggie Phillips?” a young girl’s voice chirped at me.

“Speaking.”

“Hi, um, this is Janice Montgomery. You had called my dad, Jack, about a cleaning job yesterday, and I was wondering if it was still available.”

The voice was painfully young, and I covered my eyes with my hand. Perfect.

“Yes, but how old are you, sweetie?”

“Eighteen.”

I cleared my throat, and then Janice amended her statement

“Well, I’ll be eighteen in January. I’m real good at cleaning, Mrs. Phillips, and I really need this job.”

I knew Jack Montgomery, or Jack Hammer as the SEALs referred to him in reverent tones, by reputation only. He’d been the senior chief for Neil’s SEAL team when Neil had graduated from BUD/s training and received his Budweiser pin. Neil had only been on a few missions with Jack before he had retired to his family’s home in Massachusetts, but the stories lived on. While I’d promised Neil I would take a partner along with me, I had mixed feelings about involving someone innocent into the whole rigmarole. A tough-as-nails former SEAL, or a no-neck goon was one thing, but the teenage daughter of one of them?

I wiped my forehead. When had I started sweating?

“Janice, there’ll be lots of hard labor involved; you know, beating the Persian rugs, wrestling the carpet cleaner....” Potentially dodging bullets…. “Are you sure you can handle this sort of thing?”

“Oh, I’m in excellent shape and I really need the money. Please, Mrs. Phillips, take me out on a job and you’ll see.”

My eyes closed, and I pinched my thumb and index finger over the bridge of my nose. I knew I was going to regret this, but…. “Are you free tonight?”

* * * *

Francesca Carmichael lived in a Greco-Roman temple. It was only twelve miles from my house but, like visiting my in-laws in Cambridge, it may as well have been Jupiter. The well-manicured lawn stretched as far as the eye could see, broken only by a too-natural-to-be-natural placement of oak and maples. The house itself was three massive stories, with a balcony wrapping out of sight on every floor. It had to be at least seven thousand square feet, larger than all three of the houses I’d ever lived in combined. I thought the Kline’s house on Cloverleaf Drive was spectacular, but this white-columned monstrosity was definitely more than a place for Frannie to hang her hat.

It had occurred to me on the drive that I didn’t know too much about Francesca. She seemed to have an abundance of free time and an endless supply of capital. She was beautiful, but not shallow, and as down to earth as the rest of us work for a living stiffs. I hadn’t seen a wedding ring, and she’d never mentioned a husband, but who knows? Maybe he’d moved in three years ago and gotten lost inside, never to be seen again.

“Wow, some digs, huh?” My teenaged companion snapped her gum, her silver gaze trained on the mansion. “I guess this lady’s like, rolling in the dough.”

I had a flash of Scrooge McDuck swimming through his money bin.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” I asked Janice with a pointed glance at her distended belly. Funny how she’d neglected to mention she was six months pregnant over the phone.

It was only forty-five degrees outside according to the flashing Framingham bank clock/thermometer we’d passed, but I’d shed my denim jacket and perspired through my long-sleeved Henley with the small hole in the shoulder seam. I hadn’t stopped sweating since Jack Hammer had dropped her off at our house, a black scowl on his craggy face that had Marty running for cover under Kenny’s bed. The plan had been that Jack and Neil would do some catching up while Janice and I went cleaning, but I had a hard time picturing the taciturn man gabbing away with Neil.

I could easily picture the stalwart demolitions expert taking out the White Cloud of Death with a rocket launcher.

Janice smiled and cracked her gum again. “Absolutely. I need to show Daddy that I can hold my own in the world, so he backs off about me giving up my baby for adoption.”

I
so
wasn’t going to touch that topic with a ten foot pole.

“Let’s go,” I said instead. I’d already decided that I’d do the majority of the work, allowing Janice to rest as much as possible.

I’d learned my lesson at the Kline’s, so I parked at the back of the house, near what appeared to be a mud room. Janice followed me to the door, and I knocked. I’d carted my cleaning paraphernalia, but figured I’d leave it in the van until I scoped out Frannie’s set up.

A dour looking woman in her early fifties answered the door and waved us in without preamble.

“I’m Maggie Phillips, and this is my partner, Janice. Francesca hired us to—”

“I’m Mrs. Smitts, the housekeeper. You will be assisting me to prepare for Ms. Carmichael’s guests.” A clipped brogue let us know she meant business.

Oh boy.

“There are twenty-two suites which need to be prepared as well as the polishing of the silver, and the formal dining room needs dusting. I will personally oversee the common areas and the menu. Follow me; there isn’t a minute to spare.”

We did as commanded, following Mrs. Smitts’s orthopedic clip-clopping through the downstairs. The formal dining area was impressive, illuminated by a grand chandelier and accented with ivory tapers and silver pots of dried flowers. The dining table could easily seat everyone I had ever met, although the intricate chairs looked none too sturdy. A matching mahogany sideboard held a notable assortment of antique china, and Mrs. Smitts opened the top two drawers to show off the genuine silver.

“I know exactly what is in each of these drawers, so don’t think for one instant that pilfering will go unnoticed.” She squinted at the two of us before setting a bottle of silver polish and a rag on the old fashioned tea wagon and departing.

“Boy, what crawled up her butt and died?” Janice blew a bubble and reached for the rag, which I promptly extracted from her hand.

“Let me do this. Why don’t you go get the Swiffer duster from the van so you can dust the shelving?” I didn’t want a baby deformity due to silver polish fumes on my conscience.

The teenager popped her bubble and waddled off to do my bidding. I eyed the chairs with a sigh but decided to stand. Nothing can ruin my self-esteem like having a chair buckle under my charms.

I stood and polished while Janice snapped and popped. I sent her on a second trip to the van when her gum got tangled in the Swiffer. I went with her and retrieved my stepstool so I could dust the chandelier.

We had almost finished when Mrs. Smitts came to escort us up to the guest quarters. There was one bathroom for every two suites, all of which were larger than my main bathroom. It took us three and a half hours to set up the rooms, mostly because I wouldn’t let Janice anywhere near the cleansers, so after we made the beds, she’d sit and yammer at me while I scrubbed.

“So then, Teri Kinney was all like ‘he’s gonna leave you,’ and I’m like, ‘no way, he loves me and we’re gonna have this baby together.’ And wouldn’t you know as soon as I told him, he took off. The worst part is that bitch Teri was right.”
Snap, crack, pop.