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

I watched his head shake. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
    “Just say it.” I whispered.
    His shoulders shook. “I didn’t realize how it would look. No wonder you’ve been acting like a lunatic lately.” He started to laugh. “No wonder you made me sleep in that god forsaken camper!” Tears streamed down his face.
    “What’s the joke here?” Dr. Bob’s expression could only be called bewildered.
    “Maggie thought I was screwing around on her,” Neil giggled.
    Not the reaction I would have picked.
    “Are you?” Dr. Bob’s tone was deceptively mild.
    Neil’s laughter dissolved like sugar in acid. “Of course not.” He looked at me. “I love you and only you. I’m sorry you doubted me for even a second.”
    “So where have you been spending your time, Neil?” Dr. Bob asked.
    Neil hadn’t forgiven the accusation. “I’ll answer, but only because I’m positive Maggie wants to know, too.
    “I’ve been working. That much is true. Just, the overtime hasn’t been with Intel. They have scaled back on overtime, that’s also correct.”
    I swayed on the chair, having visions of Neil selling his body for profit before I got a hold on my runaway imagination.
    “I’ve been doing odd jobs, roof and window repair, a little plumbing. The woman from our neighborhood? She’s the room mother in Kenny’s class. We got to talking one day when I picked the boys up and she mentioned a pipe burst and her husband was away on business. The plumbers repaired the damage, but she had a huge hole in her kitchen ceiling, so I did the dry walling for her. I was just checking in on her that morning, making sure she didn’t have any other problems.”
    I blinked. “So you’ve been working as a handyman?”
    “Pretty much.” He rested a hand on my knee. The Laundry Hag and the Handy Man, go figure.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” Now that the stupor had ebbed, the anger was back. “God Almighty Neil, why did you hide this?”
    “Because I didn’t want you fretting about the money. No, hear me out.” He insisted and I snapped my mouth shut. “You always worry about money, but it’s been worse since we moved here. I didn’t tell you about the overtime because you’d only worry more when there’s no need. I thought doing this would kill two birds with one stone.”
    “Who’s the other lucky bird?” I asked.
    Neil grimaced. “Marty. I can’t stand the guy, but I was afraid if I went off on him again like I did in December, he’d leave and you’d be crushed. Again. Don’t you see, Maggie? Everything I do, everything I even think about doing, I do for you.”
    “Time’s up.” Dr, Bob announced.

    * * * *
    The feds were waiting on our front porch when Neil drove me home.
    “I should have anticipated this.” I sighed as the Escort rolled to a stop. “I suppose I have to talk to them.”
    “Do you want me to stay?” Neil offered.

    “Then you should go.”
    He lifted my knuckles to his lips and placed a soft kiss on them. “Try and stay out of jail, okay?”
    “I always try,” I muttered and climbed from the car. Miracle of miracles, the sun was out and shining, and there was considerably less snow on the ground. Between Neil’s revelation and the turnaround in the weather, I felt calm and more myself than I had in weeks.
    Neither of the FBI special agents shared my mood. “We’ve been attempting to contact you since last night, Mrs. Phillips.” Fatigue was evident in Salazar’s voice.
    I shrugged, inserting my key in the deadbolt. “I shut my cell phone off.” Confident that my action wasn’t a federal crime, I gestured for the two men to enter.
“I’ve seriously contemplated arresting you for interfering with a federal investigation.” Feist stated as I shucked my coat.
    “Wanting to tangle with my lawyer again already? And here I thought you were searching for Mrs. Valentino. Would you gentlemen care for some coffee?” I didn’t bother waiting for a response as I bee-lined for the kitchen.
    “We need to ask you some more questions about your relationship with one Richard Head.”
    “He was dating a friend of mine, Leopold Rothschild. Leo asked me to hire him as my assistant. I did, he didn’t work out, end of story.” I pushed the on button for the coffee pot and spun to face my audience.
    “Mr. Rothschild told us that he stopped here last night before coming to the police station.”
    “He was upset, he needed a friend. I’m sure you would feel the