W is for Wasted (Kinsey Millhone 23)

Her tone carried a touch of irony, but she wasn’t being sarcastic or self-mocking. She must have been appalled at the position he’d left her in.

Dietz said, “What about you, do you work?”

“I’m a private-duty nurse. I make more than adequate money for my personal needs. Even if I’m forced to mortgage the house, I’ll be fine, but it’s not what I pictured at this stage of my life.”

“I’m sorry we’ve had to burden you with this along with everything else,” he said.

“How much did he owe you?”

“A little more than three thousand dollars.”

She said, “I apologize.”

“Not your fault,” Dietz said.

“You mentioned another approach.”

Dietz said, “A long shot. It’s possible Pete hadn’t been paid for the job he subbed out to me. If we can take a look at his files, we might find his account receivables and collect from the client instead of having to worry you.”

“If someone owed him money, wouldn’t the income count as part of his estate?”

“All I know is I did the work and I’d like to be paid.”

She considered the request and then seemed to shrug. “There are files in the garage. He’d been carting home boxes a few at a time over a period of weeks. I realize now he was worried about being evicted and wanted to be prepared.” She rose to her feet. “You can follow me if you like.”

26

On the way through the house, she picked up a set of car keys from a kitchen drawer. We followed her across a yard that was stripped down and unadorned. The grass, already in its dormant phase, had turned a dispirited shade of brown. It was clear neither she nor Pete had made any effort outdoors. An empty bird feeder hung from a branch of a dwarf citrus tree, but there were no other signs of attention to the exterior, which seemed to have survived in spite of them. The two-car garage was a separate white-frame structure located at the rear of the property. Ruthie let us in through a side door.

The two sets of double doors that opened onto the alleyway were operated by hand, and it was clear neither had been used in years. The hinges were dark brown with rust, and cobwebs lined the crevices, like fake Halloween effects. Spiders had set up small nurseries, swaddling their eggs in gauzy tapers until time to hatch. The floor was concrete, though little of it showed. There was no room for cars given the staggering number of cardboard boxes in evidence, among other things. The space was jammed with old furniture, power tools, lamps, file cabinets, crates, broken appliances, luggage, discarded doors, and miscellaneous lawn equipment, also rusted from neglect. Dilapidated cartons were stacked ten deep and eight high, sealed with masking tape and unmarked. Some had toppled over and their contents had fallen out and been left where they landed. The air smelled of mice and dust.

“Is this everything?” Dietz asked, not quite masking the plaintiveness in his tone.

“I’m afraid not. I haven’t been able to face his office, so the furniture and any remaining files will be there. I know his rent was in arrears and I don’t have the nerve to contact his landlady for fear I’ll be forced to pay up. I’ll give you the key if you want to go through his desk and his file cabinets.”

I said, “We stopped by Pete’s office earlier. The place has been cleaned out.”

She seemed surprised and then recovered herself. “Well, that’s one more tiresome chore I don’t have to bother with. I’m still emptying closets and drawers here. I can’t tell you how many trips I’ve made to Goodwill. Some of the items I’ve dropped off are an embarrassment, but I didn’t want to throw them in the trash.”

“What about his business records? You’ll have the IRS to deal with eventually,” I said.

“They’ll just have to come after me,” she said. “I don’t have any idea what he paid in the way of state or federal taxes. I took care of property taxes and he did the rest.”

“You filed jointly?”

“We did,” she said. “I made sure he had my W-2s and any relevant receipts. He’d have me sign the forms, but I really never looked at them.”

I didn’t press the point. I wondered why she’d trust him with filing state and federal tax returns when he was so irresponsible, but she had problems enough and her relationship with the government wasn’t any business of mine.

I said, “We’ll probably be out here for a while. You want us to let you know when we’re done?”

“No need. We leave the garages unlocked. If I’m lucky someone will come along and steal everything.”