by Josie Belle
“What are your plans for tonight?” Sam asked as he opened her car door for her.
“We’re meeting at Joanne’s to do a final organization of the nursery,” she said.
“No progress there yet?” he asked.
“Not yet. And Joanne is getting antsy,” she said. “She’s more than ready to meet her sweet pea.”
“A baby,” Sam said with a shake of his head. He sounded as if he couldn’t believe how amazing it was.
Alarm bells starting ringing in Maggie’s head. She tried to ignore them, but they were clanging so loud she could hardly think. Did Sam want a baby? This was not the time or place to ask him, but she was beginning to suspect that he did. He seemed so in awe of Joanne and Michael.
Being a guy, Sam was still young enough to easily start a family of his own, but Maggie had been there, done that, and while the idea of a toddler-sized Sam Collins strutting around in a sheriff’s hat and diaper had a delicious appeal, she really didn’t want to start all over again. She was happy with her shop and her life just as they were.
“I might be tied up late with this,” he said. He gestured at the house behind him.
“That’s okay,” she said. “Call me and let me know how it goes.”
“Will do.” Sam kissed her quick before she got into her car. “And Maggie, be careful. There’s a murderer out there, and I don’t think anyone is safe until they’re caught and locked up.”
• • •
“Okay, we’ve got your small bums here on the left, and then the stack moves on progressively with the baby’s size,” Ginger said as she backed away from the closet where she’d been sorting and organizing a shelf full of cloth diapers and onesies.
“Whoa, that’s a lot of butts to be wiped and changed,” Claire said.
Joanne was sitting in the glider in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth as she rubbed her belly. She had a faraway look in her eyes, and Maggie wondered if she was thinking about what it would be like to be holding her baby in her arms at that moment.
“Okay, ladies, snack time for Mama.” Michael entered the room, carrying a tray. On it was a pitcher of milk and some glasses, as well as a heaping plate of oatmeal raisin cookies.
They’d had a potluck dinner earlier in the evening, with everyone bringing their favorite dish to share. Maggie loved these evenings because it was a great time to try out new recipes. She’d had the occasional clunker, but tonight’s sweet potato casserole had been a keeper.
“I can’t eat another bite,” Joanne said as she took three cookies. “But the baby sure can.”
Michael laughed and leaned over to talk to her belly. “Good baby. We want you big and strong and healthy, so you just take your time, wee one.”
Maggie glanced over at her friends and saw that they had identical expressions of “aw” on their faces. She was quite sure she did, too. What was it about a man with a baby that was so attractive?
She thought of how sweet Sam was with her grandnephew, Josh, and she had to admit, it had certainly been a part of his charm when he’d first come back to town and they were at odds on just about everything else.
“Holler if you need anything,” Michael said, and he ducked out of the room after giving Joanne’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
“You’ve got a good man there,” Ginger said.
“I do,” Joanne said. “He’s going to be such a wonderful dad.”
“Lucky baby,” Claire said as she helped herself to a cookie from the plate Michael had left on top of the changing table.
“Thank you,” Joanne said.
She looked choked up, and Maggie knew it was because they had tried for so long to have a baby that now that the time had come, Joanne was very emotional.
“Ugh, we have to change the subject,” Joanne said. She took a big bite of her cookie, chewed and swallowed. “Let’s talk about something else. Any sales happening? Last I heard, the Millpond Outlets were gearing up for the Presidents’ Day sales.”
“That is confirmed,” Ginger said.
“Michael won’t let me go,” Joanne said, pouting. “He’s worried I’ll go into labor and won’t give up fifty percent off a pair of shoes to give birth.”
Claire laughed. “Well, that’s just silly. Now, seventy-five percent, and then there’d be an issue.”
Ginger snorted, and they all shared in the laugh.
“I do have some news,” Maggie said. She hadn’t brought it up before dinner because it seemed bad form, but now that all was quiet and the nursery seemed good to go, she figured they’d all hear it tomorrow anyway.
“Do tell,” Ginger said. She sat on the love seat while Claire sat on the floor.
“Our story begins with Blair Cassidy,” she said. They all exchanged a look and then glanced back at Maggie. “She came to see me today and offered me nine thousand dollars to stop seeing Sam.”
“She didn’t!” Claire gasped.
“Wait, wait, wait. You mean a nine with three zeros trailing after it?” Ginger asked, looking stunned.
“What did you say?” Joanne asked.
“Well, naturally, I took the money,” Maggie said. “I mean, Sam’s nice and all, but really I could do so much more with that influx of cash . . .”
A stuffed teddy bear was launched at her head, and Maggie caught it with a laugh.
“You said no,” Joanne said. She grinned. “And I bet you told her off, too.”
“Yeah, a little bit,” Maggie agreed. “Then I decided to go and have a chat with Summer.”
“Oh, now it’s getting really good,” Ginger said. “What did Summer have to say about her mother?”
“I know what I’d say,” Claire chimed in.
“When I went to her shop, Sheri told me she had gone home for lunch, so I drove out to her house to see her,” Maggie said. She blew out a breath as she prepared to tell her friends the rest of the story.
“Uh-oh,” Ginger said. “Why do I get the feeling this story takes a turn for the worse?”
“When I got to Summer’s house the front door was unlocked, so I went inside, and that’s when I found Summer standing over her stepfather Bruce Cassidy, who was dead,” Maggie said.
“What?”
“No!”
“Oh my god, how awful!”
Her three fellow Good Buy Girls exclaimed at once and then began to fire questions at Maggie so rapidly she could barely keep track of them. She explained that she’d been on the phone with Sam and that he’d arrived minutes after she had. She didn’t mention Summer and the hammer, just because she had the feeling Sam would like to keep that quiet.
“Do you think it was a robbery?” Claire asked with a shudder.
“It didn’t seem like anything was missing,” Maggie said. “I expect Sam will have Summer go through the house to be sure.”
“Where will Blair and Summer stay in the meantime?” Ginger asked. “I can’t imagine they’ll want to stay in Summer’s house.”
“No idea,” Maggie said. “Last I saw they were headed over to Doc Franklin’s to be checked out since Blair fainted and sustained a head injury. I called Max and told him about the situation. If Sam arrests Summer, I think Max should represent her.”
All three of her friends gave her a doubtful look.
“Would Max do that?” Joanne asked.
“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “He didn’t exactly agree to it.”
“Summer has not made a lot of friends in town,” Ginger said. “This could be her bad karma at work.”
“There is no place lonelier than a jail cell,” Claire said. She spoke from experience, having spent some time in jail when she was under suspicion for the murder of a former boyfriend.
“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “I just don’t feel like she did it. And if she gets arrested and she didn’t do it, the
n the real murderer is still out there and we have no idea why Bruce Cassidy was their target.”
They were all silent as they pondered this alarming possibility.
“Ow!” Joanne jumped in her chair, and they all turned to look at her. “Sorry, the baby is practicing field goal kicking.”
“So it is a boy!” Claire cried.
“Not so fast,” Joanne said. “Girls can be field goal kickers, too.”
Claire sat back with a frown. “I can’t believe we don’t know what it is. It’s like living in the Dark Ages.”
“Buck up,” Ginger said. “Judging by how low that baby is hanging, I think it will be out soon.”
“Now I’m sort of hoping it waits until after Mr. Cassidy’s murderer is caught and St. Stanley is back to normal,” Joanne said.
“Yeah, I miss the days when my biggest problem was how to hit two sales at the same time,” Ginger said.
Maggie couldn’t agree more.
Chapter 13
Maggie was in her shop, looking over her Presidents’ Day sale flyers, planning her strategic attack on the stores that day with Ginger and Claire, when she glanced up and noticed that Summer’s store across the street wasn’t open yet. It was mid-morning on a weekday. The rest of the stores along the town green were open for business.
Maggie couldn’t help wondering why Summer’s shop wasn’t open. Yes, she knew that Summer and her mother were undoubtedly grieving for Bruce, but why wasn’t Summer’s assistant, Sheri, there? Something seemed off.
She picked up her cell phone and called Sam. He answered on the second ring.
“Sheriff Collins.”
“Hi, Sam,” she said. “Quick question.”
There was a pause, and then he said, “You want to know if I’m still holding Summer as a person of interest, don’t you?”
“What makes you think that?” she asked.
“Well, it’s mid-morning, and I know Summer hasn’t opened her shop as yet, since her assistant Sheri stopped by this morning to give her notice, effective immediately,” he said.
Maggie hissed in a breath. “She did?”
“Yeah,” he said. His tone was dry. “Something about going to work for Doc Franklin as a bookkeeper.”
“Ah,” Maggie said. She decided to save the info that she had suggested that job opportunity for another time, like, maybe a year or two down the road.
“So, I’m thinking you probably noticed the shop was closed and were wondering why.”
“Impressive bit of reasoning, Sheriff,” she said. “So, what’s going on?”
“Summer spent the night here,” he said. “She is still being held as a person of interest.”
Maggie caught her breath. She hadn’t really thought that Sam had held Summer overnight. It seemed so severe.
“Are you there, Maggie?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. She wasn’t sure of what else to say.
“If it helps, Max is here, and he’s talking over her case with her,” Sam said.
“That’s something, I guess,” Maggie said.
“I can honestly say I never thought you and I would have issues with me arresting Summer and you thinking she is innocent,” Sam said.
“It is unexpected,” Maggie agreed. “Listen, I know that you have your reasons for holding her, but I really can’t get over how she looked when I walked in on her yesterday. She did not seem like someone who had just bludgeoned her stepfather to death.”
Sam sighed. “I know. I don’t like her for it either, but there’s no getting around the facts that hers are the only fingerprints on the murder weapon and she was alone with him for long enough to have committed the deed.”
“But what about motive?” Maggie asked. “Why would she harm Bruce? What reason could she have?”
“Which is what makes her a person of interest, and not a suspect,” Sam said. “I’m keeping her here at the station for a bit longer, but unless I come up with something more solid, she will be released.”
“What do we know about Bruce Cassidy?” Maggie asked. “Does he have any enemies?”
“Everyone has enemies,” Sam said.
“I don’t,” Maggie said.
“Really?” he asked. “I could have sworn Summer was your nemesis from the day you punched her in the nose in third grade.”
“She stole my Cabbage Patch doll,” Maggie protested. “She had it coming.”
“And you wonder why I am so surprised by your concern for her,” Sam said.
“Believe me, no one is more surprised than I am,” Maggie said.
“I’m running a background check on Bruce Cassidy,” Sam said. “So far there are no hidden mistresses, gambling debts, alcohol or drug problems looming in his past. Unfortunately, because he is so new to town, I don’t have any local dirt on him either.”
“Well, someone must know something,” Maggie said. “He wasn’t here long enough to make any enemies. So, if his killer followed him here, they’d be someone new to town and they’d have to stick out, right?”
“Maggie,” Sam growled her name in a low roar that sounded as if he was close to losing his patience.
“Of course, I’m sure you already checked the obvious. Isn’t the spouse usually the most likely? I know Blair said she was at the hair salon, but was she really?”
“Maggie, no.”
“No what?”
“Do not, I repeat, do not, go digging around in Bruce Cassidy’s murder,” he said.
“Are you telling me this as my boyfriend or as the town sheriff?” she asked.
“Which one would have the most sway with you?” he asked.
Maggie knew that if she didn’t answer wisely, they were going to end up in an argument, and she really didn’t want that. The memory of their wonderful Valentine’s Day was still fresh in her mind, and she didn’t want to ruin it by arguing, especially over Summer Phillips’s guilt or lack thereof.
“Well, my boyfriend cooks for me,” she said. She made her tone light and teasing. “But the sheriff could arrest me, so I think I will respect his authority, if my boyfriend cooks me dinner.”
“I think something can be arranged.” Sam’s laugh was low and suggestive and made Maggie smile as a thrill went through her. “My place at seven?”
“I’ll be there,” she said.
She put aside her flyers and spent the afternoon going through the items that she had acquired on consignment. There were three men’s suits and a whole slew of dresses from MaryAnn Rigby. She’d been doing Weight Watchers, and every time she went down two dress sizes she donated her old dresses and went on a shopping spree. Maggie was thrilled for her but hoped she stopped before she got so thin that her head seemed too big for her body. That was never a good look.
She had just gotten the items tagged when the front door opened. Maggie glanced up and greeted the man who entered with surprise.
“Well, hey there, Tyler. What brings you here?” she asked.
Tyler Fawkes had not entered My Sister’s Closet since he started dating Summer Phillips a few months before and she had forbidden him to step on enemy turf.
He looked sheepish. He took the beat-up John Deere cap off his head and twisted it in his hands.
“Hey, Maggie,” he said. “I’m real sorry I haven’t been by your shop in a while. It wasn’t very neighborly of me, and I feel bad about it.”
“It’s all good, Tyler,” Maggie reassured him. Big and hairy, he lumbered around the small space, making Maggie cringe when he got too close to the breakables. Honestly, it was like having a bear cub in the shop. “I know there were extenuating circumstances that were no fault of yours.”
“Yeah, well, about that.” He paused and scratched his beard. “I’m here to ask you a favor.”
“Me?”
“I’m worried about my girl, Ma
ggie,” he said. His voice was solemn. “I need you to help her.”
“Say what?” Maggie asked. Shock was too mild a word for the surprise she felt. “Just so we’re clear, your girl is Summer, right?”
“Yep,” he said.
“The same Summer I just caught you in a motel room with, the same Summer you dumped because she was making a play for my man—you know, the one who has her locked up for murder. The same Summer who has caused me untold years of heartbreak and aggravation,” Maggie said. “You want me to help that Summer?”
“Yeah, funny, isn’t it?” Tyler chuckled as if Maggie were telling a good joke.
“Are you completely out of your mind?” she asked.
Tyler stopped laughing. He slammed his cap back onto his head and a belligerent look took root on his face with the tenacity of crabgrass.
“No,” he said. “I know you and Summer have had your issues.”
“Issues?” Maggie gasped. “Tyler, in high school she put ketchup packets on my seat in algebra. Do you have any idea how that looked? How mortified I was?”
Tyler started scratching his beard again, and Maggie had a feeling that he was trying not to laugh.
“It’s not funny!” Maggie protested. Truly, the more she thought about the history between her and Summer, the more she hoped the other woman rotted in jail. Okay, no she didn’t. Especially since she really didn’t believe that Summer had anything to do with Bruce’s murder.
Tyler must have sensed her wavering, because he looked suddenly serious and said, “Yeah, but didn’t she do that because you put hot sauce in her lip gloss?”
Maggie glanced away. “It was self-defense. Besides, Summer started it.”
“Maggie, seriously, how old are you?” he asked.
Maggie sighed and flopped down onto the counter, resting her head on her arms. Hadn’t she just promised Sam she would butt out? Why was Tyler here now, making a liar out of her?
“Why me, Tyler?” she asked. “Knowing all of the bad blood between Summer and me, why are you asking for my help? I’m not a lawyer or a cop. What can I possibly do to help her?”