Pawsitively Lethal (Silver Springs Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Ginny Gold

  Tentatively, Maggie opens the black box and a smile spreads across her face. Inside is a Swiss army knife.

  CHAPTER 3

  Maggie can’t help but burst into muffled laughter. Given the events of the evening, she knows hysterics at her own panic would not be appreciated, nor understood, by the few people still in Ginger Rae’s living room. She puts her hand over her mouth and looks at Drew.

  “You thought I would get you a necklace before we’ve even labeled our relationship?” he asks, a smile teasing his lips wide and crinkling the skin around his eyes.

  “I was hoping you hadn’t,” she admits quietly. “This is definitely a better gift.”

  “It’s for your handbag. It’s always so full of everything, and you should have a Swiss army knife in there.”

  Maggie nods. “It’s perfect. Really.” And it is. He couldn’t have given her a more appropriate gift.

  “Let me get you that plate of food you haven’t eaten yet.” Drew doesn’t give Maggie a chance to protest and he stands, giving her a peck on the cheek as he passes her to go back to the living room. Maggie closes the black velvet box and slides it to the edge of the table next to the wall. If anyone sees it, she knows they’ll assume it’s jewelry. She decides to let them think that.

  Drew returns with two heaping plates of food that look and smell delicious. “Almost nothing was touched. There’s plenty for seconds.”

  Despite the shock of seeing Clara Speed upstairs, Maggie is starving. “Is anyone else eating?” she asks.

  Drew shakes his head. “But there aren’t many people left. Clem and Denis are in the living room, but they look as pale as ghosts. And Daniel is upstairs with Ginger Rae, Winona and Erline. I doubt they’re doing much better.”

  “Maybe I should go up and see if I can help,” Maggie says, putting her plastic fork down after just one bite.

  “You’re not going anywhere. If they need you, they’ll ask for you.”

  Maggie knows he’s right so she relaxes back into her chair and slips a piece of sushi roll between her lips. “I didn’t even see the sushi,” she says around the rice, nori and fillings.

  “It was against the wall, kind of hidden at the back of the table. I think someone placed it there on purpose.”

  “Well, I’m glad you found it.” Maggie eats another sushi roll before Daniel enters the kitchen.

  Despite Daniel’s obvious interest in a relationship with Maggie, he remains civil with Drew, offering him a slight smile. “Maggie, can you come upstairs with me?” he asks, leaning toward the table so Clem and Denis in the living room can’t hear.

  Maggie nods, chews her sushi and stands. “I’ll be here,” Drew says, reading the question in her eyes, asking without words if he’ll wait for her.

  She follows Daniel upstairs, where Ginger Rae, Winona and Erline are sitting on the bed in a different bedroom. Maggie makes a move to join them but Daniel leads her back into the bedroom where Clara’s body is still lying on the floor. Now it’s covered with a sheet and investigators are busy collecting any and all evidence, documenting everything with photos and filling evidence bags one after another.

  “We talked to Ginger Rae,” Daniel starts, stealing Maggie’s attention away from the activity around the body. “Clara was depressed.”

  Maggie nods. “She told me that too. So, a suicide?”

  “Depression isn’t nearly enough to rule it a suicide, and there are too many indicators that show it wasn’t.” Maggie tilts her head to the side, hoping he’ll offer details. “For example, to the best of Ginger Rae’s knowledge, Clara didn’t own a gun.” Daniel pauses briefly. “But even more concerning is the placement of the gun. There’s a writer’s callous on Clara’s right hand. She was right handed, but the gun is in her left hand. We’re treating this as a murder for now.”

  Maggie can’t believe it. Only a month ago she was helping Daniel and his team wrap up a murder that occurred in Erline’s house. Now Ginger Rae is becoming embroiled in another murder case.

  “What do you want from me?” Maggie asks, regretting her choice of words but hoping that her voice came out friendlier than her question.

  “We want you to consult on this case with us, just like you did with the murder of Felicity Myers in September.”

  Maggie nods. “Okay.” She’s anxious to have something other than her job at Two Sisters taking up her time. She’s enjoying the work, but it’s a significant change of pace from her previous job as a private detective in Denver. This will keep her mind sharp and her skills up to date. And it might give her an opportunity to test out the different pieces of her new Swiss army knife.

  “We’re bringing the gun in for fingerprint analysis. My gut tells me that we’ll find a second set of prints on it besides Clara’s. That will be our starting point.”

  “Ginger Rae told me about Clara’s past. It sounds like there are a few people she didn’t get along with.”

  Daniel nods. “That’s where I want you to start. Find out everything you can about her husband, her adoptive parents and her birth mother. We’ll follow the forensics, you follow the relationships.”

  Maggie takes out her smart phone and makes a few notes. Ginger Rae will be her first conversation, but not until the morning.

  Daniel offers no more details about the evidence collected and Maggie lets herself back downstairs. She considers stopping to make sure Ginger Rae is doing okay but her friends are there and can offer better support than Maggie can. Instead, she finds Drew and asks him to bring her home.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sunday morning rolls in slowly for Maggie. She tries her best to fight the sunlight coming through her window, but Opal doesn’t give in.

  The calico cat has finally adjusted to life in Silver Springs and sharing a house with two dogs and a dog person. Opal’s mornings start earlier and earlier but Maggie knows once the snow starts she’ll get her leisurely mornings back.

  Sighing, Maggie sits up and slips her feet into slippers without letting them touch the cold floor. She trudges to the bathroom and cracks open the window—Opal’s access to freedom without having to leave the bedroom and brave passing by the two dogs. Maggie won’t be able to leave the window open all winter and Opal might rebel. She’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.

  Maggie debates with herself about getting back in bed but decides against it. She has the house to herself on Sunday mornings. Sticking to her old routine of taking at least one day off a week when she was a private detective, Clem works Sundays alone in Two Sisters. To make up for that responsibility, Clem leaves early during the week and Maggie closes the store Monday through Friday.

  This week might be different, though, if Maggie devotes as much time as she wants to finding out what happened to Clara Speed.

  Maggie has remade the kitchen since she officially moved in a month ago. Now, the cupboards are fully stocked with plenty of quick and easy healthy meals. There is a bowl of fruit on the table that is never empty. And there is always coffee on hand. Clem’s lack of cooking ability, made her kitchen a nightmare when Maggie tried to find anything to eat.

  Maggie grinds up enough beans to give herself a caffeine kick and waits for it to brew, reading news on her smart phone. To her annoyance, a reminder pops up, interrupting her Sunday routine, telling her that she has a hair appointment this morning at ten thirty—thankfully File and Style is open on Sundays. She’d completely forgotten and checks the time. Nine. She has plenty of time to drink her coffee, eat a satisfying breakfast and make a plan to talk to Ginger Rae before heading out.

  After two cups of black coffee and a breakfast of yogurt and granola, Maggie calls Ginger Rae’s cell phone. It’s not quite ten o’clock yet and she hopes she doesn’t wake anyone up.

  “Maggie, I was hoping you’d call,” Ginger Rae says, no greeting beforehand.

  “How was your night?” Maggie asks, wondering where she ended up staying.

  “Fine. I went home with Winona and spent the night in her gues
t room.”

  “Do you know when you’ll be allowed back home?”

  There’s a moment of hesitation. “No, I don’t know. But I’m not ready anyway. I might stay here a few more days even if Detective Stevens tells me I can return to my house today.”

  Maggie thinks that’s a smart decision. “Good. I’ll know where to find you then. I wanted to talk to you about Clara. How about I take you to lunch?”

  “I always have to eat.” Maggie hears a small chuckle.

  “Great. Twelve thirty? I’ll pick you up.”

  “See you then.”

  Maggie hangs up and returns to her bedroom. She brushes her teeth, slips on jeans, a flannel shirt and fleece vest, and runs her fingers through her hair. Normally she’d take a hot bath to start her one slow day of the week, but she knows today she’ll get her hair washed at the salon.

  She looks out the bathroom window in search of Opal but doesn’t see her cat. The dogs have also abandoned the house and Maggie grabs her handbag and coat and leaves, not bothering to lock the front door as per usual.

  Maggie drives to Main Street and luck strikes just as she’s passing File and Style. A car pulls out from in front of the salon and she happily takes the spot, arriving five minutes early since she doesn’t have to park in the garage across the street.

  This is only Maggie’s second appointment at File and Style. Every two weeks for as long as she can remember she visited a salon in Denver and always had the same stylist. Silver Springs has only one salon, and Maggie will be seeing a new stylist this time. Not because she wasn’t happy with the last one, but because their hours seem to always be changing.

  “Maggie Boothe?” a young woman greets her. Her green eyes are striking against her light skin and even lighter blonde hair.

  “Yes,” Maggie answers.

  The young woman sticks out her hand. “Jamie. I’ll be doing your hair today.”

  Maggie smiles shyly. She feels old suddenly, looking at Jamie who can’t be more than a girl. “I didn’t see you last time I was in here. Did you just start?”

  Jamie laughs. “No. I’ve been here for eight years. I’m just filling in for someone this morning. I don’t usually work Sundays.”

  Maggie is relieved. And a little surprised. If she’s been working here for almost eight years, Maggie is not very good at guessing young women’s ages anymore. All of her 53 years weigh heavily on her.

  Maggie follows Jamie past a row of women getting pedicures. They look and sound like they’re all in together, maybe a mom’s day out. Or a bachelorette party. Or a birthday. Or whatever other occasions young women celebrate in groups. Maggie can almost feel more gray hairs sprouting on her head.

  Jamie points her to the first chair after the group of young women and Maggie sits. She can hear every word the women say.

  “Color and trim?” Jamie asks. “Every two weeks, it looks like?”

  Maggie looks in the mirror in front of her and sees Jamie consulting an electronic appointment book. “Yes. Color and trim.” Maggie is mildly obsessive about her hair. And since she keeps up with it regularly, the appointments are never very long.

  Maggie relaxes back into the chair, her neck comfortably supported over a sink, and lets Jamie get to work. She always starts with the trim so extra hair isn’t getting colored that will just be cut off a few minutes later.

  She takes a deep breath and feels the weight of the last week falling away from her shoulders as Jamie gently massages shampoo into Maggie’s scalp. The sounds of the salon slowly work their way into Maggie’s consciousness.

  “Well I heard that she was . . . selling her body,” a female voice stage whispers behind Maggie to one of her friends.

  Maggie keeps her eyes closed and pretends not to listen. But she’s intrigued and wonders if the group of women are local and who they might be spreading nasty rumors about.

  “That can’t be true. I heard she was a virgin.”

  “But she was married and divorced. No man would put up with that,” the first voice says.

  “She was married? Did you ever talk to her? She didn’t have anything between her ears but a wind tunnel. Who would have been stupid enough to marry her?”

  Maggie desperately wants to turn around to put faces to these voices but she remains leaning back over the sink until Jamie tells her to sit up.

  “Whatever is true about her love life, I heard she came to Silver Springs because her parents didn’t want to help her after getting out of rehab.”

  Maggie feels a sharp stab in her heart. She hopes it isn’t true, but she’s worried these women are talking about Clara Speed. Dead not even a full day and the rumor mill has started. Small towns are the worst for that.

  “Mm hmm,” voices echo one after the other, agreeing with the last statement.

  Maggie sits up and patiently lets Jamie trim her hair. She watches the progress, noting that hardly anything falls to the floor beneath her chair.

  “How could her parents just abandon her?” one brave soul asks, going against the grain of the group.

  “I guess it was just time to cut the cord.”

  “No, it was more than that,” says the very first voice Maggie heard. “She stole from them and then called her aunt Ginger Rae,” Maggie’s heart stops momentarily, “and told her that she had nothing and didn’t want to ask her parents for help.”

  “All set,” Jamie says, meeting Maggie’s eyes in the mirror. “Let me just go get the right color.”

  “Actually, I think I’ll pass for today.” Maggie can’t take another minute of listening to these women bash Ginger Rae and Clara. “I . . . forgot I had a meeting. I’ll have to reschedule.”

  Jamie looks embarrassed as she says, “Since you didn’t cancel within twenty four hours, I won’t be able to change the type of appointment. But I can offer you a credit.”

  Maggie stands. “That’s fine. I’ll come back in later this week. Sorry.”

  Jamie heads toward the front of the salon and Maggie follows. Halfway past the group of women, who are dressed alike in matching silk tops over black leggings, she stops and addresses them.

  “I can’t believe the nerve you have to talk about Ginger Rae like that. She’s done nothing but try to help her niece, who was at a low point in her life. And you’re all sitting here, sipping your mimosas, getting your nails done and gossiping over her loss.”

  Without a backward glance, Maggie walks to the front of the salon, makes a quick appointment with Jamie and leaves. She makes sure to keep her back to the group of women the whole time.

  CHAPTER 5

  Maggie’s hands continue to shake with anger as she walks out of the salon. She balls them into fists and then releases them. It’s not until she’s in her car and tightly grips her steering wheel that she gets the adrenaline induced tremors to stop. The nerve of those women. No, those girls. They had to be the same age as Jamie. Maybe she even knew them.

  Maggie takes a deep breath to calm her anger and then looks at the clock. Only eleven. Why did she schedule lunch with Ginger Rae for so late? There was no way her hair appointment would have taken two hours even if she’d stuck around for the coloring.

  Instead of backing out of her parking spot that is now as good as gold in the middle of a Sunday, Maggie gets back out of her car and walks along Main Street. She passes High Mountain Brewery where Drew works during the week, crosses First Avenue, and pauses to gaze in the window of The Kitchen Sink. They are always offering various cooking classes that intrigue Maggie but she still hasn’t followed through and signed up for one.

  She ogles for an extra second at the gadgets she’d love to add to Clem’s kitchen and then continues past and into Two Sisters. Even though she isn’t working today, she wants to check on Clem after last night’s chaos. She finds her sister alone in the shop, drinking a cup of tea in one of the antique chairs near the register where she often chats with potential big spenders.

  “Hey Maggie. I didn’t think I’d see you here today.
”

  Maggie sits in the second chair and crosses her legs at the knees. “I didn’t plan to come in. But I was so riled up after getting my hair cut that I left early and now I have over an hour before I see Ginger Rae for lunch.”

  “Oh good, you’re going to talk to her. I hope she’s doing . . . as well as she can be after last night. And what happened at File and Style that made your blood boil?”

  Maggie flicks her wrist, trying to make the whole experience disappear from her memory. “These young women were gossiping about Clara. They were saying some really nasty things about her. You just don’t do that in a small town. I mean, you don’t do that anywhere, but what were they thinking? Of course someone would overhear them who knew Ginger Rae.” Maggie’s heart starts pounding again in anger.

  Clem reaches across the small table separating them and rests her hand on top of Maggie’s. “It’s not on you to make sure no one speaks badly about Clara. Or Ginger Rae.”

  “I know, I know. I gave them a piece of my mind though. Told them how inconsiderate they were being.”

  Clem chuckles and picks up her tea again. Maggie smells the fruitiness as the mug moves through the air from the table to Clem’s lips. “I’m sure you did,” she says with a smile before taking a sip.

  Maggie wants to ask what that is supposed to mean but lets it go because a telephone ringing interrupts their conversation.

  “I think we both know who that’s for,” Clem says, giving Maggie a pointed look.

  Maggie stands and walks quickly to the red English phone booth near the front of the store. She lets herself inside and picks up the ringing phone.

  “Hello?” she asks.

  “I hear you can help me,” the voice on the other end of the line says.

  “Clara?” Maggie asks, wanting to make sure she’s talking to the right . . . ghost. She’s still not used to this phenomenon.

  “Of course. Who else would it be?”

  Maggie wonders why every ghost she’s spoken to on this phone is so impatient with her questions. It’s not every day she talks to the other side.