I was on my own in the closest thing to hell on earth.
CHAPTER 9
THE MUSIC BLARING from Nadia’s car stereo had only just faded into the distance when the entry phone by the front door buzzed, making me jump.
I picked my way over and pressed the button. “Who is it?”
“Delivery from Ee-Zee Clean.”
Wow, that was quick. “I’ll get the gates.”
Nadia hadn’t been kidding about the truck. It took the man four trips to carry everything into the house, and he choked a little the first time he walked through the door.
“It’s my first day on the job,” I hurried to point out, just in case he thought I was in any way responsible for the mess.
“Better you than me, ma’am.”
By the time he’d stacked a vacuum cleaner, floor polisher, carpet washer, gloves, dusters, mops, buckets, paper towels, an iron and ironing board plus every type of cleaning liquid, powder, and spray imaginable on top of the other junk in the hall, I had a tiny space of about two feet square to stand in.
“That sure is a lot of stuff,” I said.
“Lady called up and ordered one of everything.” He shook his head, eyes wide. “That’s never happened before. Looks as if you’ll need it, though. Good luck.”
After a brief moment where I considered asking the delivery driver to drop me at the nearest airport, I decided to start with the kitchen. At least if I cleared that, I’d be able to use the sink. And surely there had to be a washing machine in the house somewhere? I’d need one for the mountain of dirty clothes—there had to be years’ worth of laundry.
I rummaged through the boxes in the hallway and found dish soap plus a pile of tea towels, then tiptoed back to the kitchen. The glasses could go in the dishwasher, but I’d have to scrub the plates by hand. The food had probably dried on them when dinosaurs came out of the sea. Some of it was practically fossilised. Good thing I didn’t have long, perfectly manicured nails like Emmy, because they’d have been in a sorry state once I’d finished.
Three hours later, I had neatly stacked piles of china and rows of glasses. I counted up forty-two dinner plates. Forty-two! Either Mr. Goldman was a real big entertainer or Emmy was right when she said he kept buying more of everything. I’d been worried about where to put all the dishes, but when I got the cupboards open, they were empty. It seemed Mr. Goldman wasn’t so much of a hoarder—he simply took everything out, used it, and didn’t put it away again. Ever.
Another buzz of the entry phone heralded the arrival of a row of dumpsters. The man left them lined up along the edge of the drive, their garish red clashing with the pale peach of the detached four-car garage.
In the afternoon, I set about transferring the contents of the pantry to the trash. It was full of dried goods, but the only things that hadn’t expired were a can of hotdog sausages and a half-empty jar of manuka honey. It took me a dozen trips to get rid of it all, and my arms ached by the time I’d finished.
Outside, sun shone from a clear blue sky, and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. The garden, with its neatly mown lawn and colourful flowers, hadn’t suffered the same fate as the house in terms of care, and I sat out on the patio to eat my lunch. As I watched small birds flitting from tree to tree, I could almost believe life was good.
But all too soon, my break was over, and it was time to tackle the giant refrigerator. The silver monster had been staring at me the entire morning, striking fear into my heart. What would be inside? I had visions of previously undiscovered life forms lurking, green and furry.
I crept over and reached out a hand, heart pounding. Oh Lara, just get on with it! I closed my eyes and pulled it open, holding my breath. Only the tick of the clock kept me company, and the near-silence stretched my nerves as I risked an inhale. No stench—that was good, right? I cracked one eyelid open, then the other. Was that it? Two six packs of beer sat on a shelf, next to a pizza box containing a couple of dried-up slices. Something small and shrivelled sat in the egg-holder. I peered closer. Had that