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

conversations, I’d gleaned some insight into the detective. Capri liked her mess and wouldn’t allow me to monkey with her system.
    “What do you have for me?” Small talk was not one of Capri’s strengths, but I appreciated that she didn’t roll her eyes or lace her tone with sarcasm. I may not possess much pride, but the Hudson P.D. did a number on it with every visit.

    “Here,” I snapped open the photocopy and handed the paper over with a flourish. “I was cleaning at the Valentinos’—”
    “Do you mean Markus Valentino, the electronics mogul?” Capri cut me off with a sharp glance.
    “Yes, he owns a place on the outskirts of town with trophy wife number three, a former Miss Texas. She hired me right after Christmas, and today I happened to be dusting the den when a fax came in.”
    Capri studied the photocopy, her mouth set in a grim line. “’The Phoenix is rising; you’re gonna get burned’,” she read aloud. “Where’s the original?”
    “I put it back in the fax machine for Valentino to find.” Capri shook her head and I scowled and wondered what was on her mind.
    “I meant what number did the fax come from? If you had the number we could trace it back to the source.”
    Oh. Well, shoot. I shrugged helplessly and felt like a twit for not paying attention to such an important detail.
    Capri shuffled some papers and actually found a clear spot on her desk. She set my evidence down and spun the paper to face me. “These letters appear to be cut and pasted out of magazines. See how the type is different? Of course, without seeing the original, I have no way of knowing if this is in color, if the letters came from different papers or not. Some word programs can create this particular effect. You sure it was a fax, not a photocopy? Most people have the two-in-one machines these days
    I nodded; encouraged because she hadn’t brushed my find aside. “No one else was in that wing of the house and the machine made a weird ring-buzz noise combo before the paper came out. What do you think it means?”
    “Honestly? It’s probably a prop in some role-playing sex game. The fax had to come from someone privy to the fax number, hence someone who is acquainted with Mister or Mrs. Valentino. The Phoenix may very well be a pet name for Valentino’s Johnson.”
    Shit on a stick. “Yeah, that’s what Neil thought too.” Oops. Did I say that out loud?
    “Maggie,” Capri growled and I winced. Oh Magoo, you’ve done it again! The detective only called me Maggie when she was preparing a lecture. Silence hung in the air and like the pause between an infant’s cries, the longer the breath, the louder the complaint.
    “You are supposed to be one of my confidential informants. Do you need me to define ‘confidential’ to you again?”
    Unthinkingly, I squirmed in my seat. “I just thought—”
    “No, you didn’t think. Your husband does not need to be brought into the loop, especially since he has no connection with the law. Isn’t it bad enough everyone at the station has a pretty clear idea of why you show up here thrice weekly? Most C.I’s bring in bogus tips to collect a fee. But you’re not after the money; you’re looking to bring down the bad guys. That’s my job. Here’s how the position works. You bring me a tip, I investigate the tip. The more information you give me, the more time I invest in following up on your leads. So far, we’ve got diddly-squat. Take a stab at how many man-hours I’ve put into following up on your tips?”
    I threw my shoulders back, straightening my spine. “Hey, I’m new to this cloak and dagger scene and can I help it if I don’t know what I’m looking for?”
    “Trust your instincts.” Her matter-of-fact statement stabbed me in the gut, but I hid my reaction quickly. No need to flaunt my vulnerability to Capri, since I wasn’t sure I could trust her yet.
    Since the last detective I’d put my faith in had tried to shoot me, I was a smidge gun shy.
    “Go home, Mrs. Phillips and don’t contact me again until you have information on an actual crime.”
    I’d been dismissed. Again. Battling my temper, I stuck my nose in the air and sashayed out of Capri’s office, feigning confidence I didn’t feel. I’m a big believer in the fake it ‘til you make it school of thought. Unfortunately, I bumped into the water cooler, and sent the five-gallon jug crashing to the floor, where it glugged its contents onto the linoleum.
    Let me tell you,