The Goodbye Body (12 page)

Again, I opened the front door cautiously. Rather than a deliveryman burdened with nature’s finery, Nick, the temporary proprietor of Manny’s PerfectPools, stood on the porch. Sebastian towered behind him, shuffling his feet.

“Ms. Malloy,” began Nick, clutching my hand, “I feel like I should talk to you about all this mess. Do you mind if we come in?”

“Please do “ I forced a small smile. “Coffee?”

We went into the kitchen. I took cups from a cabinet, poured coffee, and then stood at the end of the island, waiting for an explanation. It clearly wasn’t going to be forthcoming from Sebastian, who was hunched over his cup, his eyes downcast, his lower lip wet with saliva. Nick poured milk into his coffee, stirred it carefully, and finally looked at me with such anguish that I wanted to squeeze his shoulder and mumble vague yet reassuring sentiments. Unless, of course, he was about to confess to something that would force me to threaten him with a damp sponge and a dish towel.

“The police were at the shop when we got there this morning,” he said. “I’d seen the newspaper, so I figured that’s what they wanted to ask about. Which they did, at length. Sebastian and I could not help them. After we got here, we went out to the pool. I tested the water and adjusted the chemicals. Sebastian cleaned the traps and the filters. We vacuumed, skimmed, and then put everything back in the shed. It took us maybe two hours. If there was trouble inside the house, we didn’t see or hear any of it. When we got finished, we went around the side of the house and headed for the next job a couple of blocks from here.”

“Did the police ask you about the blond girl who was on the patio when you stopped by to introduce yourself?” I said.

Nick shrugged. “Yeah, but there wasn’t much to tell them. A little while after we got here, no more than ten or fifteen minutes, she came out of the house and left through the gate in the back wall. We didn’t see her after that.”

At least Madison had left of her own accord, I thought. “What was she wearing?”

“Jeez, I wasn’t paying much attention. That’s not to say I did not notice she was a fine-looking broad, what with her tanned legs and big”—his ears turned the shade of one of the carnations on the dining room table—”sunglasses. Real pricy sunglasses like the movie stars wear. White shorts and a skimpy halter. Sandals. No purse or canvas bag.”

If he’d been paying any more attention, he could have reported the number of freckles on her arms. I looked at Se bastian, who had not so much as twitched since he sat down. “Anything to add to that?” I asked him sweetly.

Nick intervened. “He’s kinda shy, Ms. Malloy. Anyway, that’s all we could tell the police. It’d be a damn shame if something bad happened to a pretty girl like her. I just didn’t want you to think we had anything to do with it. Before he left, Manny gave me a long lecture about minding my own business and staying focused on the job. He’s real proud of his reputation. He says the most important thing these days is customer satisfaction and referrals, and you won’t get those if you bring a portable radio and start goofing off. He fired his own nephew when he found out the boy was smoking weed in the van between jobs.”

“He was real pissed,” Sebastian said hoarsely. He seemed startled by the sound of his own voice, and quickly resumed staring at the coffee cup.

“I’m sure you did a professional job, Nick,” I said, “and you, too, Sebastian. The pool looks lovely.” I paused to replay the scene he’d described. “Did Madison say anything to you?”

“No, she acted like she did not even notice us. That kind never does. When I was in school, I used to deliver pizzas. You wouldn’t believe how many girls would come to the door wearing nothing but a T-shirt or underwear. Why bother to make yourself decent for the pizza guy? After all, he’s nobody.”

I was not in the mood to discuss social and economic inequalities. I could have given him Cal’s telephone number so that they could hash it out together, but instead moved toward the hallway. “It was thoughtful of you to come by, Nick. The police must have been satisfied with your story, so you shouldn’t have to waste any more time. I’m sure you have a busy schedule for the day, and I don’t want to keep you from all those dirty pools.”

“Tell you what,” he said as he nudged Sebastian into motion, “when we come next week, I will give you a discount, say, twenty percent off.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I realize that, Ms. Malloy, but I don’t want to lose your business on account of you thinking Sebastian and me might be killers and kidnappers. I know twenty percent is not much, but I’ll have to answer to Manny when he gets back.”

“And Miss Groggin,” said Sebastian.

Nick shoved him out to the porch. “Miss Groggin is the bookkeeper. She’s worked for Manny for twenty years, and acts like it’s her own business. She could stand a helluva lot more sugar in her lemonade, if you know what I mean.”

I wished them a pleasant day and closed the door. Two of my three visitors had been remarkably garrulous, the third perilously close to mute. I could only hope that when Caron and Inez appeared for breakfast, both would be sullen. My photograph on the front page would not help the situation.

I’d returned to my coffee and the newspaper, and was preparing to tackle the crossword puzzle when the doorbell rang. Muttering an expletive, I once again opened the front door. Three unsmiling women of indeterminate age stood on the porch, armed with mops, buckets, cleaning supplies, and brooms. They were dressed in identical industrial-style aprons, hairnets, and thick-soled canvas shoes.

“Squeaky Clean,” said the spokeswoman as they marched inside. She gave me a piercing look. “Is Mrs. Goforth here?”

“No,” I said, not bothering to explain. “She told me to expect you.”

“We are seven minutes late, but it could not be helped. I shall see that it does not happen in the future. If you do not mind, we’ll get started. We do the downstairs first, then the second floor. We do not vacuum or clean bathrooms unless the floors are clear. Personal items must be stowed away. We will replace towels and linens only if the dirty ones are left in the hall outside the appropriate doors. Do you have any questions?”

Any questions I might have had were of a frivolous nature and would not be well received. I shook my head, then hurried upstairs to warn the girls. Sara Louise was emerging from the bathroom, clad in a robe and with her hair hidden under a terry-cloth turban.

“Did you hear something about Madison?” she asked.

“Not yet.” I followed her into her bedroom and told her about the imminent invasion of the fearsome Squeaky Clean trio. “If you want them to clean in here, I’ll help you strip the bed and pick up your things. You’ll have to stay out of their way. Do you feel up to sitting by the pool?”

“You’re being awfully kind,” she said. “You didn’t have to invite us in and let us stay here, you know. Most people wouldn’t have bothered to do anything more than call a cab. Now we’ve caused all this trouble and you have every right to tell us to leave. If Madison and I hadn’t both maxed out all our cards, it wouldn’t be such a problem.”

“How are you planning to pay the garage?”

She pulled off the towel and began to dry her hair. “I’ll think of something when the time comes. It’s not like we’re paupers or anything. When my father gets back, he’s going to set me up as a vice president in his firm. I’ve already made arrangements to have my office redecorated.” She dropped the towel on the floor and put on a pair of shorts and a blouse. “But in answer to your question, I would like to go downstairs. This room is very tasteful, but it’s hardly spacious and I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic. I need to eat something, if only toast and tea. The pain’s not nearly as bad as it was yesterday, so perhaps I can get by without any more of the medication.” She began to walk unsteadily toward the top of the stairs. “Madison’s room is likely to be an absolute catastrophe,” she added over her shoulder as she disappeared.

I stuffed her clothes into her backpack and tossed it in a closet, stripped the bed, and piled the sheets in the hall. I did the same in Madison’s room, then went to the bathroom and swept all the cosmetics into a drawer. The two had used enough towels to mop up after a major hurricane. After dumping a second armload in the hall, I went to the master suite and knocked on the door.

I waited for a moment, then went inside. Neither lump on the bed acknowledged me. “The cleaning service is here,” I announced as I began to gather up their clothes. “You need to get up and vacate the room if you want clean sheets and towels. And don’t forget that Peter’s sending a patrol car to pick you up at eleven.”

“For a press conference on the courthouse steps?” said a very unfriendly voice from under the covers. “Did Diane Sawyer call yet?”

I dumped their clothes on a chair. “I am not responsible for what happened last night. Somehow or other, the media got wind of the story and showed up outside the front door. As much as you would like to see your faces on the front page”—I stopped and warned myself to choose my words carefully, since the newspaper was still on the island in the kitchen—”I hope you understand why it’s important that you downplay your involvement. Even if you claim not to know anything, someone may decide that you might recall some significant detail and tell the police.”

“We already told you everything,” said Inez. “We’re not going to make up stuff”

Caron sat up. “What kind of cleaning service makes you clean up before they clean up? Isn’t that like going to a restaurant and being told to cook your own food? I mean, what’s the point?”

“You’re welcome to discuss it with them. In the meantime, I suggest you shower and get dressed. Stash all your makeup and hair paraphernalia in a drawer, and leave the sheets and towels outside your bedroom door when you come downstairs. You don’t want to embarrass yourselves in front of Diane, do you?”

“You are so Not Funny,” Caron muttered.

I had to agree with her. I breezed through my own bedroom and bathroom, which were pristine in comparison, then went to see if Sara Louise had been able to coax a cup of tea from Squeaky Clean. She was standing in the doorway to the dining room.

“Nice flowers, if you like overstatements,” she said. “Are they from that police lieutenant?”

“Possibly. Why don’t you go sit by the pool while I fix you something to eat? Would you like something more substantial than toast?”

“Toast is fine, and if it’s not too much trouble, maybe some fresh fruit. I’m especially fond of melon if it’s ripe. And coffee with cream rather than tea. Tea can be so vapid. When I lived in London, I was invited by the son of an earl to have tea at a fancy hotel. We opted for gin and tonics, and I ended up spending weekends at his country house. He was adorable and filthy rich, but too dim to notice that his parents despised me. I thought my mother would die when I told her I’d declined to become Lady Sara Louise Pompousass.”

“Tragic.” I heard vacuum cleaners approaching. “Go outside and sit down. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

As I went into the kitchen, I made a mental note to pick up a can of fruit cocktail if and when I left the house. A generic brand if I could find it. I started a fresh pot of coffee, then dutifully cut up a melon, made toast, and arranged a rather artful tray. I did not, however, fold a napkin into a swan or raid the flower arrangement for a rose to poke in a bud vase. The newspaper went into the trash.

Once the coffee was ready, I filled a cup and took the tray out to the patio, where Sara Louise was reclining on a lounge chair. She assured me that I was too kind, then dismissed me with a vague smile and resumed leafing through a magazine. Reminding myself that she’d teethed on hapless nannies, I stalked inside and was considering where to hide from the omnipresence of Squeaky Clean when the phone rang.

I answered it with a guarded “Hello?”

“This is Sonata Wells from the
Waverly Gazette.
I’d like to speak to—”

“No comment,” I said, then hung up.

The phone rang again. This time I snatched up the receiver, repeated my previous response, and hung up. I glowered at the offending instrument, daring it to try once more, then picked up the accumulated mail in case I’d failed to notice an out-of-state return address from someplace like Texas.

The phone rang yet again. At that moment, I would have preferred to toss it in the pool or put it down the garbage disposal, but instead picked up the receiver. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not—”

“Claire,” Peter interrupted, “don’t hang up. I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling a bit foolish.

“When the patrol car comes to pick up Caron and Inez, please come with them. I have some questions to ask you about Dolly.”

“Have you located her? Does she know anything about the body in the freezer?”

“I’d rather discuss it in my office.”

“Whatever you say.” I paused, then added, “I’m not comfortable leaving Sara Louise here by herself, and she’s not well enough to come with the rest of us. I don’t suppose you’ve found Madison?”

“We’re doing what we can, but it’s not at the top of the list right now. I’m going to send up the crime scene team to do some further investigating. Sara Louise will have plenty of company for a couple of hours. If we’re not finished by then, one of the officers will stay with her. It won’t be hard to find a volunteer.”

“A couple of hours? I can tell you everything I know about Dolly in ten minutes or less.”

“I’ll see you at eleven.”

I was annoyed at his officiousness, but not appalled at the idea of getting out of the house for a while. My only refuge until Squeaky Clean left was the patio. When Caron and Inez joined Sara Louise, the ambience would be less than amicable. And once Peter finished with us, I would ply my indubitable charm and convince the officer who was escorting us to make a quick stop for carry-out carbs.

I was still standing in the hallway, debating whether to urge the girls to hurry up or allow them to take their chances with Squeaky Clean when the phone rang. I picked it up with some reluctance.

“Ms. Malloy!” whispered a voice. “Thank gawd you’re there!”