by Belle, Josie
Maggie glanced around the workstation and met Joanne’s horrified gaze.
“It’s Diane. She’s dead.”
Chapter 10
Maggie fumbled for her phone. Her fingers were shaking so hard that she could barely press the numbers for the police.
“St. Stanley Sheriff’s Department, Deputy Wilson speaking,” a woman’s voice answered.
“Dot, it’s Maggie,” she said. Her voice was faint, so she cleared her throat before she continued. “Is Sam there?”
“Maggie, are you all right?” Dot asked. “You sound awful.”
“No, not all right,” she said. “Need Sam.”
“Hang on,” Dot said.
Moments later Sam’s voice was on the line.
“Maggie, what is it?”
“I’m at More than Meats,” Maggie said. “Michael Claramotta is unconscious and his assistant Diane Jenkins is . . . oh, Sam . . . she’s dead. I think she was strangled.”
Maggie’s voice broke, and she felt the dampness on her cheeks before she even realized she was crying.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked. “Is anyone else there?”
“Yes, I’m here with Joanne,” she said. “I already called Doc about Michael. He’s on his way and he sent an ambulance. I didn’t see Diane until after.”
“I’ll be right there,” Sam said. “I’m putting you back on with Dot. Don’t hang up. Don’t touch anything. Don’t leave the kitchen.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
Joanne was sobbing. She was still by Michael’s side, holding his hand as if she were afraid he’d vanish on her if she let go.
“Maggie, it’s Dot,” Deputy Wilson said. “What’s going on?”
Maggie told her just what she’d told Sam. Dot gave a low whistle.
“Sam just ran out of here. He should be there right away,” Dot said. “Stay on the line with me.”
“I will,” Maggie said. She knew only minutes had passed since she’d called Doc, but it felt like an eternity.
The dining area out front seemed terribly quiet, and Maggie strained to hear if there was anyone out there moving among the tables.
“Do not even poke your head out that swinging door,” Dot said. Her voice startled Maggie, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“I was not about to do that,” she said.
“Uh-huh,” Dot said. It didn’t sound like she believed her.
A noise came from the storeroom, and Maggie glanced up to see Doc Franklin arrive with a pair of EMTs behind him.
“Doc Franklin is here with the paramedics,” Maggie said.
“Okay, you can put the phone down if you have to,” Dot said.
Doc bustled into the kitchen. The two EMTs knew him and deferred to him. He took the scene in at a glance, blanching at the sight of the woman beside Maggie.
“She’s dead,” Maggie said. “I found her after I called you.”
“Start on him,” Doc told the EMTs, and he came over and checked Diane’s vitals, being careful to touch her as little as possible. In moments, he sat back on his heels, looking older than when he’d entered the room.
“You’re right,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do for her.”
He gave Maggie a sad nod and hurried back over to Michael. Maggie moved to stand beside Joanne, who had moved to give Doc and the EMTs room to work on her husband. Joanne was still crying, but it was silent now. The tears rolled down her face in an unending stream as she watched them work.
The back door was yanked open and Sam rushed in. He took one look at Maggie and snatched her into a hug, running his hands across her back and along her arms as if to reassure himself that she was okay.
“All right?” he asked.
She meant to say, “Fine,” but the word stuck in her throat. It was a lie with barbs that hooked in and held on and she couldn’t force it out. She was anything but all right.
Sam pulled back and looked at her. He studied her face, taking in the shock and horror. Then he kissed her forehead and squeezed her hands in his. The gesture comforted her.
“Dot, Sam’s here,” Maggie said into her phone.
“Good, you can end the call now,” Dot said. Then her voice got soft, and she said, “Still, be careful, okay?”
“I will,” Maggie said, and ended the call.
Sam stepped farther into the room. He saw Doc working on Michael and then moved around the workstation to Diane. Maggie saw him crouch down low. In moments he was back. His face was set in grim lines.
“We have to take Michael to the hospital,” Doc said as he joined them.
“Any indication of what happened?” Sam asked.
“Severe head injury,” Doc said. He looked worriedly at Joanne, and Maggie got the feeling he would have said more but he didn’t want to distress her.
The EMTs brought in a backboard and strapped Michael in. Joanne, Maggie and Sam were all silent as they watched. Joanne pressed a hand over her mouth as if to keep her cries in, and Maggie put her arm around her friend’s shoulders, trying to give her strength.
Doc looked at Maggie, and said, “I’ll ride with him in the ambulance,” he said. “You take Joanne in my car.”
Maggie nodded and glanced at Sam.
“I’ll secure the scene and get the county coroner out here. We’ll talk later,” he said. “Are you sure you can drive?”
“Yeah,” Maggie said. She hoped he didn’t see how badly her hands were shaking.
They stepped aside as the EMTs wheeled Michael out. Joanne hurried after them, and Doc took Maggie’s place. He put his hand on Joanne’s back and talked to her in that soothing way that only Doc had that made you feel like there was nothing in life that a bandage and a cherry lollipop couldn’t fix.
Sam took Maggie’s hand in his and they followed everyone out. Maggie was grateful for the support. The thought of what had happened here terrified her. A young woman dead and her friend’s husband—scratch that; she considered Michael her friend as well—her friend unconscious.
“Call me from the hospital and let me know you’re okay,” Sam said.
“I will,” Maggie said. “And, Sam, thanks.”
He kissed her quickly on the mouth before helping her into the driver’s seat of Doc’s car while Doc helped Joanne into the passenger seat. Doc hurried into the ambulance, and they closed the door behind him. Giving Sam what she hoped was a brave smile, Maggie stomped on the gas and followed the ambulance at top speed to the nearby hospital.
As they zipped through town, Maggie patted Joanne’s hand, noticing that she kept the other one firmly wrapped around her belly as if protecting her and Michael’s baby from what was happening.
Maggie dropped Joanne off at the door right behind the ambulance and went to park the car. By the time she got into the emergency room, Michael had been wheeled into a room and Doc Franklin was in there conversing with several other people in white coats.
Joanne was standing outside the room. Her face was the picture of devastation as she stood almost pressed up to the glass, trying to be with her husband.
Maggie stood beside her. She couldn’t think of any words of comfort that wouldn’t sound hollow, so she said nothing. She remembered the night her husband, Charlie, had been killed. Laura had been a toddler, and Maggie had left her with her mother so that she could be at the hospital. It had been Ginger, pregnant with her second son, who stood beside her.
“I can’t lose him, Maggie,” Joanne’s voice was just a whisper. “Do you know when I fell in love with him?”
“No,” Maggie said, although she’d heard the story before.
“We were in second grade, and Michael gave me a silly paper valentine with a honeybee on it that asked, ‘Will you bee mine?’ and right then I knew I was going to marry him,” she said. “He gave Violet Cosetti one that said, ‘I choo-choo-choose you,’ with a little train on it, but I took care of her with the threat of a knuckle sandwich for lunch if she didn’t get away from my boyfriend.”
“He hasn’t been able to shake me loose since.” Joanne sniffed.
Maggie immediately put her arm around her and pulled her close.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” she said. “Michael is young and strong and he’d never willingly leave you or the baby. You know that.”
The door to their right opened and Doc Franklin came out. He was pale, and his white hair was standing in tufts like it always did at the end of the day or in times of extreme stress.
“Joanne,” he said. “Michael is going to be taken for an MRI. It appears he’s got some bleeding on the brain, and we’re worried about the pressure. It looks like he’s going to need some surgery, and the MRI will help us proceed with that.”
“Oh no.” Joanne pressed her fingers to her lips, which were quivering. “Can I see him before he goes?”
“Quickly,” Doc said.
Maggie followed, standing just inside the open door while Joanne hurried to her husband’s side.
“Now you listen to me, Michael Claramotta: The doctors are going to fix you up, and you’re going to get well, because I—” Joanne’s voice broke but she took a breath and forged on. “—because I love you, Michael. Since we were eight, there’s never been anyone but you and—” Her voice broke again, and Maggie felt her own throat close up. She wanted to rush to her friend and hug her, but she waited. “—and I’ll even let you name the baby, whatever you choose, even—oh, I can’t believe I’m saying this—but even after your Uncle Sal, if that’s what you want.”
“We have to go now, Joanne,” Doc Franklin said gently.
She nodded quickly and leaned over Michael, pressing her lips to his. “I love you.”
They wheeled him out past Maggie, and she looked at Joanne, standing alone in the room, looking as lost and as scared as Maggie remembered being when she had lost her husband. She hoped, all the way down to her core, that Joanne and Michael’s outcome was vastly different than her and Charlie’s.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go find a place to wait.”
Joanne nodded, tears streaming down her face, and they went in search of the waiting room.
Joanne sat with her hands clenched in her lap. Her eyes were closed, and Maggie knew that she was praying. Maggie didn’t want to intrude, so she whispered that she was going to get them some coffee. Joanne nodded but kept her head bowed in concentration.
Once in the hallway, Maggie pulled out her cell phone, planning to call Sam, but then she realized she didn’t have his personal number in her phone. She had the station house, but she really didn’t want to call there first.
She figured Sam would call her when he got the chance, and then she could save his number in her phone. The mere thought of having Sam’s number in her phone gave her an odd little lift, which she immediately felt badly for, given that she was at the hospital with a friend whose husband was in emergency surgery while Diane, poor Diane, lay dead in the kitchen of the deli.
She scrolled through her contacts until she got to Ginger’s number. The GBGs would want to know what was happening.
“Maggie,” Ginger answered on the second ring. “So, how did your night end? Your place or Sam’s?”
“Mine,” Maggie said. “At the front door with a kiss, as all first dates should.”
“Too many people in your house, huh?”
“You could say that,” Maggie agreed. “Listen, I’ve got some bad news.”
“What is it?” Ginger was instantly on high alert.
“Michael Claramotta is in emergency surgery for a head injury,” she said. She heard Ginger gasp, but she went on before the questions could start. “I stopped by the deli this morning, but it was locked up. I was worried about Joanne, so I called her and she came over to check it out, because Michael was to have opened by then. Anyway”—Maggie paused to blow out a breath—“we found Michael unconscious and in a pool of his own blood.”
“Oh no!” Ginger cried.
“It gets worse,” Maggie said. “Diane Jenkins was there, too, but she was dead. Ginger, it looks as if she was strangled with her apron strings.”
“Ah!” Ginger let out a gasp of horror.
“Sam’s over there now,” Maggie said. “I’m with Joanne at the hospital. I need to call Laura at the shop, but I don’t want to tell her about Diane over the phone. The two of them became friends over the past few days, and I know this is going to be a terrible shock.”
“I’ll go,” Ginger offered. “You know how fast the gossip moves in this town. I’ll go and tell her, and then we’ll come to the hospital and sit with you and Joanne. I’ll call Claire on my way.”
“Thanks, Ginger,” Maggie said. Ginger had been like a second mother to Laura. If Maggie couldn’t be the one to tell Laura about Diane, it was best that it was going to come from Ginger.
“How are you holding up?” Ginger asked. Her voice was soft with caring, and Maggie knew that Ginger was remembering that night almost twenty years ago when she had stood by Maggie when Charlie had been in critical condition in this very hospital.
“I’m all right,” Maggie said. “It helps to focus on Joanne and the baby.”
“Have they said anything about Michael yet?”
“No, but I know Doc Franklin,” Maggie said. “I could see on his face that it’s bad.”
She lowered her voice as if Joanne could hear her from down the hall.
“We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Ginger said. “Hang tough, sweetie.”
“Will do,” Maggie said.
She ended the call and made her way to the cafeteria. She fixed two coffees in to-go cups, high octane for her and decaf for Joanne. As she turned to leave the cafeteria, she heard her phone ring. She paused by a table to put the coffees down and dig her phone out of her pocket.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Maggie, it’s Sam. How are you?” he asked.
“Waiting,” Maggie said. “Michael is in surgery, so I’m doing the obligatory coffee run.”
“How’s Joanne?” he asked.
“Praying,” Maggie said. “Or meditating, it was hard to tell which, although I imagine it was probably a little bit of both.”
She glanced around the nearly empty cafeteria and realized that other than a few staff persons in scrubs and some in suits, the place was quiet. She figured the surge of visitors probably wouldn’t start until later, and she was grateful for the calm.
“I’ve got the medical examiner and the crime-scene investigators here now,” Sam said. “Once they’re about finished, I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Okay,” Maggie said. There was something in his tone that made her wary. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Sam let out a sigh. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I figured that much,” Maggie said. “So, let’s just get it out.”
“Diane was definitely strangled,” Sam said. “And unless we find some evidence that someone else was in here with them, Michael is going to be a prime suspect.”
Chapter 11
“But that’s ridiculous,” Maggie protested. “It could have been a robbery gone wrong or, well, something else.”
Sam didn’t say anything, and Maggie flashed onto the conversation she’d overheard at the ball between Michael and Diane. It had sounded like he was trying to break something off, something like a relationship. What if Diane had refused, and he’d strangled her? Well, then why would he have a head injury? Unless she’d managed to clock him on the head while he was strangling her, but then, where was the item used to knock him out? Maggie’s mind raced through the possibilities.
“Let’s hope the crime-scene investigators discover that it was a burglary,” Sam said.
His voice was reluctant, and Maggie knew right away why. “Nothing was stolen, was it?”
“No,” he said. “The office safe was unt
ouched and the register was already loaded for the day, and it was untouched as well.”
“It looks bad, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to have to dig into the relationship between Michael and Diane, Maggie, and it may get messy.”
Maggie sighed. She knew Sam was doing his job, and he was trying to prepare her for what was coming. She knew she should tell him what she had overheard. She opened her mouth to tell him, but then she thought of Joanne kissing her husband good-bye as he was wheeled off to surgery, and she couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“I understand,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Maggie.” Sam sounded truly regretful, and Maggie felt a surge of guilt that she wasn’t telling him what she knew.
She would wait, she decided, until after the crime-scene analysis was done. If it proved to be a burglary gone wrong, well, then the information she had was irrelevant and unnecessary.
“Me, too,” she said.
Sam sighed, and Maggie knew he had no idea that she was apologizing to him and not just commiserating with him. She felt bad about it, and she really hoped that keeping what she knew to herself did not bite her on the butt later. She had a feeling that Sam in detective mode was not going to forgive her for holding information back from him.
She ended the call with a promise to let him know if there was a change in Michael’s condition, and then she picked up the coffees and returned to her hard chair in the waiting room.
• • •
The Good Buy Girls filtered in and out of the waiting room all day long. They took turns sitting with Joanne, and Claire even dashed over from the library on her lunch hour to join the vigil.
Ginger had broken the news to Laura, who did not take it well at all. She came to the hospital with Ginger, and Maggie held her daughter while she cried over the loss of her new friend. When Claire left to go back to the library, Laura went with her. She wanted to be back in the shop. She said she needed to keep busy. Maggie couldn’t blame her. Sitting in the tiny room was becoming excruciating.