Organize Your Corpses (29 page)

I fought a panicky urge to run. Instead I returned to the living room and squeezed Rose’s hand. “Help is coming. You’ll be fine.” I figured Rose didn’t really need to see me get arrested. I yanked clothes out of the gym bag I had left at Rose’s a week ago. “I have to change my clothes, but I’m right here. You’re not alone anymore.”

One minute later, I’d changed into my beat-up jeans and hoodie and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I stuffed the clothes I had been wearing into the gym bag. The bathroom was off limits, so I hightailed it to the kitchen and washed my hands and face and headed back to wait for emergency services with Rose.

Two young paramedics arrived before I really got my breathing near normal.

Of course, I didn’t know the answers to any of the questions. “I’m just a neighbor. I saw the door open and got worried,” I kept repeating. “I found her like this.”

“You know her family?” The first paramedic was looking at me kind of funny.

“She has a daughter somewhere. California, maybe. Where will you take her?” I wiped away a stray tear.

“Woodbridge General.”

“Should I come too?” I tried to sound normal.

“Sorry, ma’am. It’ll be family only.”

“But . . . okay, I’ll try to find where the daughter is and contact her.”

I was talking to the air by that time. The ambulance pulled away with Rose inside. I collapsed into the orange sofa and thought hard. Okay, first things first. One of my regular mantras.

So, find the daughter. One thing about organizing people’s lives, you know how most of them operate. Telephone numbers, addresses, and zip codes are in address books. I hunted around for Rose’s address book with the happy spaniel on the cover. I closed my eyes and thought back. Rose kept it right there by the phone. Never mind, this was a simple house, no clutter, no built-up junk. A place for everything and everything in its place. It didn’t take long to conclude that Rose’s address book wasn’t anywhere.

Had it been in her pocket?

I didn’t recall noticing any pockets in her jogging suit. A paranoid thought hit me. Had someone taken it? Had someone broken into Rose’s house and pushed her down? Maybe knocked her out? Disconnected her oxygen?

Who would do that? The same person who killed Dominic? A horrible thought hit me. Where the hell was Jack? Why had his bike been outside Henley House?

“Be logical,” I said out loud. “There can’t be more than one demented attacker in Woodbridge. Can there?”

The thing was, did that person want to kill me too? Or was it more fun to frame me for the other murders?

On Rose’s television, Todd Tyrell’s teeth were flashing. “Breaking News” splashed along the bottom of the screen. At the sight of my own face, I picked up the remote and turned up the volume.

“Following the discovery of a second body at Woodridge’s historic Henley House, police are seeking Woodbridge businesswoman Charlotte Adams, aged thirty, for questioning.”

My image splashed across the screen again. This time, I was flanked by two police officers. My expression gave new meaning to “guilty as charged.” You could practically hear the gavel coming down. But Todd wasn’t finished.

“WINY has also learned that Adams has been placed at the scene of the recent uptown drive-by shooting of fifty-nine-year-old Wynona Banks, who died tragically last week in a hail of bullets. WINY has confirmed this information with independent witnesses.” A clear shot of Tang’s Convenience filled the screen.

“Adams’s whereabouts at this moment are unknown, but caution is advised before approaching her.”

“Oh puleeze,” I shouted. “I am an organizer! I do not kill people. Caution is so not advised.”

“Adams is known to drive a late model Mazda Miata.” My license plate number flashed on the screen. “Anyone seeing her should contact Woodbridge Police immediately.”

The pounding of my heart was also reverberating in my head. What could I do? Turn myself in? Was that the best thing? I hadn’t killed anyone. But someone was going to a great deal of trouble to make it look like I had. I just had to think about the heel of my boot near Dominic’s body to remind me of that.

I needed a few minutes to clear my head. So many things to worry about. Would Rose be okay? Would Wynona’s daughter hear this awful lie? Would the police show up and arrest me? What if someone spotted my car in the backyard? Or Mona Pringle decided to mention my name? I locked the dogs in the bedroom and headed quickly to the back door. I lifted the blind and peered out first. I didn’t see anyone, and it made sense that no one could see me.

In my car, I poked around under the seat until I finally located my cell phone wedged behind a seat belt. I stuck that in my pocket and got busy. I lifted the canvas from Rose’s ancient Grand LeMans. I pulled off the tarp, then wrestled it over my little Miata.

I headed back to the house thinking of Todd Tyrell. His news announcement had been flashing before the last cruiser left Henley House. There was only one person who could have known that Dominic was dead and that I’d been at the scene. Had the murderer alerted the media? Had the person who made sure my pen was found near Miss Henley also stuck my heel near Dominic? Either way, someone who knew me had committed two well-planned murders. Three if Wynona Banks was part of the game. To say nothing of Randolph.

The front door banged. Truffle and Sweet Marie raced toward it, barking. I stood frozen. There was nowhere to hide; even the drapes were gone. I straightened my spine and prepared myself to face the police.

“Hello? Are you in here?”

A wave of relief washed over me as I recognized the voice. “Lilith?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. But how did you find me?”

“If you’re going to try hiding out, you’ll have to do better than this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me you had a friend near the Henley House. You told me her name. You sent me to the library where there are directories. How hard was that?”

“Well, you shouldn’t be here.”

“What? You asked me to pick up an envelope at the library, remember?”

“But that was before I was wanted by the police. Oh, maybe you don’t know about that.”

“Well, I went by your place to deliver the envelope and the house was surrounded by cops.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah. I got the hell out of there. I hate cops. For historical reasons.”

“I’m beginning to understand how you feel.”

“Anyway, I headed off to the nearest bar and caught the news alerts.”

“But how did you find me?”

“Process of elimination. Where else are you going to go? The cops are surrounding your house. I knew you weren’t at the library.”

“They’re saying I killed people.”

“Cops make mistakes, and I’ve learned that the hard way. So, I’ve decided to trust you.”

“That’s—”

“Because you trusted me. And I’m not sure if it was the right thing or not, but I opened your envelope from the library. You better sit down.”

I sat.

She pointed and said, “Are you wearing two different shoes?”

I glanced at my feet. Sure enough, I was sporting one battered green and silver running shoe and one half of a pair of faded red Keds. No wonder the paramedic had given me that strange look. “Right, remind me to change. I have another pair just like them.”

Lilith handed me the envelope. It wasn’t sealed. I sat on the orange sofa and unfolded the papers inside. A Post-it note from Ramona saying “SORRY!” A few more items on the Henley family. I practically stopped breathing as I came across the newspaper article and another obituary.

I read the tragic account of a ten-year-old child killed in a house fire along with his mother, Laura Lo Bello. Poor little Dominic. He’d never had a chance.

Sort your possessions using containers labeled
GIVE AWAY, SELL, TOSS, REPAIR,
and
KEEP
. Only organize what you’re keeping.

19

“But if he wasn’t Dominic Lo Bello, then who was he?” Lilith asked.

I bit my lip. “I have no idea.”

“This just gets weirder.”

“No kidding, but you’d better leave, because it’s just a matter of time until the cops do door-to-door interviews here. If you’re found with me, you’ll get hauled off to the police station. They’ll probably decide you’re an accessory. Having your face on WINY won’t help you much in rebuilding your career.”

She said, “What can I do?”

“We have to find Rose Skipowski’s daughter. She’s somewhere on the West Coast, I believe.”

“Sure. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know anything about her. Rose’s address book is missing, which is very weird. If you could get an address and a phone number, that would help.” I glanced at the wall clock. “Too late for the library.”

Lilith said, “I’ll try the Internet café. Can’t be that many Skipowskis to check out. Anything else I can do?”

“If you had your own place, I’d ask you to look after Truffle and Sweet Marie.”

“I’d be happy to. They’re so cute.”

“They can be real . . . hey, where are they?”

“They met me when I arrived.”

“Oh crap! The front door!”

The yellow door stood wide open. Outside, the wind whipped sodden leaves along the rainy street. Truffle and Sweet Marie were nowhere to be seen.

“We have to find them,” I wailed.

“Let’s go.”

“They hate the cold. They’ll come to you right away.” Unless, I thought, unless they ran in front of a car. Unless a bigger dog got them. Unless . . .

Lilith grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t panic. We’ll find them.”

“Right,” I said.

Lilith glanced at my shoes but kept her mind on business. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. If you find them, call my friend Sally. Tell her I sent you.” I raced back to the living room, grabbed a flyer, and scribbled Sally’s phone number and address. I reached for my purse and fished out twenty dollars.

Lilith looked offended. “What’s that for?”

“Internet café fees. Cab fare. Whatever. Leave a message if I don’t answer. Thanks for everything.”

The wind picked up as Lilith and I headed in opposite directions, shouting the names of two small endangered creatures.

 
An hour later, I stood on an empty street and felt despair wash over me. There was no sign of Truffle or Sweet Marie. No phone call from Lilith. Nothing but wind, cold, and slippery leaves. I couldn’t give up.

I tried every driveway, every backyard, looking for someplace they would have taken shelter. I didn’t dare knock on doors, since everyone in Woodbridge would have seen my face splashed across their television screen.

A thought hit me as I tiptoed into a stranger’s backyard. These were spoiled little dogs. They could never find their way home. If they returned to Rose’s, the door was closed. What would they do? They certainly knew my car; maybe they’d hide under it. Was that crazy wishful thinking? I turned and dodged into a driveway just as a squad car screeched in. A police officer emerged. “Stay right there,” he said.

He drew his gun and said, “Drop your weapon.”

What? The only thing that dropped was my jaw.

“Is that you, Nick?” I said.

Officer Nick Monahan said, “Charlotte?”

“What do you want me to drop?”

Nick crept closer. “What’s in your hand?”

“It’s my purse. What would I be doing with a weapon, Nick?”

“We got a couple calls about a prowler.”

“Oh right, that would be dangerous little me,” I said.

“Don’t joke about. There’s an all-points bulletin out for you. You’re wanted for murder.”

“Of course there is. Tell me, Nick. Do
you
think I killed people?”

“Don’t matter what I think. I have to arrest you.”

“For what? Looking for my dogs? Is that illegal now?”

“Your dogs?”

I reminded myself that Nick Monahan might be a very beautiful man, but he had never been known for his brains, which tended to reside in his pants. Even so, I marveled that he’d made it as a cop. Connections really counted in Woodbridge.

“My two little wiener dogs ran away. I’m really scared they’ll get hit by a car.”

“The thing is, we’re in the middle of . . . are you wearing two different shoes?”

“Listen. You have to help me find them.”

“Different shoes. Man, that’s not like you, Charlotte. You are always really hot looking.”

“Help me find them, Nick.”

“I can’t help you look for wiener dogs. I’m supposed to arrest you. I’m going to call for backup now. Then if you promise to go to the station, I’ll come back to hunt for the dogs. What do they look like?”

I bit my tongue. Then I said, “Backup? For what? Protection from me? Big bad Charlotte Adams? Be a man for once, Nick.”

“But there’s an APB . . .”

I had only one card up my sleeve. I played it. “The only person you are going to need protection from is your wife.”

Even in the dim light, I could see him blanch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you better shoot me now, because if you arrest me, I am going to tell Pepper the truth about what happened between us. I kept my mouth shut before because she was so happy about getting married to you. She was my lifelong friend and I didn’t have the heart to tell her how many times you made passes at me. But I bet the honeymoon’s over now. I imagine she knows you better. I’ll look her straight in the eye and fill her in on everything you tried to do and every cheating word that came out of your mouth.”

“C’mon, Charley. You wouldn’t do that.”

Ew. Charley. I just hate that. “Sure I would.”

“But you know what she’s like,” he said.

Oh yes. I knew what they were both like. A smart, ambitious, ruthless woman who happened to love a guy heavy on sex appeal and light on morals. In those circumstances, shit can happen.