He gazed at me, apparently wondering if I’d held a fifteen-year-old grudge. I hadn’t, lurking memories notwithstanding. “It must have been hard to nurse your mother, lose your full scholarship, and watch your boyfriend defect to a rival all within the space of a few years.”
All hope of answering that question, even if I’d been forced, was moot. It’s hard to talk when your throat is closed up with remembered sorrow and old tears. I sat quietly, fighting for composure.
Finally my throat muscles eased and I swallowed. “What does any of that have to do with some nut case killing Nicole?” The answer came without thought. My voice raised in volume and tone. “Motive? You think I murdered Nicole? Clarice, too, probably.”
Dirk raised his hand palm up. “Maggie, someone raised your history with Nicole and I need answers.”
He dropped his palm. “You were out of the room for longer than a minute and when you returned your clothes had wet spots. Did you really think no one in a room full of women would notice and report?”
My hands shook. I pulled them onto my lap, clasping them tightly.
He continued. “Look, Maggie. You’ve been present at two murders.” He cleared his throat. “We can’t check leads we don’t have. If you know anything about Nicole, new or old, tell me now. Otherwise, for your own good I suggest you think about calling a lawyer.”
The echo of his statement rattled me like a chain swing in a high wind. If I couldn’t help myself I’d be giving cot massages in the North Carolina Correctional Institute for Women. Nicole’s dad would ensure it.
****
I stumbled through my door and collapsed on my sofa. Dang. A few hours repeating gossip about Nicole to Dirk had left my throat dry and my head spinning. Not that I had much hope the rumors would save me. One big fact loomed like a hawk over a field full of rodents. I’d been in an unattended lady’s lounge at the time of Nicole’s murder. I gave thanks Dirk hadn’t booked me, especially given my outburst at the reunion dinner.
Exhausted, I picked up the ringing phone before checking caller ID. “Hello.”
“Maggie, are you okay? Did you call a lawyer? Should I come over?”
I felt my chest rise and fall with a breath I hadn’t known I held. “Katie.” I inhaled again just because I could. “Yes, I’m okay. I should call a lawyer, but believing Nicole is dead is hard enough much less anyone thinking I could have killed her. You don’t need to come over.”
“No one messes with my friend. I’ll be there in five.”
I hung up, and before I knew it, Katie crouched in front of me holding a glass of water. She pushed it at me. “Here, drink this.”
The water coursed down my throat before I realized I’d grabbed the offering. “Thanks.”
She perched on the sofa beside me. “What did Dirk ask you?” She huffed. “If he treated you bad, he’ll find himself sleeping in the hot tub.”
I spotted an out from discussing my police interview and took it. “You’re living with Dirk? I thought you two were “taking your time,” and not rushing your relationship.”
Katie blushed. “Yeah, well, you know.”
Now she looked uncomfortable and I had to tease her. “Um, no. I don’t.”
She coughed. “I’m ah, renovating my bathrooms. Yeah, and I’m staying with Dirk until I get in the new toilets. They’re on back order.”
“Uh huh. You decided to tear up both bathrooms at the same time.” My gloomy outlook lifted as my sense of humor surfaced. “Really.”
The doorbell rang followed quickly by Ginger’s voice calling, “Hello.” Ginger saved Katie once again. Giving her a look that told her loud and clear I knew she’d lucked out, I stood and hugged our friend as she entered the room. At least now I avoided repeating an ugly story.
Ginger set down an overstuffed bag and pulled out a thermos. “I brought tea.”
Katie perked up. “And cookies?”
Ginger tsked then looked at me. “Bring a plate. I’ve got cookies.” She put her hands on her hips while eyeing Katie. “Kitchen sink cookies.”
Uh oh. Ginger only baked kitchen sink cookies for dealing with dire circumstances. Didn’t take a physicist to grasp my friends thought I stood neck deep in muck.
I pulled out mugs and small plates. Arranging those on a tray, I found napkins and carried everything to the living room. Katie and Ginger stopped whispering when I entered.
Ginger helped arrange the food and drink. Once we were settled, she leaned forward. “Tell me everything. I sat in a back room waiting for the start signal. Just my luck I didn’t see or hear anything until later.”
Katie and I exchanged tacit looks. We never wanted sweet-natured Ginger seeing another dead body, especially one who’d been stabbed in the back.
Backstabbed. I hadn’t considered it that way earlier, but that’s what she’d been. Had the killer left an unconscious message, or had the method of death been deliberate? Perhaps the weapon choice had been more a matter of using what was handy. Having known Nicole, I’d vote for deliberate. Now I sounded like Katie.
Damn. I’d called Nicole a backstabber when I’d told her she should have died instead of Clarice. In front of witnesses. Damn again.
Ginger bit into a cookie and relaxed into the sofa. “So what happened? I’ve been hearing all kinds of stories.”
We took turns bringing her up to speed. “Stabbed in the back. That’s telling, isn’t it?” I was happy she didn’t mention my incriminating comment at dinner.
Katie nodded and swallowed the cookie she’d been chewing. “Yeah, and coupled with Maggie’s idea that Clarice’s murderer really targeted Nicole, looks like the slime bucket finally got his victim.”
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?” I asked. “Could have been a woman who murdered Nicole. She screwed around so much an angry wife makes more sense.”
She paused with a cookie at her mouth and shook her head. “You didn’t see the knife up close like I did. The hilt had been buried.” She laid her cookie on a napkin. “Had to be a guy. I’m not sure a woman could have hit her with that kind of force.”
I gulped. “Unless the woman is a massage therapist with strong arms and hands.”
They turned big eyes my way. “I’m not saying I did it. Just that I’m not ruled out.”
Katie leaned forward pointing a finger at me. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think you could be considered a suspect.”
Ginger nodded her head. “Katie’s right.”
My head bounced once against the back of my chair. I closed my eyes. Maybe my friends believed I couldn’t murder anyone, but did Dirk?
Chapter Nine
“You need a good lawyer.” Ginger covered her mouth. “No, don’t think that.”
I opened my eyes. Once again, she read my distressed thoughts perfectly.
“We don’t think you killed anyone, but you were present at two deaths, one of them the mayor’s daughter.”
“Yeah, and if he listened to Nicole even in passing, he knows the two of you were not best buds,” Katie said. “Plus reports about the fight you had last night is all over town.”
“Well then, I’d better hope the public defender is a hot shot. Because I sure don’t have the money for anyone more upscale. I can’t even—” I stopped before admitting I didn’t know if I could make both my rent payments.
“Don’t worry about it,” Katie said.
“What Katie meant,” Ginger paused and sent Katie a look, “is that we’ll help.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s not a thinking matter,” Katie said. She turned to Ginger. “What. Stop giving me those looks.”
Ginger’s sigh echoed in the room. “What we mean is that my father helped a young lawyer get started some years back. I’m pretty sure he’d listen to your story. No cost involved. As a favor.”
I bit back my skepticism that the type of high-powered lawyer I needed would see me for free. The psychic price I’d face would not be cheap.
�
��I’ll find some way to pay you back, Ginger.”
Because we’re friends, though not as close as she and Katie, Ginger didn’t insult either of us by denying that she’d foot the bill.
“Let’s talk about that later. So, you agree I can call Tom Jenkins?”
“Tom Jenkins? That name is familiar.”
“Yeah, he’s in the news a lot.” Katie gestured with a cookie. “He’s the criminal attorney that takes only high profile cases. You know, like the record producer who killed his partner last year.”
“High profile” meant expensive. “Ginger, I can’t let you do this.”
“Oh yes, you can. What good is having connections if you can’t help friends?”
“Besides,” Katie chimed in, “we’ll help investigate.”
Ginger crossed her arms. “Katie, I’m not so sure you should cross Dirk. You know what he told you this morning.”
She flipped her hand as if shooing a fly. “I never promised.” Before Ginger could say more, Katie continued. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time our capes came out of storage?”
Capes? I puzzled that comment while the two friends exchanged long looks. The only capes I remembered them having were vinyl ones in grade school.
Ginger nodded. Katie whooped. “All right! The Demonic Duo rides again.”
I rubbed my forehead. Dang. This development couldn’t be good.
****
I climbed into the backseat of Katie’s car late Sunday morning. Once again, they’d talked me into a reunion event, a charity basketball game. At least the game ended the reunion weekend. But that didn’t explain my friends’ strange appearance. What they wore didn’t look like Pep Club uniforms.
“We’ve gotta get you a cape.” Katie studied me in her rear view mirror. She glanced at Ginger. “That means a name change from the Demonic Duo. You know. Because there are three of us.”
“Don’t push Maggie if she doesn’t want to join us. Not everyone is excited about running around in short vinyl capes carrying purple batwing-shaped flashlights and half-masks.” Ginger smoothed a lock of hair over her ear.
Katie ran a hand over her wrinkled cape. “I don’t see why she wouldn’t jump at wearing this cool costume.” She rubbed at a deep crease. “I should fold it better when I store it next time.”
“Store it? You call tossing it into that mess in your hall closet storing it? Haven’t you left it in your car’s trunk for the last couple of months?” She leaned closer. “What’s that stain?”
Ginger straightened her immaculate cape. “I feel like Felix from The Odd Couple of crime fighters sitting next to you.”
Katie snorted. “Yeah, and you just happened to have your cape packed into your bag along with cookies. We’re some kind of Demonic Duo.”
Their good-natured bickering dissolved my apprehension about attending the game. I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing then sobered. “Demonic Duo? More like Devoted Duo.” Shaking my head, I leaned forward and clasped each of their shoulders. “Thanks, but I won’t butt in. You’re a team.” I tried stopping my laughter but couldn’t. “Besides, there is no way in hell I’d be caught dead looking the way you two do right now.”
Katie snorted. “No fashion sense. Our capes are collectibles. Vintage.”
Ginger turned and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. We’re not wearing these outside of the car.” She fingered the vinyl covering her arm. “The capes are our good luck charm, but we don’t flash them in public. At least not in daylight.”
I had a feeling the silliness was also my friend’s way of lightening my mood. In that case, given what I faced, I knew I’d see their capes again.
Katie snapped her fingers. “Got it. We can call ourselves the Triple Threat Trio, T-Cube for short.” She eyed me in her mirror. “Tell me you can pass up this opportunity for becoming a crime fighter, and I’ll know you’re lying.”
I relaxed against the back seat, stomach muscles cramping with laughter. Once I caught my breath, I gave up the protest. “Okay, but I’ll travel incognito. What’s our next move?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m taking off my cape. It’s too darn hot.” Katie opened her door and slid from the front seat. A moment later, the cape landed in my lap, its edges fluttering for a moment like a live thing. “Just stuff it behind my seat,” Katie said as she got back behind the wheel.
So much for careful storage. I folded her cherished bit of vintage vinyl before laying it on the seat beside me.
Ginger had removed her cape and formed it into a compact package. “What’s next, T-Cube leader one?”
Katie paused with her hand on the ignition key. “We need an action plan, T-Cube leader two.”
Caught up in the play but fully aware my innocence remained at stake, I posed a question. “We have to hit the dang basketball game, don’t we, T-Cube leaders?”
Looking over her shoulder, Katie pursued her lips, her forehead wrinkled. “That we do, T-Cube leader three. That we do.” She started the car and drove off.
We arrived at the high school campus and a parking lot rapidly filling with cars. As I’d noted before, violent death attracts ghouls, and we were haunting with the rest of them.
I’d been surprised this last reunion event would take place as scheduled. Ginger said she’d heard the mayor had insisted. I didn’t want my mean girl side showing up again, but couldn’t help wondering at the man’s motives. Sure, the annual charity game had become a sellout due to the out-of-town reunion attendees, but wouldn’t it make more sense to reschedule? My not-so-hidden mean girl smelled a political objective. Not surprising given what I knew of the mayor’s use of Nicole as campaign platform “decoration.”
The planned game opponents were our class’s varsity team and the current one. Both teams had won their district championship, and I’d heard bets were laid all over town. The odds boiled down to youth and speed versus age and experience. Either way, given the turnout, the Granville Falls Fire and Rescue charity fund would win.
We entered the gymnasium. It hadn’t changed much in fifteen years. A few more championship flags hung from the ceiling, and the bleachers looked new. I looked at the back wall. The scoreboards had also been replaced. Other than that, the recognizable odor of rubber, floor wax, and warm, sweaty bodies filled my nostrils. It almost made me nostalgic for high school.
The gasps and whispers began softly, followed by pointed looks and fingers extended in my direction. I sat between Katie and Ginger, my face red and not from the room’s heat.
Ginger leaned into my side. “Ignore them.”
Katie leaned into my other side. “Brainless A-holes.”
“Katie,” Ginger snapped, “Watch your language.”
“What. What did I say? Besides, no one is sitting close by.”
Her observation looked correct. We comprised a small island in the stands.
My friends’ familiar interplay didn’t help me relax. I wondered at the intelligence of attending the game when my reputation—my life—remained on the line. But consensus stated someone from the graduating class of 1999 lurked behind both murders. And today, most of our classmates would be right here. Including, we hoped, the villain.
Both teams were warming up, shooting hoops, and running the ball on each side’s half-court. Then the mayor entered and all noise died. He approached center court, followed by a small contingent of political hacks and assistants.
He thumbed on a microphone, his throat clearing loud in the silence. “Good afternoon. As you know, my daughter Nicole was a driving force behind the class reunion this weekend. She had also won the Most Successful Graduate Award, which she would have received at the halftime ceremony.
“Nicole committed herself to many efforts, and I am proud of her accomplishments, especially given her life ended too soon. In Nicole’s honor and remembrance, I asked that today’s game be dedicated in her memory. I know that’s what she would have wanted, and I appreciate the many cards and calls I received from my lo
yal constituents.
“Thank you for your concern and expressions of sympathy.” He handed the microphone off but not before his last muttered remark of “let’s get the hell out of here” transmitted to every ear in the place.
Through his speech, I sat stiff, not speaking to my friends. I looked straight ahead, but in my peripheral vision noticed people’s necks craning my way. Their heads whipped around at the last comment. Had the mayor really said that and if so, had his words come from grief? Or had something besides emotion prompted the words?
Katie began speaking. “What the...oof.”
Ginger had reached across me to grab Katie’s arm. “Let’s not talk about this now. We don’t know who’d hear us.”
I silently agreed. The seats around us had filled in, with one of the final spaces taken by Brad. He crammed in beside Katie.
“Hi, girls.”
We chorused an answer and were prevented from speaking by the National Anthem, sung by Suzie Carter, another of our classmates and a Nashville wannabe. The tip-off followed, eliminating any need for conversation.
My gaze followed Travis moving around the court. He’d been an outstanding small forward in high school and had retained his youthful athleticism. It looked like he’d refrained from drinking too heavily the night before, or else he ran hangover free, because he jumped, passed, and blocked with the moves of old. At halftime the alums were down by four points. Not too shabby for the old guys.
Katie stood. “I’m going for a hot dog. Anybody want anything from the stand?” She took our orders and squeezed past Brad, who moved closer.
I decided to pump Brad for information, if only to satisfy my curiosity. “So Brad, I don’t remember if you told us what you’re doing now.”
“I’m the CFO for BCI.”
A proven hacker, Brad employed at a large computer software firm seemed almost cliché. His position as CFO still threw me a curve.
Ginger joined our conversation. “How’d you reach the executive office so quickly?”
Brad put his arm around me. “Hard work and lots of it.” He threw me a wink. “Do you doubt my talents and ability?”
Death Rub Page 8