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

be seen by anyone in the kitchen.
    “What in the hell were you doing at Lucas Sloan’s house today.” Capri flicked the business card and I winced in sympathy for the young officer who was probably donning a crossing guard uniform at this moment.
    “He owes me money, for cleaning his house. Normally, I’d let it slide awhile, but since my contacts have dried up thanks to my rap sheet, I didn’t have much choice.”
    “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. You’re the nutcase who insisted on meddling where a civilian shouldn’t like some goddamn vigilante.”
    “Well excuse the hell out of me! I thought you wanted me to nose around and find dirt for you! Isn’t that what the CI position was all about?
    “You’re not supposed to solve the flipping case single handedly!”
    “Well, that’s just what I did. Do you want to hear it or not!”
    “Fine.” Capri folded her arms across her chest.
    So I told her about my ruminating with Neil, the role-playing session at Dr. Bob’s, and Sloan’s possible involvement.
    “So, you see, Candie’s behind the whole thing. It makes sense for her to off Lucas Sloan after his usefulness has run its course.”
    “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you.” Capri shook her head. “I see one big problem with your theory.”
    My hands slammed onto my hips. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
    “We didn’t find Lucas Sloan’s corpse. It was Candie Valentino inside the house.”

Twenty Two

    S leeping was out of the question. Knees curled under my butt, I perched on the couch in the dark, staring out the window as snow drifted by. The dying embers from the fire Neil started several hours earlier glowed eerily in the grate.
    Logically, I knew I hadn’t caused Candie’s death. I didn’t hack her into five pieces or toss kitty litter over the floor and the back path in an effort to hide the crime and make it look like Lucas Sloan had done the deed before rushing out to work. Fortunately for Lucas, he’d been in court, awaiting a new custody hearing with his lawyer at the estimated time of death, which the medical examiner placed between nine and eleven a.m.
    After witnessing my distress, Capri had eased her own attack. “You did what you could for her, to find her. More than most people would bother doing for an acquaintance. The FBI accepted that you had nothing to do with this, even if you’re husband made the 911 call. Sloan verified you’d cleaned his house; that he owed you money. Between Dr. Bob and the FBI, you’re solidly alibi-ed for this.”
    “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I now whispered into the dark. That finally, the feds couldn’t harass me about a horrible crime, just because my alibi would hold in court? A man and a woman were dead, two people who I’d met, who I’d believed the worst about, even for a short moment in time. Obviously, Candie hadn’t staged her own dismemberment. I shuddered at the mental picture.
    “Come to bed, Uncle Scrooge.” Neil fumbled across the cushions a minute, before locating my foot, rubbing gently. “There’s nothing else you can do for her.”
    “I don’t understand this.” Snow swirled and the house groaned as wined battered from the north. “None of it makes any sense. It’s not about money, or technological accolades or revenge. So what’s the point?”
    “You’re forgetting that whoever kidnapped Candie and set up first you, then Sloan, isn’t a rational person. You’re talking about a madman, someone who likes to cause suffering and chaos wherever he goes. There’s no logic in that.”
    His sage words washed over me. “It’s got to be about Markus Valentino. The Phoenix; the first letter. There was a reason Valentino didn’t report the fax or the dead bird. He’s hiding something. Someone wants him to suffer.”
    Neil groaned and sat up, the comforter falling into his lap. “So the feds, or detective Capri or whoever have to extract the whole story from him. What more can you do?”
    “Nothing,” I said. “You’re right.”
    “Oh, music to my ears.” Neil changed his hold on my ankle and pulled me to the air mattress. “Say it again.”
    “Not in this lifetime, pal.”
    He cupped my face in his hands. The kiss was soft, almost delicate, the merest brushing of his lips over mine. “You’ve done enough worrying in the past few weeks to last a lifetime. Give yourself a break.”
    Ready to take his advice I leaned up to kiss him when the phone rang.
    Neil