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

schooled my features almost immediately. So that’s what he’d meant. Give Capri the low-down and then ferret out a few details of our own. Basic I’ll scratch your back and you scratch mine technique. The man was a master manipulator, just like his mother.
    Capri appeared lost in thought, probably mulling over my deluge of information, seeking the common thread to tie this dung heap up. “An overload in the kitchen. The circuit breaker didn’t trip like it should have.” She mumbled the words as if on automatic pilot.
    “What about Markus?” I asked, remembering how Neil said he was already unconscious. “Has he come to yet?”
    While Neil’s probing question made it through her lowered defenses, mine must have triggered red alert. Her gaze snapped to mine and her lips compressed in a grim line. “He’ll be all right. I wouldn’t recommend visiting him in the hospital though, I’m sure the feds will post a guard. You two should go home.” Crap, I guess goodwill chat time was over.
    Neil nodded in a succinct message received motion and turned the key to the truck’s igniitionignition. “Detective, would you have someone drive Maggie’s car home? I think she’s a little too shaken up to drive right now. Whenever you get the chance will be fine, we’ll be home all day tomorrow.”
    What a rat-fink! In one blow, he’d ingratiated himself to Capri by subtly promising to keep me off her radar for a while and managed to limit my means of transportation for the foreseeable future. The high handedness made my stomach twitch, but I couldn’t muster the will to fight his sense. Tomorrow was another day.
    Capri nodded and smiled at my self-appointed handler. “Not a problem. Keys are in it?”
    “Yes,” I ground out, unwilling to thank her for aiding Neil in imprisoning me. Since I had no plans, no cleaning jobs, or social commitments, it wasn’t really such a bad thing and I was a little shaky, though I refused to admit it. But the principle of the matter…, Grrrrr.
    Neil, the bloody Boy Scout, thanked her again and shifted into reverse.
    “Happy?” I asked him as we turned out of the development.
    He didn’t answer but his satisfied smile practically blinded me as we passed under a streetlight.

Sixteen

    I had no desire to get out of bed Sunday morning. Sleep came in fits and starts since we’d hit the sheets around three A.M. So I listened as Penny trundled down the hall from my bedroom and took her early morning soak in the tub. Water gurgled through our ancient pipes as she emptied the bathwater and I closed my eyes when she fired up my hairdryer. The next time I regained consciousness, the spot on the air mattress next to me was empty and someone had started coffee. Judging from the industrial strength fumes, Marty had heavy-handed the Folgers into a dinky paper filter. My brother should have been the cop, the way he ruined coffee, yet drank it by the gallon.
    “What time did ya’ll come in last night?” Penny’s drawl drifted along with the smell of browning sausages.
    “Sometime after midnight.” Neil responded and I heard Marty’s raspy chuckle.
    “Must have been one helluva date. The way you two go at it, I’m surprised you don’t have half a dozen kids by now.”
    I covered my head with a pillow and groaned. As much as I loved my brother, I wished someone would staple his lips together. Lord, the last thing this dysfunctional household needed was another baby on final approach.
    My ever tactful husband refrained from recommending birth control to my brother, the jackass. With the pillow over my face, I didn’t catch his response, but then, if I wanted to be part of the conversation, I’d get my rear in gear and join them.
    Staying where I was seemed simpler, even if I couldn’t stop the mental slideshow of the last few days. Sadistic marriage counselors, cheating husbands, secrete lesbian lovers, oh my! Never mind the fine concoction of bribery and arson I’d choked down yesterday.
    “Come on, Uncle Scrooge, up and at ‘em!” Neil yanked the pillow off my face and knelt on the floor next to me. He’d showered when we’d arrived home and still smelled of Irish Spring soap.
    “What’s on the schedule for the day, warden?” I asked, struggling to sit upright. He handed over a steaming mug, light and sweet, just the way I liked my morning brew. I took a sip and the bitchiness abated somewhat.
    “Serious R&R. I promised to take the boys skiing. My mom still has my old