Free The Cluttered Corpse by Mary Jane Maffini Page A

here?”
    â€œThe shower’s been postponed. I wanted to let you know. You’d said you might come by.”
    Her lip curled perceptibly. “Postponed?”
    â€œSally’s kids are sick.”
    â€œThe kids are sick? Is it serious?”
    â€œA tummy bug, I think. But she needs to be with them. Anyway, she wouldn’t feel much like partying when the little guys are hurling. And she said it might be contagious.”
    Pepper made a face. Unconvinced.
    â€œWe’re disappointed too. We’ll reschedule,” I said. “Do you want us to let you know when?”
    â€œWhatever.”
    â€œI’ll call you and you can see if it, um, fits your schedule.”
    Her eyes narrowed, more dangerously this time. “How did you know where I lived?”
    â€œSomeone told me you bought a house near here. I was worried you’d drive out to Sal’s. Anyway, I recognized your car in the driveway.” Close enough to the truth. “While I’m here, I wondered if you followed up on those two guys next door to Emmy Lou Rheinbeck.”
    She frowned. “Of course I did. There’s nothing in the system about either one of them. Not as adults anyway. Not so much as a traffic ticket. Nada.”
    â€œI guess that’s good news.”
    â€œCould be they haven’t crossed the line yet.”
    â€œThanks for checking. And caring about it.” For a fleeting moment I catapulted back in time, back to when Pepper was my best friend and there was nothing we wouldn’t have done for each other.
    I swallowed. After a silence that was beyond awkward, I turned to go.
    â€œCharlotte?”
    I turned back. “Yes?”
    â€œLet me know if anything more happens there.”
    â€œThanks. I hope I’m not wasting your time. Today my client insists it was a joke. Says she’s not worried.”
    â€œI’ll see that there are a few more patrols on the street.”
    I nodded. “I appreciate this, Pepper. Thank you for taking it seriously.”
    She nodded. Mrs. Tough Guy.
    â€œI’ll call you when the coast is clear for Sally’s. Look forward to seeing you there.”
    â€œYeah. I’d like that.” A half smile formed.
    From the back of the house, I heard a rumbled question. “Who’s there, sugar?”
    You can always count on Nick the Stick to ruin a beautiful moment.
    The half smile vanished.
    â€œNobody,” Pepper said as she shut the door in my face.

Recycle, donate, sell. Three words to live by.
6
    Oh terrific. So now a nothing Saturday night was about to follow my dreary Friday. Was this what being single and thirty was all about? Where was the fun, the glamour, the nights to remember? I was determined not to crap out on this night too.
    I called Jack to say the sort of shower was canceled. And to suggest that we eat out somewhere fun. Before I could make the suggestion, he said, “Sorry to hear about the rug rats being sick, but I just got a call from WAG’D. They need someone to drive a Great Dane to a foster home in Poughkeepsie. I’m the only one available.”
    I knew that nothing came between Jack and his canine-rescue volunteer stuff. Welcome All Great Dogs, better known as WAG’D, could always count on him. I also knew there’d be no room in Jack’s ancient mud-colored Mini Minor for me plus the Great Dane.
    Never mind.
    I called Margaret’s office to suggest that, on sober second thought, it wasn’t such a terrific idea for her to work. I suggested dinner at Wet Paint. I’d wanted to go there since it opened. Supposed to be a very hot atmosphere with cool jazz, intriguing art on the walls, and sometimes a chance to meet the musician or the artist.
    I left that as a message. That’s the thing about Saturday night. If your plans fall through and you don’t have a plan B, it’s a night of voice mail hell for you.
    Perhaps Margaret had been captured by the folks and