The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #2 Swept under the Rug Page 17

  His arm wrapped around my waist and he sighed. “Let it all out Uncle Scrooge.”

  I blew out a sigh. “My brother’s an idiot.”

  “That’s not exactly a news flash.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You know what I mean. Part of me wants to box his ears for not thinking this through, for dragging us into the muck with him.”

  Neil made a sound of commiseration. “And the other part?”

  I looked him in the eyes, a small smile turning up the corners of my mouth. “I’m very proud of him, for standing up for someone weaker than himself.”

  Neil smiled back “Me too. He’s not just a selfish kid anymore.”

  “Oh he’s still a selfish kid,” I said “And he got in way over his head this time, but the reason he did, the fact that he wanted to help someone other than himself….”

  “It changes things.” He finished for me.

  I sniffed, my nose dripping unattractively, whether from the cold or emotion I couldn’t tell. “So, what do we do now?”

  “Well, tomorrow, we contact that lawyer, explain the situation and see what he advises and take it from there.”

  I groaned. “I’m going to have to sell a kidney to pay for this.”

  “Worry about that later.” He leaned in, kissed my neck followed by a quick hit to the corner of my mouth. “Since we’re out here, all alone in the cold, you wanna share body heat?”

  “That,” I told him “is the best offer I’ve had all night.”

  * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Have the two of you worked on that homework assignment I gave you?” Dr. Bob asked. He sat in a rolling desk chair, his little notebook perched on his lap. He’d chosen a green sweater-vest to wear over a pinstripe dress shirt. His glasses now sported tape at the bridge and a safety pin over one ear. The effect was almost painful with his graying comb-over and pleated khaki pants.

  Neil’s eyebrows met dead center above his nose. “What’s this?”

  “We made a sizeable dent in it last night.” I chirped. I’d been willing to forgo another round with Dr. Bob, but Neil had insisted. Marty and Penny had gone to Boston, to consult with the attorney and the boys were in school. Since the Laundry Hag’s services weren’t required, I had nothing better to do.

  Dr. Bob clucked at the mystified expression on Neil’s face. “Maggie, we all need to start off on the same page here. Your husband obviously didn’t know about the assignment, did you Neil?”

  “This is the first I’ve heard about any homework.”

  “Well, next time, I’ll be sure to relay all after-session work to both of you. For now, would you like to tell me about some of the difficulties the two of you have been encountering lately?”

  Neil and I looked at each other. “Not particularly,” we said in unison.

  “Come, come, you two are obviously in marital counseling for a reason. Tell me what brought you here.”

  I figured he wasn’t referring to Neil’s Ford Escort. I cleared my throat, wondering what to say. Neil took the ball and ran.

  “Well, I guess we’re here because we need to communicate better.”

  Give the man a gold star.

  Dr. Bob crossed one leg over the other, and I saw one shiny penny glinting in its loafer prison. I’d bet my left arm it was a 2010 vintage coin and the other was an exact match. Heads up, of course.

  “In what area, Neil?”

  Yeah, in what area, Neil?

  Watching my husband flounder was a new experience for me. He waved his hands in little circles and shot me a helpless look. I commiserated with a mental, Yeah, this sucks doesn’t it, slick?

  I rather have another round with the FBI. “Well, Maggie, um… she’s great and all, it just that…” Neil gestured helplessly as he ran down. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. “Just, what?” Dr. Bob prompted, leaning in, clearly scenting a weakness. “Well, she uh, hides stuff.” He smiled in triumph. “Me!” I exploded out of my seat. “I hide stuff?” What about you Mr. I’m working overtime? Where have you been sneaking off to?”

  Dr. Bob patted the air in a classic settle down motion. “You’ll get your turn, Maggie. Remember, we’re attempting to create a safe, nurturing environment here. Outbursts will only undermine our work.”

  Yeah it’d be a real shame to lose this gem. I gazed heavenward, but sat.

  Neil frowned at me. “What do you mean sneaking?”

  “It’s not my turn,”” I seethed from between clenched teeth.

  “I’ll give you my turn. Just answer the damn question.”

  “You can’t give me your turn, you have to finish. Besides, I like to know what you meant about me hiding stuff. I assume you’re not talking about your car keys.”

  “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

  “Oh that’s mature, Neil. What are you, five?” We were both on out feet, noses less than an inch apart, me on my tiptoes so as not to be loomed over.

  “Folks, folks. You are communicating a bit too loudly. If we could all just reclaim our seats…?”

  Smoke practically billowed out of my nostrils. By God, I was the one in the right here. We sat in unison and I had to fight not to cross my arms over my chest.

  “Perhaps we ought to follow this path a little further. Now Maggie, what you said about the overtime—”

  “Hey! It’s his turn, you said so.”

  Neil rolled his eyes. “Now who’s being mature?”

  I growled at him.

  “Maggie, it’s your turn now. Please say what’s on your mind.”

  I was pretty sure he didn’t really mean that. “Neil has been going into work a lot more often than usual. Earlier days, longer nights. He claims it’s because he’s logging overtime on this project which he can’t tell me about, but when I called his desk last week…” Was I really going to say it?

  “Do go on, Maggie.” Dr. Bob said. The man was practically drooling. I ignored him and turned to face my husband.

  “You weren’t there. The man who answered told me Intel had shelved all overtime, due to the economy. Then I saw you, at that house down the road.” Tears stung, demanding release, but I curled my fingers into my palms, digging my nails into flesh. I was not going to cry.

  “Shit,” Neil said. He scrubbed one hand over his face. “Shit.”

  My heart stopped mid thump and died in my chest cavity. Only sheer force of will kept me from curling into the fetal position by the loafers, to brace for the hit that was coming.

  “God, Maggie, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry”

  No, no, no, no. NO!

  Detached from my feeling center, I watched his head shake. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

  “Just say it.” I whispered.

  His shoulders shook. “I didn’t realize how it would look. No wonder you’ve been acting like a lunatic lately.” He started to laugh. “No wonder you made me sleep in that god forsaken camper!” Tears streamed down his face.

  “What’s the joke here?” Dr. Bob’s expression could only be called bewildered.

  “Maggie thought I was screwing around on her,” Neil giggled.

  Not the reaction I would have picked.

  “Are you?” Dr. Bob’s tone was deceptively mild.

  Neil’s laughter dissolved like sugar in acid. “Of course not.” He looked at me. “I love you and only you. I’m sorry you doubted me for even a second.”

  “So where have you been spending your time, Neil?” Dr. Bob asked.

  Neil hadn’t forgiven the accusation. “I’ll answer, but only because I’m positive Maggie wants to know, too.

  “I’ve been working. That much is true. Just, the overtime hasn’t been with Intel. They have scaled back on overtime, that’s also correct.”

  I swayed on the chair, having visions of Neil selling his body for profit before I got a hold on my runaway imagination.

  “I’ve been doing odd jobs, roof and window repair, a little plumbing. The woman from our neighb
orhood? She’s the room mother in Kenny’s class. We got to talking one day when I picked the boys up and she mentioned a pipe burst and her husband was away on business. The plumbers repaired the damage, but she had a huge hole in her kitchen ceiling, so I did the dry walling for her. I was just checking in on her that morning, making sure she didn’t have any other problems.”

  I blinked. “So you’ve been working as a handyman?”

  “Pretty much.” He rested a hand on my knee. The Laundry Hag and the Handy Man, go figure.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Now that the stupor had ebbed, the anger was back. “God Almighty Neil, why did you hide this?”

  “Because I didn’t want you fretting about the money. No, hear me out.” He insisted and I snapped my mouth shut. “You always worry about money, but it’s been worse since we moved here. I didn’t tell you about the overtime because you’d only worry more when there’s no need. I thought doing this would kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Who’s the other lucky bird?” I asked.

  Neil grimaced. “Marty. I can’t stand the guy, but I was afraid if I went off on him again like I did in December, he’d leave and you’d be crushed. Again. Don’t you see, Maggie? Everything I do, everything I even think about doing, I do for you.”

  “Time’s up.” Dr, Bob announced.

  * * * *

  The feds were waiting on our front porch when Neil drove me home.

  “I should have anticipated this.” I sighed as the Escort rolled to a stop. “I suppose I have to talk to them.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” Neil offered.

  “Don’t you have work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should go.”

  He lifted my knuckles to his lips and placed a soft kiss on them. “Try and stay out of jail, okay?”

  “I always try,” I muttered and climbed from the car. Miracle of miracles, the sun was out and shining, and there was considerably less snow on the ground. Between Neil’s revelation and the turnaround in the weather, I felt calm and more myself than I had in weeks.

  Neither of the FBI special agents shared my mood. “We’ve been attempting to contact you since last night, Mrs. Phillips.” Fatigue was evident in Salazar’s voice.

  I shrugged, inserting my key in the deadbolt. “I shut my cell phone off.” Confident that my action wasn’t a federal crime, I gestured for the two men to enter.

  “I’ve seriously contemplated arresting you for interfering with a federal investigation.” Feist stated as I shucked my coat.

  “Wanting to tangle with my lawyer again already? And here I thought you were searching for Mrs. Valentino. Would you gentlemen care for some coffee?” I didn’t bother waiting for a response as I bee-lined for the kitchen.

  “We need to ask you some more questions about your relationship with one Richard Head.”

  “He was dating a friend of mine, Leopold Rothschild. Leo asked me to hire him as my assistant. I did, he didn’t work out, end of story.” I pushed the on button for the coffee pot and spun to face my audience.

  “Mr. Rothschild told us that he stopped here last night before coming to the police station.”

  “He was upset, he needed a friend. I’m sure you would feel the same, Special Agent Feist, if someone you were romantically involved with turned out to be a stalker and/or corporate spy.”

  “How would you characterize Mr. Rothschild’s reaction to his find?”

  I scowled at Salazar. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Was he angry?”

  The tingle started along the back of my neck. “More devastated than anything. Leo doesn’t open his heart very often; he’s been burned before.”

  They exchanged glances and the tingling increased.

  “Where were you between nine and eleven PM yesterday, Mrs. Phillips.”

  “Here. Why?”

  “Is there anyone who can substantiate your whereabouts?”

  “Neil, Penny, the kids, my next door neighbor, Sylvia Wright. Why do you need to know?”

  “We’re the ones asking the questions.” Feist snapped.

  I pushed past him, reaching for the phone. “I’m calling my lawyer. I don’t know what the two of you are up to, but I’m sick of feeling like there’s a giant target on my back.”

  Another silent communication passed between them. Did the FBI train them in mental telepathy? Salazar nodded once and Feist grunted, “Richard Head’s body was discovered in an alley several blocks from his home. Medical examiner estimated the time of death between 9:30 and 10:30 PM.”

  “Shit,” I dropped my weight onto a reluctant barstool. It groaned in protest. “I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident?”

  “That’s classified.” Salazar said in a mild tone. “We’ve been in this business for a long time, Mrs. Phillips. It’s never a coincidence that the same person’s name resurfaces time and again through the investigation. You are tied to every single person involved in some way or another. If you were us, what would you think?”

  I didn’t answer. “Contact your council, we’ll be in touch.” Feist nodded once and led the way out. I sat, staring into space. They were absolutely right about my name cropping up, but the reason for it was obvious, if only to me. I was being set up.

  Why? And by who? Coffee forgotten, I paced the length of the kitchen. Who would have anything to gain by framing me?

  Well, Richard Head’s killer, obviously. Followed closely by Candie’s kidnapper and whoever had torched the Valentino estate. It might be all one person. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

  The phone rang. “Hey,” Neil said. “You all right?”

  “Not so much” I whispered. “Someone’s setting me up.”

  The line was quiet for a second. “Get changed into some sweats. I’ll be home in a few.”

  “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble, taking time off?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Go get ready.”

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty

  “This is stupid,” I huffed as Neil lapped me again on the high school track. We’d been at it for twenty minutes and I’d completed three laps to Neil’s eight. He pinched my behind on every pass, unimpeded by the thick sweats covering my lower half. Miracle of miracles, it wasn’t snowing on us and the temperature resided somewhere in the mid forties.

  Neil pivoted to face me, continuing to jog backwards, the showoff. “Aren’t you having fun, Uncle Scrooge?”

  “You’re giving me an inferiority complex.” I grumbled, picking up my pace.

  “It’s not a competition, Maggie.”

  I shot him a dirty look and stumbled over nothing for my efforts. Neil’s laughter faded as he turned forward and sped away.

  I smiled to myself, glad my husband was having fun, even if I was the butt of the joke. Out of the multitude of worries I dwelt on, Neil’s happiness was high on the list. Ever since he’d left his SEAL team, I fretted about my own hum-drum existence boring him to death. While raising two boys kept me busy, it wasn’t as if I was saving the world, fighting terrorists or rescuing hostages. Cleaning and daydreaming didn’t get the old adrenaline pumping the way Neil preferred it.

  We’d settled into a routine soon after moving to Hudson, albeit a somewhat strange one. But between canceling the gym membership and my utter failure as a small business owner, I’d destroyed the little stability we’d built and we were now forced into starting all over again.

  Neil would adapt—Navy SEALs are trained to acclimate in any situation. But there’s a big difference between surviving and truly enjoying life.

  Candie Valentino, from what little I’d seen of her, had been surviving. Markus, I wasn’t so sure about. Although the man wore a shiny veneer of confidence, my radar hummed that it was a false front, designed to fool people. The question was, who had been fleecing and for what purpose?

  “Come on Uncle Scrooge, kick it up a notch.” He goosed me again.

  “Hey, Emeril, keep your
hands to yourself.”

  “Who?”

  I shook my head. “You are completely devoid in pop culture knowledge.”

  “I can live with that. Seriously though, I think you’re ready for the Social

  Security 5K.” “Did you think Eric and Sylvia were happy together?” “Jeeze,” Neil slowed to a walk. “How the hell would I know? Men don’t talk about that kind of shit.” “Just from an observation standpoint. You spent time with them. Give me your impressions.” I persisted.

  One of the great many things I loved about my husband, he always considered my questions, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. “They put up a front when they were together. But if I were to guess, I’d bet that no, they weren’t happy.”

  “Why?”

  Neil scratched his uber-sexy chin stubble. “They never sought each other out when they were in public. No little glances, subtle touches, things like that. They looked good together, but I doubt there were any genuine feelings between them.”

  “See, you are good at this.” I smiled at him. “I was kind of thinking the same thing about Markus Valentino. Like he was all for show, and Candie was the handy-dandy trophy wife.”

  But he shook his head. “Trophy wives marry into money, but Candie came with her own, remember? No, I think their marriage is more of a business arrangement. She’s got the funding, he’s got the know-how.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  Neil shrugged. Then stopped dead. “Hey, I have an idea.”

  He grasped my arm, towing me across the football field and back to the car. “Where are going?”

  “To get a professional’s opinion.”

  He unlocked the car and took the time to open my door. “You have your cell handy?”

  I flipped up the center arm rest, retrieving my phone. “Who am I calling?”

  “Dr. Bob. See if he could meet with us for a few minutes.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? But he’s not really going to be counseling us; he’ll be meeting the Valentinos.”

  “I don’t understand.” I dialed anyway listened as the phone rang on the other end.

  “Dr. Robert Ludlum, marriage facilitator.”