The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #2 Swept under the Rug Page 12

  “Stop right where you are.” A harsh voice commanded my attention.

  Busted. And not by Richard. But I knew the man, even if I’d never seen him in person before.

  Come on, you worthless seven pounds of gray matter, churn out some brilliant excuse. Nothing surfaced and Lucas Sloan was closing in.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Laundry Hag.” He smirked.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  “This office is strictly off-limits. What are you doing in here?” Sloan withdrew a walkie-talkie from his guard uniform.

  “Um, cleaning?” I gestured to the mountain of supplies just beyond the door.

  “Valentino asked you to clean his office?” His gravelly voice was laced with skepticism. I nodded eagerly, praying I could talk my way out of whatever Sloan had in store.

  “So why did I see you scrounging through the desk out there on my monitors? And how come you’re in here, with all of your cleaning stuff out there?” He raised one eyebrow and I swallowed. Crap, there must have been a second camera monitoring behind Sierra’s desk. What, Valentino didn’t trust his employees?

  “Sierra promised to leave the key with security, but I guess she forgot. So I took a shot that it was still in her desk. And I was figuring out what I need in here. Mr. V was in a hurry this afternoon and I didn’t get a chance to scope out his set up.” Queen of B.S. working her magic.

  “I’ll have to verify that with Tom.” Sloan obviously didn’t buy my excuse. “Step outside, hands where I can see ‘em.” It wasn’t a request.

  Circling the desk, I moved purposefully out into the reception area and headed to my cart. “I hope this won’t take too long, I promised my partner we’d be done in a half hour.” My nerves prickled like a startled hedge hog.

  Sloan spoke into his hand unit. “Yeah, Tom, did Sierra or Mr. Valentino leave instructions for the cleaning service to take care of Mr. Valentino’s office?” I held my breath and accepted a time of reckoning was at hand. Static crackled over the walkie-talkie and the reply came, too low for me to hear.

  “You do that then. We’ll wait here.” Sloan stared at me, a self-assured smirk on his face. “Tom’s calling Mr. Valentino at home, just to be sure.”

  Not wanting him to see my panic, I bent over and stared at a bottle of Windex.

  “Hands where I can see them!” Sloan ordered and I whirled to face the barrel of a gun leveled at my head. I raised my arms above my head, too fearful to feel ridiculous.

  “Away from the cart, now.” His eyes cut to Sierra’s desk and I took the hint, stepping out of reach of my stuff.

  “This is a simple misunderstanding. Do I look like a corporate spy to you?” I wiped my sweaty palms on my bleach-stained jeans.

  “Don’t play games with me, little girl. I know you lied about your identity to get this job. I ran your social security number myself and out popped the Laundry Hag Cleaning Services, much to my surprise. What I don’t know is why you lied, when you could have used me for a reference. I intend to find out.”

  The radio squawked and Sloan reached for it with one hand while training the gun on me with the other.

  His dark eyes narrowed. “He did. Huh. No, no that’s it for now.” Sloan replaced the unit on his belt and holstered his weapon while I concentrated on not keeling over in relief. Valentino had vouched for me? He must have recognized me then, but the question remained, why?

  “I want some answers.” Sloan crossed his arms and stood with feet planted. The man was huge, bulkier than Neil and maybe an inch shorter he towered over my five four stature. The thought of my husband gave me an epiphany. Maybe I could still spin this in my favor.

  “My husband and I are having some troubles,” I told him. “Our marriage counselor, Dr. Robert Ludlum, suggested we take a break, to reevaluate our priorities.”

  Something flickered on Sloan’s face at the mention of Dr. Bob. “That sounds like the quack all right. Next thing you know, you’ll be sitting in divorce court, wondering why you listened to the bastard to begin with.”

  Nodding, I caught his gaze, hoping to fabricate a little solidarity between Dr. Bob’s hapless victims. “I guess I needed a clean break, you know? Using my maiden name was a knee-jerk reaction.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why you didn’t list me as a reference.”

  I shrugged, striving for an unsure posture. “You hadn’t paid me yet and I didn’t receive any feedback, so how was I to know if you were happy with the results? I couldn’t take the chance; I need this job, especially if I’m headed for divorce court.”

  Sloan scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know what you mean. Between lawyers, court fees and supporting two households, I’m seeing red wherever I turn.”

  I shot him a confident smile. “So, can I get back to work now? I wanna be out of here before midnight.”

  “Sure, sure. Tom will be leaving as soon as I finish my rounds. If you need anything, hit star three for the security desk.” My new buddy tipped his ball cap at me and sauntered to the elevator. I made a show of pulling out a roll of paper towels, the Windex that almost got me killed and spritzing the open doors to Valentino’s office.

  The elevator dinged and Richard stomped past Sloan. “There are no invoices in that God forsaken vehicle!” He snapped.

  “Really? I could have sworn I put them in there earlier. Sorry about that, I guess I’ll call Mr. Garner tomorrow. Would you mind vacuuming in the office?” All this acting was giving me a migraine.

  Richard grumbled, but I could tell his protests were halfhearted as he unplugged the vacuum and jauntily pushed it toward the open doors. I wanted to sag as the tail end of adrenalin departed from my system, but I was still on camera.

  All that effort and I hadn’t unearthed anything noteworthy. The idea that Valentino had recognized me but played dumb this afternoon and then supported my phony claim turned my knees to jelly. What was his deal? He’d called the FBI about his wife’s possible abduction, but didn’t care enough to consol her when she was shaken by the dead bird or display her picture in his office. I thought back to my brief conversation with Amelia. He wanted what someone else possessed and now someone else had his wife. But where the hell did I fit in?

  Realizing I was standing around staring at nothing, I dropped the window supplies back into the cart and extracted my Swiffer duster to do the blinds and windowsills. The drone of the vacuum emanated from the open office, but it didn’t sound like Richard was moving it at all. I couldn’t muster the will to care, for once not at all concerned about my reputation. No way would I come back here, as I planned to tell Garner tomorrow. I refused to be a pawn in whatever twisted crap was going on with Valentino.

  Strangely detached, I watched the duster slide gracefully over the blinds, trapping grit and allergens in its fluffy grip. I held it up to my face, thinking it looked like a bird after a mud bath. Falcon, Hawk, Phoenix, ran through my head again and again. Falcon was Valentino’s potentially Earth changing solar storage unit, the hawk had been charred and left for Candie and the Phoenix had kicked it all off in that first note. The note Valentino hadn’t wanted the FBI to see, but my paranoia had daunted him.

  Shaking my head, I discarded the skanky duster in the trash and removed the garbage bag and placed it on my cart. Was I coming between Valentino and something he wanted? Truly, I didn’t believe the man was dangerous, but did I really know of what he might be capable when pushed? Perhaps my reprieve tonight was his way of setting me up for something more sinister.

  Inhaling, I coughed and almost doubled over from the choking smell of a too full vacuum bag. “Hey, Richard, finish up, we’re heading out.”

  No force on the planet would make me come back here.

  * * * *

  Neil was sprawled on the air mattress by the time I walked through the door. The chiming clock on the mantel tolled twelve as I dropped my coat on the hall tree and stumbled toward the bathroom.

  A quick shower and I supposed the worst o
f the astringent smell was off, but I shampooed twice to be sure. Not having the energy to properly dry myself off, I swathed my dripping carcass in a terry robe and blotted my hair with a towel. Combed through the tangles, I ripped a few strands out, not caring all that much as the pain kept me from tumbling face first into the mirror.

  I shut off the light before opening the door. A quick check on the boys revealed everyone in bed and asleep. My feet dragged on our thin carpet as I headed for the air mattress. Given my exhaustion, I flopped onto the makeshift bed with enough force to wake the dead, but Neil didn’t stir. I listened to his even breaths until sleep claimed me.

  Although physically spent, my mind agitated like an unbalanced load of wash and I wasn’t surprised to find myself in a basement, having no memory of how I’d gotten there. Little light permeated the crusty arrow slit window several feet above my head and the smell of mildew overpowered my nose. I turned, squinting into the darkness in hopes that I’d spot an exit. A clinking noise, like metal on metal caught my notice and I headed in the direction of the sound, feeling my way along the damp walls to orient myself better.

  “Hello? Is someone there?” I called out, stumbling over a crate I didn’t noticed in time. The clinking grew louder and blood roared in my ears as my pulse rate kicked up beyond jogging levels. I walked for what seemed like forever, the basement bigger than I first realized. My hand hit a pipe and my eyes abruptly adjusted to the dim light. I’d reached what looked to be a large cylindrical tank with several pipes leading out like a mechanical spider with crooked legs. Deciding to back away and go around the tank, I stumbled and screamed as my ass met the concrete.

  My teeth snapped together with such force that I saw stars. I groaned and pulled my feet underneath me, ready to start out again when I caught sight of what I’d tripped over. A woman was handcuffed to one of the pipes, a gag tied around the back of her head. Scrambling forward, I reached behind her to untie the fabric. The light was too dim to make out her features.

  “Maggie, you’ve got to get out of here!” Her eyes were wild. She glanced from me to the far corner of the room. “He’ll kill you!”

  My fingers followed the handcuffs that wrapped around the pipe, seeking a spot of rust or some other weakness that I could use to free her. “Who did this? Who brought you here?”

  She yanked away from me, sliding down the pipe as far as she could go. “Leave me! Just get yourself out of here, now!”

  I grabbed both of her secure wrists and tugged against the resistance of the pipe. A pop sounded, followed by a slow hiss and my vision was again obscured. Steam billowed from the tank and choking smog filled the air. I cringed away while keeping a hand on her.

  “Who’s doing this?” I asked again, tugging on her arms. She cried out unintelligibly, and kicked me away with her foot. Some distant voice told me I was doing more harm than good, but I ignored it while I scrambled toward her. “I won’t leave you! Help me get you free!”

  A high keening sound pierced the air and my gaze shot to the tank a second before the pressure reached critical….

  I jolted up in bed, breathing hard, shaken to the core. Damn my overactive imagination right to the depths of Dante’s Inferno.

  “You okay?” Neil’s deep bass rumbled in my ear and he put his arms around my heaving chest. I nodded and rested my head against his shoulder and focused on taking even breaths. “Just a dream.” I mumbled inanely.

  He stroked my back. “Candie Valentino?” He asked.

  “You know me too well.” I mumbled. “There’s no mystery left in our relationship.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” Neil kissed my neck and I sighed and shook my head.

  He really was too patient with me and I felt compelled to apologize again for ditching him last night. “I’m sorry about dinner.”

  He pulled back and searched my eyes for a moment. “Yeah, me too. I feel so cheap and used after yesterday morning….”

  I chuckled. “You do not so quit trying to guilt me. Besides, I promised you a rain check and my agenda is clear for the next forty-eight hours. How about tonight?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Neil agreed, then groaned when the alarm on his phone sounded. “God, I hate this!” He reached over and silenced the noise.

  “By this you mean…?”

  “This damn schedule. I don’t mind the twelve hour shifts normally, but I’m starting to believe I should just sleep at work until this damn project is resolved.”

  I didn’t like that idea at all. “How much longer do you think—?”

  “No frigging clue. It’s like all the engineers have us running around chasing our tails while they dither about minutiae that gets us nowhere. The back-up power supply, the electrician, the frigging color of the processor for chrissakes. Borrowing trouble and squandering time if you ask me.” He rose gracefully from the air mattress but for once I wasn’t fixated on his backside.

  “Power supply?” I asked my voice faint and hollow in my own ears. “Which company are they using?”

  Neil pulled a T-shirt over his head and stepped into a faded pair of blue jeans. “Changes from minute to minute. The bid went to Safari, but there have been a few glitches with the latest model for upgrades and the higher-ups are nervous; don’t want to take the risk. But they’ve already shelled out a tanker’s worth of capitol to buy a contract and no one wants to eat that kind of loss.”

  “I didn’t think Intel would outsource like that.” Intel was the lifeblood of our community. If you didn’t work there, someone you knew did. Intel employees donated time and money and equipment to help upgrade the schools, library and even the Hudson P.D. Heck the new theatre at the high school had been named after the company. I couldn’t fathom a situation where they looked outside their own walls when they had many of the best technical minds in the country at their disposal.

  “Budgets are tight everywhere and it doesn’t make sense to devote someone from manufacturing or design to come up with a solution when we could purchase one with a lot less cost and effort.”

  His explanation made sense. A great deal of sense, but I couldn’t get past Valentino’s involvement. “The man’s dirty Neil, I can feel it.” I pounded on my chest for emphasis.

  “His wife was kidnapped and someone’s been sending him gruesome warnings. That doesn’t make him Snidely Whiplash.”

  I almost told him about my cleaning job at Safari the night before, but I didn’t want to fight with him when he was on his way to work and already in a pissy mood. The more I thought on it, I was sure Valentino had only played ignorant when we’d been introduced yesterday. Not that I was particularly memorable, but coupled with the fact that he’d granted me a boon and not had my hide arrested for snooping, something was off.

  And with my day free, I was determined to find out what.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  I might be able to get into this exercise thing. I told myself as I stumbled back up the hill. Not that I was enjoying the physical exertion, but it gave me a good reason to check out the house where Neil had stopped yesterday. His car wasn’t in the drive this morning and I’d waited in my skulking spot for ten minutes, until my toes went numb. Eventually, I would break down and ask him why he’d stopped there, who owned the place and why he hadn’t told me about his detour, but for now, I’d go the Nancy Drew route.

  My song—Blue Oyster Cult Burning for You—finished halfway up the hill and the only sound came from my sneakers hitting the pavement and a less pronounced wheezing. Tempted to stop and switch songs, I pushed harder, my thighs going from a slow burn to a fiery inferno. Almost there, a few more steps and the torture would be behind me. I promised my aching body I would reward it and walk the final half mile.

  An engine purred from behind me and without looking I moved to the shoulder of the road. I had no idea what side I was supposed to be on, it wasn’t like driving a car, so I was jogging with the flow of traffic and would continue to do so until told otherwise.

/>   “Mrs. Phillips?” I jumped at the sound of my name, glad the music was off. I wasn’t coordinated enough to jog and look over at the same time, so I slowed my pace to a walk.

  “What…can I… do for… you?” I huffed. The silver car was a BMW and very new, judging from the look of it. The man who’d addressed me was unfamiliar, dressed in a gray suit with an exceptionally hideous red tie. Large sunglasses hid his eyes, but a friendly smile lit his face. The car and the suit was a little too over the top for my neighborhood and if he hadn’t called to me by name I would have assumed he was lost.

  “My employer would like a moment of your time.” The man said with an apologetic smile. “If you would be so kind to get in the car, I’d be happy to give you a ride.”

  “Who’s your employer?” I asked.

  “Mr. Valentino.”

  I stopped cold and the car, which had been keeping pace with me, did as well. “Are you kidding?” Had I passed out from lack of oxygen or stumbled into a mafia movie? Who the hell made an offer like that? Markus fricking Valentino, apparently.

  The driver answered as if I’d asked a genuine question. “No Ma’am. If you would get into the vehicle please….” “Not gonna happen, buster.” I told him while searching for a shortcut he couldn’t follow.

  Before I could decide on a course of action, the window in the rear of the car rolled down and a new voice commanded my attention. “Either get in the car, Mrs. Phillips or I’ll be forced to alert the authorities to your trespassing on my property.”

  The man himself. Valentino’s eyes were hidden behind designer sunglasses, but I could feel the intensity focused on me. I really didn’t want to fend off the Hudson P.D. or—shudder—the feds. He had me over a barrel and he knew it, the smug bastard.

  I drew up as tall as my five-foot four-inch frame allowed and reached for the handle. Valentino slid over, probably wanting some distance between his Armani suit and my sweaty stench. The leather interior cradled my sore backside and I took a moment to feel for my cell phone, ready to call in the cavalry—or Marty—if the situation went south.