by Jill Behe
Wyatt smothered a laugh when Ricky’s jaw dropped. “Geez, Maggie. She was only ten. There ain’t no juice at ten … least-wise there shouldn’t oughta be.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ten? You made it sound like she was in high school.”
“See what happens when you read too much Fabio.”
“I read romance, even erotic romance, but no, not Fabio.”
Laughter.
Wyatt jerked his chin. “Are you gonna tell us anything, or just tease us along?”
“Oh for pity’s sake. All right. After the first couple times they broke the speed limit, he told her that as soon as she graduated, he was going to divorce Ellie and marry her. How sad is that? She assured him she was on the pill, and he stopped using condoms. Eeeuw. But she lied, she wasn’t on the pill. She got bunned-in-the-oven on purpose.”
Ricky made a face. “You’re right. That’s way more stuff than I needed to know.”
“Yeah, well, that’s mild. She describes, in detail, what they did together. How it felt. How, even though he was an incredible lover—like she had so much experience in that area—she felt guilty about deceiving Ellie.”
“Not guilty enough to stop,” Ricky commented.
“No. I don’t think the mayor knew about the baby, maybe not until Saturday night. As far as I’ve read, she hasn’t mentioned telling him yet, and I have no doubt that if she had, she would have written it down. The when, the where, the how, and his reaction.”
Wyatt bopped his pen against the table. “If it was Saturday night, that would explain why he was so upset on Sunday.”
“Exactly.” I shook my head. “Please, Wyatt. Don’t make me read the rest. I don’t think I can handle anymore.”
Ricky chortled. “Ooh ooh, poor Maggie. You can read trashy fiction, but not the real thing?”
“I don’t read them anymore,” I protested, but it sounded lame, even to me. “Besides, it’s not the same. Not the same, at all.”
Wyatt broke in. “You haven’t read the whole thing?”
“I just said I didn’t. I only got to the end of May.”
“Sorry, but I really need you to read the rest of it. We need to know what’s in there. Did she write about anyone other than the mayor?”
“Yeah. Thankfully, not in the same context.”
“You mean like being with an older, married man.” Snap! Wyatt’s pen now lay in two. “Whatever. Maybe, just maybe, she gave us a clue to her killer. Please, Maggie? For me? Read the rest of it?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You really don’t.”
“Then give it to Ricky. Perhaps he can be more objective.”
“No, Wyatt, it’s fine. I’ll finish it.”
“Hey! I can be objective.”
“Shut up, Rick. Maggie’s already deep in it, and this way, we won’t have to tread over old ground.”
Silence.
Wyatt looked at me, smiled, swept his broken pen into the trash can, and said: “Thanks, Maggie, this means a lot.”
I twisted my mouth. “Well, you did insist.”
He flipped the file shut. “Rick, tomorrow morning, after the funeral, take a ride over to The Corner Grocer’s. Talk to Al, or whoever was on duty last Sunday. Get all the info you can. That’s it, I think we’re done.”
Ricky made a note in his little book, nodding.
We all stood.
“Oh wait, one more thing. We should meet out in the parking lot in the morning and go to the funeral together. A show of force, if you will. Could be beneficial. Is 9:30 good for both of you?”
We nodded.
His reasoning was sound, but really, I knew Wyatt just wanted to have company—our company. God knew he wasn’t looking forward to the service. He couldn’t grieve there, would have to stand tall - be the man the town saw him as, needed him to be. There was still a killer loose so when others cried, they’d need to turn and see Wyatt, see the man. Well, it would be a show of force; Ricky, myself, and our chief, a promise to everyone present that justice would be served—and on a friggin’ platter.
I dragged myself out to the parking lot and into my car, feeling like I’d been wrung through a wringer. All I wanted was to get home, change into my comfy stuff, and flake out on the couch. No baking for me tonight, too tired even for that.
Besides, I had to read the rest of the diary, and make copious notes, for Heaven’s Sake.
CHAPTER 19
FRIDAY LATE AFTERNOON
GERTRUDE WAS hot and sticky inside, but I knew once I cranked her up, she’d cool down quick. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, already anticipating the frigid air I’d feel after a minute or so.
All I got was a whine. So, I did some of my own. “Come on, Gertie. We talked about this last night. Remember? I thought we agreed you weren’t going to act up anymore?”
Sweaty, I tried again, moisture trickled between my fingers, making the key slippery. This time there was a grunt, but no turnover. I pumped the gas … once. “Obviously you weren’t listening, missy. Please?” I tried, one more time.
“Don’t ignore meee.”
A click ...
… just a little itty bitty gritty …
… shi—“My-car’s-not-starting-for-meee.”
Click.
By this time, my clothes were soaked, and droplets were dripping through my hair and down my face. Growling, vicious and long, I pounded the steering wheel with both fists, then leaned back against the headrest and counted to ten—by threes!
“Well, Gertie, I guess it’s time to let you go to into the light. You’ve been a great help to me for twelve years, but lately you’ve been letting me down. You’ve cost me over a grand in repairs in the last month alone, and who knows what’s wrong with you this time. And, now, I have to find another way home.”
I wasn’t looking forward to making monthly payments again, but this automobile had gone to the great car lot in the sky.
Pulling the keys from the ignition, I got out of the car with a groan. It was actually cooler outside. One of my boys would have to come rescue their mother, again. Not that they wouldn’t drop everything and come get me, they would, without question.
I trudged into the front office, just as Wyatt turned off his light.
He looked up, eyes wide in surprise, and … was that pleasure? “Maggie. Thought you’d gone home.”
I wiped a damp sleeve across my forehead. “That was the plan, but my car had other ideas. It won’t start. I came back in to call for a ride.”
He stood twirling his hat. “I’ll take you home.”
My handbag thunked on the desk. “Oh, no. That’s okay. One of my boys will come get me.” Why was I protesting? My alter ego wondered the same thing, mentally smacking me upside the head—whapwhapwhap. I must be nuts to turn down a ride home … with him.
“Why should they have to disrupt their evening when I’m already here?”
He sounded so logical.
I hesitated. I couldn’t let him think I was too easy. Could I? Hah! “Well, okay. But I don’t want to put you out.” Yeah, right. Snicker snicker.
“It’s no trouble. Really.”
I gave him a look. “You live on the other side of town.”
“Magdalena.” He stepped closer and stopped spinning his hat. We were almost touching. “Would you please allow me to drive you home?”
I swallowed. How could one refuse such a gallant offer? “Um, okay.”
He took hold of an elbow. “Let’s go.” He opened the door.
Grabbing up my bag, I went out to his Jeep Cherokee and watched as he secured the building. He then came around to unlock and open the passenger side. I did the shy upward glance-thing, unable to hide a smile. “Thanks.” He nodded and I got in. As he shut the door and went around to his side, I realized he was nervous.
The ride to my house was both too long and too short. He pulled into the driveway, turned off the vehicle and got out, circling around to open my door.
I slid out, and he walked me up onto the little front step. My keys were still in my hand, so I didn’t have to hunt through my purse for them. Good thing. He took them, unlocked my door, and handed them back.
Then, he did the even more unexpected. He took my face in his hands, leaned close and said, “Maggie, I’ve been needing to do this for some time now. If you feel the need to slap me afterwards, I’ll understand.”
Then he kissed me.
OH! Puddle on the porch stoop!
It wasn’t a quick peck-kiss either; it was a soft, moist, slow, ooh ooh ooh, yummy yummy, give-me-more, kiss.
Slap his face? Are you kidding? Returning his kiss was a thought one second, and an act the next. My purse hit the deck. I slid my hands around his waist and up his back, angling my head for better access to his mouth. I heard a moan. Was it him, or me?
Ask me if I care.
He stopped first. Well, not all at once. He kept teasing me with little sips and slurps, until finally resting his forehead against mine; having as much trouble breathing as I was. “I guess you’re not gonna slug me.” He was holding me snug against his chest.
“Um, no,” I assured him, enjoying … savoring, the closeness. It felt really good squashed up against him.
“Good. I was going to wait until this case closed, but in all good conscience, I just couldn’t do it. You’re becoming way too important to me, Magdalena. Like I said, I was going to wait, but damn, woman, I just had to taste you. After sampling your cookies, I couldn’t wait to kiss you. Should have done it before I left last night, but I might not have been able to make myself go home.”
I was speechless. “I’ve been, um, hoping this would happen for a long time, too. I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”
“Soooo, this something you’d like to pursue more thoroughly?”
I leaned away and smiled. “You betcha. Most thoroughly.”
He grinned. “Excellent. I’d like to start out with a traditional date, if you don’t mind. I don’t know if it’ll work out that way, though. Would you have dinner with me Saturday evening?”
My smile got wider and I felt my heart laugh. “Absolutely. What time?”
“Six-ish? Casual, dressy.”
I tilted my head. “Is that a question, or a statement?”
“Statement.”
“Which translates to, dress or slacks, no jeans?”
“Right.”
“Mmm, K. Looking forward to it.”
He grinned again, and captured my mouth for another hot kiss. “Me, too.”
When I was able to focus again, he’d already gotten in the Jeep, and was backing out of the drive. I gave him a wave and went into my house all flustered, closed and locked the door, then rolled my eyes.
I reopened the door, snatched my purse off the stoop, and locked up again.
Standing in the middle of my living room, a hand on my chest, I tried to get my breath back to normal and keep my jig-dancing heart inside my body. “Dandy! Where are you when I need you, girl? I have a date with Wyatt Madison! On Saturday night!” Two spins and I was dizzy. “Eat your heart out, Vicki Sporelli.”
I giggled like a five year old with a new doll, then froze and let out a horrified gasp. “Oh, my stars and garters. That’s tomorrow night!”
CHAPTER 20
SATURDAY MORNING
I WOKE up groggy and grouchy. Wyatt’s kiss had rattled me more than it should have. And, to top it off, the contents of the diary only fired up my already humming libido. Goodness. My face was still pink-tinged this morning.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. Awake past two, getting hot and bothered by that … that racy bit of, fiction-like tripe—except that it was much too real—about too many people I knew personally. Then, tossing and turning the rest of the morning with visions of what I’d read, super-imposed with Wyatt and me as the main characters.
Today was going to be very busy, and very long.
I shuffled into the kitchen, yawning while I made coffee, and almost fell asleep again waiting for it to brew. When the machine growled, I perked up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. Not waiting for the beep, I poured a cup and took it to the fridge for a shot of milk, before taking a sip. “Oh, man, that’s good.” Sipped it all the way down the hall and into the bathroom. After one last swallow, I turned on the shower, disrobed, and stepped under the steaming waterfall.
By the time I dried off, the clock told me to hurry. From experience, I knew that the old saying, haste makes waste, was true. If I wasn’t careful, my sheer black hose would have a run, my zipper would refuse to close, or I’d snag the brush in my hair.
There wasn’t much black in my wardrobe, but I did have a suit that would work: a sleeveless sheath with a little black and white—herringbone style—bolero jacket that went over it. A short black sweater instead of the jacket would work out even better.
Thank goodness I hadn’t gained any hip lately—credit due to my restraint against the daily donuts—so the size twelve had some wiggle room, just the way it should.
Way to go Maggie Lou.
The two-inch heels on my black pumps put me at five-ten, still a good six inches shorter than Wyatt. The concept gave me a pleasant rush.
I wound my hair into a little more sophisticated twist in the back, and secured it with a fancy black jeweled clip, then sprayed the heck out of it, and dared it to come loose. Just a smidgen of makeup, a little shadow and eyeliner with the mascara, a faint bit of blush, and some plum lipstick.
Finally, I felt ready and peeked at the clock. It was steady at 8:45. I’d made it, what a relief. I snagged my purse and went to the inside door to the garage, hitting the automatic opener I’d installed near the light switch. Then, I stopped and stared at the empty bay.
“Shoot,” I yelled … to no one. “Shoot, shoot, shoot.” I refrained from kicking the wall, and went back into the kitchen. As the connecting door slammed shut, my phone rang.
“Now what?” I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but counted to ten before answering … on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Good morning, Magdalena.” A sexy baritone vibrated in my ear.
I smiled, my bad mood melted. “Good morning, Wyatt.” I was surprised at how husky my voice had gotten so quickly.
“I figured since your car is still in the parking lot, you might want a ride.”
I rolled my eyes. He remembered. Figures. “That would be excellent. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”
He chuckled; it was deep and did oddly delicious things to my body. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
Oh, man. I had to cross my legs as a wave of sensation rolled over me. All he had to do was talk to me and I was mush. Speech, at this moment, didn’t seem feasible, let alone coherency. “Um, I had some trouble sleeping, myself.”
I heard that rumble again and closed my eyes.
“Did you?” I could hear the smile. “Maybe there’s something I can do, to help you sleep better?”
“Oh, oh, oh.” Darn it all, that wasn’t fair. Besides: “Wyatt, you can’t say things like that to me.”
“Sure I can. Look how stirred up you are. Makes things spicy. I like spicy. And you, Magdalena, you’re the spiciest person I know.”
“I was stirred up before you ever called,” I groaned. “I’d like spicy a whole lot more, if I didn’t have something depressing happening in an hour or so.” His deep sigh came through the phone loud and clear and I could have kicked myself for ruining the mood. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.”
“No. No, you’re absolutely right, but I’m glad to know we’re both on the same page. You’re going to have to explain to me how you got so stirred up, so early. You ready to go?”
“Hah, yeah.” I needed to ignore his persuasive tone. “I went out to get in the car, before I remembered my car wasn’t there.” Now why, in Heaven’s name, did I blurt that out?
He laughe
d. “Be there in ten.”
“I’ll be here.” That reminded me, I had to reclose the garage door.
“Can’t wait to see you, Maggie.”
“ARGH!” He’d done it again - hung up before I could say anything back. The clock read five ’til nine. After whacking the switch on the garage door, I went back through the hall and snatched a stack of tissues out of the box.
Never go to a funeral or a wedding, without tissues—it’s an unwritten rule. Even if you don’t like who’s being buried or married.
Then I fidgeted. With images from the night before, and remnants of that hot little journal still jangling my nerves, I was not at all confident about how I, my body, was going to react with Wyatt in such close proximity. All the will power in the world was going to have to manifest itself … real quick-like.
All my fretting was for nothing. Well, not nothing, just temporarily delayed. He pulled in the drive and beeped his horn, for Heaven’s sake.
Yeah, right, he can’t wait to see me. I grabbed my purse and keys, and left by the front door, locking up before going out to his idling Jeep.
He jumped out and came around to open the door. He was wearing sunglasses, and that killer smile. “Hey, hey, Maggie.”
“Hey, Wyatt.” Then I looked at the rest of him, and frowned. “You’re in uniform.”
“Yeah. Technically, even though Miranda was my goddaughter and Mac’s a friend of mine, I’m still on duty, and this is part of a murder investigation.” He stood holding the door, staring at me. His smile got wider. “But, you look fine. Yes, you do. Very, very fine, indeed.” He caught my hand, and helped me into the passenger seat. Which is not a small feat when wearing a narrow skirt. I settled in as he went around to his side.
I reached for my seatbelt, but he leaned across and got to it before I could.
“Allow me.”
I bit back a whimper as his hushed tone sent a rash of goose bumps up my front. Oh, Lordy. How was I going to make it through this day?
He took his time buckling me in, and while he was so close, I closed my eyes and took a big whiff. Mmm. I bit my lip.
He sat back and put on his own belt, then looked over. I wished I could see his eyes. “You clean up good, Maggie. I like the makeup. You haven’t worn it in a while. Course, I like you without it, too.”