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

kill the creep. Well, maybe not, but I’d do my damndest to ruin him. And I’m pretty sure she’d do the same.”
    “That’s a big assumption. What do you have backing it up?”
    “Amelia Kettering, first of all. What are the chances I get dragged to a luncheon and happen to run into Candie’s former lover, and not only the meeting but coping to the relationship?”
    “Pretty slim,” Neil nodded. “Go on.”
    “That encounter always bugged me. I mean, Markus is a control freak, but no way could he keep Candie from contacting Amelia if she really wanted. And don’t forget, she’s holding all the money, doling it out to his company as she sees fit. No, Candie is no shrinking violet, no matter what I thought at first. Money equals power, right?”
    “In most cases.” Neil confirmed.
    “So maybe the bird was a test. Like one last chance for Markus to come through for her, to ride to her rescue. She sets it up so I’m involved by using my logo, just to ensure she’ll have a witness there. Then, when he brushes her off in front of us, she feels justified to do whatever she pleases.”
    “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But what about the fax?”
    “She wasn’t in the house with me when it came through. Supposedly, she’d gone to a spinning class, but how hard would it have been to fax it from the nearest Kinkos?”
    “So you think she set up the entire stalker thing, the phoenix, the dead bird, her own kidnapping to teach Markus a lesson?”
    “At first perhaps. She knew he was stressed, late with the deadline for his new project. Remember, Leo said Richard claimed that someone was slipping him the Safari information online? I bet you anything it was Candie.
    “So, when it comes to light that Richard had all this insider information, Markus is top suspect. It’s his wife that’s missing, his company the deceased was monitoring. Who else could it be?” I dusted my hands off.
    “She didn’t count on you, on Markus setting you up for extortion. Maybe she found out about that and that’s why she set the fire.”
    “Which means she has help. Someone who’s monitoring Valentino for her. And not Amelia Kettering. Markus wouldn’t let her within fifty yards of anything he owns.”
    “Someone who could be bought.”
    Our gazes locked and Neil banged a U-turn at the next light.
    A rusty red Ford pick-up was parked in Lucas Sloan’s driveway. Neil parked my Mini on the street and we both stared at the house.
    “Call Detective Capri, we have no authority here.” Neil said as my feet hit the ground.
    “We’re not going to make a citizen’s arrest or anything. I only want to talk to him. Besides, he owes me for cleaning this heap.” I chucked a thumb at the decrepit ranch.
    “It’s still nicer than our first place together, look at the bump-out bay window. You’ve got to admit, it holds potential.”
    I raised one eyebrow at him. “Someone’s been watching Trading Spaces again.”
    Neil started up the path toward the side door. “I refuse to either confirm or deny, seeing as how it will incriminate me.”
    I crunched after him. “Shheeesh,” I muttered, “What’s with all the kitty litter?”
    “It absorbs the water, from the melted ice.” Neil waited to escort me up the stone steps. “Sand and Salt work for melting the initial ice, but water tends to migrate downhill and another sharp drop in temperature will cause refreeze. The Kitty litter absorbs the water. I guess it’s better than a yard full of tampons.”
    “Well thank you, Mr. Wizard. And I do know about black ice. I meant, what’s with the dump truck’s worth of kitty litter?” I gestured and the heaping mounds of it, more even as we approached the side door.
    Neil jerked to a stop. His good shoulder nudged me off to the side. “What does that look like to you?” He pointed to the front door.
    “A pile of slush.”
    “Slush is gray or maybe dirt brown, not reddish brown.” He caught my gaze. “Go call 911.”
    I latched onto his coat sleeve. “Nuh, uh. Not unless you’re coming with me. No way in the seventh circle of hell will I let you charge into another potential crime scene alone.”
    A muscle jumped in Neil’s jaw. “I’m not the suspect at this point. Someone could be hurt in there; I might be able to help.”
    “You’re not a medic, Neil. And while we stand here, arguing, times a wastin’. You jump, I jump, Jack.”
    “Christ Almighty, save me from Titanic references.” He led the way