by Josie Belle
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Summer asked. Her voice was strained, as if she was trying very hard to have a normal conversation but it was taking a lot out of her.
Maggie paused. Her original plan had been to rip Summer a new one for sending her mother over to buy Maggie off, but now it just didn’t seem important. Bruce was dead. Summer was a wreck. She glanced at the doorway. What could be taking Sam so long? Because there was no way she was engaging in this discussion now.
As if in answer to her silent pleading, a uniformed police officer walked into the kitchen. A petite, sturdy black woman, who more than made up for her lack of height with a feisty attitude, Deputy Dot Wilson glanced from Maggie to Summer to Maggie to Summer again, with her dark brown eyes getting bigger with each twist of her head.
“Sheriff Collins left you two alone?” she asked. “What was he thinking?”
“We’re not that bad,” Maggie said. Then she glanced at Summer. “Well, I’m not.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Summer asked. “It’s not my fault you have such a hot temper.”
Maggie was prevented from answering by Sam reentering the room.
“Everything all right in here?” he asked.
“Fine,” Summer and Maggie answered as one. Dot rolled her eyes and added, “Barely.”
“Deputy,” Sam said as he turned to Dot, “I need you to coordinate a canvass of the neighbors to see if they saw or heard anything. The medical examiner is on his way. Summer, I want you to walk me through everything exactly as you remember it. Maggie, do you mind waiting outside? I want to talk to you next.”
“No problem,” Maggie said. She was relieved to get out of the house and put some distance between herself and the body.
“You’ll be okay waiting here by yourself?” Dot asked as she let Maggie out the front door.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Maggie said. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and leaned against the wooden porch rail while she waited.
A part of her was curious to hear what Summer was telling Sam, but then, another part of her didn’t want to know. She had no doubt that Summer was wailing and crying all over Sam at this very minute. On the one hand, she felt sorry for her, but on the other, she knew Summer well enough to know she was playing the pity card.
It had to have been horrible to find her stepfather like that, but then, if she had just found him, why was she holding the hammer? Maggie felt her heart pound hard in her chest. Could Summer be lying? She wasn’t exactly known for having an exclusive relationship with the truth.
But when Maggie thought about it, it had to have been wrenching to find Bruce dead in her home, and Summer had certainly looked to be in a state of shock when Maggie arrived. But was it because Summer had just walked in and discovered the body? Or was it an adrenaline fallout after slamming a hammer into her stepfather’s head?
Maggie couldn’t imagine why Summer would bludgeon Bruce, but then she wasn’t really privy to the inner workings of Summer’s life, now was she?
The medical examiner’s van pulled up and Maggie opened the front door to let Sam know. “Sam, the ME is here.”
“Got it!” he yelled back. In a few minutes, he and Summer appeared.
The blotches on Summer’s face had receded. It didn’t look as if she’d been crying while talking to Sam. She was still wearing her coat, and Maggie realized they’d both had their coats on the entire time they were inside.
Sam squeezed her arm as he passed by. He stopped by the ME’s van and Maggie knew he was apprising him of the situation. The porch was narrow, but Maggie followed Summer to the side where two wrought iron chairs and a short table resided under the overhanging roof.
Summer collapsed into one chair and Maggie sank onto the other. The cold winter air made the cushion crisp and Maggie felt the chill seep through her clothes to her skin.
“Can I get you anything?” Maggie asked.
Summer glanced at her. “No . . . thanks.”
With a sigh, she patted her pockets and then frowned.
“Damn it, I must have left my phone inside. I have to call my mother,” she said, her tone full of dread.
Maggie didn’t blame her a bit.
Chapter 11
Maggie reached into her purse and took out her phone. She handed it to Summer.
“You can use mine,” she offered.
Summer gave her an uncomfortable look, as if it pained her to have to borrow something from her. Maggie couldn’t fault her for that. If the situation were reversed, she’d feel the same way, but given that Summer had just been blubbering all over her, it seemed ridiculous for them to hang on to the old way of being. Obviously, things had changed, even if it was only for the moment.
Summer tapped in the number and put the phone to her ear.
“It’s me, Summer,” she said.
Maggie stared off across the yard, pretending not to listen. She’d get up and move, but there was really no place to go. Instead, she watched as Sam and the ME went back into the house. Sam’s face looked grave, and Maggie wondered what he was thinking.
A chill rippled down her spine as she thought of what awaited them inside. Did anyone, even a homicide detective, ever get used to this?
“Well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time under the hair dryer, but it’s important,” Summer said. She sounded petulant. “Mama, there’s a situation. I can’t talk about it over the phone. No, you really need to come home now.”
Maggie could hear Blair’s screechy voice on the other end of the line. She had to give Summer a lot of credit. She would have hung up on her by now.
“We’ll talk about it when you get here,” Summer said. She was quiet for a minute, then she looked at Maggie. She didn’t maintain eye contact, but turned away and hissed, “You did what? When?”
She glanced back at Maggie with an expression that was equal parts mortification and anger.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Summer said, then she sighed. “It really doesn’t matter right now.”
Maggie heard Blair protesting. Her argument was clearly not winning points with Summer, because she snapped, “No, it is not okay. You have to butt out. This is my life and I will spend it with whomever I choose.”
The squawk on the other end was so loud that Summer jerked the phone from her ear. When Blair wound down, Summer said, “Just get here, and quickly. There’s something more important than my love life or your roots.”
She ended the call and handed the phone back to Maggie. Maggie tucked the phone away.
“I didn’t think I should tell her about Bruce, since she probably wouldn’t be able to drive after news like that,” Summer said.
“Good call,” Maggie said.
“She told me—ugh, she told me she came to see you this morning,” Summer said.
Maggie nodded.
“She tried to buy you off?” Summer asked.
Again, Maggie nodded.
“Oh, my god, she thinks everyone has a price just because she does. When is she going to mind her own business?” Summer asked.
Maggie raised her eyebrows. From what she’d seen previously, Summer seemed to be trying to please her mother by going along with her crazy schemes to match her up with Sam.
“Maybe you should have asked her to do that earlier instead of stalking the man she has in mind for you,” Maggie said. She noticed her tone was sharp, but she was incapable of curbing it.
“Yeah, about that day at the motel,” Summer said. “I was going to warn Sam. I wasn’t going to make a play for him. I swear.”
“Uh-huh,” Maggie said. “Our history makes it hard for me to believe that.”
“Fair enough,” Summer said. “Tyler said the same thing.”
She sounded so gloomy that Maggie couldn’t help but study her more closely. Did Summer Phillip
s really have feelings for Tyler Fawkes?
“Tyler’s not happy?” Maggie asked.
“He dumped me,” Summer said. There was no question that Summer was depressed over the breakup.
“But you were just hanging on Sam in there,” Maggie said.
“I was upset,” Summer said.
“Are you sure you weren’t trying to win him over with the helpless woman routine?”
“No, I wasn’t,” Summer insisted, then she frowned. “Was I?”
“Looked like it to me,” Maggie said. “If you want Tyler to take you seriously you have to curb the hanging-on-other-men thing.”
“What can I say,” Summer said. “It’s in my DNA.”
Maggie would have argued the point but just then a little black sports car zipped into the driveway and out stepped Blair Cassidy.
Summer stood and waved to her mother, who was looking with annoyance at the ME’s van as if it were taking her usual spot without permission.
Maggie stood and Blair’s gaze narrowed, as if she thought the reason Summer had called her had something to do with Maggie.
As if preparing for battle, Blair threw back her shoulders and hugged her black wool coat close as if to shield herself from their ire. Then she strode forward as if she fully expected everyone to move aside for her.
Maggie took no pleasure in the bad-news bomb Summer was about to drop on her mom. How did you tell someone her husband had been bludgeoned to death? She decided she would go wait by her car so as not to intrude upon the scene. She made to leave the porch, but Blair turned on her.
“What are you doing here, Maggie Gerber? Tattling?” Blair asked.
Maggie was forced backward as Blair stomped up the steps, blocking her exit from the narrow porch.
“Um, now might not be the time—” Maggie began, but Blair interrupted.
“I think it’s the perfect time,” she said.
“No, Mama, it really isn’t,” Summer said.
Blair gaped at her daughter. “Surely you’re not taking her side. How could you? Everything I do, I do for you. Don’t you see?”
“There’s more going on here,” Summer said. She heaved a sigh as if stealing herself for what was ahead. “Come on.”
“What? Why? I don’t understand,” Blair protested.
Summer didn’t respond. Instead, she opened the door and led her mother inside. Maggie stayed right where she was on the porch. There was no way she wanted to bear witness to what happened next.
The scream that came from the house made the hair on Maggie’s neck stand on end. She hugged her arms about her and thought about the night she had been called to the hospital for her own husband. There was nothing worse than finding out the one you loved was dead.
Restless, she began to pace. Leaves, brown and dry, littered the small porch and crunched under her feet. No more screams came from the house, for which she was grateful.
The tip of her nose was cold, and her fingers had started to ache from the bitter chill in the air, even with them tucked in the pockets of her coat. When the front door finally opened, it was Sam who stepped out.
He looked haggard, and she didn’t hesitate as she crossed the small space to hug him. Sam held her close and rubbed her arms as if he knew the cold was seeping in and he was trying to warm her up.
“Sorry for the wait,” he said against her hair. “You’ll be able to go soon.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I know you have a lot going on right now.”
“I heard most of what happened while I was on the phone with you,” Sam said as he stepped back. “But can you describe to me what you saw?”
Maggie blew out a breath. “The door was unlocked, as I said on the phone, and then I heard a scream. I went inside and followed what sounded like whimpers. When I came around the corner into the kitchen, Summer was standing over Bruce and—”
“And?” Sam asked.
“She was holding a bloody hammer in her hand,” Maggie said. She knew what it sounded like, so she quickly added, “I got the feeling she had just picked it up, which is what she said—she said was kneeling on it when she checked on Bruce. It makes sense that she found it.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say that?”
“Because she wasn’t holding it like you hold a hammer to hit something,” Maggie said. “She was holding it with the tips of her fingers like it was something gross that she had found.”
“Hmm,” Sam muttered. “Then what?”
“She saw me and dropped the hammer and then threw herself at me,” Maggie said. “That was pretty much it until you got here. Bruce was clearly dead and Summer was hysterical.”
Sam ran a hand over his eyes. “You know, the murder rate in St. Stanley is making me homesick for Richmond.”
Maggie gave him a small smile. “It has been a rough few months. You must feel like you retired for nothing.”
“Not for nothing.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, there’s one thing St. Stanley has that Richmond doesn’t,” he said.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You,” he said. He gave her a quick kiss. “I’m going to have Deputy Wilson take Blair to Doc Franklin’s. She screamed and then fainted. The ME thinks she might have concussed herself when she fell.”
“No one caught her?”
Sam looked abashed. “We were all caught a bit off guard.”
“Doc should probably look at Summer, too,” Maggie said. “She was close to hysterical when I found her. I mean, she actually hugged me.”
Sam nodded. The front door opened and Deputy Wilson came out with Blair, who was leaning heavily on her, and Summer, who was following behind them.
“We’re on our way over to Doc’s,” Dot said.
“Good. Then I’ll need Summer to come to the station,” Sam said.
“What? Why?” Summer gasped.
“I’ll need a formal statement from you,” Sam said. “Since you were the one to find Bruce.”
Blair blanched, and Summer looked like she was about to cry again.
“Am I under arrest?” Summer asked. “All I did was find him. I didn’t kill him.”
“Yes, but you did pick up the murder weapon,” Sam said. “We’ll need your fingerprints to see which are yours and which belong to the killer.”
Blair let out a moan. “My husband. Murdered. I can’t bear it.”
She slumped against Dot as if she were going to faint again.
“Here, I’ll help you get her to the car.” Maggie stepped forward and braced Blair on the other side.
When Blair would have pulled away, Dot snapped, “Look, I can’t carry you myself, so if you’re going to faint, you’d better let her help carry you, otherwise your butt is going to land on the sidewalk.”
“Fine,” Blair sniffed. She extended her arm for Maggie to take while she helped her to the car.
Summer followed behind them with Sam.
“Are you sure you’re not going to arrest me?” Summer asked. Her voice sounded so scared that Maggie found herself feeling sorry for her—again. It was positively unnerving.
Sam didn’t answer her as they navigated the steps and approached Dot’s patrol car. Dot opened the back door, and Maggie let go of Blair and stepped out of the way.
“I guess that depends upon you, Summer,” Sam said. “And on whether the evidence shows whether you killed Bruce or not.”
Chapter 12
Summer wailed and Blair held her close as they huddled in the back of Dot’s car.
“Thanks,” Dot said to Sam. “Now I’m going to have to run the siren to drown out the crying.”
Dot slammed the driver’s side door as she got in, and Maggie glanced at Sam. “Were you trying to shake Summer up?”
“Yes,” he said. “The fact t
hat she had the hammer in her hand looks pretty bad. Who knows what sort of relationship she had with her stepfather. Maybe he was drunk and made a pass, maybe she actually hated him, or maybe she did just find him like she said. Until the ME gives me more info, Summer is all I’ve got. So I need her to be nervous so that she’ll be very forthcoming with every single thing she can remember.”
“I don’t think she did it,” Maggie said.
Sam looked at her in surprise. “Really? I’d have thought you’d be delighted to see her fingered for murder and carted off to jail.”
“Not if she’s innocent,” Maggie said. “I’m not that heartless. Besides—”
“Besides?” Sam asked when she paused.
Maggie lowered her head and mumbled something into the opening of her coat.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asked. He cupped her chin and lifted her face so that her gaze met his.
“Nothing. It’s just that her mother is a horror show and I actually feel sorry for her,” Maggie said. “There, I admitted it. Happy now?”
“Yes,” he said. He kissed her head. “But I’m not surprised. You have a kind heart, Maggie.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Hey, I was thinking I’d give Max Button a call, you know, just to let him know that Summer might need his genius legal services.”
“Do you think he’d agree to represent her?” Sam asked. “I didn’t get the feeling they had the warm fuzzies for each other, since Summer befriended his girlfriend’s half sister, Courtney, who is trying to plunder the Madison estate.”
“They definitely do not,” Maggie agreed. “But even so, Max is trustworthy and a legal genius, so I don’t think Summer would refuse his help if he offered. And who knows? Maybe she can call Courtney off of Bianca.”
“She’d be crazy if she didn’t let him represent her,” Sam said.
Maggie grumbled to keep herself from weighing in on the question of Summer’s sanity. “I’d better get back to the shop. I can’t have people thinking I’m some flighty businesswoman who opens and closes on a whim. It’d kill my business.”