The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Skeletons in the Closet

additions. Leo served appetizers and champagne with impressive efficiency, and no one seemed to notice that Laura ignored both of the Sampson siblings.
    Josh, who was totally enamored by Olivia Henderson, offered to show her his computer set up, and Kenny followed them into the other room. I ducked into the kitchen to check on Leopold and the bird.
    “How goes it?” Leo placed the turnip in the microwave.
    “The spot on my boob was the best part.” I hiccupped.
    He eyed me closely. “How much have you had to drink?”
    “I’m still conscious, so not enough.” I went to refill my glass. “That’s funny, the bottle is empty.”
    “Maggie, my love, you’re shit-faced.”
    I held my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Mildly inebriated.” Another hiccup. “Nicely toasted.”
    Leo pushed me onto a stool. “You’re drunk as a skunk and you’re not to move from that spot until otherwise directed.”
    He sighed and went about his work. I watched him for a minute in silence, but that was all I was capable of.
    “I’m a bad mother.”
    “I know better than to argue with a nicely toasted person. Turkey will be going on the table in five. Do you think you can relay the news without injuring yourself?”
    I gave him my best droll look and lurched off the stool.
    “Steady there, Tiger. We don’t want you doing a face plant; it’d ruin the festive mood.”
    I snorted and focused all my energy in putting one foot in front of the other.
    “Dinner is about to be served, so what would everyone like to drink?” I announced in my perfect hostess voice.
    Neil cocked his head at me as he rose. “Why don’t you let me get the drinks, babe. You should sit. You’ve been working so hard today.”
    I made an ungracious sound and was about to sit when the doorbell rang.
    “Are we expecting anyone else?” I asked Laura with an arched brow.
    She shook her head mutely, and I focused on walking to the door. I never noticed before how hard walking could be.
    I pasted my most welcoming smile on my face and breathed in the fresh November air as I took in the two uniformed officers at the back door.
    “Now, gentlemen, this is getting to be old hat,” I informed them.
    “Um, are you Mrs. Phillips?” the impossibly blond young man asked.
    I touched a hand to my chest. “That I am.”
    “Your husband reported a missing wheelbarrow this morning, is that right?”
    Neil appeared behind me. “Yes, yes I did. Have you found it?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Oh good. Where was it?” I asked on a giggle.
    “I know it’s the holiday and everything, but do you think the two of you could come down to the station?”
    “What’s the meaning of this?” Ralph blustered. “Neil, who are these people?”
    “Pay attention, Ralph, look at the uniforms.” Laura was by his side. The doorway felt very crowded, so I took a step outside.
    “Sir, we have some questions to ask, and we think it would be better down at the station.”
    “What kind of questions?” Neil looked as baffled as I felt.
    “Do you need us to ID the wheelbarrow or something? Has more than one rusty old wheelbarrow gone missing?” Champagne plus my mother-in-law equaled a belligerent Laundry Hag.
    “No, ma’am.” The chubby red-haired officer cleared his throat.
    “Then what’s the problem?”
    The blond one looked at Big Red and back to me. “There’s a body in it.”

Chapter Eleven

    “ D o you derive some sort of amusement from asking the same questions in forty different ways? I’ve been here for three hours, while my house is full of holiday guests. I told you, I didn’t know Greg the Gym Rat all that well and I’m very sorry that he’s dead, but that’s no excuse to keep me locked up here for the rest of my life!”
    The champagne had worn off a while before, and I was working on belligerent all on my own. It wasn’t hard. Neil and I had been separated as soon as we reached the police station; presumably so they could cross compare our ‘stories’. In all honesty, I can’t say I blamed them; it was a pretty weird tale.
    “Humor me, Mrs. Phillips. You took the wheelbarrow to the supermarket and then…?” the butch female detective asked me.
    I sighed and took a sip from the axle grease coffee they’d given me, which had turned cold twenty questions ago.
    “I took the wheelbarrow so I could do my Thanksgiving shopping. I was running late, it was an impulse. I left it around the back of the building and went inside.”
I paused