CHAPTER 20
“What do you recommend?” I asked, peering at Maggie over the top of my laminated menu.
“The fish fry, of course.”
Mike and Ann’s Tavern wasn’t fancy. Plastic flowers in plastic vases decorated each table. No one seemed to mind—every seat was taken. But it wasn’t only the good food that had attracted Maggie.
“I’m allergic to cigarette smoke,” she explained. “This was the first smoke-free bar I came across. That doesn’t matter now that the laws have changed. But this is still the best place I know for a fish fry.”
“I had a feeling you didn’t like being around smoke.”
“Who does? If I’m exposed to it for even a few minutes, I suffer for days. I just have bad lungs.”
My eyes wandered down the front of her sweater. I wasn’t disappointed in what I saw. She cleared her throat and I looked away, pretended to study the daily specials.
The beer-battered haddock, fries, coleslaw, and fresh-baked rye bread were excellent, and the portions generous. Too generous for me. Maggie assured me her dog would do justice to the leftovers.
We talked while we ate. Maggie had so many interests and amusing stories to share. In comparison, I felt like the dullest man on earth. I gave her the rest of my history—how I’d lost my job at Travelers, then used all my savings just to survive. I told her about landing the new job and how life was on the upswing until the mugging.
It seemed like every sentence I uttered began with, “I used to. . . .” I used to play racquetball. I used to dabble in photography. I used to target shoot.
I used to have a life.
“My sister Irene says you’re a loser. That I should run away from you as fast as I can.”
My stomach tightened. She’d said the words with such lightness that it almost sounded like a joke. But her sister might be right.
“Then why didn’t you cancel tonight?”
Maggie’s gaze held mine. “Because the day I met you, when you shook my hand, I felt—” She stopped, as though having trouble putting her thoughts into words. “I felt something.”
I had, too. I liked it. Wanted more.
She hesitated, then reached across the table and touched my hand, reigniting that same spark of something inside me once again.
We sat there, amidst the dinner crowd bustle, staring at each other. Smiling at each other. Studying each other. Then a shadow darkened her deep blue eyes. She released her hold, reached for her coffee cup, and lowered her gaze. “There’s something I should’ve told you.”
I swallowed dryly. “Oh?”
“Matt and I were . . . together for a while.”
Oh shit. And I’d told Nielsen to concentrate on Sumner’s ex-lovers. I worked at keeping my voice level. “You had an affair?”
She placed the cup back in its saucer, toyed with her spoon. “It was right after Gary left.” Her face seemed to crumple. “When your husband leaves you for another man, you feel like a failure as a woman. Matt and his never-ending string of compliments made me feel desirable again. But it wasn’t long before I felt pretty darn cheap.”
For a moment I thought she might cry. Then she took a breath and straightened in the booth. “Matt took advantage of me when I was vulnerable. I’m not making excuses for myself. I should’ve known better. When I finally realized what I’d allowed to happen, I was angry. I broke it off. Matt took his revenge. Got me transferred back to the secretarial pool, where I started. It took me four years to move up to the top floor again. And he made my life hell once I made it back, too.”
Her anger and resolve, stretched across the expanse of table, touched me. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
She wouldn’t look at me. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”
I studied her troubled face as she tried to distance herself from the hurt.
“I don’t think less of you. I think less of him.”
Her smile was thin-lipped and embarrassed.
I needed more from her. But how could I get it without seeming as big a jerk as the man who’d used her? “What about Sumner’s children? Ron Myers said the youngest son has a drinking problem.”
“Michael went to rehab after he showed up drunk at school, toting a loaded gun. I’m the one who made the arrangements to get him into a place near Albany. Matt’s daughter, Diane, is the only sane one in the family.”
“What’s with Rob?” I asked. “When I spoke to him yesterday, he was pretty hostile. I got the impression he really didn’t want anyone looking into his father’s death. Like he might’ve known something about it.”
“I don’t know. Matt was great at damage control. I wondered if Rob got caught stealing or maybe selling drugs a couple of years ago. He was in some kind of trouble, but it all blew over.”
“Did Sumner confide in you about such things?”
Maggie shook her head. “He didn’t respect me—or any other woman. I once heard him tell one of the guys that women were only walking twats. I know that’s vulgar, but that’s what he was.”
I frowned. The more I learned about Sumner, the more my revulsion grew. But I needed to find out more.
“I’m trying to get in Sumner’s head—get a better understanding of him. Does that make sense?”
She nodded.
“Then tell me, where does one have a clandestine affair in Buffalo?”
“We’d meet at his condo. I don’t think Claudia knew about it. I don’t know if he owned or rented it. It might even belong to the bank. You wouldn’t believe the assets they have.”
Someone dropped a quarter in the jukebox. Elvis began singing “Suspicious Minds.”
Maggie leaned forward, and spoke louder. “I found a duplicate key in his desk while cleaning out his office.” She patted her purse beside her. “I don’t know why, but I took it.”
My eyes widened as a whole range of possibilities blossomed in my mind.
She smiled coyly. “Wanna take a drive?”
Murder On The Mind Page 37