At the Maxims’ Place
When I went to walk Toby, he greeted me at the door and so did Mrs. Maxim. She was tall, blond, leggy and only a year or two older than I. “Hi, it’s great to meet you,” she said, her voice full of bubbles. “My little Toby-Woby has told me all about you, haven't you, boy? Yes you have.” She reached down and mushed Toby’s face while she talked. He appeared to love it.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Maxim.”
She giggled. “Call me Pammy. Everyone else does.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Pammy.”
“Are you OK?” she asked, pointing to the bruise on my face.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I fell down is all.” She shrugged, then turned and walked toward the kitchen. I followed. The bottom of her butt cheeks crested her shorts with each step.
“Do you miss Charlene?”
“Miss her?” I questioned her butt cheeks. She twirled around, her hair flaring out in a perfect, highlighted arch.
“I thought you two were good friends.” She seemed surprised that I didn’t know that.
“I’m sorry but that’s just not true. I only met her right before I took over the route.”
She pouted her pink, gloss-covered lips. “But the E-mail that Charlene sent me said that a good friend of hers was taking over the route. I’ll have to talk to her about this.”
“Good luck. She’s kinda missing.”
“Oh. I know.” Her eyes lit up. “You know, I knew Tate and Joseph. It’s very sad.” She pretended to be sad.
“What does Charlene have to do with Tate Hausman?”
“Oh, just from around. You know how it is.”
“Not really, how is it?” She opened up the fridge and stuck her head in.
“From the neighborhood. You know.” Her voice came from behind the giant stainless-steel door of her Sub-Zero. “You know, his maid found him.” She brought her head out and popped a baby carrot into her mouth. “We have the same maid.” She crunched the carrot between her straight white teeth.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes, but she won’t talk to me about it.” She pouted again. I could see the lines around her mouth where the wrinkles would form.
“How did you know Tate and Joseph?” She laughed and hopped up onto the kitchen counter, letting her long, bare legs swing back and forth.
“Tate I’ve known for years; Joseph, too. They were friends, you know.”
“Really?”
“Sure, they went way back. Like, forever back.”
“So they were close?"
Pammy hopped off the counter and moved back to the fridge. “I don’t know. I think they saw each other every once in a while. And, of course, Joseph was Tate’s CPA.” Pammy stopped to think. She turned toward me. “Now that I think about it, I’d seen them out together more in the last couple of months. Really since Joseph lost his job.” She shrugged and got herself another carrot and one for Toby, too. “You know who else Tate was friends with?” I shook my head. Pammy smiled and raised her eyebrows, “The mayor.”
“Oh, yeah. I think I heard about that on the news.”
Pammy lowered her eyebrows. “They met in law school.”
“Yeah, it mentioned that.”
“They used to scuba together,” she tried.
“Are you friends with the mayor?” I asked
“No, but my husband, Bobby, knows him.” I gave her the look of surprise she’d been searching for, and she smiled. “I’ve met him a couple times.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, he’s nice.” Pammy pulled her hair back into a ponytail and then let it go. Her hair fell back around her shoulders. “You’re pretty,” she said.
“Thanks.” Pammy stepped closer to me and pushed a strand of hair out of my face.
“Very pretty.”
“Thanks.” I took a step back and lowered my eyes.
“How was it finding the body?” She leaned against the fridge. Her pale blue eyes examined me. I decided she probably wasn’t as dumb as she looked.
“Bad.”
“I just can’t believe my little Toby was involved in that.” She reached down and smushed his face against her, then gave him a carrot. Toby crunched it loudly. “Do you think the police will give us back our leash?”
“I don't know.” I said.
“Do you like to go out?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Party, you know.”
I shrugged. “Well, I guess I better take Toby for his walk.”
Pammy pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer and wrote a number on it. “This is my cell—if you want to talk about finding the body or anything. You know, go out and take your mind off things. I’m here for you.”
“Wow. That’s really nice,” I lied. She smiled.
Questions, Declan, and Chinese Food
When I got home, I left a message asking Julen to call me, ordered a General Tso's from my local Chinese place, and settled myself in front of the TV with Blue by my side. But I couldn’t sit still. I wanted to talk to the maid who had found Tate Hausman’s body. I wanted to know why Mulberry was telling me to back off if it was a suicide.
The phone rang me out of my head. It was Declan. “Hi,” I said a little too enthusiastically.
“Hi. How are you?”
“Eh, same old, same old. What about you?” I muted the TV and lay back on my couch.
“I’m doing alright.” He had a sexy phone voice. I like a sexy phone voice.
“I met Mrs. Maxim today.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“You ever met her?”
“I almost arrested her once.”
“What?” I sat straight up.
“Drunk and disorderly.”
I laughed. “When?”
“Before she was Mrs. Maxim, when she was still Pamela,” he paused.
“What?”
“Mistress Pamela.”
“Excuse me?”
“She was a dominatrix.”
“You’re kidding!” I had an image of Pammy with her long hair pulled back into a bun, bright red finger nails, narrowed eyes, and a whip.
“Dead serious.”
“What does this Mr. Maxim do that he is having run-ins with dominatrices?”
“He owns Fortress Global Investigations.”
I laughed. “You know that sounds like an evil organization with an underground fortress where the guy pets white cats.”
Doyle laughed. “It’s not nearly that interesting. They do due diligence and provide security for corporations. Robert is an old family friend. He is not evil, nor does he have a cat.”
“Ok, well the cat-petting evil mastermind sounds more likely to have a dominatrix wife than this upstanding businessman you’re describing. How did they meet?”
“At the Biltmore Club.”
“You’re telling me the Biltmore Club is an S&M thing?”
Declan laughed. “Do you want to find out?”
“How?”
“Come with me Saturday night.”
“You’re a member?”
“Born into it baby. The whole Doyle clan has been members since prohibition. If they wanted liquor, they had to let us in.” He laughed again.
“And it’s an S&M club? I thought it was like a stodgy, old person thing.”
“There is only one way to find out.”
“Wait, are you inviting me to tie you up?”
“Or maybe I’ll tie you up,” he said quietly.
My heart almost stopped beating. “What?” I whispered.
“Are you in?”
I smiled. “So you won’t tell me what I’m in for.”
He laughed. “Where would the fun be in that?”
“Ok, fine. I’m in.”
“Meet me at my place at seven.”
“What should I wear?”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“Really?”
“Till then, then.”
“Till then.”
Poison
Jacquelyn Saperstein was released on bail in a flourish of camera flashes. Her lawyer made a statement on the courthouse steps proclaiming her innocence and bashing the police for not releasing her sooner. A picture of Jacquelyn with a coat over her face climbing into a limo filled the front page of the Post.
When I arrived at Mrs. Saperstein’s door that day, I heard muffled yelling. I knocked, but the yelling continued. I knocked louder. The yelling started moving in my direction. “…don’t. Just shut up. I…I just don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Oh, that’s rich. Rich I say.” The door flew open, and I was face to face with Jacquelyn Saperstein. She was flushed and breathing heavily. The lines on her face had deepened, and dark, menacing circles hung under her eyes. Mildred Point stood in the living room, arms tightly crossed against her chest. When she saw me, she made a horse-like sound meant to show disgust and walked purposefully out of the room.
“Hi,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, hello.” Jacquelyn motioned for me to come in. “Thank you for taking such good care of Snaffles for me,” she mumbled.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Snaffles.”
“Yes.” She looked a little confused.
“He seems a lot older. Like he’s sick or something.”
“Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“No.”
“He ate rat poison in the park.” I recalled signs on the fences surrounding the shrubbery in the park warning that rat poison had been set out in the area.
“Is he going to be OK?”
“The vet said he would never completely recover but that he wouldn’t die, either.”
“Good. I’m glad I know.”
“What? Did you think I had done something to him?” She laughed a high-pitched laugh.
“No, of course not!”
“Well, I would kill my own husband. Why not his dog? Right?” She laughed again, and I took a step back from her. She saw my reaction and stifled her cackles. Jacquelyn lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a hard week,” she told her bare, unpedicured toes.
“This must be very difficult for you.”
“Difficult doesn’t start to describe it.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“OK.” I wanted to ask her about her husband’s toupee but it suddenly seemed so inappropriate.
“Do you know that I am the one who found your husband’s body?” She became very pale quite suddenly. I walked her to the couch, and we sat down.
“Of course, they told me it was a dog-walker. But I didn’t think it was my dog-walker.”
“I thought they told you. Mulberry made me think that you knew who I was and that—” I paused trying to figure out how to tell her that the detective insinuated that she might come after me next.
“What?” She looked up at me.
“That you might try and kill me.”
“That man,” she said.
“Did you know Joseph’s toupee was found with his body?”
“I only knew it wasn’t here. What does that have to do with anything?”
“Did you see him leave that morning?”
“No, I wasn’t here.”
“When did you get back from Julen’s?”
“You know I was at Julen’s house?”
“He told me. Have you talked to him?”
“I’ve been avoiding his phone calls.” She started to finger the fringe on a couch pillow.
“He was fired because of your affair, you know?”
“I know.”
“He is your alibi.”
“A lot of good it’s doing me. I swear they’re after me. It’s a conspiracy.” She punched the pillow softly.
“I don’t know about conspiracies, but the last witness to see your husband alive says he was not wearing his toupee. But when I discovered his body, it was there.” It took a couple of seconds for this to register with her.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but somehow his toupee got from here to there. He only had the one wig?”
She nodded. “He got it last year. It was the beginning of the end.” Her eyes got a little misty.
“What do you mean the beginning of the end?” She sighed.
“He started losing his hair three years ago, but it didn’t bother him until last year. He wanted everyone to find him attractive. Especially younger women. At first I thought it was just a phase. Maybe he would buy a fancy car and then that would be it.” She laughed at her own ignorance. “But then he lost his job. That hit him really hard. And it wasn’t like he got fired. The company went under. He would have found something else.” She pulled at the roll of toilet paper and began to pick the quilted layers apart. “I think it took him a month of unemployment to start having an affair. He was so weak. I thought he was strong, you know? I thought the man I married was strong. But he wasn’t. He was weak. Weak like every other man. Why is that?” She looked up at me but didn’t wait for an answer. “What is it with men being so weak? They’re supposed to be the strong ones, but it’s the women, isn’t it? It’s the women that hold this godforsaken world together.”
I opened my mouth, but before I had a chance to speak, Mildred burst into the bathroom. “I would like to speak to my sister alone,” she told me through gritted teeth.
“I’ll just take Snaffles for his walk.” As I was closing the door behind me, I heard the yelling start again.
Manhattan Maid
As Toby demolished his lunch, the Maxims’ phone rang. I listened to the message being left on the machine. Manhattan Maids would be arriving at three that afternoon instead of two due to unavoidable delays. Two hours later, I was waiting with Toby for Manhattan Maids to arrive. A tall, slim black woman in her early twenties wearing a blue uniform and white apron opened the door at exactly three.
“Hello,” I said. She jumped and let out a little yelp.
“You scared me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m Joy, the dog-walker.” I held out my hand. She shook it and smiled.
“Karen, the maid.”
“We don’t usually run into each other.”
“Yeah, I’m running late today.”
“Oh yeah?” She walked back into the hall and brought in a carryall filled with cleaning products.
“Yeah, I had a meeting I couldn’t refuse.”
“Detective Mulberry.” She put down the cleaning products and looked at me with her head cocked. “I’ve been there,” I explained. “I found Joseph Saperstein’s body.”
“Right. Yeah. I think Mrs. Maxim, I mean Pammy—” She rolled her eyes, I smiled to let her know I thought Pammy as ridiculous as she did. “ —mentioned that. I guess she told you I found Tate Hausman.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.”
“Yeah.” She looked down at nothing for a moment. Then her eyes hardened against whatever imaged filled her mind. “He was an a*shole.”
“I met him once.” I told her. “He acted like an ass.”
“Come on to you in some foul way?”
“He told me he had a dog I could walk.”
“Aw. That’s disgusting.”
“You’re telling me.”
“He always told me about how much he liked chocolate.”
“Gross. I can’t believe women fall for that shit.”
“Some girls are clueless.” Karen pulled out a cloth and spray bottle and began to clean the glass coffee table. “That guy was a real sicko. You know how I found him?” My heart started pounding, and I shook my head. “He wasn’t just hanging, you know. He was beat up. There was blood everywhere.” She shivered at the memory.
“How does that make him sick?”
“That’s not everything.” She leaned toward me. “He was wearing a thing, like a bar that kept his ankles apart, like from pulp fiction or something—and he had a ball gag in his mouth.” She nodded at the shock on my face.
“Do you think he hanged himself?”
“I don't know.” She started cleaning the table again, working on the brass legs. I waited for her to continue. “He was badly beaten. I mean, his face was really swollen. I don’t think he did it to himself or asked to have it done.”
“Do you think he was beat up in his place or somewhere else?”
“His place. The house was trashed. It looked like there’d been a fight. But you never know.”
“Do you think he was into rough stuff?”
“I don’t know, but the way I found him—” she stared off into nothing. “I don’t know.” She started to clean the table again.
“Did you see a note?” She put down the cloth and spray bottle and pulled out a duster from her box of tools. She shook her head, then began to dust the lamps beside the couches. “So then, there’s no way it’s suicide.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t be the first person to not leave a note.”
“That’s true.”
“Besides, it could have been a mistake.”
“How do you mean?”
“If he was playing some sex game and hanged himself by accident.”
“I think I’ve heard about that. What’s it called?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think he was into that kind of stuff?”
“He always struck me as the kinda guy who would want to be in control. But, then again you can’t ever tell, like Ralphie on Sopranos.”
“What about him?”
“You know, he was all tough, but he liked to be—”She made a motion with her duster to signify penetration. “—in the butt while Tony’s sister told him she was gonna pimp him out.”
“Right.” I nodded, and Karen went back to dusting. “So, what do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t want to think about it anymore,” she said with her back to me.
“I understand.”
“Finding a body isn’t like on TV,” she said.
“No, it’s not.”