by Josie Belle
“Josh, your dad is on the computer! Come see him!” Sandy poked her head around the doorway.
“Daddy!” Josh clutched his train and toddled with his mother into the small bedroom, converted into an office, in the back of the house.
Maggie followed behind them—she always liked to see for herself that Jake was okay, and then give the couple their alone time.
The computer was on, and there beaming out of the screen was Jake. A handsome man, his hair was cut military short, and he was wearing his fatigues, which made him seem even more manly. It had to be that “man in a uniform” thing, Maggie thought. She had known Jake since he was in high school, and sometimes she still saw the knock-kneed, sweaty-palmed boy who had arrived on her sister’s doorstep with a wilting lily corsage to give to Sandy on their prom night.
Despite his grown-up good looks, Maggie couldn’t help but notice that he looked tired—not “I haven’t slept lately” tired, but more of a bone-weary tired, like if he ever got the chance to rest, he would sleep for a month.
He and Sandy talked using Skype, a free computer program that allowed them to see each other while they spoke, which was at least once a week. Sandy hefted Josh onto her lap, and he waved at his dad, who beamed even brighter at the sight of his big baby boy.
“How ya doin’, Josh-by-gosh?” Jake asked.
“Daddy, make the train whistle,” Josh demanded.
“Okay,” Jake agreed with a smile. Then he did a spot-on impression of a train whistle. Josh clapped in delight.
“Daddy, I smashed Auntie Maggie’s train!” Josh said. Then he made a loud crashing sound.
Jake laughed delightedly.
Maggie popped her head into the group and said, “Hi, Jake!”
“Hi, Aunt Maggie,” he said. “These two rascals aren’t giving you too much trouble, are they?”
“Define trouble,” Maggie said with a grin.
“Hey!” Sandy said. “I resemble that remark.”
“Daddy home soon?” Josh asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be home soon, son,” Jake said.
He looked a little sad, but then Josh said, “We play trains when you come home, Daddy.”
“Yes, we will.”
“Make the whistle, Daddy,” Josh ordered, and Jake smiled and did another perfect imitation of a train whistle.
Josh pumped his fist and then leaned forward and kissed the computer monitor.
“Love you, Daddy,” he said. Then he wiggled off of his mother’s lap and headed back to his train table.
Maggie leaned forward and blew a kiss to Jake. “Take care of yourself, Jake.”
“You, too, Maggie,” he said, and he winked.
Maggie knew that Sandy and Jake had only minutes to talk, so she went to keep Josh occupied so they could spend their precious time alone.
“How are you, baby?” Sandy asked.
Maggie turned away, but she heard the sadness in Jake’s voice when he answered, “It’s been a rough week, hon. Two of my squad were killed by IEDs.”
The devastation in his voice made Maggie want to turn around and offer some comfort, but she heard Sandy say, “Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry.”
Quietly, Maggie shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes, her thoughts with the families who had lost their men. But another part of her was so desperately grateful that it wasn’t Jake who had been killed, she felt guilty for even thinking it.
She found Josh back at the train table. She sat down with him and let him boss her trains around some more. Sandy joined them about fifteen minutes later. Her face was pale and her eyes watery. Maggie opened her arms, and Sandy sank onto the floor and leaned into her.
“He’s okay,” Maggie said, knowing it was a cold comfort at best. But Sandy nodded and pulled back.
“Be present. Live today,” she said. “I got to see him today.”
Maggie nodded in approval. Her own throat was too tight to speak.
“Mommy, look!” Josh launched his train down the steep part of the track, and Sandy watched him with amused eyes.
“Sandy, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard Jake talk about the two men in his squad.”
“He’ll be all right, but it was bad,” Sandy confirmed.
“I can’t even imagine what he’s going through,” Maggie said. “Jake’s tour will be done soon, though, yes?”
“Six more months,” Sandy said, and closed her eyes, as if trying to imagine it.
Maggie squeezed Sandy’s shoulder. Josh had five of his trains lined up now, and he was sending them into the roundhouse one by one. Sandy sat down to play with him, and Maggie stepped away, letting them have some mother-and-son time.
She couldn’t help but think of the cake knife sticking out of John Templeton’s chest. Not exactly an IED, but then again, who used a cake knife—an everyday, ordinary object—to kill?
“How long is Claire going to be held?” Maggie asked Max through the window of the Frosty Freeze. She and Ginger had decided to have ice cream while they pestered Max about Claire’s case.
“At her arraignment this morning, the judge denied bail,” Max said.
“But she has ties to the community,” Ginger protested.
“And she’s a good person,” Maggie added.
Max blew out a breath. “Yes, but her fingerprints are on the knife, and she has a history with the victim. I couldn’t get them to budge.”
He looked defeated as he passed Maggie her hot fudge brownie sundae through the window and handed her a spoon.
“I’m sure you did your best, Max,” Maggie said. “How did Claire take it?”
An odd look crossed his face, and Max said, “She didn’t seem surprised.”
“What happens next?” Maggie asked.
“Preliminary hearing,” he said. “The prosecution will do their best to prove that they have enough evidence to hold Claire for a trial, and I will do my best to prove that they don’t.”
He looked stressed, and Maggie wondered if it was time to call in an attorney with some years behind him. She didn’t want Max to carry this burden alone.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I’ve been in contact with my mentor. He’s agreed to oversee Claire’s case.”
Maggie smiled at him. She should never have doubted the boy genius.
“Can we see her?” Ginger asked. She was already working on her hot caramel sundae with extra pralines.
“That’s probably going to be up to Sheriff Collins,” Max said. “Given that Maggie is not on his list of friendlies, I don’t see him letting her in to see Claire, but you might stand a chance.”
“Well, that’s rude,” Maggie said.
“Maybe if you played nice for once, he’d let you talk to her,” Max said. “I don’t know what is between you two, but you’re really not helping my client with your hostile attitude.”
“There’s nothing between me and Sam Collins!” Maggie protested. “I simply loathe the man.”
“You’re not normally such a grudge-holder,” Ginger said. She waved her spoon at Maggie. “Was it really so awful that he teased you as a kid? Shouldn’t you let it go? For Claire?”
Maggie wanted to protest. She wanted to come clean and tell Ginger everything, but then how would she explain that she’d never told her before? Ginger was her bff, and what had happened between her and Sam Collins was definitely the stuff of midnight chats over cheesecake and wine with your best friend forever.
“I can try,” she said. “But I just find him so infuriating.”
“The feeling appears to be mutual,” Max said. “Now, if you two will excuse me?” He nodded his head, and Maggie turned around to see that a small line had formed behind them. She and Ginger shuffled to the side and then strolled over to the picnic table nearby to sit and eat their ice cream.
“So, can you be on your best behavior so we can go and talk to Claire?” Ginger asked.
“I can try,” Maggie said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll be out ticketing someone fo
r a broken headlight, and I won’t have to see him.”
“That’s the spirit,” Ginger said with a shake of her head.
“Well, if it isn’t the little shoe thief,” a voice said from behind Maggie.
Since that particular voice always managed to make the hair on the back of Maggie’s neck stand up, and not in a good way, she knew it was Summer Phillips before she even turned around.
“Hello, Summer,” she said. “I hate to argue, but if anyone is a shoe thief, it’s you.”
She let her eyes run up and down Summer’s latest eye-popping ensemble, from the platform sandals to the Daisy Duke shorts and halter top that barely kept her girls restrained. Ruby red lipstick, fake eyelashes and a head of platinum hair that had been teased to add another three inches to her overall height capped off her “look at me” outfit. Maggie found it hard to pull her gaze away, as if from a train wreck.
“Why, hello, Ginger.” Summer ignored Maggie and turned her attention across the table. “I saw your son the other day, the oldest one. My, he has turned out just as handsome as his daddy.”
Maggie saw Ginger’s nostrils flare. The mother lion in her was obviously gearing up to take down the long-legged, underdressed gazelle in front of her.
Summer, not being entirely stupid, must have sensed that she was in mortal peril, as the next words out of her confirmed.
“But obviously, he is too…immature for me,” she said.
“If by that you mean you’re way too old for him, then you’d be right,” Maggie said. She scooped some of her sundae into her mouth with a smile.
Summer looked like she wanted to use her red talons to claw the smile right off Maggie’s face. Thankfully, they were in public, and Ginger was a witness.
With a toss of her big blonde head, Summer seemed to get a grip on her rage, and she gave Maggie a smug glance. “What’s the matter, Maggie? Are you jealous?”
Summer had caught her on an inhale, and a chunk of brownie stuck in her throat. She coughed and then gagged. Ginger looked ready to jump up and pound her on the back, but Maggie held up her hand to indicate that she was okay.
“Jealous of what?” she managed to ask in her most scathing tone.
“Why, me and Sam Collins, of course,” Summer said. “Everyone knows you’ve had the hots for him since high school.”
Later, she couldn’t say that what happened next had ever been a fully formed thought. Premeditated, so to speak. She supposed it was really just an instinctive reaction, like ducking when a ball is lobbed at your head. Either way, Maggie’s hot fudge brownie sundae landed splat on Summer Phillips’s big blonde head.
Chapter 16
Summer stared at Maggie with a look of horror that would have been comical had she not immediately begun to hunt for a weapon. She lunged toward Ginger, who stepped back with her sundae just in time.
“My hair!” Summer cried. “You’ve ruined my hair! I’m calling the sheriff! I’m going to have you arrested for assault!”
A chuckle sounded from the Frosty Freeze, and when Summer whirled in that direction, Max quickly yanked his head in and slammed the window shut as if afraid she would launch herself into his ice cream palace.
Maggie and Ginger used her momentary distraction to race to Maggie’s car. They had barely slammed their doors shut when Summer hurried after them as fast as her platform sandals would allow, which was thankfully not fast at all.
“Punch it!” Ginger ordered, and Maggie threw the car into reverse and backed out of the lot, put it into drive and raced down the road. Her last sight of Summer was of her shaking her fist as ice cream and hot fudge flattened her hair and dripped down her face like snow off the mountaintops in summer.
“What were you thinking?” Ginger demanded. “She is going to have you arrested.”
“Really? A dead guy was found with a cake knife in his chest, and she’s going to have me arrested for dumping my ice cream on her head?” Maggie asked. “Sam may be a horse’s behind, but even he wouldn’t do that.”
“If she hollers loud enough, he’ll do it just to shut her up. If there is a will, there is a way and, believe me, Summer has the will,” Ginger said. “What do you have to say to that?”
“Oops?” Maggie asked with a shrug.
“Why do you let her get under your skin so easily?” Ginger said. “Obviously, she’s just trying to yank your chain by saying you had the hots for Sam Collins back in high school. I mean, everyone knows you can’t stand him. Why do you let her wind you up?”
Maggie blew out a breath. Again, here was another opportunity to tell Ginger the truth, and yet, she couldn’t do it.
Why had she reacted so strongly to Summer’s words? Well, duh, it was because for a terrified second she had thought that Summer knew about her and Sam. It was ridiculous. No one knew about them. It was one crazy summer so long ago that it hardly mattered, and yet, it did matter. To her.
“I don’t know,” she lied. “Summer just pushes all of my buttons.”
“Pushes your buttons?” Ginger repeated. “Honey, that was a direct hit, and you fell for it.”
“I know, I know,” Maggie said. “I suppose I owe her an apology.”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Ginger said. “This is Summer Phillips we’re talking about. After what she said about my boy, I was ready to douse her with a sundae myself. But yes, you should try not to react so strongly to her, perhaps.”
As they cruised down Main Street, the sheriff’s car passed them going the other way. Maggie and Ginger exchanged a wide-eyed look. Sam Collins had been driving the car, and while the lights hadn’t been flashing, he was still driving in the direction of the Frosty Freeze like he meant business.
“Hmm,” Maggie hummed. “Since we’re already in trouble, should we go for broke and see if we can get in to see Claire?”
“We? What we?” Ginger asked. “You mean me not we, because you are in trouble and I am not. However, I promise to come visit you when Sam locks you up for assault with a deadly maraschino cherry.”
“Aw, that’s my bosom buddy,” Maggie said. “So how ’bout it? Are you feeling charming?”
“Why not?” Ginger sighed. “The worst they can do is say no.”
“Or lock us up,” Maggie said. At Ginger’s alarmed look, she added, “But that would be highly unlikely.”
Being the county seat, St. Stanley had one courthouse adjacent to the sheriff’s department, which had a small jail. Usually, it was just a drunk tank for anyone picked up with a DUI after the Friday night high school football game, but presently the lone resident was Claire.
Maggie parked outside the sheriff’s department, and Ginger loaded the parking meter with change. The only metered parking in St. Stanley was in front of the courthouse, the sheriff’s department and the jail, and Maggie wondered if it was to discourage anyone from lingering.
The buildings were all made from red brick with wide stone steps, and each had an imposing glass front door. They went to the building on the right, as the courthouse was on the left. Maggie was really hoping they weren’t going to have to go there anytime soon.
Ginger and Maggie hit the steps, and Maggie noticed that her palms were sweaty. She was nervous about seeing Claire. Max had seen her briefly earlier in the day, and he said she’d been holding up okay but, really, how good could she be doing? She was in jail!
They entered the building to find it fairly quiet. At the front desk sat a deputy who was talking on the phone. Ginger and Maggie waited for him to hang up, perfecting their smiles of ingratiating sincerity.
When he did, he glanced up and recognized Ginger right away. “Hello, Mrs. Lancaster. What can I do for you?”
“Stephen Rourke, well, look at you,” Ginger said. She gave him a big smile. “The boys told me you had gone into law enforcement, but I didn’t know you were working here as a detective.”
“Oh, I’m just a deputy, ma’am,” Stephen said.
He looked to be about the same age as Ginger
’s oldest. Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at how thick Ginger was spreading the flattery.
“Well, a smart fellow like you, I’ll bet you’re running this place in no time,” Ginger said.
Maggie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She was afraid Ginger was going overboard, but as she glanced back at the deputy’s flushed face, she realized her friend was spot-on in her approach.
“Now, Stephen, I’m wondering if you can do us a little favor,” Ginger said. “My friend Claire has been arrested for murder, and Ms. Gerber, here, and I were hoping we could get in to see her.”
Stephen started to shake his head, but Ginger just pushed forward as if he were nodding.
“Aren’t you a dear?” she asked. “Isn’t he, Maggie?”
“Oh yes,” Maggie said. She decided to play it to the hilt and put on her most relieved voice. “You are a lifesaver—literally. You see, I’m taking care of her cat, and he’s been getting sick—hairballs and whatnot all over the place. I need to ask her what to do.”
“Oh, I don’t know about this. The sheriff was very clear that while he was out no one was to go back there.”
“But you know me,” Ginger said. “I’ve fed you custard pie since you were knee-high to a tadpole.”
“You do make a fine custard pie, ma’am,” he said.
Maggie almost felt bad, strong-arming him like they were. But this was ideal, getting to see Claire without Sam around. And there was no telling how long Summer would keep him occupied with her complaint against Maggie.
“Aw, come on, Stephen. You wouldn’t want a poor little cat to suffer, would you?” Ginger asked.
“Well, no, ma’am, but…”“
“Great, then it’s all settled,” Maggie said.
“Of course, we wouldn’t want you to get in trouble,” Ginger said. “So, I’ll just stay here and keep you company while Maggie goes to ask Claire about the cat. It won’t take more than a minute.”