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

go.”
    Detective Capri cleared her throat. “Can you remember anything else?”
    An image flickered behind my eyes. “He was so angry with me. He said I’d ruined his plans….” I struggled for more, but the information was playing a game of cat and mouse in my muddled brain.
    Neil glared at Capri, his voice rife with warning. “We think she has a concussion, so now’s probably not the best time to question her.”
    Detective Capri pulled up the small rolling stool that the doctor had recently vacated.
    “Let me tell you what we’ve discovered so far. Bradley Patterson was a hardworking cop who joined the force after he graduated from Harvard. No one could understand why an Ivy League man would settle for a cop’s lifestyle, but he had an exemplary record, which is why he made detective so fast.
    “No one found it unusual that he requested assignment to Alessandra Kline’s murder investigation. Patterson was in the habit of taking on the high-profile cases. Unfortunately, we’re pretty sure he took the opportunity to destroy the ballistic report on Mrs. Kline’s shooting and falsify the evidence. We also learned that he was the one who leaked Mrs. Kline’s affair to the press.”
    “He wanted to punish her because she rejected him,” I said. Fragments gathered into a familiar shape.
    Capri stood up ready to press me, but Neil interjected. “Maybe you should tell her the rest of what you learned first.”
    The detective nodded. “We have his prints on the Bushmaster Carbine Rifle at the Finkelstein house. Both homeowners recognized him as the night security guard they’d hired after a string of break-ins had occurred in the neighborhood. Mr. Finkelstein fired him after he caught Patterson touching his gun collection.”
    “So Patterson took the job in order to get to the rifle he used to kill Greg,” Neil summarized, and the detective nodded.
    “Correct. What we don’t know is why.” Capri eyed me intently.
    I struggled to sit up, hoping a more vertical position would help energize my sluggish brain cells. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The intense throbbing pain blocked out everything else. I groaned and sank back down.
    “She needs to rest. How about try this later.” Neil’s tone left no room for debate.
    “Why don’t you check the cameras?” Marty offered.
    Total silence reigned in my curtained-off area as we waited for him to elaborate.
    “There are video cameras all over the Finkelstein house; didn’t anyone else notice?”
    “I’ll check and see if they were active. We might have the whole incident on tape.” Capri nodded her thanks at both me and Marty before hurrying off.
    “Way to go, Sprout. Maybe you should become a cop.”
    “I’ll think on it.”
    I settled back down into the way too firm pillow before uttering an oath.
    “What?” Both Neil and Marty paled with my outcry.
    “That teacher, Mrs. Martin! I have a meeting with her today!”
    “You’ll have to reschedule.” Neil relaxed into a parade rest stance.
    “I can’t! She had a fit last time when I didn’t show up. I have to be there!” I flung a leg out of bed, but Neil held me still.
    “Maggie, you’re injured, and the doctors have to run some tests. Now either you simmer down, or I’ll call a nurse in here to sedate you.”
    “You wouldn’t dare.”
    “Lady, you’re threatening the well-being of my wife, don’t even think you can imagine what I’m capable of.”
    Another wave of nausea broke over me, and the fight went out with the tide. I reluctantly sat back. “I’ve ruined everything. Poor Josh. And the Christmas tree…I can’t do anything right.”
    “Pity party, table for one.” Neil cupped his hands over his mouth and made the announcement in an impersonal voice.
    “My sides are splitting.”
    “Well, it’s a good thing there are plenty of people around here able to stitch you back up. Now relax.”
    I laid back and looked at my husband.
    “I see you, Maggie.”
    “And I can almost see you,” I told his fuzzy outline.

    * * * *
    After a battery of medical tests, I was sent home with the instructions to make an appointment with a local neurologist and to seek medical help immediately if my symptoms worsened or didn’t go away in a few days. Marty picked the boys up from school, and they all jumped to greet us as we came through the door.
    “Mom, did you really have a gun fight with a killer?” Kenny’s eyes grew round and lit with curiosity.
    “Marty, what