The Cluttered Corpse (22 page)

Rose settled in and prepared for another night at Lilith's side, claiming she'd slept all day and was completely refreshed. One look at her told me that wasn't true. She frowned and said, “There's something I'm supposed to tell you and darned if I can remember what it is.”

“That's the stress of worrying about Lilith, Rose. It's hell on the concentration. Whatever it is, it will keep.”

“Hope so. I feel like an old fool though. And this old fool is staying here.”

Before I could put up an argument, Margaret arrived.

“You look worse than Rose does, if that's possible,” she said. While I was recovering from that comment, she added, “Hit the road and get some sleep. I have a lot of files to catch up on, might as well do it here. Don't argue.”

On the way out, I called Jack and told him I was on my way home from the hospital.

“I walked Truffle and Sweet Marie. And Schopie,” he said. “The four of us will be waiting for you. Make that the six of us. I replaced your melted Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk with two new tubs.”

As soon as I hung up, the phone trilled again.

“Charlotte?” A vague tremulous voice.

“Yes.”

“This is Patti. Patti Magliaro?”

“Oh, Patti, of course. What can I do for you?”

“Sorry to hear about your friend. But something weird is going on across the street. Can you hear me? I'm whispering.”

“What is weird? Are you okay, Patti?”

“It's hard to explain. Can you come over? I'm home. It's my night off. Because I worked an extra—”

Before Patti could head down a dozen conversational bypasses, I intervened. “If you're worried, you should hang up and call the police.”

“It's probably nothing or I would call them, except I don't like them much.”

Understood. “Can you tell me what is happening?” I refrained from adding, “It's late and I need to get home.”

Patti sighed. “It's probably nothing. Dwayne will be home soon anyway. Sorry to bother you, Charlotte. Don't worry, Princess, I'm coming.”

“It's okay, Patti. Just tell me what it is and…” I waited. “Hello? Hello? Are you there? Oh for Pete's sake.”

Patti was vague enough to hang up on me and go about her business, but I would worry about it all night if I didn't know. I checked my phone so I could call her back. “Unknown Number.” Truly unhelpful.

I snapped off the phone, jumped in the Miata, and broke the speed limit getting to Bell Street. I decided that the dogs, the ice cream, and Jack could wait a few minutes while I checked out Patti's problem. I would make it up to them with extra cuddles and treats. The dogs anyway.

As I pulled up in front of Patti's place, I noticed her half-hidden behind her evergreen hedge, beckoning. I rolled down the window. She put her fingers to her lips.

I bit back my words. Patti is sweet even if she's totally ditsy. She pointed across the street to number 10. I opened the passenger door so that she could stumble into the Miata.

“Do you see that?” she murmured, pointing across the street again.

“It's okay, Patti. We don't need to whisper in the car.”

Princess apparently didn't care for my tone. She hissed at me. I had a feeling the next message would contain claws.

Patti gave Princess a soothing stroke. “So do you see that light?”

“I do. Is that why you called me over?”

“Well, yes. Don't you think it's strange?”

No, I thought. It's a light inside a house. “I imagine Dwayne is home getting ready for bed.”

“Did you see Dwayne's car when you drove past?”

I frowned. “I didn't look.”

“You wouldn't have seen it if you had looked, because Dwayne's not home.”

“Maybe his car is in the garage.”

“Emmy Lou's car is parked in front of the garage, blocking it. Dwayne has to park in back of hers. Anyway, the light is flickering.”

She was right. It did look more like the flicker of a flashlight than normal interior lighting. “Oh, I see. And you think it's…?”

“Burglars.”

It was my turn to blink. “So why didn't you call the police? I don't handle burglars, although I would put them in the category of people who need to be cleaned up.”

“That's the thing. I'm not so good with the police. There are issues.”

Wacky tobaccy issues maybe.

“You can make an anonymous call,” I suggested.

She shook her head violently. “I don't trust them. What if they have my phone bugged?”

No point in wasting my breath on that. I'd obviously upset her.

“Tell you what,
I'll
call them. I'll say it looks suspicious, but it could be the homeowner. Maybe he blew a fuse or something.”

She said, “Except his car's not there.”

I had a thought. “What if it's Kevin? I'd better say it might be the kid next door and not to shoot him by mistake.”

Patti gasped. “That would be real bad.”

“No kidding.”

“Hey? Who's that?” Patti said, leaning forward and squinting.

“What? Where?” I paused, my fingers hovering over the 9 on my cell phone.

A furtive crouching figure scurried alongside the Rheinbeck house. As I watched he—or she—dashed across the lawn and into the Baxters' backyard. Another figure followed. They would have been invisible if it hadn't been for the glow of the brilliant full moon.

“We can't let him get away,” Patti gasped.

“I don't intend to tackle a pair of burglars, but I'll see where they go. Maybe they're planning to break into Bonnie and Bill's place next.” I thrust the phone into Patti's hand and hopped out of the car. “Patti, call 911 and tell them what has happened. Do not mention my name whatever you do, but tell them to check number 12 too.” I closed the Miata door softly. I wanted to see where these creeps went and then spring back to the safety of the car, which was just a few yards away.

I scurried across the street toward the Baxters' place. I hugged the wall and made absolutely certain I had time to dash back to safety if the break-and-enter artists spotted me. Even though I know that burglars aren't usually dangerous, my heart was pounding. But I knew that Patti had called 911 and the police response was very fast in Woodbridge. Particularly if I was in the vicinity. Usually that wasn't such a bonus. Tonight it would be.

I edged to the far end of the exterior wall of the Baxters' house. I peeked around the corner and smothered a gasp. Two figures were huddled by the back door. I could hear their whispered voices. The smaller one kept looking around, nervously. I pulled back. I hadn't got even a glimpse of their faces.

I could hear them fiddling with the lock. In a minute or two they'd be in the house. I had to warn Bonnie and Bill. I was approaching the front of the house when my nose began to twitch. That damn white mulberry tree. My eyes watered. My nose twitched harder. I pinched it to stop the sneeze.

Too little, too late.

A giant sneeze wracked my body. It sounded like someone had fired off a twelve-gauge. I glanced behind me. A head appeared by the side of the house. I started to run. Feet pounded after me. I put every scrap of energy into sprinting back to the safety of the Miata. Too bad my princess heels were not built for this. One shoe slipped off my foot, throwing me off balance. I sprawled forward onto the grass, knocking the breath straight out of my body.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the voice behind me said.

I scrambled to my feet and thudded forward wearing only one shoe. I kicked off the second shoe and ran like hell. I heard heavy feet behind me, gaining.

Talk about adrenaline.

As my stocking feet hit the sidewalk, I squeaked in horror.

Where was the Miata?

There was no sign of my beautiful, safe little car. Or of Patti Magliaro and Princess.

I froze. Which was not the best idea under the circumstances. I felt a rough hand grab at my shoulder and yank hard at my jacket. Bell Street stood empty. Except for Patti's the houses were in darkness.

Since flight seemed pointless, it was time to turn and fight. I whirled and yelled in the face of my pursuer. Loud enough to scare him, I hoped. Or at least to wake up the neighborhood. Of course, with Dwayne out and Patti gone and Mr. Wright being who he was, that left the Baxters.

“Bill!” I shouted as I caught sight of his face.

He recoiled.

I laughed out loud. “What a relief. I thought you were a burglar because—” Because he had just come out of the Rheinbeck house. How was that for a because?

Bill eyed me warily. I assumed he was trying to figure out what I knew. I did my best to fool him. “The police are on their way. Patti called them. Someone's trying to break into your house. I hope Bonnie's not in there alone.”

I don't know who was more surprised by this, Bill Baxter or me. I stood my ground. The hooded person with him crept up alongside him and tugged at his arm. Bonnie. But why would little Bonnie have a weapon in her delicate hands?

“Bonnie?” I said, stunned. “Is that you? What were you doing in the Rheinbecks' place?”

Sometimes you find yourself in a tight spot and the stuff that comes out of your mouth isn't the most brilliant. In this case, I'd almost have to plead insanity. If I could have grabbed the words back and swallowed them, I would have.

“Jesus, Bill,” Bonnie said. “We've got to shut her up.”

“Shut me up?” I squeaked. “Why?”

Bill ran his hand through his hair.

“I think I hear the police now,” I said. Of course, I didn't hear anything except my heart thundering. The cops had been everywhere this last couple of days. Where were they now that I needed them? Patti had had plenty of time to make the call.

Bonnie barked, “Be quiet.”

Bill laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Give me a minute to think.”

“What do you mean, shut her up?” I said loudly enough to be heard across the street, if anyone was there. “I thought we were friends,
Bonnie
. You too,
Bill
.”

She sneered. “Like hell you did. You were messing with my head to find out what you could.”

“What? What did I want to find out?” I said.

“Nosy bitch. Bill, take care of her.”

He bent over and started talking back to her, whispering, pleading: intense, conspiratorial, appealing. She glared up at him, arguing back hoarsely.

I thought fast. How far to the nearest house? Too far. Where was my car with my cell phone in it? No idea. What would I do to Patti when I found her? Something bad.

In the meantime, I began to back up, imperceptibly. There was always so much traffic on Bell Street. But where the hell was it now that I needed it? I stepped into the street, the same second an El Greco pizza delivery vehicle rounded the corner and slowed in front of the Dingwall house.

“Help!” I howled, racing toward it. I zigged and zagged in case one of the Baxters fired a shot. Of course, if they had any brains, they'd get away rather than taking potshots at me in front of a witness. But at this point, I wasn't sure if they did have any brains. Plus, I was pretty sure I'd left mine at home.

In the distance I heard the heartwarming music of police sirens.

“They're trying to kill me! The Baxters! Bonnie and Bill! They broke into the Rheinbecks' house and…” I checked behind me to see if Bonnie and Bill were following. But they had slithered across the street and into the demolition area, next to the Wrights' garage. I turned back to the orange Neon and was thrilled and relieved to see my own familiar pizza-delivery guy staring at me, astonished. I hoped he'd forgotten that my dogs almost knocked him down the stairs. “Let me into your car.”

Instead he jumped out, leaving the driver's door wide open. He whipped across the street after the Baxters. “No,” I shouted. “Wait for the police!”

What if Bonnie shot my Good Samaritan? I could not let the Baxters harm him because of me. I hightailed it across the street shouting to the pizza guy to stop. “Let them go. They have a weapon. The police are coming,” I shouted, but he had already disappeared behind the Dumpster. I could only hope that my bluff would fool the Baxters.

The pavement shredded my stockings as I ran. I was limping as I reached the vacant building lot. I heard no voices, although I might have expected to hear the pizza guy confronting the Baxters. I sneaked up toward the Dumpster, careful not to make a sound, not even a bleat because of the pain from my damaged feet. As the sirens drew closer, I stuck my nose out. The delivery guy was sprawled by the chain-link fence next to the Wrights' garage. His body lay on the piece of plywood I'd last seen leaning against the fence, but his head had come to rest in the dirt. Behind him I could make out a white van, parked in the shadow of the old oaks at the back of the lot. It looked as though Bill was about to open the door of the van. He was holding a piece of two-by-four like a weapon. I had started to creep backward toward the street when Bill jerked his head around and spotted me. This was truly a night gone wrong. Where were the police? At a glance over my shoulder, I could see the pulsing flash of lights. The troops had arrived. Of course, if Patti had called the police, she would have directed them to the Baxters' house and not behind the Dumpster across the street. Never mind, I turned to slip toward the street. My arm was nearly yanked out of its socket as Bill grabbed me. I struggled and yelled as he dragged me back behind the Dumpster.