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

feeling encapsulated the room.
    “How’d you sleep?” Marty’s voice cracked. He fidgeted with his coffee cup.
    I opened my mouth to say ‘like the dead’ but snapped it shut again. Bad puns had no place in my mind right now.
    “Marty and I have been talking.” Neil’s gaze pinned me with a deadly intensity, and I knew I was going to like this next part. “If you insist on cleaning, one of us will be with you until this killer is caught.”
    “And what about when I need to go to the store or the bank or take the boys to martial arts?”
    “Everywhere. I’ll quit my damn job if I have to, but I don’t want you alone.”
    I kept my voice level. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I mean, it’s not like there was another murder. Coop was an old man; maybe his time had come.”
    I stunned myself as the words left my mouth. They both knew I didn’t believe a word of that rubbish, and if anything, my behavior the night before showed I shattered under pressure.
    “You could be right; we could very well be overreacting. Yes, Coop probably died of a heart attack brought on by his age and high blood pressure and absolutely nothing else.” Ne il glowered at me.
    I looked away, and he had conformation of my guilty feelings.
    “But even if his death was natural, which we don’t know for a fact, and even if the PI also died from something other than foul play, you can’t dispute the fact that four people you’ve had a connection with have died in the past two weeks. It may all be a big coincidence, but I’m not willing to risk your life on it,” Neil said.
    “And neither am I!” Marty piped up.
    I never thought I’d see the day when my brother and my husband ganged up against me.
    “So what’s it gonna be, Uncle Scrooge? Will you accept this, or do we have to hogtie you on top of your precious washing machine?” Neil’s gaze didn’t waver, and I’m sure he was prepared to see his threat through.
    As much as I appreciated their protectiveness, my self-respect demanded I hold a little ground. “Two concessions: when I go Christmas shopping, I’m going with Sylvia. The other is that one of you will be with the boys if I can’t be. Anytime they aren’t in school, they’re with one of the three of us. Do we have a deal?”
    Neil looked ready to negotiate some more, but Marty cut him off. “Sounds like a plan to me. Now when’s the next job?”
    I looked at the clock. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

    * * * *
    We took Marty’s car to the Finkelstein residence. Neil had retrieved the van earlier that morning, and my cleaning supplies now resided in the trunk. The center hall colonial-style house stood back from the road at the bulb of a cul-de-sac. We parked to the side of the garage, and I made for the back door with a load of rags and cleansers tucked into my coat pockets. I stared at the note taped to the back door and read it aloud.
    Marty came up behind me.

Maggie, sorry I couldn’t wait for you, but I had a meeting. The key is under the mat, and the security code for the alarm is twenty-seven, fifteen.

Diana Finkelstein.

    “I guess when you’re that high up on the food chain, you assume the burglars are all illiterate.” Marty retrieved the key and let us into the house. “So what’s the story? Do we search first or clean?” he asked.
    I punched the code into the beeping alarm. “Search first, while no one is here to question us. According to the maid at the job I had the other day, Mr. Finkelstein is an avid weapons collector. She even told me he once held a Civil War pistol to the gardener’s head when the man cut back his favorite azalea bush in the spring instead of waiting for autumn. But of course, that’s only a rumor.”
    “And you want to poke through this guy’s house? Jeeze Maggs, it’s no wonder you keep getting into trouble.” Marty set the supplies down on a mahogany hall table, which appeared to be a grown-up version of my dinner table.
    “Let’s make sure we aren’t caught. Bring a dust cloth with you in case someone comes home.” I picked up a roll of paper towels and some Windex and made my way down the hall. “You do the top two floors; I’ll look down here and in the basement.”
    “Do you think he has a wine cellar? Rich people always hide the best stuff in the wine cellar.”
    “If I find a wine cellar, I’ll be sure to save it for you.” Turning my back, I headed for the first door on the right and found a powder room. After quickly