Bun in the Oven: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag, #6 Read online

  “I can supervise.”

  When my husband still didn’t look convinced I continued, “She said I could name my price. After we carve off a slice for Leo, we’ll be set. You can take time off after the baby’s born.”

  I could see Neil wavering and, sensing his weakness, I dove in for the kill. “If you and the boys do this, I promise to stay out of the Eric situation. Totally and completely hands off.”

  “Kenny!” Neil shouted. “We’re going out!”

  SINCE DAYLIGHT SAVINGS Time was back in action, we arrived at the Swenson Estate while it was still bathed in early evening light.

  “Whoa,” Kenny breathed, nose pressed to the glass.

  “You said it.” The dwelling was a humongous white limestone, sprawling out for what seemed like miles.

  “We’re supposed to clean that whole place?” Josh’s teenage resistance was more skeptical than awed.

  “Lucky for us, no. Her text said it’s the pool house we’re supposed to work on.” I’d called Leo in route and he agreed to meet us at Mrs. Swenson’s place.

  “Any idea how we get to the pool house?” Neil asked as we looped around the circular drive.

  “She said there’s a side road that runs along the house that brings you to the out buildings. Look, there it is.”

  Neil turned on to a well camouflaged access road that meandered through the cultivated pine forest. We lost sight of the house long before the trees gave way to rolling hills and three smaller buildings, the smallest of which could have fit our house inside and have room leftover.

  “Which one is the pool house?” Kenny asked.

  Josh punched his brother on the arm. “The one by the pool, dorknut.”

  “Boys, simmer down. We’re supposed to be professionals, here to do a job. No fighting.”

  “If we do, will we have to wait in the car?” Josh asked hopefully.

  “Nice try.” As the car approached the house I was already deep in the throes of regret. Josh and Kenny were good kids but I had trouble getting them to clean up at home. I turned in my seat as much as pregnancy and the seatbelt would allow. “Listen up. If you two follow my instructions to the letter I promise to upgrade your phone plan to unlimited data.”

  “Seriously?” Kenny asked.

  Josh already had his hand out. “Deal.”

  “Um, Maggie?” Neil had stopped the car.

  “What?” I turned to face him and frowned when I saw his face. “What is it?”

  He pointed and I swiveled back around until I could see out the front window. “Holy freaking crap.”

  The boys unbuckled their seatbelts and clambered forward to get a better look.

  “No. No way.” Josh said.

  “Too late, you already shook on it.” Kenny sounded smug. Probably glad karma had intervened for the dorknut comment.

  The pool house looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Clothes and towels were scattered everywhere, including floating on the surface of the Olympic sized swimming pool. Several large red solo cups were scattered amongst the debris. Lawn furniture that probably cost more than my car turned over, some half in, half out of the pool. A metal keg floated in the Jacuzzi.

  I opened my door and put a foot on the ground. Squish.

  “Tell me I didn’t just step in vomit.”

  Neil had gotten out of the car and come round to assist. “Do you want me to lie?”

  I shuddered. “Just help me out so I can find a hose. Boys, watch where you step.”

  He did, his nose wrinkling. “What the hell did that kid eat? I’ve used third world toilets that smelled better.”

  “You’re not helping,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Neil coughed and took a discreet step back. “Why don’t you locate that hose and then meet up with Mrs. Swenson? Get the money upfront if you can. And be sure to tack on hazard pay.”

  The hose had been unraveled and draped over some neatly trimmed hedges. I snagged the end and then followed the snaking green tube to the water source, telling myself the whole time that a little undigested food and stomach funk wouldn’t harm me or Baby X.

  I did my best to only spray the sneaker, but my sock got a little wet too. Great, nothing like being on my swollen feet while wearing wet shoes and socks. I’d have to check and see if I had a pair of cheap flip flops in the car. Scratch that, I refused to wear open toed anything in this place. My foot would just have to mildew.

  The sound of a shrill female voice carried out from the open window. “Graham, what on earth were you thinking?”

  “I told you I was having a few friends over.”

  Curious but not wanting to interrupt, I half tiptoed, half squished my way over to the window. A guy in his late teens or early twenties sat on a black leather couch in the middle of the indoor pigsty. Food was everywhere, crushed into the cream carpet, sliming its way down the walls, in his hair. He had a video game controller in his hand and wasn’t looking at the woman in gray slacks and a bone colored shell fuming behind him.

  “A few friends? This place is disgusting. If your father sees this he’ll disinherit you.”

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Who are we spying on?”

  Leo had arrived.

  “Sshh,” I told him, then made room for him at the window.

  “It’s not so bad, for the bacchanal.” The man child reached for an open bag of chips. “Your New Year’s party is way worse. At least no one died at my get together.”

  “One, no one died at our New Year’s party. That unfortunate woman raided my medicine cabinet. I called the paramedics as soon as I found her. She died at the hospital.”

  “Well, I guess she did her part,” Leo snarked.

  “And two, no one has died yet. If the cleaning people I hired don’t get this place whipped into shape before your father gets back tomorrow morning, he just might. I suggest you put some pants on and pitch in.”

  I stepped away from the window. “I have the weirdest sense of deja vu.”

  “Marty flashbacks?”

  “That’s it. Marty never wrecked a pool house though. He did drive my ex’s Camaro into a pool. Good times.”

  I heard the distinctive sound of heels on concrete and gestured for Leo to move so we weren’t caught eavesdropping.

  Our employer had taken up position by the pool and I could see her wringing her hands. “Mrs. Swenson?”

  She whirled to face me. She was thin to the point of emaciation, her cheekbones prominent beneath large dark eyes. “Are you Maggie?” Her eyes went to my belly and then lower to where one shoe had left wet footprints on the concrete.

  “I am and this is one of my helpers, Leo.”

  Leo, who was dressed in skinny jeans bedazzled along the ass pockets and a tight black V neck t-shirt, lowered his rhinestone sunglasses so he could look her in the eye. “Pleasure, Madame.”

  “Is it... just the two of you?” Obviously we were not the dynamic duo Mrs. Swenson had envisioned to ride to her rescue.

  “Three others who’ll help us with the heavy lifting. They’re unloading.”

  “Good, that’s good.”

  “A few things,” I said. “I don’t do pools.”

  She waved that away as inconsequential. “As long as you remove the detritus, my pool man will take care of the rest. What I need most is all evidence of this...mishap gone.”

  “That we can do.” I assured her then named a price I would have felt guilty quoting her before I’d stepped in vomit.

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll get my check book.”

  “One more thing.” I asked “What about the clothing items. Do you want me to try to, um, launder them?”

  She shook her head. “I just want them gone.”

  “That we can do.”

  Neil ambled over. “So, where do you want us?”

  The boys had taken to the lawn with trash bags and tongs and Neil and Leo set the furniture to rights. Since the hose and I had become familiar with one another, I was in charge o
f spraying away the vomit and clearing the patio.

  The interior was worse, so so much worse. A funky old cheese and feet smell lingered throughout the place. Empty liquor bottles had started developing fruit flies and they swarmed through the kitchenette. The bathroom yielded more vomit, some white sticky residue in the sink and a whole lot of lines of pee. I took one look at the bedroom, shrieked and shut the door.

  Neil, never too far from my side, making sure I didn’t overdo it, rushed over. “What?”

  “Don’t let the boys in there.”

  “Did you see a rat?”

  “See for yourself.” I cracked the door. There were used condoms stuck to the walls and what was either a diaphragm or a retainer in a case on the dresser.

  “At least they’re being safe.” I grimaced.

  “They won’t be if I ever get ahold of their spoiled asses. Go outside and take Kenny and Josh with you. Have them start loading the garbage bags.”

  The manchild had vanished while we worked outside but Mrs. Swenson approached, check in hand. “You’ve done excellent work.”

  “Thank you.” I took the check and handed her a card. “Keep me in mind for future business. Though I’ll be on hiatus for a spell.”

  “I’ll be sure to recommend you.” Mrs. Swenson said. “Thank you for your discretion.”

  Translation— don’t tell anyone what you saw.

  It was close to midnight when we said goodbye to Leo and set off for home.

  I was busy doling out the hand sanitizer when Neil pulled the Sentra into our driveway. “Scalding hot showers when we get home. And strip in the laundry room. I still haven’t decided if I should try to wash our clothes or just bury them in the back yard.”

  “Atlas will probably dig up anything we’ve buried.” Kenny pointed out.

  “And then either eat it or roll in it.” Josh added and we all laughed and gagged at the mental picture.

  I liked to see my boys this way, too tired to be cool teenagers that never conversed with the parental units. They were still dopey cute kids at heart. If I hadn’t been so bone weary, it would have been an excellent moment.

  Neil swore under his breath, shattering the peaceful spell. “Garage door won’t open.”

  “Ugh.” I thunked my head back against the seat. “Not something else that’s broken. You still haven’t fixed my Mini.”

  “I don’t think it’s broken. Look next door.”

  On the other side of us, the Bakers, who were notorious night owls didn’t have a light on. “I think the power’s out on the street.”

  My exhaustion was swept away by a tidal wave of panic. “No. No no no no no.”

  I threw open the door and lurched from the car, stumbling to the house, chanting, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

  Atlas whimpered from his crate. The big baby hated being left in the dark. We’d even started using a nightlight because he’d howl all night otherwise. But the dog wasn’t my main concern.

  I bee-lined for the freezer, where several weeks’ worth of heat and eat dinners had been painstakingly vacuum sealed to prevent freezer burn. Chili, lasagna, stews and soups galore. Though my energy levels had fluctuated through the last trimester, I’d been determined to prepare for Baby X’s imminent arrival, knowing I’d be thankful for the foresight when I was up to my armpits in dirty diapers and baby spit-up.

  After a quick but intense prayer, I opened the freezer door and stuck my hand inside to check the temperature. Still icy cold, thankfully. I shut the door quickly and sagged against it as though my will could keep the food frozen.

  Neil and the boys had followed me into the house. “Well?” My husband asked.

  “It’s still good, but it won’t be for long. Josh, go next door and ask the Bakers how long the power’s been out. Kenny, let the dog out back.”

  Once they were off, I turned to Neil. “What do we do?”

  “I could go down to the supermarket and get a few bags of ice.”

  I shook my head. “That’s a temporary solution.” I gazed out of the kitchen window and it took me a minute to register what I was seeing. “Neil, look.”

  He turned and saw the same thing I did, the light from Sylvia’s kitchen window.

  “How do the Wrights have power when the rest of the street is dark?” I asked.

  “They must have a generator.”

  A wild idea had taken root. “You know what else they have? A giant flipping freezer chest in the garage.”

  My husband was already shaking his head. “Maggie, no. We can’t.”

  “Maybe we should just look and see if there’s any room.”

  “No. Would the police want us traipsing through the crime scene?”

  “They’re probably the ones who left the light on. We should go shut it off. And check the garage freezer while we’re at it. Please Neil? I might lose my mind if all this food gets trashed.”

  “Fine, but stay here.” Neil rummaged in a drawer until he found a Maglite.

  I retrieved my own flashlight. “No way, slick. Two sets of hands can carry more than one.”

  He made a growling noise. It was the sort of animalistic sound that indicated he was at the end of his very long fuse and was close to detonation.

  “How about if I promise to stay out on the porch while you make sure there aren’t any knuckle dragging goons lurking about. Then we’ll check the freezer, store the food if there’s room and Bob’s your uncle.”

  “It’s easier to do what you want than argue with you. On the porch, til I come and get you, promise?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  We met Josh on the porch. He reported that the Bakers said the power had been out for about an hour and they had already called in to report the outage.

  “Get some candles out of my bedroom closet. There are extra flashlights in the junk drawer in the kitchen. And keep an eye out for Grace, she should be back soon.”

  True to my word I waited dutifully—if a mite impatiently—while Neil made a cursory sweep of the house. Sylvia and Eric ate vegan so I doubted there was a rack of lamb or beef tenderloin taking up room in the massive freezer chest. Plenty of room for my stuff, at least until our power was fixed. I was pretty sure Sylvia wouldn’t mind and Eric...well if he minded he could show up and tell me off, couldn’t he?

  “All clear.” Neil said from the porch. “I checked the garage but didn’t look in the freezer yet.”

  “I’m on it.” I waddled forward, already planning how to do a frozen food game of Jenga to make everything fit.

  Neil had left the overhead light on in the garage and I was already planning to open the door so we could relay the food from our place to theirs as quickly as possible. Sylvia and Eric’s garage was too neat to truly deserve to be called a garage. It was more an unheated bonus room that stored yard tools, touch-up paint, a small tool chest, a push mower and their recycling bin. The freezer stood on the far side from the door, large and gleamingly white. I understood why Neil hadn’t checked it out yet. I was almost afraid to touch it, for fear of leaving smudgy finger prints on it.

  The lid was heavier than I expected and I huffed and pushed until it finally gave way.

  Eric lay curled on his side in the fetal position, eyes staring wide and a neat bullet hole in the center of his blue forehead.

  Chapter Six

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” I said to Grace the following morning, a cup of her fragrant herbal tea poised between my chill hands. The April morning was cool, the sun obscured by clouds as though unwilling to shine a spotlight on the tragedy of our neighborhood. “The police went all through that house yesterday.”

  “I remember, I saw you talking to the detective.” Grace stood at the stove, stirring a batch of steel cut oatmeal which she was under the delusion I would actually eat.

  I stared into the depths of my cup and replayed the surreal span of time that had occurred after we’d discovered Eric’s body.

  Hero that he was, Neil had dragged me from the garag
e and called the police. I didn’t know if he’d called Detective Capri directly but she’d arrived at the same time as a black and white patrol car and had gone straight into the house while the officers took our statements then hung crime scene tape.

  Neil had been trying to steer me back into our house but my feet were—for lack of a better word—frozen. I had stood on the lawn, meal mission forgotten and waited. The medical examiner’s van arrived next and a host of other uniforms. We were escorted to the edge of the property as Eric’s body was removed from the curled position inside the freezer and stowed in the M.E.’s vehicle.

  “Come on, Uncle Scrooge.” My poor husband had coaxed. “The power’s back on. You can’t do anything out here.”

  “The detective will want to talk to me. Since I found the body.” The words had seemed to come from very far off, like someone else had spoken them using my mouth.

  If I hadn’t been nine months pregnant I knew Neil would have thrown me over his shoulder. But having a very pregnant wife who was in all likelihood suffering from shock, had him out of his depth. Under any other circumstances I might have been amused to see my big tough warrior husband so indecisive.

  Eric was dead. Dead. It didn’t seem possible. Run off to Kokomo or La-la land with his flavor of the week, yes. On a bender in Vegas, totally within the scope of reason. But not murdered. Not shot and then stuffed in his own garage freezer.

  Grace had driven up as the police were taping off Sylvia’s garage. Her gentle hand on my arm made me jump. Distantly, I heard Neil murmuring to her.

  “Maggie? It’s time to come away now.”

  “Detective Capri—” I tried to repeat my protest but Grace wasn’t having any of it.

  “She can talk to you next door when they are ready. You need to get off your feet and let me take your blood pressure. Your teeth are chattering. Stress isn’t good for your baby.”

  Her words cut through the fog a little. Between the two of them, they propelled me back into the house. Neil tugged me down onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around me as Grace took a blood pressure cuff from her bag of magic doula tricks. Josh and Kenny hovered, looking on with large eyes and Atlas paced the room, whining. Grace shooed the boys off, told them I would be fine and that they should take the dog with them. I was glad that she was back, that someone else could take charge of my and Baby X’s well-being while my mind drifted and bobbed like a cork on the ocean.