50% off Murder

by Josie Belle

  “Well, now we know why,” Ginger said.

  “What did you find out from Claire?”

  Another boom of thunder followed rapidly by lightning caused them all to jump and glance out the windows. In a burst, the rain started to fall, not the pitter-patter of happy rain, but rather the incessant sound of a chorus of hammers pounding on the roof and against the glass.

  “Let’s finish our cobbler, and I’ll tell you what I know,” Maggie said.

  They each tucked into the decadent dessert, with Joanne having two pieces. While they ate, Maggie told them what Claire had told her. Ginger accepted the story without flinching, as she’d already heard it, but Joanne was upset.

  “Why didn’t she tell us?” she asked. “We could have helped her.”

  “I think she was hoping her past would stay there,” Maggie said.

  “The minute he showed up back in town, she should have told us.”

  “She probably found it difficult to work ‘By the way, I saw my former boyfriend dragging a body out of a building once’ into the conversation,” Ginger said.

  “Kind of a show-stopper, that one,” Maggie agreed.

  Joanne opened her mouth to protest, but then huffed out a breath instead. “You’re right. Poor thing. That must have weighed as heavily upon her shoulders as Summer Phillips’s last boob job does on hers.”

  Maggie busted out with a laugh as the storm roared overhead. When both her laughter and the storm quieted, they could just make out a faint knocking on the front door.

  “That must be Max,” she said. “We need to tell him about Hugh. Maybe he can help.”

  Maggie yanked open the door and there stood Max Button, esquire. He had a hot fudge splat on his LEGO T-shirt, which he wore over cargo shorts and flip-flops. His hair was plastered to his head, and his acne looked a bit worse than usual.

  “Max, come in, come in,” she said. She stepped back and swung the door wide. Max stepped into the entryway and began to drip all over the small, tiled area. “Here, let me grab you a towel.”

  Maggie dashed down the hall to the master bathroom. She found a big, fluffy towel and then opened the small closet to grab her peach-colored, satin-trimmed terry cloth robe. It wasn’t terribly masculine, but at least it would keep Max from freezing to death.

  She raced back down the hall and handed him the fluffy towel. He used it to wrap his hair, and Maggie held the robe out for him.

  “I really don’t think that’s my color,” he said.

  “Aw, it’s just us girls,” Maggie said. “Come and have some cobbler. We’ll do your nails while we chat.”

  Max gave her an alarmed look as he shrugged on the robe. Maggie busted up.

  “I’m joking,” she said. “Come on.”

  Max squished behind her in his flops. Ginger and Joanne exchanged a look when he entered the porch.

  “Trying on outfits for court?” Ginger asked.

  Max grinned and turned this way and that, modeling the robe. “I think it really brings out the sallow in my skin, don’t you?”

  “The towel totally makes the outfit,” Joanne said. “All we need is one shot of you in the towel and it will go viral. We could start selling them as the latest haute couture accessories.”

  Max struck a pose, and they all laughed. Maggie remembered when he’d first come to her house to tutor Laura. He’d been so shy, he’d almost been paralyzed. He’d stammered and stuttered through the social niceties until they’d finally ended his suffering by opening a math book, at which time he became quite the loquacious speaker. Maggie had realized that Max was fine when he was in boy-genius mode. It was every other waking moment of his life that was torture.

  Maggie had watched him mature over the past four years and develop into the kind, confident young man that he now was. She was pleased to have been a part of his life then and now. She had no idea where his overly large brain was going to take him, but with degrees in every subject under the sun, she hoped he’d be leaving the Frosty Freeze sooner rather than later—especially if Hugh, the owner, had some shady business deals happening.

  Ginger cut Max a man-size slice of cobbler topped with a healthy scoop of vanilla ice cream, and he settled onto the couch to eat. While he ate, they told him what they’d learned, and he chewed thoughtfully when they mentioned that his boss, Hugh Simpson, was one of the biggest investors with the venture capital company.

  “So, that’s why he looked so weird when I told him who Claire was accused of murdering,” Max said. “He knew John Templeton.”

  “Did he say that?” Maggie asked.

  “No, he didn’t say a word.”

  “Don’t you think that’s odd?” Joanne asked. “I know if I knew somebody who’d been murdered, I’d say so.”

  “Unless you had something to hide,” Ginger said.

  Max’s fork stalled halfway to his mouth. “You don’t…but that…that’s crazy talk.”

  “Is it?” Maggie asked. “You know how much Hugh loves the ice cream stand. Maybe he killed to keep it.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Max said. “Hold the phone. For all his seventies macho-man chic, Hugh is just a big marshmallow. He has a hard time calling in the exterminator. He certainly isn’t one to snuff out a life.”

  “Desperation makes people do crazy things,” Maggie said.

  As if to emphasize her words, a boom of thunder rattled the windows. They were all still until the sound died away.

  “Maggie, I just don’t see Hugh shoving a cake knife into anyone’s chest, no matter how desperate he was,” Max said.

  “Would you be willing to search his office?” Joanne asked.

  “For what? Remnants of birthday cake frosting?”

  “For anything that links him with the John Templeton,” Maggie said. “Max, I wouldn’t ask, but this is for Claire.”

  “All right,” he groaned. “But you have to follow up on the other names.”

  “We will,” Maggie said. “Ginger, why don’t you take My Sister’s Closet, since they gave you such a good deal on the shoes and handbag that you obviously have an in there. I’ll take the Perk Up and see if I can talk to Jay this time. Joanne, can you handle the Clip and Snip hair salon?”

  “Oh, an excuse for a mani pedi,” Joanne said. “And I have a coupon for twenty percent off.”

  “Nice.” Ginger gave her a high five.

  Maggie looked at her own fingers. Her nails looked like she’d been dragging them up and down the sidewalk for giggles. Darn it. She should have picked the Clip and Snip.

  Thunder rolled but it now sounded distant, as if the storm was done punishing St. Stanley and was slowly moving away.

  A knock sounded at the front door, and Maggie glanced at the others. With Max here, they were all accounted for except for Claire, but Maggie sincerely doubted that she’d been released. Then again, maybe St. Stanley’s crackerjack new sheriff had solved the murder and arrested the per-petrator.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Max said. He rose from his seat. “After all, there is a murderer on the loose. You can’t be too careful.”

  Chapter 25

  He looked concerned and Maggie was touched that he felt the need to protect her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that, in his head towel and robe, the only people he was likely to scare off were the fashion police.

  With Max at her back, Maggie pulled open the door, and there stood Sam Collins, with rain pouring off the brim of his sheriff’s hat.

  She leaned into the doorway, barring his entrance.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Sam looked over her shoulder at Max and narrowed his eyes. “He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

  Maggie shrugged. “He’s of age.”

  Sam’s mouth dropped open and Maggie rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “He was soaked from the rain, so I let him borrow a robe and towel. I can get you a matching one if you�
�d like.”

  “Hi, Sheriff Collins,” Max said. He slouched back into his relaxed stance since it wasn’t a crazed murderer on the other side of the door.

  “Button,” Sam returned. He looked unhappy, which naturally made Maggie feel quite pleased.

  “Uh, Maggie, I’m going to go dry off,” Max said.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded. Poor guy, he seemed to have just realized that he’d greeted the sheriff in a peach-colored, satin-trimmed robe.

  “What can I do for you, Sam?” Maggie asked.

  “The deal was that if I let you see Claire, then you tell me what she said.”

  “You weren’t there today, so I couldn’t, now could I?” she asked.

  “Which is why I’m here now,” he said.

  “You could have called first,” she said. “I might have had a date.”

  “From what I heard, you must have had a hot date today,” he said. He took in her tank top and shorts. “Too bad I missed the outfit, but this is nice, too. It brings back a lot of memories.”

  “Really, of what?” she asked.

  She met his gaze, and that’s when she understood the term smoldering look. She was pretty sure Sam Collins could ignite kindling at fifty yards with that look.

  Instinctively, she stepped back, which of course Sam took as an invitation for him to enter the house. He removed his hat and let the excess water run off onto her front steps before he came in, but still, here he was again. Maggie wasn’t sure she liked this pattern.

  “Sam,” Ginger said as she came strolling into the room.

  “Hi, Ginger,” he said. They gave each other a half hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  Maggie felt a hot lick of jealousy spurt up inside of her. Not because of the hug or the kiss but because they had the easy familiarity of old school chums, and that was something she and Sam would never have.

  “Hello, Sheriff Collins…er…Sam,” Joanne said.

  Sam gave her a kindly smile, and they shook hands.

  “Good to see you again, Joanne,” he said.

  Max walked into the living room. His clothes were still damp, but his hair was mostly dry.

  “Listen, Maggie, I have to go prepare for Claire’s preliminary hearing,” he said.

  Maggie could see he was back in lawyer mode.

  “All right,” she said. She glanced at the group. “So, we’re all clear on what we need to do?”

  They all nodded, and Sam glanced around the room at each of them. Before he could detain them, however, they dashed out into the rain and Maggie shut the door behind them.

  “Why do I have a really bad feeling about that?” he asked.

  “I can’t imagine,” she said.

  “You’re not taking this further than you should be, are you?” he asked.

  “Meaning?” Maggie turned away and went back to the sun porch to start cleaning up. Perhaps if she stayed busy, he’d leave sooner.

  Sam followed, placing his hat on a chair arm before helping her carry into the kitchen the dishes left behind by the mass exodus.

  “You are not, I repeat not, supposed to go poking any further into the murder,” he said.

  “Now why would you think I’d do that?” she asked. She opened the dishwasher and began to rinse and stack the dessert plates inside.

  Sam looked at the lone piece of cobbler in the pie dish on the counter beside her.

  “Go ahead,” she said. She handed him a clean plate and a fork but he only took the fork.

  “No need to make more dishes for you,” he said as he tucked in.

  “Gee, thanks,” Maggie said.

  She shook her head as she continued with the dishes. She had forgotten what it was like to have a man in her kitchen. They took up too much room, she decided, and they ate too much. Honestly, she had no idea how Ginger put up with five of them under foot. The woman should be sainted.

  “So, what did Claire say?” he asked.

  “You know,” Maggie said, “technically you left before I agreed to tell you everything that she said.”

  Sam paused while chewing and stared at her hard.

  “I didn’t agree, we didn’t shake on it—in fact, we didn’t even pinky swear—so I think that makes your demand for full disclosure null and void,” Maggie said.

  Sam very carefully put the pie plate on the counter. Maggie glanced into it to find it empty. She took it and the fork out of his hand, rinsed them and loaded them into the dishwasher, too.

  “Maggie, if you don’t tell me what she said, I can’t help her,” he said. “Whatever bad feelings you have about me, you shouldn’t let them get in the way of helping your friend.”

  “I don’t have any feelings about you, good or bad,” Maggie argued. “And I certainly wouldn’t let them get in the way of helping my friend.”

  His gaze met hers. He looked like he didn’t believe her. He looked like he wanted to call her out on it, but he didn’t.

  “Fine,” he said. “Then tell me what she said.”

  “I can’t,” Maggie said. “I don’t know how it will affect things for her at the preliminary hearing, and until I do, I can’t just blab out what she told me.”

  “You know, I could arrest you,” he said. “Obstruction of justice, impeding an investigation, etc. and so forth.”

  Maggie felt her heart hammer in her chest. The thought of being arrested terrified her. Then she saw a tiny sparkle in his blue eyes, and she lost her temper and snapped her dish towel at him.

  “But I gave you cobbler and cookies!”

  He backed away from her, and a grin broke across his face. His voice was low, and he said, “You always take me by surprise Maggie O’Brien.”

  They stared at each other for a moment until Maggie looked away.

  “It’s Gerber now,” she said. Her voice was softer than she would have liked, but it was weird hearing her maiden name after all these years.

  “That’s right,” he said. She glanced back at him and saw his smile fade like afternoon sunshine. “You married Charlie Gerber. I heard he was a good man.”

  “He was,” she said.

  They fell silent. Only the rain dripping off the roof in time with the kitchen clock broke the silence.

  “Listen, Maggie,” he said. “I’m going to be honest. I didn’t expect a murder my first week on the job. I’ve been away from St. Stanley for a long time, and I don’t know it like I used to.”

  Maggie watched him. He looked as if the words were caught in his throat and he was forced to choke them out or suffocate.

  “What are you trying to say?” she asked.

  “Maggie, I need your help.”

  Chapter 26

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. She lifted a hand to her ear and cupped it as if she were hard of hearing. “What was that? I couldn’t quite make it out.”

  “You heard me.” He wasn’t smiling now, but his lips twitched.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, it sounded like you need…”

  “Help!” He reached out and grabbed the dish towel in her hand and pulled her close. He took the towel and dropped it on the counter and then laced his fingers between hers in a gesture as familiar as if he did it every day. “There. I need your help. Are you satisfied?”

  Maggie glanced down at their hands. Her breathing felt oddly constricted, and she pulled her hand out of his, patted her upper chest and coughed.

  “Okay, then, I’ll help you,” she said. She turned away from him and led the way back into the sun room.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Me? I’m fine,” she lied.

  A pot of honey and an army of fire ants would not get her to admit that she’d about keeled over when he grabbed her hand. After twenty-something years, he shouldn’t have that sort of impact on her. Obviously, she needed to start dating again, and soon.

  “It’s getting late, so let me tell you what I can,” she said. She gestured for him to sit and he did. She felt his blue gaze on her face, but she
kept her eyes on the windows as if she was watching the storm as it meandered its way out of the valley.

  She took a deep breath and told him what Ginger had discovered about Templeton’s business scheme to destroy and sell the local mom-and-pop shops. Sam took notes, asked intelligent questions and seemed pleased with the additional information.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  “No, I think that’s it,” Maggie said. “If you want me to tell you what Claire told me, you’re going to have to subpoena it out of me. It is her life, and it just isn’t my place to say.”

  She turned away from the window and met his eyes. He gave her a slow nod.

  “I’ll let it go, for now,” he said. “Nice work on Templeton. Did you ever consider a career in law enforcement?”

  “No,” she said. “When Charlie was killed, that pretty much curbed any enthusiasm I might have had for a career with the sheriff’s department.”

  Sam nodded. He gave her an empathetic look. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “My partner was killed,” he said. “We were deep under-cover, trying to bust up a drug ring. One of the suspects got twitchy and the next thing I knew we were in a full-on shootout. My partner was hit and died before they could get him airlifted to the hospital.”

  “So, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Maggie didn’t talk about how Charlie had died. She didn’t need to. It was enough to know that Sam understood what she had gone through.

  She wasn’t sure how, and she wasn’t sure that she liked it, but as she showed Sam to the door, she felt as if a truce had settled between them, at least for now.

  Maggie took Josh to story time the next morning. The library had reopened, but it seemed odd without Claire there. They got to see Linda, who looked ready to drop that baby any second, and Freddy. And, of course, Josh very proudly showed his hand stamp to everyone he met.

  The rest of the morning was spent on chores, baking a strawberry rhubarb pie and playing trains. The summer air after the storm was surprisingly cooler and drier, as if the storm had pulled the mugginess away with it. Maggie and Josh worked up quite a thirst weeding the garden—well, she weeded and Josh played with the worms—but still, it was a nice morning all the same.