The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag (23 page)

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.”

“Hi, Dr. Bob. This is Maggie Phillips. Neil and I were wondering if we could stop by to see you.”

“Is something wrong? You two seemed to have reached an understanding this morning.”

“No, we need counseling all right.” Especially Neil, with that slightly mad gleam in his eye.

“It happens I had a last minute cancellation so my three o’clock slot is free.”

“Thank you. We’ll see you in a bit.” I shut the phone and slammed into the door. Neil took a corner at the speed of sound.

“For the love of God, what is churning in your head?”

Neil grinned at me and explained his plan.

* * * *

“There’s something different about you, Mrs. Phillips.” Dr. Bob scanned me from head to toe.

I’m Candie Valentino, I’m Candie Valentino.
I offered him a shy smile and concentrated on a spot on the carpet. “Why thank you, sir.”

Neil glanced pointedly at his watch. “Can we get this show on the road; I have a great deal of work waiting for me.”

Dr. Bob seemed somewhat taken aback by Neil’s uncharacteristic abruptness, but recovered quickly.

“How have things been going?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Neil got there first.

“Fine, everything is just fine.” He crossed one ankle to his knee and jiggled his foot.

“You seem tense, Mr. Phillips. Is there something you wish to share?”

I stared at my husband, but hardly recognized him. His usual humor and easy-going air had evaporated like mist on a sunny morning. What was left was a hard-eyed stranger wearing an expression like someone had slipped cat turds into his morning Wheaties.

“I need to get back to work, but she insisted on being here.” Neil spat the words, jerking his head toward me.

“Work is very important to you then, Mr. Phillips?” Dr. Bob watched Neil closely, studying his every twitch.

“Well, someone has to make money and since she sits on her ass all day—”

“Hey now!” My character slipped and Neil’s gaze met mine. Dr. Bob patted the air in a classic calm down gesture.

“You’ll get your turn, Mrs. Phillips. Neil, may I call you Neil?”

His foot jiggled faster. “Fine,” he clipped out.

“I thought your wife ran her own business.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Like she could make that work. She’s a social pariah, just ask my mother. She tries to involve Maggie in the world, but my wife can’t see beyond the end of her nose. It’s one crazy scheme after another, with never one thought to sense and what’s best for our family. For me.”

Dr. Bob’s eyes were as big as duck eggs. “I see. Would you like to respond to your husband’s statements, Maggie?”

It’s not real; he’s playing the role of Markus.
Even as sense whispered it, I sat stunned at the bile that had spewed from Neil’s mouth. This was like my worst nightmare, my husband underscoring all of my deficiencies and attacking me for them. I needed a moment and while Dr. Bob gestured me onward, Neil, the real Neil, picked up on my conundrum. He shot me a quick wink and addressed his audience.

“Go ahead, cry on his shoulder like you do with everyone else. Poor, poor wittle trust fund baby, too much money, not enough sense.” His voice went high-pitched and girly. “Oh, boo hoo, no one understands me, no one loves me. My life isn’t perfect. Boo hoo hoo. Well, it’s time you grew up, little girl. Happiness isn’t handed to you on a silver platter. Some of us actually have to work for a living, work to get the things we want.”

“Mr. Phillips, please restrain yourself. Maggie, tell us how you feel right now.”

Rip roaring pissed. But even if Candie was angry, she was also afraid. Who wouldn’t be, when confronted by such a domineering tyrant? “I guess, I feel awful. Everything he said is true, and I hate that he sees me this way.”

Dr. Bob leaned back in his chair. “What can we do, do you think to change this?”

I mulled it over. “Well, I guess I could—”

“Here’s a thought; how about you quit whining and be grateful I put up with your shit.”

“Mr. Phillips, that’s enough!” Dr Bob’s face was mottled red from the part of his comb-over to the neckline on his sweater vest. “Can’t you see your tactless words hurt your wife’s feelings?”

Neil shrugged and my eyes narrowed. I loved him, but in that instant, I wanted to hurt him. No, to annihilate him.

As if he read my mind, Neil relaxed and lost the asshole coating. “I’m sorry, Uncle Scrooge. You know I couldn’t do what I do without you, right?”

I smiled. “I see you, even when you are being a total prick.”

Dr. Bob was lost. It was comical the way his head whipped back and forth

between the two of us, trying to put his finger on what he’d missed. “It’s been a rough week.” I told Dr. Bob. “Neil and I really aren’t feeling like ourselves.” “Are you mixing medications, Neil?” Dr. Bob stared at my husband. “Stress is all. Maggie is currently under investigation by the FBI. One of

her clients was kidnapped, then a former cleaning partner showed up dead.”

“Don’t forget the arson. Oh, and the bribery / extortion thing.”

Dr. Bob swallowed. “I see. And, uh, how does this make you feel, Maggie?”

They say there are no stupid questions but that one came pretty damn far into moron territory. “Shitty, thanks for asking.”

“Ah,” Dr. Bob glanced at his wall clock. “I seem to have forgotten about another engagement, if you both will excuse me….?” His eyes begged the crazy people to vamoose and never return.

“Thank you for seeing us, I really feel like we’ve made a breakthrough here.” Neil extended his hand. Dr. Bob backed into the door, fumbling for the knob.

“Really, no trouble at all.” He managed to open the door and we wasted no time departing. I contained my hysteria until we reached the car.

“Now that was fun with a capital FU.”

“You know he’s watching us through the office window.”

I turned and caught the blinds snapping closed on the second story. “You think he’s phoning the police. Or a psych ward.”

“No, but I doubt he’ll ever return our calls again.”

Mock sniffling, I flicked a pretend tear away from my eye. “Hold me Neil; I don’t think I have the strength to go on.”

Neil chuckled and opened the car door, ushering me to sit. “So what did we learn, class?”

Waiting until he’d buckled his seat belt I ran over everything in my head. “Markus is a domineering ass. Not that I’m surprised but having that kind of condescension bearing down on me was truly awful. Humiliating even.”

Neil squeezed my hand in silent apology. “So, if you were really Candie…?”

“I’d kill the creep. Well, maybe not, but I’d do my damndest to ruin him. And I’m pretty sure she’d do the same.”

“That’s a big assumption. What do you have backing it up?”

“Amelia Kettering, first of all. What are the chances I get dragged to a luncheon and happen to run into Candie’s former lover, and not only the meeting but coping to the relationship?”

“Pretty slim,” Neil nodded. “Go on.”

“That encounter always bugged me. I mean, Markus is a control freak, but no way could he keep Candie from contacting Amelia if she really wanted. And don’t forget, she’s holding all the money, doling it out to his company as she sees fit. No, Candie is no shrinking violet, no matter what I thought at first. Money equals power, right?”

“In most cases.” Neil confirmed.

“So maybe the bird was a test. Like one last chance for Markus to come through for her, to ride to her rescue. She sets it up so I’m involved by using my logo, just to ensure she’ll have a witness there. Then, when he brushes her off in front of us, she feels justified to do whatever she pleases.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But what about the fax?”

“She wasn’t in the house with me when it came through. Supposedly, she’d gone to a spinning class, but how hard would it have been to fax it from the nearest Kinkos?”

“So you think she set up the entire stalker thing, the phoenix, the dead bird, her own kidnapping to teach Markus a lesson?”

“At first perhaps. She knew he was stressed, late with the deadline for his new project. Remember, Leo said Richard claimed that someone was slipping him the Safari information online? I bet you anything it was Candie.

“So, when it comes to light that Richard had all this insider information, Markus is top suspect. It’s his wife that’s missing, his company the deceased was monitoring. Who else could it be?” I dusted my hands off.

“She didn’t count on you, on Markus setting you up for extortion. Maybe she found out about that and that’s why she set the fire.”

“Which means she has help. Someone who’s monitoring Valentino for her. And not Amelia Kettering. Markus wouldn’t let her within fifty yards of anything he owns.”

“Someone who could be bought.”

Our gazes locked and Neil banged a U-turn at the next light.

A rusty red Ford pick-up was parked in Lucas Sloan’s driveway. Neil parked my Mini on the street and we both stared at the house.

“Call Detective Capri, we have no authority here.” Neil said as my feet hit the ground.

“We’re not going to make a citizen’s arrest or anything. I only want to talk to him. Besides, he owes me for cleaning this heap.” I chucked a thumb at the decrepit ranch.

“It’s still nicer than our first place together, look at the bump-out bay window. You’ve got to admit, it holds potential.”

I raised one eyebrow at him. “Someone’s been watching
Trading Spaces
again.”

Neil started up the path toward the side door. “I refuse to either confirm or deny, seeing as how it will incriminate me.”

I crunched after him. “Shheeesh,” I muttered, “What’s with all the kitty litter?”

“It absorbs the water, from the melted ice.” Neil waited to escort me up the stone steps. “Sand and salt work for melting the initial ice, but water tends to migrate downhill and another sharp drop in temperature will cause refreeze. The Kitty litter absorbs the water. I guess it’s better than a yard full of tampons.”

“Well thank you, Mr. Wizard. And I do know about black ice. I meant, what’s with the dump truck’s worth of kitty litter?” I gestured and the heaping mounds of it, more even as we approached the side door.

Neil jerked to a stop. His good shoulder nudged me off to the side. “What does that look like to you?” He pointed to the front door.