Maggie and the Hidden Homicide

by Barbara Cool Lee

  "Do you think anything Donovan said will help solve the murder?" she asked Ibarra.

  "I think we know what happened."

  "So soon?" she asked.

  "Ethan Kirby and Taiyari Méndez were heard arguing. They agreed to meet privately later. Now he's dead in her trailer, stabbed with her grandmother's knife. And she's run away."

  "You don't know that she's involved in the murder. And you don't know she ran away. Maybe she's another victim."

  "Victim or murderer, she's involved in this up to her neck, Maggie." He let out a weary sigh. "Now we just have to figure out where she is."

  Chapter Seven

  They were finally allowed to go home at about three in the morning.

  Reese took her by the arm to steer her toward the car, but she kept looking back over her shoulder, wanting to see what they were bringing out of the little trailer. The place was lit up with work lights and they were examining every inch of the ground around Taiyari's home.

  Jasper also seemed eager to leave, but Maggie didn't agree with her two boys.

  "I want to stay," she protested, trying to pull away from Reese's rock-hard grip on her. He held a flashlight in his free hand, and it held steady as she uselessly dragged against him.

  "Nope," he drawled. She stopped walking and he stopped, too, but still held onto her by the elbow. "In case you didn't notice, Magdalena, Lieutenant Ibarra didn't let you go. He ordered you to go. I believe his exact words were, get out of here before I arrest you, Maggie."

  "He didn't mean it," she said, still looking back. An officer was bringing out the little llama with the missing ear, and she wanted to know why.

  "I think the cop advancing on you with his handcuffs out and a gleam in his eye meant it," he said mildly. "Ibarra said to me, and again, I may be remembering this wrong, get her out of here, Pretty Boy, before I have her hauled in for interfering in an investigation."

  She reluctantly turned back to him. "Huh?" she said eloquently, still wondering about the llama. But when she told Reese that, he said, "I imagine it had blood on it."

  "But that's important!" she said. "That would tell how much of a struggle there was, and it might mean there was a big fight there with someone Ethan's own size."

  She tried to go back, and their shuffling feet kicked up dirt on the path. She could smell the dust.

  Jasper whined, and she bent down to apologize to him.

  "Keep walking, Maggie, unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here."

  "You wouldn't dare!"

  She could see his smile even in the semi-darkness. "You sure about that? You think I wouldn't do that to keep you out of trouble?"

  "I'm not in trouble. The girl is."

  "But that's not your problem."

  "But Taiyari is—"

  "—not your problem?" he finished the sentence. "Exactly. You don't even know these people."

  "We know them," she insisted. "You spent the whole evening talking to them."

  "That doesn't mean we know them." He started walking again, and since he was still holding onto her arm, she and Jasper went along. "We spent a bit of time chatting with some friendly people. But we learned only the things they wanted us to know."

  "That's not true," Maggie insisted. "I learned that Donovan Cruz was jealous of the dead man because he's also in love with Taiyari. And that Taiyari had some sort of fight with Ethan before they both disappeared."

  "Which is another reason she's a prime suspect in his death."

  "Not necessarily. There are lots of suspects. That other guy was stalking around watching her."

  "What other guy?"

  "That older guy with the sunburned face."

  "That's the farm manager, Peter Valentine. I talked to him for a bit. He's okay."

  "I don't think he was okay at all. He was watching Taiyari like he wanted to eat her up."

  "She was pretty appetizing," he said mildly.

  "You think so?"

  "I always notice women, Maggie." He stopped, and moved very close to her, so she had to tilt her head up to look at him. "I'm rather fond of women, of all shapes and sizes," he whispered. "Though some more than others."

  He bent his head toward her and she turned her head away. "This is hardly the time, Reese."

  He laughed and they started walking again. "It's always a good time," he said. "How about we discuss my attraction to you when we get home?"

  "Don't start with me now, Pretty Boy. There's too much going on with this case. I have to figure out what Taiyari was hiding."

  "Hiding?"

  "Didn't you notice that, either? You were too busy noticing how pretty she was to realize she was worried about something?"

  "You make me sound like some kind of pervert," he said, getting huffy. "I noticed she was pretty, like every other heterosexual male within a mile of her. But she's only eighteen. A pretty, bright, sympathetic teenage girl who got herself mixed up in a murder."

  "We don't know that!"

  They reached the place where they'd parked the car. There was absolutely no one around.

  "That's odd," Maggie muttered.

  Reese looked like he wanted to ignore that comment, but said, "I'll regret asking this, but what's odd?"

  "There's no one here."

  "It's three in the morning. The barbecue has been over for hours."

  She put Jasper in the back seat and fastened his car harness around him. He seemed relieved they were leaving, and immediately lay down on the seat with a big sigh.

  Then she got into the driver's seat. Reese came around and got in on the passenger side. She put the key in the ignition but didn't start the car.

  "Yes," she said. "It is odd there's no one here. It's three in the morning and the farmworkers aren't being let back into their homes until the crime scene is cleared. So where did everyone go?"

  She looked out the windshield. There was what looked like a flashlight way out in the empty field in front of them, and at least a dozen figures could be seen. She started to get out of the car, but Reese put his hand on her arm. "Don't do it, Maggie."

  "There are people out there. In the field. They're gathered around, talking."

  "Right. The people who aren't allowed to go back to their homes are out there, waiting to be let back in. Let's go home."

  "But I want to know what they're talking about. They moved off into the field to talk in private. Maybe because they have something important to say about what's going on."

  "Or maybe they're just cold and frightened and some of them are undocumented, so they don't want anything to do with the police," he said.

  He reached across in front of her and turned the key in the ignition, and the car came to life. The headlights switched on automatically, and the people in the distance were illuminated. Then they ducked down, and were impossible to identify.

  "You don't think that's odd?" she said.

  "I think they are afraid. There's been a murder. They don't know who did it. They don't want to talk to the police. It's not odd. It's totally normal."

  "I want to talk to them," she said, pursing her lips stubbornly.

  "Because you're not normal," he said, obviously getting annoyed. "Other people run away from murder scenes, Maggie. You're the only person I know who runs toward them."

  "The cops run toward them."

  "You're right. The moment you become a cop, you can start your investigation."

  "But—" she started.

  "It's not your problem," he insisted. "We have no idea what secrets these people have, or why that girl would kill that guy."

  "She didn't kill him!"

  "Yeah, Maggie. It's very likely she did. If you want, I'll pay for her to get a good defense attorney when she's arrested, but that's it. That's the end of our involvement in this mess."

  Maggie put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. "That's what you think."

  Reese grew silent on the way home, and began to tap his foot on the
floorboard of the car. She figured he was mad at her, but when it kept on for the whole trip, she began to think something else was wrong.

  When they arrived back at Casablanca, Reese got out of the car first.

  Maggie saw he'd left something on the passenger seat.

  "What's this?" She picked up the card, then got out of the car and helped Jasper out of the back seat.

  Jasper pulled at the leash, wanting to go in the tiny house and go to sleep.

  Maggie stopped looking at the card in her hand and shoved it in her jacket pocket.

  She called out a quick goodnight to Reese, then went up the steps of the tiny house and put Jasper inside.

  Then she stood on the little white-railed porch of her home and watched Reese.

  He was pacing in the driveway, so she called out to him before going inside with the dog. "What's wrong?"

  Reese's ridiculous sports car, a Porsche 918 Spyder, was parked sideways in the driveway, and he had to go around it as he paced. His body was reflected in the car's clear coat each time he passed it. The reflection appeared elongated and strange, like a dead thing floating beneath the surface of the glistening liquid silver car.

  Maggie shivered involuntarily. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking away from that forbidding shadow that seemed to be following him.

  He didn't respond, so she came back down the steps and went over to him.

  "What's up?" she asked.

  "I want a cigarette," he replied.

  "You quit."

  "I know that," he said, sounding annoyed. "Doesn't make the craving stop."

  "Didn't you tell me you always smoked when you were stressed? Why are you stressed?"

  "Because I want heroin," he said bluntly. He stopped in front of her, but kept fidgeting. "I don't really want nicotine—I want heroin. But I can't have it, so my body is yelling at me to find something else. A cigarette. Or some sleeping pills. Or some whiskey. Anything to drown out the craving. It's like I'm starving, but I can't eat anything."

  "How long have you had this feeling?"

  "Ever since I relapsed."

  Maggie felt the anger bubble up inside her at that. He hadn't relapsed on his own. Someone had slipped the drugs to him, and it had nearly killed him. Now he was left to fix the damage. "But I thought you were better. You seemed fine this evening."

  "I am better. But the feeling is always there, under the surface. It ebbs and flows all the time, and right now it's screaming at me to stick a needle in my arm and make the pain stop."

  Maggie shivered. "You can't do that. Ever. The next time will kill you."

  "I know that," he said, still in that annoyed tone. "But my body doesn't." He sighed. "I'm trapped, anyway. Even if I scored some drugs, I can't get high. The nurse is coming tomorrow to give me another dose of my medicine before it wears off completely."

  "What kind of medicine? I thought you weren't supposed to take any drugs at all."

  "This is different. The doctors gave me some state of the art meds in rehab. They block the opioid receptors so I won't get high even I shoot up. The medicine keeps me from relapsing, because I'm at the end of this road: one more slip and I'll die. So I'm stuck. My body is aching for the drugs, but there's no way to ease the ache."

  She put her hand on his arm. "What can I do to help?"

  He smiled a bit weakly. "Thanks. But there's really nothing. This is a battle I have to win inside myself. I'm sorry if it's making me act rude. It's nothing personal."

  She rubbed his arm. "You need a distraction. Something else to do."

  He managed to summon up his mischievous grin. "I can think of a distraction, if you really want to help."

  She laughed. "How long do you think that will distract you? Sex is a short-term solution."

  He was still smiling. "Oh ye of little faith. How short-term do you expect me to be?"

  She shook her head at him. "You are absolutely incorrigible. But at least you haven't lost your sense of humor." She stood on tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. "Go soak your head."

  "Better yet, I'll go swimming." He smirked. "If you won't help me with one type of exercise, I'll try another. About a hundred laps ought to settle me down so I can sleep."

  Jasper let out one of his ear-splitting barks from inside her tiny house. "My other boy needs me," she said. "You going to be okay?"

  "Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. Really I am. I shouldn't have told you. Now you'll worry."

  She pulled him close and peered into his eyes. "Are you really safe? I'll sit up with you if you need me to."

  He smiled. "Thank you, Magdalena. Yes, I'm fine. I hate how my body is betraying me. But I'm okay. I have to work on this. Keep working on it. But I will get there." Then he thought of something. "You free sometime?"

  "Any time, if it's for your sobriety."

  "It is. Sort of. Do you remember how I said I'm looking for a ranch."

  "Yeah," she said dryly. "The thought had crossed my mind."

  "Someplace out of town," he said. "Like we talked about before I went to rehab. A quiet place I can set down some roots. Work on my sobriety in peace. Away from all the distractions."

  "And you want me to come along to look at houses?"

  "You're going to park your purple trailer there, so you should be part of the decision."

  She should have felt relieved that he had remembered their plan to park her tiny house on his new property. She'd been worried about that. But learning about how precarious his sobriety was made her worried that a new house wasn't going to fix his problem, even if it fixed hers.

  He said goodnight and went in Casablanca then, and she saw the big lights on the back of the house come on shortly after, making her think he'd headed straight out to the pool without even getting into swimming trunks first.

  She went into her tiny house, trying not to think about whether he'd gone swimming in his clothes, or stark naked.

  Jasper met her at the door, leaping and bumping at her and trying to shove his way out past her. "Okay, leash," she told him and he ran for it.

  She took him out for his final potty break.

  It was cold out, and she shoved her hands in her pockets.

  The card Reese had left in the car was there. She pulled it out and looked at it again under the street lamp.

  "Cocktail party with silent auction," she read aloud, and Jasper cocked his head to the side. "A benefit for the farmworkers charity. Only a couple of days from now."

  "I think I need to go to that party," Maggie told Jasper, and he nodded.

  Chapter Eight

  Maggie and Reese walked to O'Riley's coffee shop early the next morning.

  The autumn air was crisp, and they both wore jackets. She'd left Jasper at home, and the dog was unhappy. But without an assistant to cover her bead shop, Maggie was finding it harder to just come and go as she pleased during the day. She would go home at noon and give him a run, and then close up shop a bit early. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best she could do right now. She really needed to hire a store clerk soon.

  She told Reese that, and he nodded, but seemed absent, and she wondered how well he'd slept after his late-night swim. She'd even teased him about his stalker paparazzo catching him doing laps in the nude, but he just shrugged absently and kept walking.

  When they got to O'Riley's he opened the door for her and ushered her inside, then headed straight for the piano in the far corner.

  They'd arrived after most of the locals had already gotten their coffee and headed off to work. There were only a dozen patrons in the café, and it had the normal quiet air of a Carita Cove business after tourist season had ended.

  O'Riley's had battered old floors, battered old walls, and battered old furniture, as befitted a former warehouse turned coffee shop. The tantalizing odors of coffee roasting and pastries baking wafted around them. It was heaven.

  Maggie perched at the counter and watched Brooke Riley work.

  The café proprietor was a former actress who still p
ossessed the ice gray eyes and heart-shaped face that had once made her a sought-after hire for everything from soda commercials to crime dramas. But she had given up the unhealthy obsession with maintaining a size zero figure, so now she could enjoy her own baking without guilt. She had gained forty pounds and her sanity in the last few years, and Maggie loved to see her old friend so happy.

  Brooke was humming contentedly as she removed a tray of scones from the oven, and the scents of cardamom and nutmeg wafted through the café, making Maggie's mouth water.

  "Need someone to test those?" she asked, and Brooke grinned.

  "When they're done."

  Maggie eyed the little biscuits. They were puffed up high and lightly browned on top. "They look done to me."

  "Not quite," Brooke said. She slid the scones onto a cooling rack. Then she picked up a pastry bag and piped creamy icing over the top in a lacy pattern.

  She put one on a little plate and slid it across the counter to Maggie. "Now it's done. It's a chai latte tea scone with vanilla drizzle. See what you think."

  "Wow," Maggie said reverently.

  "And your coffee's coming up. I assume…?" Brooke nodded in Reese's direction.

  "I guess. Double-shot espresso for him, and a vanilla latte for me to go with the scone. Thanks."

  When Brooke returned with the drinks, she leaned against the counter to get close to Maggie. "So? Are you going to tell me about it?"

  "About…? Oh." Maggie had been trying not to think about the events of last night. "There's not much to tell. I found a body. Again. I was horrified and sick to my stomach, but I handled it pretty well, I think. It was awful, but I got through it. I just have to move on."

  "You sound sane, for once," Brooke said. "You've been getting too close to all this police business for months. It's time you accept that these things are not your problem."

  "Yeah," Maggie said. "I do think they're after the wrong person. And it's a girl who is all alone without any family, and—"

  "—And it's none of your business," Brooke finished firmly.

  "But if you knew the details—"

  Brooke put her hand up. "Nope. Not this time, Maggie. Every time, you do this. You get involved. You try to solve the case—"