“You okay?” Britney asked, noticing Maggie’s distress.
“Yeah, just reacted a little crazy. No biggy,” Maggie told her, “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t feel bad, Maggie.” Alan was still trying to console her. “You’re not the only person who’s had a bad reaction to guns.”
“If you had to shoot someone, you could,” Alex said. “I guarantee it.”
“I hope I never have to find out,” Maggie replied.
Alex watched Maggie for another moment then turned to Alan. “Thank you for your help today,” she said.
Alan nodded in reply. “It was fun. I might have to start giving classes again. It feels good getting out of the club compound once in a while….”
Something over Maggie’s shoulders caught Britney’s eye. “You’re not going to believe this…” she said, pointing.
“What?” Maggie asked.
“If it isn’t Charlie’s Angels?” Detective Mike Marker said, approaching them.
“That's a good one,” Britney said, smiling.
“Are you following us, Detective?” Maggie put on a big smile, feeling a little hot in the cheeks.
“Actually, I’m here to get some range time in,” Detective Marker said. “The real question is what are you ladies doing so far from home?”
“Check this out.”
Britney held up her perfect head shot.
Detective Marker nodded. “Nice shot,” he said. “How did you do, Maggie?”
Maggie frowned. “Don’t ask.”
The detective nodded again then turned to Alex. “Alexandra,” he said, “don’t you already have a permit to carry?”
“I’m here for moral support,” Alex said.
“Well,” Britney said, heading for the car, “I’d love to stand around here all day, but I have a date to get ready for.”
“You girls be safe,” Detective Marker called as he walked toward the range. “Don’t be shooting anyone tonight, okay?”
“Funny guy,” Maggie said. She climbed into the back seat of Britney’s SUV, which was identical to hers. Britney was already in the driver’s seat, messing with the radio.
“Do you feel like that was too much of a coincidence?” Britney asked.
“You mean the detective just happening to show up at the gun range?” Alex asked.
“Yeah…do you think one of us is a suspect?”
“No,” Alex said. “If one of us was a suspect, we would know it. Although, I do think he knows we haven’t told him one hundred percent of the truth.”
Chapter 12
Old Fashioned
Every night was ladies’ night at the New Jersey Prime Steak House. Every night, that is, except Thursday nights—when ladies actually drank for free. Free, that is, meaning buy one, get one free. In any case, most of the people who went to the steak house didn’t go for the free drinks; they went to meet available men. It was one of those places where the cost of the cars parked in front was in direct proportion to the cost of the plastic surgery of the patrons inside.
“It looks like they all use the same surgeon,” Maggie said, studying the clientele. “They all look alike.”
Britney squeezed past a group that had already taken the front side of the bar. “They also use the same color of blonde dye and have the same haircut.”
“When I get my face done,” Alex informed her two friends, “I’m going to California.”
“I don’t think you need it—but if you do, please don’t puff up your lips,” Maggie said.
“I really think that is a little bit ridiculous,” Alex said. She slipped into one of the open seats at the bar. Maggie sat in the empty seat between her and Alex.
“Are you okay?” Britney asked.
“Yeah,” Maggie said. “I just can’t get anything down on paper.” She picked up the drink menu that the bartender had already set in front of her. “What are you guys drinking?”
Britney scoured the drink menu. “I’m going to try an Old Fashioned.”
“You won’t like it,” Alex said. “Try a Manhattan instead.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The Manhattan is sweetened with sweet vermouth instead of sugar. But the bourbon is key…ask for Buffalo Trace.”
Britney nodded then turned to Maggie. “What are you having, Maggie?”
“House Cab,” Alex said before Maggie could open her mouth.
“For your information,” Maggie protested, “I was going to try something different.”
Alex rolled her eyes and said, “Like what?”
“House Merlot.”
When the bartender came over, Britney ordered a Manhattan with Buffalo Trace, Alex ordered a Grey Goose and tonic with a splash of cranberry, and Maggie ordered the house Cabernet.
“What?” Maggie asked, noticing Britney’s narrowed eyes. “J. Lohr is the house Cab here.”
“You are so predictable.” She smiled.
Even though it was ladies’ night, the ladies didn’t actually figure they would meet any eligible men. It was slim pickings, especially during a hot August evening.
“Hey, look at that one.” Britney pointed to a handsome gentleman standing nearby.
“Too old,” Alex said. “That guy is looking for a nurse with a purse. And that one over there”—she pointed to a young man across the room—“is looking for a sugar mama. This place is basically a meat market.”
“At least it’s better than looking at the same old faces from the club,” Maggie said.
“Thank God we got here early.” Britney, too, was examining the crowd. “It’s already standing room only.”
Maggie pointed to the far side of the bar. “Speaking of faces from the club…” She nodded. “Check that out.”
“Doc and Angie?” Alex had followed Maggie’s gaze. “When did that happen?”
“I have something to tell you,” Maggie said to her friends. “I think I know who killed Marco.”
“Who?” Britney asked.
“Doc’s father.”
“Why do you think that?”
Britney moved her chair to face Maggie. Maggie recounted everything Doc had told her about his family and Marco’s extortion.
Alex nodded. “Sounds like something Marco would do,” she said.
“Do you think Doc told Angie too?” Britney asked.
“If he did, he’s stupid. What would stop her from asking for money to keep quiet?” Maggie shook her head as she watched Doc skillfully place his arm around the back of Angie’s chair, resting his hand on her shoulder.
“Maybe he just wants to get close to her to be able to search the house?” Alex said.
“I think his motives are more carnal than that,” Maggie replied. “But I wouldn’t doubt if he did tell her. He’s too loose with the information, I’m afraid he’s going to tell the wrong person….”
Britney shrugged. “Maybe he’s lying about it all. Maybe he told you as a test or something.”
“You may be on to something, there Britney,” Alex said. “His parents are pretty well known in the community—too well known to be in hiding, especially in Boca. A lot of people who live here also live in the big cities in New York, New Jersey, and Illinois, especially Chicago. It wouldn’t be the ideal place to hide. I would think somewhere in Montana or South Dakota would be a better place to be invisible. I couldn’t even point out those states on a map!”
“That’s funny, I can’t either,” Maggie said.
Alex agreed. “That’s just another question in this whole weird ordeal.”
“Should we tell the detective?”
“No!” Britney and Alex said at the same time.
“We don’t need to be telling the detective anything,” Alex said. “Let him do his job, we don’t want him to think we’re still snooping around.”
“You’re probably right,” Maggie said.
“She is definitely right,” Britney replied.
Maggie motioned her head toward Doc and Angie. “Should
we follow them?”
Absolutely not,” Britney said. “Who wants to see that?”
“Not me,” Alex said.
Britney pointed as Rodney approached them. “Look who else is here.”
Rodney acknowledged each of them with a slight head nod. “Ladies.” Then he leaned into Maggie. “You will not believe this…” he whispered.
“Okay, what?” Maggie asked.
“It looks like the records from the database were erased.”
“Are you talking about the gate records?”
“Yes, I was able to check the records, and there’s definitely missing data. Maybe not erased…but the system was turned off several times that day and night. If the data was just erased there would have been holes in it. The system was just turned off somehow.”
“What are you saying?” Maggie asked.
“Someone in security turned off the reader a few times during the day—probably to test it—and then again between midnight and two a.m. Anyone could have entered and not been recorded. Honestly, it’s a cheap system; no controls are in place.”
“Oh my God,” Maggie said. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure,” Rodney said.
“Can you find out who was working that night?”
“Already on it,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”
Rodney moved to the other end of the bar to chat with Doc and Angie. Alex watched him go. Then she turned to Maggie. “What was all that about?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow when I get the info,” Maggie said.
Britney hopped off her stool. “I’m out of here, ladies,” she said.
“Where are you heading?” Alex asked.
Britney smiled. “I have a date.”
“Of course you do. You know you need to hook these girls up,” Maggie said, pointing to herself and Alex.
Britney shook her head. “You two are too hard to please.”
“Who are you going on a date with tonight?” Maggie asked.
“This guy I met named Jay. He’s pretty cool—but I think he might be some kind of cop.”
Alex looked at her curiously. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s just the way he looks, his hair cut, and he’s too muscular for his age. He definitely spends a lot of time at the gym.”
“So that’s a cop look?” Maggie asked.
Britney shrugged. “I just have a feeling.”
Alex shook her head in confusion. “Why don’t you just ask?”
“I guess I just don’t care. But if I found out he was just a dog catcher or something stupid, I might not like him as much. Now, if I believe he’s a badass somehow, it keeps my interest longer.”
“To be young again,” Maggie said.
“No thank you,” Alex replied.
Maggie took a long sip of her wine. “I just want to go home, order Italian and watch Jeopardy.”
Alex smiled. “I’m so excited for the dinner party tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be fun,” Britney said. “Like one of those murder mysteries in a box…except this one is real.”
“I’m pretty sure the murderer isn’t stupid enough to just come out and admit it,” Alex replied. “But I do love a dinner party.”
Chapter 13
Veuve Clicquot
Maggie and Fonzie arrived at Alex’s front door at five o’clock but there wasn’t much left to do. Alex had already prepared the food, cleaned the house, and set the table. She still had an apron tied around her waist when she answered the door.
“How can I help?” Maggie asked.
“If you don’t mind setting up a bar over on that counter where those bottles of wine are.” Alex pointed to the kitchen’s side counter.
“I’ll do that,” Fonzie said.
“Well then,” Alex suggested, signaling to Maggie, “let’s you and I go sit outside for a minute.”
Stepping into Alex’s backyard was like being transported to a small private garden in a remote Italian village. Exotic plants surrounded a stone waterfall. Flickering soft blue lights illuminated the large pool, turning the water into a magical pond. A light screen enclosed the entire area, providing privacy while not obscuring the beauty of the surrounding golf course.
Maggie took a seat as Alex moved around, lighting candles. She finally settled across from Maggie just as Fonzie appeared with two glasses of wine.
“You are a mind reader,” Alex said.
Fonzie smiled. “You two aren’t hard to read.”
“Saluti,” Alex said, raising her glass.
“Saluti,” Maggie said as they clinked glasses.
They remained silent for a few minutes, enjoying the relaxing environment. Finally Maggie spoke. “That’s Marco’s house.” She pointed to the area beyond the southeast corner of her yard. Alex could still make out the yellow police tape.
“Yep,” Alex said, taking a deep breath, “that’s his house.”
“I guess I didn’t realize how close you were,” Maggie said.
Alex remained silent.
They finished their wine just as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get that,” Maggie said.
She stood up and headed for the door. Inside, she looked out the side glass and saw Alan’s familiar grey Cadillac.
“Welcome, right on time,” Maggie said.
Alan walked through the doorway looking quite formal in a light grey suit and a white shirt with a sapphire tie. Also, he was holding a bottle of wine and a pink box tied with blue string. Maggie took the items even as Alan looked around Alex’s house.
“Wow,” he admired, “this place is amazing.”
“Alex has done a great job with the place,” Maggie said, “I’m sure she’ll give you the grand tour.”
Alexandra was very proud of her home. Before you even walked in the front door, you were welcomed by an oversized Chianna fountain surrounded by an abundance of planters. The planters overflowed with a variety of colors and fragrances—a teaser for the fuller experience of the backyard. Once you passed through the front door, you entered a magnificent Tuscan resort. Marble statues stood in the corners, paintings from the Renaissance hung on the walls. Even the floors were notable, made from the same wood as the floors at the Vanderbilt’s Biltmore Mansion in Asheville, North Carolina. It was quite an unbelievable home in the middle of such a small country club; but Alexandra and her husband had been one of the first members at the club. She would never give it up.
Doc arrived a few minutes after Alan. He parked his golf cart at the back of the house so he could take his smoke breaks apart from the group—Her wore cargo shorts and flip flops, it was the perfect example of the generational challenges of the club’s dress code. He had brought a cheesecake and a nice bottle of brandy. After Maggie greeted him at the door—“Hey, Doc,” Maggie said fondly—he passed his gifts into Maggie’s outstretched arms.
“Alex is in the kitchen,” Maggie told him the next moment, “but Alan is out back with the hors d’oeuvres.”
“Sounds good.”
As Doc headed for the backdoor, Maggie asked, “What would you like to drink?”
“A glass of whatever Cab that’s open will be fine,” Doc replied.
Maggie took the cheesecake and brandy into the kitchen, where she found Alex sticking her head in the oven while she fussed with some foil-covered dish.
“Fonzie, can you take a Cab and a vodka rocks to the guys?” Maggie asked.
“No problem.” Fonzie quickly poured the drinks then disappeared out the door.
“What should I do with this?”
Maggie held out the dessert and brandy.
“Put the dessert in the refrigerator,” Alex answered, “and put the brandy over by the other alcohol over there.” She pointed to the end of the countertop, where a variety of bottles had already been set out.
Maggie turned, almost running into Rodney, who had obviously let himself in.
“Jesus, Rodney!” Maggie exclaimed. “You scared me.”
“Sorry, Maggie,” Rodney apologized, “I didn’t mean to.”
“No worries,” Maggie said, “I guess I’m just a little jumpy. I’m just glad I didn’t drop this.” She held up the bottle of brandy before turning back and setting it down. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“What do you have?”
Rodney moved a few of the bottles on the countertop around, looking them over. Maggie noticed a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild. She blinked. It was the same bottle—the same exact bottle—she had seen at Marco’s. Now it was sitting alongside the other bottles Alex had set out on the counter.
Maggie picked up the bottle and turned it around. Yes…it was exactly the same.
Just then Alexandra closed the oven and turned toward Maggie and Rodney. She saw Maggie holding the Mouton Rothschild.
“Nice wine, right?” she said.
Maggie set the bottle back down. “Expensive,” she noted.
“Tell her the story,” Rodney said, handing Maggie a glass of Cabernet filled almost to the top.
Maggie turned to Rodney. She was about to ask him what he meant, but then she noticed how fully he had topped off her glass. “Rodney,” she said, “you only ever need to fill mine about halfway.”
“Well, this way you won’t have to keep filling it up,” Rodney said.
“If you fill it up too far you lose the whole experience,” Maggie explained. “The aroma, the…” She looked at Rodney’s blank face. “Never mind.”
Rodney nodded. He resumed looking over the selection of bottles. “Tell her the story about the chicken soup,” he said again.
Alex shook her head. “It wasn’t chicken soup, Rodney,” she said. “It was coq au vin.”
Alex explained while Maggie sipped her wine: “It’s one of my son’s favorites. So last year when I was visiting his home in Long Island, I decided to surprise him with his favorite meal. I brought everything with me…except I forgot the wine. Luckily for me, my son has an amazing wine collection; but when I went down to his wine cellar, I didn’t see a Burgundy, so I just picked the first Cab I saw. I used the full bottle to braise the chicken, added the mushrooms, lardons, and some fresh garlic.”
Behind The Gates (A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Book 1) Page 11