Sarah came forward and held out her hand as if to shake Maggie’s. Maggie reluctantly took it and Sarah squeezed it as hard as she could. Maggie responded by gripping the smaller hand in hers and channeling all her fear and anger into a grip she felt sure would break the smaller woman’s hand.
Sarah grunted and let go.
Maggie could feel her whole body flush with anger, but took a deep breath instead of slugging an armed county cop.
“Knocked out cold but still alive,” Sarah said, as she massaged her hand. “You have damn fine instincts for a civilian.”
“Who was it?” Maggie asked.
“I’ll let you see for yourself,” Sarah said, and led the way back into the front room of the building.
They had rolled back the tents to uncover the body of the person, and had rolled the body over so it was face up.
The woman was wearing black clothing and black shoes, and her black head scarf had been pulled back to reveal her face.
“I don’t know her,” Maggie said.
“Her ID says she’s Sophie Dean,” Sarah said.
“Oh, my Lord, I do know her,” Maggie said, and filled Sarah in.
Maggie followed the first ambulance to the hospital, and she was at Ingrid’s bedside in the E.R. when she woke up. Ingrid gingerly touched her bandaged head and the bump above her eye.
“Ingrid, it’s Maggie,” Maggie said. “You’re in the hospital.”
“My head hurts,” Ingrid said. “I’m thirsty.”
Maggie fetched some ice chips and informed the charge nurse that her “sister,” Ingrid, was awake. When she returned to the curtained cubicle, Maggie raised the head of her bed so Ingrid could sit up.
“They think you have a concussion, but your skull’s not cracked,” Maggie said.
“That’s good news, I guess,” Ingrid said.
A nursing assistant came in, checked her blood pressure, her pulse, and her IV. She also checked all the sticky patches that linked her to the beeping, monitoring machines.
“A doctor will be in to see you soon,” she said.
After she left, Ingrid eyed Maggie.
“Did they catch her?”
“Yeah, I dropped the tents on her, and it knocked her out,” Maggie said. “They took her to Morgantown, on account of you being here. What happened? Why was she there?”
“She was looking for Amber,” Ingrid said. “I told her Amber no longer worked for me, and she got really agitated. She accused me of lying to protect Amber from her.”
“She must have found out it was Amber who had taken up with Chip, her ex-fiancé,” Maggie said. “That woman’s quite the stalker, and she never gets over a thing.”
“Sophie is Amber’s mother,” Ingrid said.
“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “What?”
“They had a huge falling out before Amber ran away. Amber said she was crazy and violent but she seemed pretty harmless to me, until today.”
“You’ve seen her often?”
“Oh yeah, about once every few months for the past couple of years. The last time was about a week ago,” Ingrid said.
“The morning of the O’Hare luncheon,” Maggie said. “What happened?”
“She showed up and she and Amber argued, as usual. Sophie wants her to take her GED and go to nursing school, and Amber told her to get lost. I made them go outside. When Amber came back in, she acted like nothing had happened. When I asked her about it later, she just shrugged it off.”
“What was it you found that you thought I might be interested in?”
“I broke the lock off of Amber’s employee locker. It was stuffed full of things she must have stolen from my clients. There was a lot of money, some drugs, and a gun, but after the story you told me, I thought you’d be most interested in the perfume bottle, the antibiotics, and the epi pen. They’re locked up in my safe at the office.”
Scott came through the curtain to the emergency room cubicle, white-faced and big-eyed.
“Hi,” Maggie said, as she stood up. “Ingrid, this is my husband, Scott.”
“Hi, Scott,” Ingrid said. “Your wife saved my life today.”
“My wife is going to give me a heart attack,” Scott said, as he embraced Maggie.
“I guess Sarah called you,” Maggie said.
“No,” Scott said. “Skip saw it on the blotter and told me. I didn’t know until just now whether you were hurt or not.”
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said.
“Let’s go outside,” Scott said. “Ingrid, it was nice to meet you.”
Out in the hospital parking lot, Scott took a deep breath and wiped his face with both hands.
“I don’t know what to do,” Scott said. “I don’t ever want to be scared like that again. I could have lost you.”
Maggie felt terrible but she didn’t know what to say, except, “I’m sorry.”
He grabbed her, hugged her, and Maggie could feel him trembling.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said. “I’m okay. Really.”
“Why were you there?”
“I went to see why Ingrid hadn’t shown up to the party,” Maggie said. “Sophie Dean had knocked her out and left this strip club flyer to make everyone think Amber had done it. I think she was looking for the evidence Amber had stowed in her employee locker. Sophie is Amber’s mother; can you believe that?”
Maggie told him everything happened, and didn’t leave anything out, even though hearing about the bullet zinging by her head made the color drain from his face again.
“Maggie, I can’t bear this,” he said. “How can I convince you to quit putting your life in danger?”
“I didn’t go there intending to get shot at,” she said. “It just happened.”
“This kind of thing will break me, Maggie, I’m telling you; I can’t go through this again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What more can I say?”
“Say you’ll quit investigating things with Hannah.”
“But that would be a lie,” she said. “You don’t get this about Hannah and me: investigating things is not just a hobby, it’s something we have to do. We can’t not do it. When we’re in the midst of figuring something out, I’m using all of my brain cells and relying on my intuition at the same time. There’s no other feeling like that. It’s invigorating. It’s addictive. I love it.”
Scott sighed.
“Then we’re getting you a gun permit and I’ll take you to get trained.”
“I don’t want a gun,” Maggie said. “They’re too dangerous.”
“If you’re going to keep getting yourself into situations where people shoot at you, wouldn’t it be better to be armed and trained?”
“I’m not getting a gun, period,” she said. “That’s not what this is about. This is about outsmarting criminals, not fighting with them.”
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to take some self-defense courses,” he said. “Just as a precaution.”
“Hannah’s going to get her Private Investigator license,” Maggie said. “I’d rather do that.”
“God help us all,” he said.
Maggie picked up Claire at her parents’ house.
“Have I got a story for you,” she said.
After Maggie finished, Claire sat in dumb silence.
“Sophie is Amber’s mother,” Maggie said.
“I got that,” Claire said. “She told me her daughter was in college.”
“She’s a liar,” Maggie said with a shrug.
“Sophie sent Amber to kill Gigi?” Claire asked.
“Or just gave her the idea and means,” Maggie said. “What better way to frame Jillian one last, brilliant time?”
“Did she know Amber was sleeping with her ex-fiance?”
“What better way for Amber to get back at her mother?”
“This is seriously twisted.”
“Oh,” Maggie said. “Here’s another update straight from a cop I happen to sleep with: the coroner’s report says that Gigi die
d of anaphylactic shock due to an overdose of penicillin, and that Cheat was killed by an injection of epinephrine straight to his heart.”
“Both killed by Amber?”
“Here’s my theory,” Maggie said. “Amber’s mother finds out she’s involved with Chip. She’s furious, but more importantly, she sees a way to use her daughter to frame Jillian for murder. She’s a former nurse, and she knows about Gigi’s allergy from being close with the family years ago. When she finds out Amber is working Gigi’s luncheon, she appeals to her daughter’s insatiable appetite for money, tells her what to do, and Amber agrees to do the deed. Sophie gets the penicillin; Amber takes it with her.
“While Gigi is fighting with Chip out back, Amber sneaks upstairs, doses the perfume, finds Gigi’s epi pen, and hides it in her purse. After they’re thrown out, she goes back in to steal something because she’s mad about being kicked out, finds Gigi dead, steps over her dead or dying body, and takes the perfume bottle so no one can test it. She then uses the epi pen to kill Cheat.”
“Wow,” Claire said. “Just, wow.”
“I know, right?” Maggie said. “It’s diabolical.”
“What does Scott say?”
“That it’s all circumstantial evidence. If they can trace the epi pen in Amber’s locker back to Gigi’s prescription, and the perfume bottle has penicillin in it, then that will be compelling evidence against Amber. But Amber will just say her mom did it, and Sophie will say Amber did it. Sophie was trying to frame Amber for Ingrid’s assault, so it’s only a hop, skip, and a jump to her framing her for Cheat and Gigi’s murders.”
“You think they’ll get away with it?”
“Well, Sophie will go to jail for attacking Ingrid,” Maggie said. “What do you want to bet she’ll throw her daughter under the bus to get a shorter sentence?”
“If they ever find Amber,” Claire said. “She’s protected by the mob now, remember.”
“She’ll do well there,” Maggie said. “They promote psychopaths in that organization.”
“So, Jillian didn’t do anything wrong?”
“She conspired with Candace to forge a check for several million dollars.”
“And got away with it.”
“Not completely,” Maggie said. “She’s lost her cushy job offer and it’s just a matter of time before Chip’s misadventures get her disinvited from every committee and social event.”
“She lost control,” Claire said. “Her worst nightmare.”
“Thanks to you,” Maggie said.
“Where are we going?” Claire asked. “We’re just aimlessly driving around Rose Hill.”
“I’m killing time before I take you out to Hannah’s.”
“Why?”
“There’s a party for you brewing out there.”
“Oh, no,” Claire said. “I was hoping nobody would remember. I don’t want a party, Maggie.”
“I know, hon,” Maggie said. “It was supposed to be a small, family-only thing, but it’s kind of grown out of control.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Scooter Scoley and the Snufftuckers are going to play,” Maggie said.
“No,” Claire said. “Make it stop.”
“They spread the word to their fans, and between that and Hannah’s big fat mouth, half the town is up at the farm waiting for you to arrive.”
“Is there any way out of this?”
“Not out,” Maggie said. “Just through.”
“Please kill me now.”
“I know,” Maggie said. “That’s why I’m telling you first, so you can prepare yourself.”
“I need a drink or a cookie.”
Maggie reached into the back seat, flipped open a cooler lid, and handed Claire a beer.
“I thought of that,” she said. “Poor you.”
“Poor me? Poor Eugene,” Claire said. “This will scare the bejeezus out of him.”
There were so many cars that Maggie had to park halfway down Possum Holler and they walked up. As they walked past the dozens of cars parked on the side of the narrow road, they could hear the mandolin and banjo music echoing off the hills.
“It sounds like a festival,” Claire said.
“Claire-a-palooza,” Maggie said.
Up at the farm, Scooter and the band were blazing through a fast-paced number. Patrick had set up a bar on the sunporch, and Sam was supervising a line of ten barbecue grills being tended to by vet buddies of his from the community center.
Claire’s mother, Maggie’s mother, and several of their friends were doling out food from a pot luck collection on white-paper-covered tables, and folks were congregating to eat at one of the many picnic tables that had been borrowed from the Whistle Pig Lodge.
When Scooter spotted Claire, he stopped playing and shouted, “There’s the birthday girl!”
Everyone turned and hollered at Claire. Scooter’s band began to play “Happy Birthday,” and everyone sang. Claire could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
He invited her onstage to sing but Claire shook her head.
“You’ll be up here singing before the night is through,” Scooter said. “Mark my word.”
She accepted many hugs and handshakes on her way to the sun porch, where her cousin Patrick handed her another beer.
“Great party, cuz,” he said.
Ed came out of the kitchen with Sammy in his arms. Sammy had been crying, and he showed Claire his skinned knee. He held out his arms and Claire took him.
He rested his head on her shoulder and said, “Too loud.”
“I know,” Claire said. “Let’s go see Eugene.”
She kissed Ed and said she’d be back soon. They made their way to the barn, which had a sign on the door that read, “Do Not Enter. Vicious dogs.” She let herself in, closed the door behind her, patted Hannah’s big dogs, and went up the stairs to the loft.
She knocked on the door.
Sammy said, “Genie, me’s Sammy and Claire Bear; we comes in.”
Eugene opened the door.
Bunny and Chicken danced around Claire’s feet, delighted to see her.
Eugene looked haggard. There were dark circles around his eyes and his cheeks were sunken in. His clothes hung off him due to the weight he’d lost. Claire put Sammy down and he ran to Eugene, who had to use great effort to pick him up.
“Sorry about the party,” Claire said. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t know about it and I didn’t want it, either.”
Eugene shook his head and smiled without showing his teeth. He put Sammy down and took him by the hand, showed him what he was working on. He was tumbling rocks in a polisher, and he let Sammy help him.
“Look at me, Claire,” Sammy said. “Me’s doing it!”
“It’s amazing how insulated this room is,” Claire said. “I thought it would be much louder in here.”
Eugene gave Sammy a bag of brightly swirled marbles and Sammy sat down on the floor to play with them. The little dogs chased the marbles and made Sammy laugh.
Eugene took a white dry erase board off the table and wrote something on it. He then turned it toward Claire.
“Too much work to talk. Worse than before,” he’d written.
“If you want to see a specialist, we’ll take you anywhere you need to go. Someone may be able to do something for you.”
“No more doctors,” he wrote. “I just want to stay here and do this.”
He gestured to his work behind him.
“Hannah had said you always wanted to move to South America,” Claire said. “Wasn’t that your dream?”
“I used to want that,” he wrote. “Now I have a family.”
“That’s good,” Claire said. “Family is the most important thing.”
“Are you going to marry Ed?” he wrote.
“Probably. But you and I are family now, too.”
“No kissing then,” he wrote and pantomimed laughing.
“No,” Claire said. “Sorry.”
&n
bsp; He shrugged.
“I want to pay for Sammy to go to college,” he wrote. “Set up a trust for him. Can you do that?”
“Walter can do that,” Claire said. “Anything you want, we will do.”
He nodded and mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Genie, play with me,” Sammy whined.
Hannah appeared at the doorway and said, “There you are. Sorry about the Burning Man thing, Claire. Things got a little out of hand. Come on, Sammy. Papaw has the tractor out and he’s going to take the kids on a hayride.”
“Pretty clever getting me to set up for my own party,” Claire said.
“I had to think fast,” Hannah said.
Sammy jumped up, hugged Eugene’s legs, looked up at him, and said, “Me’s play with you’s later. Me’s gotta go.”
Hannah picked up her son and went down the stairs.
“I guess I should at least attend a party thrown in my honor,” Claire said.
Eugene nodded and smiled.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Claire said. “If you feel like coming down later, find me and we’ll sit together.”
Eugene held up a finger and wrote something, then held it up for Claire to see.
“Thank you, Claire,” it said.
Outside, children were running and screaming, the music was loud, and everyone kept touching her as she passed through the crowd. Claire felt an overwhelming need to escape, but instead she just kept smiling and thanking everyone for coming.
Her Uncle Curtis was down in the lower field, loading up the hay wagon with children and adults. Claire sat down on the front porch steps to watch. Scott came out of the house and sat down beside her.
“I guess you heard about Sophie Dean getting arrested,” he said.
“It’s sad,” Claire said. “All that fuss over a man who didn’t even love her.”
“Don’t you think it was more of a power struggle between her and Jillian?”
“I guess so,” Claire said. “Nobody won, of course.”
“I was out of my mind for a few hours thinking Maggie might be hurt,” he said. “The Neanderthal in me wanted to lay down the law and forbid her from investigating things with Hannah.”
Sunflower Street (Rose Hill Mysteries Book 8) Page 23