Organized to Death (2 page)

Nicky drove up as Tina and Rachel were getting into the back seat of the police car. Detective Dotson moved her large purse off the front passenger seat to sit down. Tina imagined a sandwich, wallet, makeup, pain killers, mints, reading material, tissues, feminine “products,” and lots of other stuff in there. Tina asked herself a question she’d asked more and more lately.
Do we own our stuff, or does it own us?

“Wait!” Nicky shouted. “What’s going on? Where are you taking my wife?”

“Which one’s your wife?” John turned from opening the driver’s-side door and placed his hand on his holstered gun.

“Rachel.” Nicky pointed at her.

“We’re taking both of these ladies in for questioning. You can follow and wait, if you want. Can’t go in your house.”

Nicky ran his hand through his thin blond hair and frowned. “What happened? Tina called and said Crystal had been shot?”

“Yes, sir. So the house is a crime scene for now.” John climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition and the heat. Tina began to shiver when the blast of air hit her and then she shook. Her teeth rattled and she wanted to cry. The shock was working its way through her body. She hoped she wouldn’t fall apart until she was safely at home in her own bedroom.

Nicky’s stricken face haunted her as they drove away.
He must feel so helpless
, she thought.
So do I
.

When they arrived at the station, Tina and Rachel were checked for gunshot residue and their fingerprints taken. They were stashed in different rooms, and Tina waited a long, long time before the officers came to talk to her. She guessed they were talking to Rachel first. The mirror on the wall and the metal table and chairs, bolted to the floor, were straight out of Hollywood. No windows. Nothing decorative to take her mind off everything. Hunger and thirst gnawed at her, and she needed the bathroom. Worst of all was the knowledge that she was a suspect.

Finally, they came in. John stood in the doorway rubbing his large, wide nose while Detective Dotson asked, “Can we get you some coffee?”

“Yes. And I need the ladies’ room.”

“Oh, of course.”

Tina followed her to the rest room. Lisbeth went inside and studied herself in the mirror while Tina entered a stall. When she was finished, Tina checked the mirror while washing her hands. She really didn’t look much different from when she’d arrived at Rachel’s that morning. Maybe her hazel eyes were a bit wider, her mouth a bit more downturned.

When they were settled back in the room, coffee for all three of them, John set up a tape recorder, stated the date and time and who was there. Lisbeth said, “This is just an interview. You are not a suspect.” The
yet
was implied. Tina swallowed hard.

“What time did you arrive at Ms. Palmer’s house?” Lisbeth asked.

“I was there twice today,” Tina said.

“Okay, tell us about the first time. Might as well start at the beginning.” Lisbeth smiled faintly.

Tina frowned and tried to gather her thoughts. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to put Rachel in a bad light. Or any worse than she probably already was because of the shape her house was in.

“I arrived around nine. Crystal called me several days ago and asked me to help her sister organize her house. Said Rachel had agreed. We’ve all known each other since grammar school. Crystal and I graduated together. Rachel was a year behind us.”

John was taking notes. Lisbeth took a sip of coffee. “Go on.”

“This was my first job as a professional organizer, and—”

“What did you do before?”

“I was a clinical psychologist.”

Both officers sat in complete silence for a few moments, staring at her. She knew they were wondering why she’d given that up. None of their business.

“I imagine you were shocked when Rachel opened the door,” Lisbeth finally said.

“Yes, a bit. Crystal didn’t really describe the clutter to me, and I had no idea it was that bad. She probably figured if I knew, I wouldn’t take the job.”

“Probably,” Lisbeth said.

“I could see the living room and dining room as I entered. We went down the hall to the kitchen, then to the master bedroom. Half of which was neat, the other half not. Rachel explained that Nicky was the neat one.”

“Pretty daunting,” Lisbeth said.

“Yes. Rach even asked me if I wanted to back out. Of course I told her I’d help. I went outside to get some boxes and supplies and met Crystal coming down the walk from her house next door.”

“So she was alive this morning.”

“Oh, yes. Very much so. Determined to help me and Rachel clean up that, as she put it, godawful mess. Then Mrs. Morris, their mother, showed up. She was going to help, too.”

“How did you handle that?” Lisbeth asked.

“I tried to persuade them to leave, but they wouldn’t. We all went inside, and Rachel protested, but it didn’t do any good.”

Tina stopped talking and took a sip of coffee. It was cold and she made a face, pushed it aside. She looked away from the two officers, remembering.

“I began by telling Rachel the best way to clean up clutter using boxes and a trash bag. I went slow, easing her into the idea, telling her that she only had to get rid of what she didn’t need or really love. I told her she could put things she wasn’t sure about in a box to look at later. The idea was to get rid of what she knew she didn’t need or want, and to only keep, well, as I said, what she needed and loved.”

John stirred in his seat and shrugged his shoulders several times as if to loosen them.

Lisbeth didn’t even glance at him. “Then what happened?”

“The other two got impatient. They began telling Rachel to just get on with it, it wasn’t hard, and she needed to toss most of it because it was junk. You can imagine how that made her feel.”

“Tell us,” Lisbeth said.

Tina hesitated. “She asked us to leave.”

“Asked or demanded?”

“More demanded, but she seemed more depressed than angry.”

“Then what happened?”

“We left. But I saw Crystal later at the Ocean’s Coffee Roasters—I’m sure you’ve been there? On Memorial Boulevard?”

Lisbeth smiled, but John just stared at her.
What a pill
.
He should take one and chill
.

“I was having a Bravo Blend when Crystal and her husband, Charles, walked in.”

“What did she say?”

“She actually said I’d been right, that she and her mother shouldn’t have interfered. Both Charles and I were pretty amazed.”

“Charles is the real estate attorney with offices on Broadway?” Lisbeth asked.

“Yes. We hoped Rachel would call me back. A while later she did, and I returned to help her. We worked in the bedroom for almost two hours, then we needed to find a place to put the boxes out of the way. The ones for charity would go directly into her trunk, but the ones to keep and to store needed to be somewhere in the house or garage. Rachel suggested the nursery, although she didn’t tell me the room was a nursery. Even the garage, attic, and cellar are crammed full, she said. She showed me the other rooms, then we went to the one… to the nursery.”

“What did Mrs. Palmer do when she saw her sister?” Lisbeth asked.

Tina rubbed the worry stone in her blazer pocket, hard. “She screamed and ran to her, knelt down. I rushed over and knelt beside her. Tried to find a pulse. I told Rach Crystal was gone, and she fell onto her, sobbing. She didn’t begin to collect herself until the paramedics left and the two officers came and searched the house. I imagine that took her mind off it for a few minutes, but she pretty much lost it.”

“You believe her grief was genuine?”

“Oh, yes. They were close—only a little more than a year apart. Crystal was critical, but she loved Rach, and Rach loved Crystal. They even bought houses next door to each other after Rach married Nicky.”

“What did you touch in the house?”

Distracted, Tina hesitated. Tried to remember. “I don’t think I can remember everything. I came in the front door, walked around. I don’t think I touched anything until we got to the master bedroom. Even there, I wouldn’t have touched much.”

“What about in the nursery?”

“I checked Crystal’s pulse—both wrist and neck. Do fingerprints show up on skin?”

“Sometimes.”

Tina shuddered. “I almost closed the patio door, stopped myself. I used the phone to call nine one one. I can’t remember anything else.”

“Okay. We need a bit more background on you. You live in Newport? How long have you lived here?”

“I’ve been back about five months.” Tina gave her address. “I grew up here, went away to college, then set up my psychologist’s practice in Virginia. Five months ago, I left Virginia and my practice and returned home. That’s my mother’s address I gave you.”

“Why did you give up your practice?”

“I don’t wish to talk about that,” Tina said stiffly. She let go of the worry stone and took her hand out of her pocket, clasping her hands together on the table. Forced herself to relax. Deep breaths.

Lisbeth glanced away, then looked back. “All right. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“No. I’ve been away a long time.”

“Okay.” Lisbeth stood up. John put his notebook in his pocket and turned off the tape recorder.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Lisbeth said and held out her hand.

Tina stood and shook it. Even shook John’s on the way out.

“John will drive you to your car. If you leave the island, please let us know where to reach you in case we have more questions.”

“All right,” Tina said, happy to get away. Delighted to get away.

She didn’t see Rachel or Nicky on the way out. “Where did the Palmers go?” she asked John.

“They said something about going to Mrs. Palmer’s mother’s house. Will probably stay there until they can go back to their own home.”

“How long with that take?”

“Awhile. A lot to search.”

“You’re going to open all those boxes?” Tina stopped walking and stood in the gray-walled hallway, staring up at John.

“Murder investigation. Yes, we’ll open them all.”

“You’ll put everything back?” Tina asked, her voice faint.

“Won’t have time for that,” John said and started walking toward the door again.

Tina followed slowly. Rachel would need her more than ever. But was Tina herself up to the task of cleaning all that away ? She guessed she’d find out. They rode to the Palmer’s house in silence.

John pulled up in front, behind Tina’s new yellow VW with moon roof. Except for the crime scene tape and a few extra cars on the street, everything looked the same as it had when Tina had driven up the two other times that day.

She thanked John for the ride and climbed into her own car, shivering again. Even for late fall, it seemed colder than usual. Maybe that was because she’d been in Virginia so long. She put the heat on blast, turned on the seat warmer, and drove the few blocks back to her house. The house she grew up in. The home she’d come back to. Maybe that had been a mistake.

When Tina arrived home, she found Uncle Bob in the kitchen, making cookies. She hid her grimace behind a cheery hello. Uncle Bob was the world’s second worst cook. His niece, Tina’s mother, was the worst. The cookies would either be hard as a rock or dry as dust and crumble to bits in their hands.

Princess looked up at Tina and wagged her tail from where she sprawled in front of the refrigerator. Since Uncle Bob was home alone, Tina knew the retriever was working, so Tina ignored her. Princess worked at hearing for Uncle Bob what he couldn’t. Without his hearing aids, he heard very little, and with them, he had trouble understanding speech, although he heard some environmental sounds and was an excellent lip reader.

“You’re home, Kumquat” he said, grabbing his aids from the top of the refrigerator and putting them in his ears—he said it gave new definition to the saying “Stick it in your ear.”

Uncle Bob was short, balding, trim, and even-featured. Quite pleasant to look at. His hazel eyes regarded Tina with affection, and she realized she’d been holding back her emotions when she looked at him and began to melt.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” He took her arm, settling her into a chair.

“We found Crystal, shot, in the nursery.” A feeling of disbelief washed over her.

“Huh? What nursery? I thought you were at Rachel’s house.”

“Yes. She has a nursery.”

Uncle Bob sat down. “Oh, that kind of nursery. I thought you meant the garden type. Is she expecting?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hmm. Is Crystal all right?”

“What? Oh, no, Uncle Bob, she’s dead.” Saying the words, it didn’t seem so unreal anymore. Tina began to cry.

“What?”

“Dead. D-E-A-D,” she managed to get out.

He shook his head. “I heard you.” His voice was impatient, something he rarely was with her. Usually he wasn’t sensitive about his hearing loss. He could understand pretty well with the two hearing aids in place when they sat at the kitchen table quietly. But it became hard when the topic was important or Tina was excited and didn’t speak clearly enough.

Her mother came down the back stairs and into the kitchen, looking shocked. “I just heard on the radio that Crystal has been murdered! You were right next door at Rachel’s about the time it happened. I told you this job wasn’t a good idea.”

Tina groaned inwardly and wiped away her tears, which her mother ignored. “Not quite next door. Rach and I found her in a bedroom in Rach’s house.”

“What? Omigod.” Laura fell into a chair and put her head in her hands.

“Don’t you dare say you told me so,” Tina said. “I know you’re happy my first job is over before it really began.”

Her mother looked up. “How can you say such a thing? Start from the beginning, slowly, please, and tell us what happened.”

Rubbing the worry stone in her pocket, Tina began. “When I got to Rachel’s, I admit, I was a bit intimidated and appalled. Boxes were stacked everywhere, and what most of us would call junk was on top of the boxes and on tables, chairs, in cabinets, on the floor, and anywhere there might have been a bit of space. The whole house smelled of damp cardboard and staleness. Not that the boxes were wet, but the humidity here in Newport must have made that smell. They only have one window air-conditioner in the bedroom.”