Page 27 of Trouble Comes in Threes

“No offense taken,” I said, grabbing my purse and cell phone. “Because I can confirm it does, but I suspect it’s likely more from the box than Mikey’s soccer pads and cleats.”

“We can put the box in the trunk of my car.”

I grabbed it out of my SUV as she locked up the office. We got into her Lexus and headed to the address she’d preprogramed into the map app on her phone. She parked at the curb and got out, heading to the front door of a house smaller than the Thatcher’s. They must have downsized.

Neely Kate knocked on the door, but other than a barking dog inside, there was no sign of anyone home.

“I really do need diapers,” I said.

“And I need toilet paper.”

We headed to Walmart next, and when we walked through the entrance, I grabbed a cart. “Do you know what Margaret looks like?”

She pulled up her photos on her phone and showed me. “From what I can gather, she’s in her forties, but she doesn’t post her own photos much. One of her friends tagged her in this photo.”

I leaned in closer to see a slightly overweight blond. “Okay. I guess we can just wander the store, and if we don’t find her, we can ask someone.”

“Sounds good.”

I headed to the baby section. After I grabbed a large package of diapers, I checked out the little boy’s clothes. It was getting warmer, and Liam needed a whole new wardrobe for when it got hot—which, knowing Arkansas weather, wouldn’t be far off. I grabbed several pairs of shorts and T-shirts, while Neely Kate let her fingers run over some tiny baby clothes.

“Do you want to get something?” I asked. “I know you don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, but they have gender-neutral clothes.”

She slowly pulled her hand back. “No. I don’t want to jinx it.” Her gaze shifted to the side, and her eyes lit up. “I think that’s her.”

I turned to where she was staring, and sure enough, a blond woman was stocking children’s socks at a display.

Neely Kate left me in the dust as she hurried over, calling out, “Margaret? Margaret Fredrickson?”

The woman looked half-scared as Neely Kate charged toward her. “Yeah,” she said hesitantly, then looked around her as though wanting witnesses if Neely Kate attacked her.

“Hi,” Neely Kate said with a huge smile. “I’m Neely Kate Carlisle, and this here is Rose Gardner.” She gestured to me. “We both work for RBW Landscaping.” Then she added, “Rose is an owner.”

“Oh,” the woman said as recognition lit up her face. “I’ve heard of y’all, but I don’t need any landscaping.”

“Actually,” Neely Kate said, “your bushes are overgrown, and your flower beds need to be redone.”

I elbowed her in the side as a look of horror filled Margaret’s eyes.

“What Neely Kate is trying to say,” I said forcefully, “is that we’re doing a job at your previous residence on Olive Street, and we dug up a box that doesn’t belong to the homeowner. She’s asked us to find out who buried it.”

She gave me a blank look. “Why?”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why what?”

“Why are you trying to find them? If they buried it, then they obviously didn’t want it anymore.”

“Are you saying it’s yours, and you don’t want it?” Neely Kate asked. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed that we’d potentially crashed and burned or excited that we could finally open it ourselves.

“No, it’s not mine. I’m just saying if the person buried it, they obviously didn’t want it to be found.” She made a face. “What if there’s a dog buried inside it? People bury pets, you know.”

I turned to Neely Kate in horror. I hadn’t even considered it could contain a dead animal, but I quickly dismissed the idea.

“The box is too small for a dog,” I said.

“Not a really tiny dog,” Neely Kate said, holding up her hands and bringing them closer together. “They have like three-pound dogs now. Or maybe even dog ashes.”

Margaret nodded and gave me an I-told-you-so look.

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