Organized to Death Read Free Page B

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.”
    Uncle Bob frowned and shook his head. Laura fingered her diamond pendant silently.
    “I could see into the living room and dining room and we went to the kitchen, then the master bedroom, an addition off the kitchen. I decided we should start there because Nicky kept his side neat; it wouldn’t take as long as any of the other rooms I’d seen. Then Rachel could feel good about having a clear spot. She could go into that room, admire it, bask in it, lay down on her side of the bed and relax.
    “Sounds reasonable,” Uncle Bob said.
    “I went out to get some boxes and supplies, and Crystal came down the walk and told me she was there to