A Clean Kill

Fifty

As soon as she stepped inside the house, Eloise detected a peculiar musty odor The place had an old-house smell and something more complicated—a combination of dead-animal-in-the-walls and rotting-vegetation-in-the-greenhouse smell. It was creepy. The wallpaper was dark with age, and the Oriental runner badly worn, but there was no dust anywhere. She scanned the scene. Near the door an umbrella stand was crammed full of canes with ornate handles. Along one wall a coat and hat rack sported fashions from another era. From above came the dim glow of two Art Deco, gold-tinged glass tulips that barely illuminated the rows of sepia photos adorning the wall of the narrow staircase leading upstairs.

"That's the family," Leah said, pointing to photos of men in top hats and tails, and ladies wearing summer dresses and big hats. "They're famous."

"It smells like they died in here," Eloise remarked.

"That's the smell of old wood. I clean and clean, but I can't do anything about it." The girl stared at her as if she'd made an accusation.

Imagining Gothic horrors, Eloise quickly stepped aside so the girl could pass in front of her. "Please lead the way," she said gently. The house was unsettling, and the intense expression on the girl's face warned her that she had to go easy.

"You feel it, too, don't you? It's haunted," Leah said. "Woo, woo." She wiggled her fingers.

"No kidding," Eloise murmured uneasily.

"Just kidding. Gotcha, didn't I?"

Eloise laughed. The girl was a little weird, but not very big. She wasn't afraid of her. "What's the layout of the house?" she said.

"The living room, dining room, and powder room are on this floor. The kitchen and pantry are downstairs. Two bedrooms share a bathroom upstairs, and the maids' rooms are on the fourth floor. I live up there. The ghosts are in the basement. Do you want to see them?" she teased.

"Maybe later. Is there anyone else in the house?"

"You already asked me that. We're all alone."

"How about animals? It smells like you have animals."

"We had a cat for a while, but it's gone now." Leah opened big double doors to the living room and went in.

Eloise slowly followed her into a room crowded with furniture. Heavy sideboards of mahogany lined the walls. Small marble-topped tables and ornate chairs made an obstacle course of the room. It was hard to imagine people gathering and relaxing in such a place. She threaded her way through the maze to the window facing Fiftieth and looked out. From there she had a clear view of the Perkins house across the street. Anybody arriving or leaving there could be seen, and it would be easy to determine when AHson would be alone. She began to feel some trepidation and was glad Barry was on the way.

Ahead of her, Leah pulled open the heavy sliding doors that separated the living room from the dining room, and Eloise was distracted from getting her phone out to call her boss with her location. In the dining room, the furniture was heavily carved, as dark as stain could make it, and too big for the space. Another bay window opened on a back garden that was a tangle of overgrown bushes, weeds, and unpruned trees. Everywhere the surfaces were loaded with stuff—commemoration cups, souvenirs from trips abroad. Beer steins, Dresden, and porcelain—people, animals, parrots. Silver boxes, tortoiseshell boxes, enamel pillboxes. Plates. Objects were stacked everywhere and completely dust free.

"Where did all this stuff come from?"

"Gifts from clients. Things they collected."

Eloise pointed at the sparkly bracelets on her wrist. "What about those?"

"Jo Ellen's favorites." She held them up for display.

Eloise thought about Alison's missing bracelet and started chewing her lipstick off. "Are they real?" she asked.

"Of course they're real. Don't worry, she lets me wear them."

"Where did she get them?"

Leah shrugged, and Eloise thought of Alison's husband.

"How well did you know Mrs. Perkins?" she asked suddenly.

"The lady across the street?" Leah fingered the bracelet.

"You know who 1 mean."

"I knew her."

"What about Lynn?" Eloise's eyes kept moving around, looking at the boxes and cups. The place was like an antiques warehouse.

"She's my best friend," she said warmly.

Eloise focused on her. "Good, then you can help me with what happened yesterday. Did you see Lynn in the morning?"

Leah put her lips together and shook her head.

"Okay," Eloise turned away and ran her finger over a surface, looked at it, then nodded. "Very good. What is your routine here?" she said casually.

Leah stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"Do you make breakfast for Miss Anderson?"

"No, not really." She stared out of disconcerting blue eyes, one hip cocked against the table.

"What happens then?" Leah shrugged. "She leaves for work."

"What time would that be?"

"Nine, ten, eleven. Depends on her treatment."

"What treatment?" Eloise lifted an eyebrow.

Leah frowned and moved a few paces away. "I'm not supposed to tell."

"Oh, come on. You can tell me," Eloise said.

Leah shook her head again. "No way. Why all the questions?"

Just curious. Did Miss Anderson have a treatment yesterday?" Eloise picked up a porcelain parrot, all green, studied it for a second, then put it back.

"No, she's finished for now." Leah copied what Eloise had done a moment before. She ran a finger across the highly polished table and showed it to the detective. "See, I'm a good cleaner. I'm the best. That's why Joey has me here at her house. I can do the job." She made a face. "I have to clean up for Lynn though. She's not the best."

Eloise glanced at her watch. Where was everybody? Surely, someone should be calling her by now. "You have to clean up for Lynn?" she said slowly.

"She's lazy. I'm not." The girl laughed.

"You clean across the street?" Eloise asked.

"Oh, sure, but I don't babysit. I'm not supposed to do that."

"Why not? You look like you'd be a very good babysitter."

"You have to go now." Leah went out of the dining room, then down the back stairs, leading the way to the front door.

Eloise hesitated even as her adrenaline kicked in and her training directed her to move. The girl was out of her sight, and she now had put together enough of the pieces to know she'd made a number of tactical errors. She'd heard of the girl from the interviews, but didn't know she lived here. No one had mentioned that, not Alison, not Lynn. And Leah had worked in the Perkins house. That meant she had access, maybe even her own key. They had assumed it was the old lady. Now her heart slammed away in her chest telling her to get the hell out of the house and call for backup. She reached for her phone and realized that it was off. Berating herself for a dozen stupidities, she started down the stairs.