Death Tidies Up. Barbara Colley
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Marian waved her hand. “I caught him sneaking out once before, but this time it was the police who caught him. Did you know the police have a Curfew Center on Rampart?” Without waiting for an answer, Marian shook her head. “Well, I didn’t, but I do now. I had to drag poor Aaron out of bed at midnight and go all the way over to Rampart to pick up B.J.—and that’s another thing. I’m going to have to cancel and reschedule an important appointment with a new client this morning because Aaron is—”
“Mom! Hurry!”
At the sound of the plaintive cry from Marian’s eight-year-old, she groaned, “Oh no, not again.” Giving Charlotte a harried look, she rushed down the hallway toward the boy’s bedroom. “Some kind of stomach virus,” she called over her shoulder. “He’s been throwing up off and on all night.”
Just seconds after Marian disappeared into the boy’s bedroom, Charlotte heard an awful retching sound. Poor little guy, she thought as she headed toward the kitchen. She’d have to remember to use gloves when she stripped Aaron’s bed and make sure she used disinfectant when she cleaned his bathroom. The last thing she needed or wanted was to catch a stomach virus.
The moment Charlotte stepped into the kitchen, she froze. From the looks of the room, it was hard to believe that she’d left it spotless on Wednesday, just two days ago. The entire kitchen was a disaster area. The stovetop was splattered with what appeared to be spaghetti sauce and grease, and there were dirty dishes everywhere…on the table, strewn along the countertops, piled haphazardly in the sink.
Charlotte frowned. How on earth could just three people use so many dishes? she wondered. Then she glanced at the floor and her frown deepened. She’d swept and mopped on Wednesday and had left it shiny clean. Now the light gray ceramic tile was marred with splotches of some unidentifiable dark liquid that had been spilled in front of the refrigerator, then again near the table. No one had bothered to wipe it up, and the stuff had congealed into a gooey glob.
Only one explanation for the mess made any sense, she decided. In spite of all the medications Marian was taking, her condition was getting worse. And that, along with B.J.’s escalating behavior problems, spelled real trouble.
Wondering how Marian would feel if she suggested that they might all benefit from some family counseling, Charlotte set down her supply carrier, then shoved up her sleeves.
It took almost an hour before Charlotte finally had the kitchen back in order. Giving the room a final inspection and a nod of approval, she turned her attention to the connecting family room.
Separated from the kitchen by a row of cabinets and an island, the large room was messy but not really dirty the way the kitchen had been. After she’d straightened and dusted the room, she made a quick trip to her van to bring in her vacuum cleaner. Years of experience had taught her to use her own equipment, equipment she knew she could rely on to do the job right.
She had just shut off the vacuum cleaner when Aaron wandered in.
“Mom said if it was okay with you, I could watch Cartoon Network.”
“That’s fine, hon,” she told him, unplugging the vacuum. “I’m finished in here anyway.”
With his blond hair and blue eyes, the boy reminded her a lot of her nephew, Daniel, when he was Aaron’s age. Though not as mischievous as Daniel had been, Aaron was usually rosy-cheeked, full of life, and extremely talkative. Today, though, the eight-year-old was pale and listless as he wandered over to the sofa.
“How are you feeling?”
The boy gave a one-shoulder shrug then mumbled something that sounded like, “Okay.”
“Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”
He shook his head. “Mom said I couldn’t have anything for a while. She’s afraid I’ll throw up again.” From the sofa table, he picked up the TV clicker and pointed it at the television set. Sounds of Tweety Bird and Sylvester soon filled the room.
Deciding that now was as good a time as ever to clean Aaron’s room, Charlotte unplugged the vacuum. Retrieving her supply carrier and dragging the vacuum along behind her, she headed down the hallway.
The little boy’s room was a large one, and almost every inch of the floor was covered with either Legos, Hot Wheels, or the DragonballZ and Gundam Wing action figures that had been made famous by Japanese cartoons.
The moment she stepped inside, Charlotte wrinkled her nose against the distinctive sour smell. Since the bed had been stripped down to the mattress, and the sheets and comforter were piled in a corner, it didn’t take her long to figure out that Aaron had been sick all over the bed during the night. She figured that the bedding was more than likely the source of the stench.
The pine-scented disinfectant she always used would go a long way in making the room smell better, but a good airing out would help even more, she decided, eyeing the large window.
The wood-framed window proved to be stubborn, but after tugging on it for several frustrating minutes, she finally got it raised. Almost immediately, a steady breeze filled the room with fresh air.
After pulling on a pair of rubber gloves, Charlotte gathered the pile of soiled bedding and clothes, then carried the bundle to the laundry room, located just behind the kitchen. While the washing machine filled with hot sudsy water, she separated the sheets from the comforter.
A large lump of something was tangled in the corner of the fitted bottom sheet. When Charlotte shook the sheet, a small teddy bear tumbled out, its dark brown furry covering matted and wet.
As Charlotte gingerly picked up the bear, she smiled. Hank had slept with a teddy bear too until he was just about Aaron’s age. Her smile widened. Hank had named his bear Company, and she wondered if Aaron had given his bear a name too. She’d once asked her son why he’d named it such an odd name, and he’d simply grinned and told her that he hadn’t. Then he’d reminded her that each night when she’d tucked him into bed, she’d always included the bear and told him it would keep him company, so he’d simply assumed that Company was the bear’s name.
But Hank was no longer a little boy like Aaron who slept with teddy bears. Nor was he a teenager like B.J. Charlotte’s smile faded, and a stab of longing knifed through her. Her Hank was a grown man now, almost forty-two. And you will be sixty in a few days.
Charlotte swallowed hard to ease the sudden tightness in her throat as she checked the tag on the Aaron’s teddy bear to see if it was washable. Once she’d determined that it was, she dropped it into the washing machine with the sheets.
Cleaning Aaron’s room was always a challenge. In Charlotte’s opinion, the boy had been overindulged since his father’s death and had enough toys for ten kids. Yet another sign of Marian’s instability, she thought as she separated the Legos from the Hot Wheels and dropped them into brightly colored plastic tubs that had been placed on a low shelf against the wall.
Before Charlotte began on B.J.’s room, she returned to the laundry room and transferred the sheets and bear from the washer to the dryer. When she came out of the laundry room, the sight of Marian standing near the kitchen counter gave her a start.
“Oh, Marian.” She placed her hand on her chest above her racing heart. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Marian waved at the toaster and loaf of bread. “Aaron says he’s hungry, and I thought some dry toast might be better for his stomach than a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. I don’t want to even imagine the mess that would make if he threw it up,” she added with a shudder as she removed a slice of bread from the loaf and dropped it into the toaster.
“Me either,” Charlotte agreed, noting that Marian had finally dressed. An attractive woman in her late thirties, Marian was wearing a lightweight royal blue sweater and matching slacks that flattered her already slim figure.
What a difference a little makeup and the right clothes made, Charlotte thought, noting that the particular shade of blue was a perfect foil for the younger woman’s