The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

soon as I can and whatever you do, don’t touch that box!”
    Candie didn’t respond, but the sound of violent retching was answer enough.

Four

    W e parked in front of the Valentino’s house. The brick and stone behemoth, flanked by leafless deciduous trees, sat at the end of a private drive. While the house was gated, the gate stood open, probably in expectation of the police. Lights blazed from every window and reflected off the brilliant snow and the sight took my breath for a minute. The mansion did have a Currier and Ives look to it, even the snow seemed whiter than in my middle-class neighborhood.
    “Tell me again why we’re here.” Neil scowled at me and shifted in the driver’s seat, bashing his knee into the gearshift. Whoever had designed the Mini Cooper didn’t have six foot, two inch retired Navy SEAL’s in mind.
    “Mrs. Valentino called me, thinking I had something to do with the dead bird. My logo was on the delivery box. Therefore, I have a vested interest in getting to the bottom of this.”
    He winced as he rubbed his abused knee. “Only in your mind, Uncle Scrooge. Do they know you intercepted that fax the other day?”
    I rolled my eyes. “What do I look like, a complete doofus? I made a copy of the fax before I beat feet outta there. The original I left precisely where I found it.”
    “I still say you’re sticking your nose into somebody’s kinky sex life,” He grinned and met my gaze. “That’s always entertaining, at least.”
    I thought of Sylvia’s stricken face. “Not so much from my angle. Besides, you ever heard of anyone with a dead foul fetish?”
    “No, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’m a sheltered sort, you know.”
    I snorted and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Yeah, Neil the Pure with his lily-white sensibilities. How about the thing you did to me last week in the shower? What bedtime story featured that particular move?”
    “My favorite.” He glanced around. “You sure she called the police?” I’m not seeing any lights yet and we’ve been sitting here for five minutes on top of the twenty minute drive.”
    “I told her to call, but she was a little busy doing the Technicolor yawn and then my phone went dead. And you left yours at Dr. Boob’s. I mean Bob’s.”
    He opened his door. “Might as well knock and see what’s up.”
    The air hit me as soon as I straightened from the car, whipping my hair into my face. Neil grasped my gloved hand and pulled me to the relative shelter of the porch. He rang the doorbell and we waited.
    “Maybe she took the package directly to the police station. Or animal control.” Neil guessed.
    I opened my mouth to respond, but a black Jaguar slid to an abrupt stop in front of the house and Mr.Valentino emerged. He sprinted up the porch steps and brushed by us without a word, inserting his key in the door. It swung open and he didn’t bother to shut it so Neil tugged me inside.
    “Candace?” Mr. V called out stomping through the foyer. “I can’t just show up whenever you’re in the mood to….”
    Neil cleared his throat and gave me a knowing smirk. Valentino spun on his heel and scowled at us, his gaze focused on my husband. “Who the hell are you?”
    Neil dropped my hand and extended his own. Neil Phillips, sir. Your wife called mine.”
    “Phillips, Phillips,” Mr. V pursed his lips. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
    “Your wife hired me to clean twice a week. I’m Maggie Phillips from the Laundry Hag cleaning services.” I informed him. Though I’d been on the job for almost a month, this was the first time I’d seen Valentino up close. Jet black hair cut fashionably short and GQ worthy stubble only emphasized his high cheekbones and pale complexion. His eyes, almost a neon shade of blue, stole attention from his extra-large nose, an almost beaklike appendage which announced his Greek heritage. He appeared the perfect masculine foil for Candie’s petite blonde beauty, but some instinct told me theirs wasn’t a love match.
    “Well, get to it then,” Markus Valentino dismissed me with a wave of his hand and continued his hunt for his wife.
    Before I could get my back up, Neil called to his retreating form. “We’re here about the bird.”
    Valentino stopped in mid-stride, like his feet had been super-glued in place. It was almost comical, like a Wile E. Coyote signature move before he fell off a cliff.
    “What bird?” Mr. V’s tone held suspicion, and as he turned back around