Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [81]
“Laney?” I said.
She stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron over her cutoffs and looking like June Cleaver with good hair. “You’re home early,” she said.
“Last client didn’t show. I thought you had meetings all day.”
“I canceled them. Did you know you have two vacuum cleaners?”
“Weren’t you supposed to meet with …” I searched my memory banks for the name she had given me but it was gone. “God or somebody?”
“My director. I told her the house was messy and I couldn’t make it.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Your upstairs carpet is blue.”
“You blew off your director to clean my—” I paused. “Blue?”
“Who knew, huh?”
“It’s always been brown.”
“I rented a steam cleaner.”
“Laney,” I said, shielding my eyes from the glare of the counter and dropping my purse onto a chair. “You didn’t have to clean all this.”
“I know, but the Department of Health can be so nasty if they get involved.”
I made a face.
She laughed. “My natural-health recipe box is missing.”
“Are you serious? The rosewood one that Foxy made for you?”
“Yup.”
“With the Green Goo recipe?”
“Yes.”
“And the Brain Brightener recipe?”
“Maybe they realized they’ve been killing themselves with their high-sucrose diet and decided to make a change.”
“A health-conscious burglar?”
She shrugged, letting that unlikely delusion shatter. “Or maybe they were hoping for electronics and settled for an etched wood box.”
“You think they wanted my computer?”
“Apparently not after they saw it,” she said. “Because it’s still here.”
“Well, at least we know the guy was value-conscious.” I plopped down in the nearest chair. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I’m so sorry we forgot to arm your security system.”
I shrugged. “I’m sorry about your recipes.”
“Really?”
“No,” I said, and suppressed a shudder at the memory of green potable slop. “But I’m sorry I’m not sorry.”
She sighed. “I think I remember most of the recipes. I’ll miss my jean jacket more.”
“They took your jacket, too?”
“It’s gone.”
“Maybe you forgot it somewhere.” She shook her head. “I shoved it into my bag on the way home from the flower shop the other night. It’s not there.”
“Weird,” I said.
Our gazes met. Hers was atypically solemn. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Mac.”
I shook my head. “There’s no reason to assume this has anything to do with you.”
“They only took two items,” she said. “They’re both mine.”
“You have better stuff than I do. Besides, we don’t know they didn’t take more. It could take weeks before we realize what’s missing.”
“Besides the bushel of dirt that had been ground into your carpet.”
“And the mushrooms that were growing beside the toilet. You didn’t get rid of those, did you?”
She smiled, but the expression was tight.
“You think this has something to do with the letters,” I said.
She shrugged. Her brows dipped toward her evergreen eyes. “How many crazies can be out there?”
“This is L.A. Even you can’t count that high.”
“I should move out.”
“You planning to bail on me when things get dicey?”
She caught my eye. “I’m serious.”
“I am, too. Do you have any idea how many houses are randomly burglarized in L.A. each year?”
“I can’t count that high?”
“That’s right,” I said. “And you hardly live in any of them.”
“They didn’t take your stereo.”
“Maybe they didn’t need a twenty-year-old turntable.”
“You said they dusted for prints?”
“So I’m told.”
“Did they find anything?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She nodded, then silently scrunched up her face and covered it with her palm.
“Laney?” I said, moving toward her.
She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and waved me away. “I know. I think I’m losing my mind.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” She gave me a watery glance. “I just … there’s so much. I should be running lines for the Gabriel movie. And that’s on top of the wedding. Flowers, music, seating. Did I tell you the swans are molting?”
Swans? I gave her a look. “Why are you worried about