Death Rub

by Ashantay Peters

  His raised eyebrows and curved lips left Ginger blushing.

  Brad’s arm slipped off my shoulder after I shrugged my answer.

  Ginger straightened. “No, not at all. I guess after you hacked into the World Bank, we all figured you for success. Just in a different way.” She put her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that old story. Sorry.”

  Brad nodded his head. “That’s okay. Not a problem. I was a kid when it happened. You know. I got scared straight after that.”

  Ginger pursued her conversation. “I heard you attended MIT.”

  “Yeah, well, that didn’t work out. I did a year at MIT, came back to state and got an MBA.” He shrugged. “If I’d stayed in computers, I’d still be Sad Brad.” He put an arm around me again and squeezed. “Instead, I’m seated with the two most gorgeous girls at the game.”

  I caught Ginger’s eye. Brad only sat with us because he’d invited himself. The thought that he’d remembered his high school nickname made me wince, though. Seeing Brad’s unguarded expression threw me. It’s as if he read my mind, or at least suspected my thoughts. A flare of anger lit his eyes then dimmed.

  “Well, we’re glad you came back for the reunion,” Ginger said.

  “And I’m happy for your success,” I added. “You’ve done yourself proud.”

  Brad’s posture relaxed, but his expression became guarded again. That quick flash of anger could have been a reflection from the gym lights.

  Katie’s voice sounded. “Make way, come on, suck it up and let me pass. I’ve got a box full of food and drinks here. You don’t want it in your lap if I trip.”

  Brad’s muscular thigh pressed against mine. His body heat added to the already warm gymnasium temperature. If I hadn’t hooked up with Cam, I’d certainly be intrigued with Brad’s metamorphosis. His boasting made me uncomfortable, though.

  Katie’s arrival coincided with the teams’ return for the second half. We settled in to cheer the “old guys” on to victory. Either the current team felt sorry for the grads or our team caught their wind and a winning strategy at half time. All I know is we screamed ourselves silly. When the alumni won by two points in a spirited flurry of shots in the last thirty seconds of the game, we felt vindicated and ready for alcoholic throat soothers.

  Ginger, Katie, and I, followed by Brad, climbed down the bleachers and joined the teams milling on the floor. Travis surprised me by putting his arms around me from behind and pulling me against his sweaty chest. Good thing I hadn’t worn a favorite outfit.

  “Hey, Maggie,” he whispered in my ear. “Remember how we always celebrated team wins?”

  Before I could escape his embrace, he whirled me around and planted a big one right on my lips. I pushed away and saw Cam standing behind Travis. He did not look happy. Nope, his expression resembled dark and dirty.

  “Cam, I’m glad you’re here.” I grabbed his arm, which stiffened underneath my hand. Dang. Looked like I had fast-talking excuses in my near future.

  Then I saw Dirk and Matt enter the gym. If their steady progress toward me and deadpan expressions were an indication, I had more than one man in line wanting an explanation.

  Chapter Ten

  They stopped before me.

  “Dirk. Matt.”

  “Maggie, we’d like to speak with you about some additional evidence.” He ran one hand through his hair. “At the station.”

  Katie stepped forward. “Does she need a lawyer present?” He didn’t answer. “Dirk? Does she?”

  He answered through clenched jaws. “We just have a few questions, Maggie. Would you come with us?”

  Cam’s thunderous expression hadn’t lightened, so in one sense I’d been saved by the cops. I nodded. “Sure. Should I follow you? I’d need to stop home and get my car, first.”

  Dirk hesitated and my pulse stuttered. “Why don’t you come with us? We’ll drop you at home later. You rode with Ginger and Katie, right?”

  Shoot. Had they been tailing us? No, I’d just told him I didn’t have my car. Geez, talk about paranoia. I nodded to him. “Okay.”

  Katie grabbed Dirk’s arm and whispered into his ear. I saw him shake his head. He touched her cheek then his hand dropped. Wheeling, he joined Matt and me, and they escorted me toward the door.

  We’d traveled no more than ten feet when Ginger called out. “Does Maggie need a lawyer present?”

  Dirk turned to me and said, “You can request a lawyer when we reach the station, or call on the way. We only have a few questions at this time.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide, Dirk. I didn’t kill anyone.”

  In my peripheral vision, I saw Ginger paw through her bag and pull out her phone. My stomach dropped. I knew she’d be calling her expensive lawyer friend for me. Ginger and Katie would never let me down, but I’d be giving Ginger free massages for my lifetime and still not finish paying her back.

  Especially if my massage practice ended with a murder conviction.

  The drive to the station didn’t take long, in spite of the fact that none of us exchanged words. We wound our way toward Dirk and Matt’s desks, settling at Dirk’s. He yanked open a drawer and pulled out an evidence bag holding a sheet of paper.

  “Does this look familiar?”

  My hand shook as I grasped the bag and pulled it closer. I almost dropped the evidence when I saw a piece of “From the desk of Maggie Stewart” note pad paper inside. I switched my gaze to Dirk.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “Did you write that note?”

  I’d been so shaken at seeing a familiar piece of paper inhabiting an evidence bag, I hadn’t noticed the block printing underneath the heading. I read the message aloud.

  “Meet me outside the walk-in refrigerator in five minutes.” A blurred initial followed, one that could be interpreted as an “M,” but just as easily another letter.

  “What hallway, when, and where? I didn’t write this. Or print it, either.” I flipped the bag over but the back of the note was blank. “Where did you find this?”

  Dirk and Matt exchanged glances.

  “Come on, guys. You asked me here to answer questions. I can’t answer them if you don’t give me a clue what you want.” I leaned against the chair back. “Look. It’s been a long couple of days. At least give me a hint.”

  Dirk cleared his throat. “First, can you tell me where you store this note pad paper?”

  “Sure. I’ve got a small desk in my massage room. I keep pads handy for giving my clients notes about water consumption, appointment changes, that kind of thing. You know.”

  “So multiple pads sit on top of your desk. Anyone has full access? Have you missed any of your supplies?”

  “Yes to the first question and no to the second. What’s this about?”

  Dirk ran a finger around his collar. “Maggie, take a look at the note. Do you recognize the handwriting?”

  “No, except that even though the handwriting is similar to mine, I didn’t write this. And the creases indicate it had been folded in quarters. Where did you find it?”

  “The Medical Examiner found it in Nicole’s bra.” Dirk leaned forward. “During their autopsy.”

  I felt the blood draining from my head. I couldn’t move, even if my body hadn’t shocked into paralysis by his words. My mouth opened and closed until I finally squeaked out, “Where?”

  Dirk held my attention with a steady gaze.

  After swallowing several times, I had regained enough saliva for words. “No. I repeat. I didn’t write that note.” My glance shifted between the two detectives watching me. “I wouldn’t have met her secretly.”

  I thrust the evidence bag at Dirk. “It’s not mine.” My brain began working. “Are my fingerprints on that paper? No, wait, they can’t be because I didn’t write the note. Unless I touched the note pad, which is likely.”

  Dirk ran his fingers through his hair. “Maggie, are you sure no one saw you in the ladies’ lounge during the luncheon?”


  “I told you. No attendant showed.” I snapped my fingers. “What about the coffee cup I grabbed so it wouldn’t fall over? Remember? I know I told you about that. You found the cup, right? Wouldn’t my fingerprints on the cup prove I’d been there?”

  My thoughts galloped, moving along the path of proven innocence. They hit a roadblock when Dirk responded.

  “The attendant said she saw no coffee cup at her station when she returned. She’s not allowed to have drinks or snacks on duty, so it didn’t belong to her.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The trash had been picked up, the waste basket empty.”

  “But you checked the cleaners, right? Maybe she remembered tossing the cup out.”

  He shook his head. “The woman on duty had a sick kid. She was on her phone and working by rote.”

  My heart stopped. That’s the only explanation I had for no discernible pulse and zero thoughts. The roaring in my ears supplied the only clue I still lived. Unless strong winds accompany the light at the end of the tunnel.

  Dragging my attention to Dirk, I thought I noted a sympathetic glint in his eyes before his expression shuttered.

  “I...I didn’t...oh, god.”

  A strong voice called across the room. “Ms. Maggie Stewart?”

  My head could have used a crane to accomplish the simple acts of lifting, turning, and nodding, but I got the job done without one. “Yes?”

  The new arrival had light brown hair and a build that showed off his preppy weekend wear to perfection. He strode rapidly but with an economy of motion that hinted at expensive tennis lessons. Top-of-the-line running shoes covered his feet and a platinum faced watch glittered and reflected the fluorescent lights. This guy had money and spent it well.

  “Don’t say another word.” He walked forward, his right hand extended. “Tom Jenkins.” The blank look I knew decorated my face must have clued him that my mental abilities had shut down. “Your attorney.”

  He faced the detectives. “I want to see the evidence you have, starting with whatever is in that bag.”

  Matt handed him the note. Tom read the message without picking it up. He looked intently into my eyes. Whatever he saw in my expression—make that soul because that’s where his stare delved—cemented his decision.

  “I’ll allow a handwriting sample. Oh, and I’ll want a copy of whatever sample you take. I’ll have my own expert make a comparison.”

  He looked back at me. “Don’t say another word without checking with me first.”

  Turning to the detectives he said, “Next question?”

  Dirk stood. “We’ve covered everything, except the writing sample, for now. Maggie, we’ll need you to copy off the words on this note.” He tapped the evidence bag. “After that we’ll give you a ride home.”

  Tom Jenkins helped me to my feet. “You’ve questioned my client long enough without representation. She’ll come by tomorrow morning and submit a handwriting sample then.”

  Dirk stared at my attorney for a long moment. He stepped back from the table. “Then we’re done here.”

  “Come on, Maggie. I’ll take you home.”

  He led me to his imported luxury car and installed me in the front seat before climbing in on the driver’s side and pressing the ignition. “Okay, what’s your address?”

  His question caught me off guard for a moment. I guess I’d thought my knight with a law degree knew everything already. Plus my thoughts were still hung up with the incriminating note I’d been shown. He punched my home address into his GPS, and we pulled away from the curb.

  “Okay, here’s how I operate.” The GPS voice, a sultry female, interrupted with instructions to make a right turn in one mile. “If the cops stop you on the street, call me. If the cops telephone you at home or at work, call me. If the cops e-mail or social media you, call me. If the cops call you in for an interview—”

  “I’ll call you.” I left off rubbing my temples. “Just one thing.”

  He gave me his attention.

  “What’s your number? I’ve never met you before.”

  “I’ll give you a card with all my contact information as soon as we reach your house.” He returned his gaze to the street, but I believed I still retained his attention.

  “Sorry I can’t meet with you tonight. I have a prior commitment.” He flipped on a signal and made the turn. “I left one of my junior partners in charge of the grill and the guy can’t flip burgers worth a damn.” He smiled. “Great researcher, though.”

  We arrived at my residence. He reached into his console and pulled out a business card. After scribbling on the back, he handed me the cardboard rectangle.

  “I added my unlisted home number. Don’t give it out, but do call me if you need me after hours.”

  Taking his card, I hesitated with my other hand on the door handle. “I don’t get it. Why did you come personally? You have a party underway. Wouldn’t an assistant have gotten the job done for you?”

  He tapped his index fingers on the steering wheel. “When anyone in Ginger’s family calls, I answer.” He leaned over and released my door. “Come in at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I’ll see you before my first court appearance.”

  I slid off the leather seat and stood in my driveway. Shutting the door with a solid click, I watched as my attorney’s vehicle moved off with a quiet purr.

  ****

  If I hadn’t already heard that Tom Jenkins’s reputation, and retainers, were top notch, I’d know it by his office. Well his reception area, which comprised the extent of all I’d seen so far.

  He and his partner, Ed Fotherington, employed a woman for the front desk that I knew had done local modeling. I remembered her from a car dealer’s billboard. She may also have graced the side of a bus for a while. Her photo, I mean.

  Along with cover girl, cushy leather club chairs, an unlit gas log fireplace, and solid wood tables topped with designer lamps underscored the firm’s importance. My first thought on entering had been that I’d ended up at the country club in error.

  Cover girl offered me coffee, which put her on my list of favorite people. I’d no sooner finished doctoring it when she ushered me to the conference room and Tom Jenkins.

  The attorney wore a beautifully tailored suit that reminded me of something I’d seen on the body of an actor attending the last Oscar ceremony. He looked rested and not much older than me, which put him in his mid-to-late-thirties. Briefly, I wondered how he’d settled in Granville Falls.

  “Glad to see you, Maggie. Have a seat.”

  I doubted he expected a “happy to see you” reply, and he didn’t get one. As I wondered what comment to make, a younger woman walked in and settled at the table alongside Tom and across from me.

  “Maggie Stewart, meet my top assistant, Leah Mason.”

  They pulled legal pads and pens from a stack at the table’s center. “Let’s get started.” He checked his watch. “I must leave for court in about an hour. If we aren’t finished by then, Leah will complete this initial interview with you.”

  His first question gave an indication of how my next hour would go.

  “Tell me why anyone would believe your innocence, considering the history you shared with Nicole Polk.”

  That’s when I knew the uphill battle I faced had a Matterhorn-like incline. I’d been worried before. Now I feared for my life.

  ****

  I left Jenkins & Fotherington with a mushy brain and caffeine high. Then I stopped at the police station, where I left a handwriting sample without seeing Dirk or Matt.

  Katie had design work due at Get Solid Builders, but Ginger waited for me outside GFPD headquarters. We exchanged hugs and agreed to relocate to Java the Hutt. Once settled with a pastry and a mug of decaf, I took my first full breath since rising.

  “You know, Ginger, I’m wondering where Clarice’s murder fits in this mess.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. At first, I thought she’d been mistaken for Nicole, but now I’m ques
tioning if that’s right.”

  My friend tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “You’ve got something. I’ve heard Clarice had a pile of money in a personal bank account.”

  “Really? Huh. I mean, where did she get a bunch of cash? I didn’t think she had a high level job, and her husband, well, what’s his career field? I can’t remember.”

  Ginger shrugged. “Don’t know, but I heard it at the Hair Shack, so you know the info is probably true.”

  As the original hair salon in town until Charlotte spread our way, Hair Shack customers included the wives of Granville Fall’s entrenched politicians and financial hierarchy. If the men knew what information their wives exchanged, the grapevine would wither in a New York street second. Or not. Many of the women were tougher than their husbands.

  My conclusions jumped into words. “So her husband was afraid he’d lose the cash in a divorce. He could be the murderer. I need to tell Dirk.”

  Ginger held up her hand. “Already called Katie. She’ll handle it. Besides, you should speak with Tom Jenkins, first. He’ll talk with Dirk for you.”

  Chastised, I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. I’d been responsible for myself for so long the thought of acting through a liaison remained foreign. I hoped I wouldn’t screw up.

  “How much money did her account hold? Did anyone say?”

  “Not sure. Around a quarter million, according to someone who overheard Clarice arguing with her husband.”

  “What?” I ducked my head and lowered my voice, hoping the attention I’d caught with my exclamation would die down. Looking at her from under my lashes, I whispered, “Really?”

  She nodded. “Apparently she ran a consulting firm.” Ginger leaned closer. “But what’s strange is that she didn’t maintain an office.”

  Two other questions popped up. What kind of consulting paid that well, and if legal, how could I sign up? Before I inquired about either, Brad entered Java the Hutt.

  Ginger and I gave little waves. She turned toward me with a small frown. “I wonder why Brad is still around. Yesterday the police told the out-of-town alumni they could leave.”