One name Maggie expected to see on the list was Doc’s. It appeared as though he never came through the gate that day. It didn’t make sense…unless he had not gone to work that day either. If Doc’s father came in the gate that night, it wasn’t in Doc’s car. So why did he trade cars? Even the pest control company that Doc said his dad had him add was also not on the list.
“This list is shit,” Maggie said aloud.
All of a sudden she noticed her name wasn’t on the list. And she had definitely come through that gate several times.
She laid the pages on the floor, arranging them next to each other. And that was when she noticed: several pages were missing. There was a two-hour gap between midnight and two a.m.
Maggie picked up her phone and called Rodney.
“Hey, what’s up, buttercup?” Rodney said. She could hear a crowd behind him.
“Where are you?”
“There’s a hole-in-one party going on, why aren’t you here?”
“Shoot,” Maggie said, “I forgot all about it.”
“Your two sidekicks are here,” Rodney told her.
“Okay, I’ll head down there, but first I have a question.”
“Fire away.”
“Some pages are missing from the list you gave me the other night.”
“You mean the night you ditched me?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Whatever,” Rodney replied. “That’s the whole list, I printed it myself.”
“You’re sure you didn’t lose any of the pages?”
“I’m sure.”
“Do you think you can get me another copy?”
“If you go out with me again and don’t leave in the middle,” he said.
“Well, that isn’t happening,” Maggie said. “I’ll see you later at the club.”
“What times are missing?” he asked before she could end the call.
“Between midnight and two,” she said.
“I’ll check it out.”
Maggie waited a moment then said, “Okay, thanks.”
She quickly went into her bathroom, ran a brush through her hair, and slipped a midlength skirt over the stretchy workout shorts she was currently wearing.
The bar was packed with people Maggie had rarely or ever seen. A “hole in one” party always seemed to bring out people who normally did not come to the bar, allowing them to abandon their normal routines for free food and drinks.
The girls were in their usual spot. Fonzie was busy lining up several rows of highball glasses behind the bar. He pulled out a bottle of vodka, a bottle of tequila, a bottle of gin, and, finally, a bottle of rum. Then he set them aside.
“What are you doing?” Britney asked.
“Getting the Long Island Iced Teas ready to go,” he said.
“So many?”
“For some reason every time we have a hole-in-one celebration, it seems like the entire club orders one.” He flashed Britney a rare smile.
“That’s because they’re only allowed to order one free drink—and that particular drink is like four drinks rolled into one,” Alex said.
“Exactly,” Fonzie said.
“Some things never change.” She laughed. “It used to be that the appetizers included oysters, shrimp, pot stickers, and all the fancy stuff, until some of the members were caught bringing coolers and hiding them under the table, filling them up with all the free stuff. Now they serve chili, hotdogs and crudités.
“I think I’ll get my P-I license,” Maggie said, totally changing the subject.
Britney looked at her incredulously. “You want to be a private investigator?”
“Why not?” Maggie said. “Seems like it would be fun.”
Alex shrugged. “I’m not sure retirement was meant for you. You’re sure trying to get back to work.”
“I don’t think I was ready to retire, but I had to get out of Seattle. The weather was just too wet and cold for my bones. I really needed the sun.”
“Well, you have it now,” Alex said.
“Okay, wait.” Britney held her phone in front of her face. “Here are the basic requirements for getting a P-I license in Florida. First, you must be eighteen.”
“Check.” Maggie laughed.
“Be a U-S citizen.”
“Check.”
“Have no criminal history.”
“Check.”
“Be of good moral character.”
“Wait a minute,” Alex interrupted. “What?”
“That’s what it says,” Britney said, tilting her head.
“Who determines what ‘good moral character’ means?”
“Great question,” Maggie said, “but I should pass that one too.”
“It’s just stupid,” Alex said.
“I agree.” Britney nodded firmly then continued: “No mental illness.”
“Depends on who you ask, but go on,” Maggie said.
“No history illegal drug use.”
“I did smoke pot in high school.”
“I think it has to be in your record…but that was like a hundred years ago, so it probably doesn’t count.”
Maggie frowned. “Very funny.”
“Wait.” Britney held a finger up. “No history of alcoholism.”
The three women laughed. They each took their wine glass and held it in the air. “No alcoholics here,” Alex said.
“I only drink socially,” Maggie said.
“You know what they say,” Britney added, “rehab is for quitters.”
On cue, Fonzie brought a full bottle of Caymus Cabernet and filled three new glasses with the smooth scarlet liquid. It even poured different than the average wine.
Maggie turned to Britney. “Caymus?” she asked.
“My treat.” Britney pointed to the bottle. “To celebrate that I got the job at the Breakers. But I think we should also celebrate Maggie’s new ambition.” She picked up her glass and said, “Cheers!”
“Cheers,” Maggie and Alex repeated.
“Congratulations on your getting that job, Britney,” Alex said after taking a long sip from her glass.
“I’m just glad it’s so close to home. I’m tired of traveling so much,” Britney said wearily. “I need a break.”
“We should do a staycation this weekend. Hang out at your pool, call in delivery and drink wine,” Maggie said.
“How is that different from any other day?”
Doc’s voice came from behind them, causing Maggie to jump.
“Location, of course,” Britney said calmly. “Pool and bikinis.”
“Nice, am I invited?”
Britney ignored the question. “How was your date with Angie?”
“Fun,” Doc said. “Except she really hates her ex, she couldn’t let it go.”
Maggie looked up at Doc with interest. “Really?”
“It didn’t help that he followed us all the way to the Kravis.”
“He followed you?”
Doc nodded. “I didn’t see him but Angie was pretty spooked,” he said. The next moment he nodded quickly to the trio. “I’ll talk to you ladies later, I need a smoke.” They watched him disappear out the back door.
The three women talked among themselves and bantered with Fonzie for a while. Finally Britney noticed a woman she hadn’t seen in quite a while. She pointed her out to Alex and Maggie. “Isn’t that the lady who filed a grievance against Marco for the dog poop?”
“Oh my,” Maggie said. “I think so.”
Fonzie turned to look at the woman too. “That’s one of our ‘hole in one’ winners,” he said.
“There’s more than one?” Britney asked.
Fonzie nodded. “Alan Sheffield is the second one.”
“Really?” Maggie raised her eyebrows. “I want to talk to him.”
“We need to ask him to the dinner party…” Alex said.
The room continued to rotate people as patrons came in for their free drinks and snack then left after
consuming their quota. Fonzie’s preparations paid off: he had soon used every highball he had staged, plus a few more. He also served quite a few glasses of prosecco to many unfamiliar faces.
“There’s your guy.”
Fonzie pointed to the door. Alan Sheffield and his partner, Carol, were entering the bar hand in hand.
“Shoot,” Maggie said, frowning, “I forgot about Carol. If we invite Alan we have to invite her too.”
“I think we’re good there,” Alex said. “I play cards with her on Mondays. She’s leaving for Montana in the morning, her daughter just had twins. I think she said she plans on being gone a month.”
“Perfect,” Maggie said.
Britney slapped her hands on the table. “Let’s get him over here.”
“We should get guns,” Maggie said out of nowhere.
Britney stared at her. “Guns?” she said.
Alex pointed at the glass sitting in front of Maggie. “You drunk?”
“We need to get a concealed carry license to be legal,” Alex said.
“Exactly,” Maggie said. “And I know just the person who can give us the class.”
“Who?”
“Alan.” Maggie let the name sink in. “I heard him talking to the guys at breakfast the other day. He teaches the class. It’s our perfect chance to have some one-on-one with him and actually get guns.”
“Do you think he’s a suspect?” Britney asked.
Maggie nodded. “Definitely.”
Britney was doubtful. “He has some kind of brace on his arm. He couldn’t have shot that contraption.
“He wasn’t wearing it last week,” Alex said. “Remember? We were at Barry Goldstein’s one-hundred-and-first birthday.…”
“He could have hurt it when he killed Marco,” Maggie suggested.
“I know they had an issue,” Alex replied, “but honestly, I just can’t see Alan killing anyone. He has a Buddha statue in his yard.”
“I think that was put there by Carol,” Britney said. “She is such a sweetheart—and he’s more like an uncle who wants you to pull his finger all the time.”
“It looks like they are already leaving…” Maggie noted.
“I got this.”
Britney stood and moved through the crowd until she bumped into Alan “by accident.” She said something the other two couldn’t hear, but she pointed toward them. Alan smiled and came over.
He nodded gently. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said.
“Do you have a minute?” Maggie asked.
“For three beautiful women, I have five minutes.”
He sat directly across from Maggie.
“Here you go.”
Britney came from behind and set a glass of wine in front of Alan then sat back down in her seat.
“Thank you, darling,” Alan said, winking at Britney. She didn’t roll her eyes but smiled sweetly.
“Did you hear? Maggie signed up for a private detective course?”
“I did not,” Alan said. He nodded to Maggie. “Congratulations…Retirement too boring?”
“No,” Maggie replied. “I figured it would help me write mysteries.”
“Who doesn’t love a good mystery,” Alan said.
“Rumor has it that you teach the class for Florida’s concealed weapon permits?” Britney asked.
“I used to.”
“Are you still able to do the certification?”
“I am.”
“Can you certify us?” Maggie asked.
He looked at the ladies with a big smile. “I would love to. Why don’t we make it a club event? We can put it on the Facebook page and…”
“Seriously, Alan?” Alex interrupted. “Do you really think it’s wise to put guns in the hands of any of the card ladies?”
“Hmm, I see your point,” he said, nodding. “When would you like to do this?”
“The sooner the better,” Maggie said. “Today?”
Alan looked at the glass in front of Maggie. “You can’t drink and shoot a gun.” He thought for a moment. “Can you meet me at Alligator Alley Guns in West Palm tomorrow morning?”
Maggie looked at the other two. They were already nodding.
“We’ll be there,” Maggie said.
“Okay, let’s meet at eight o’clock. I’ll get all the paperwork together and do the class in their conference room; then we’ll go to the range and shoot a couple.”
“We get to shoot a gun?” Britney said excitedly.
“That is the point,” Alan said.
“I’m so excited!”
Alan stood from his chair. “Bring ID,” he said.
“Hey, Alan,” Britney said before he could go, “what happened to your arm?”
Alan hesitated a moment then smiled. “It’s nothing big…shoulder surgery I had put off for too long,”
“Ugh,” Maggie exclaimed. “So sorry.”
“The worst part is, no golf for at least six weeks.”
*
The girls showed up promptly at eight a.m. at Alligator Alley Guns and Range. They took their seats around a well-used conference table that had possibly been recycled from an old boardroom. It was thick dark oak marked with multiple scratches and light stains where coffee or water marked its top. The conference room walls were stacked with dusty boxes, indicating the room was also being used as some kind of storage area. The door was marked private but was wide open when they arrived. An old-style coffee pot sat on a card table in one corner: it was half full of black mud. The coffee pot was surrounded by mismatched mugs, a can of powdered creamer, and a sugar bowl encrusted by years of use.
“Anyone want coffee?” Alan asked.
“No thanks,” Alex said.
“Brought my own.” Britney pointed to the Starbucks cup she had set on the table.
Maggie just shook her head. Truth was, she could use an shot of caffeine, but she wasn’t that desperate.
Alex examined the chair she was about to sit in just in case of foreign objects.
“Before we start,” Alan said, “do you have any questions?”
“Have you ever shot anyone?” Britney asked.
Maggie looked at Britney. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know, curious.”
Alan resumed: “We’re going to go over a lot of laws and basic information about the care and use of a firearm; but the one thing you need to leave here with is that if you own a gun, you have to be prepared to use it. In other words, if you pull a gun out of your pocketbook and don’t intend on pulling the trigger, don’t pull it out in the first place. If your assailant sees your apprehension and takes the weapon from you, you’re likely dead—or worse.”
“What could be worse than dead?” Britney asked.
Alex stared at her. “Britney, really?”
Alan passed out a few pieces of paper and a pen to each of the women. He also distributed the forms they needed to fill out. “Fill these out exactly as it shows on your government issued ID,” he said.
Britney picked up her pen. “He didn’t answer the question,” she whispered.
“He didn’t,” Maggie also whispered.
The class turned out to be extremely boring but lasted only an hour. Then they were allowed to walk out to the range on the other side of the building. Alan gave them each a pair of goggles and ear protection. He explained the rules of the range and made sure they understood them; finally, he put a gun in the stand in front of each of them.
Alexandra picked up her gun. As soon as the green light came on, she pulled the safety and shot all six shots into the center of the target, a long sheet of white paper with a human form traced out on it. A bullseye stood in the center.
“Wow, Alex,” Alan said. “You’re a great shot.”
“I’ve been shooting guns my whole life,” Alex returned.
“Really?”
Alex nodded her head.
“There’s a lot to Alex most people don’t know,” Britney said. She took aim with her gun and squ
eezed the trigger. She barely hit the sheet.
“Relax your stance,” Alan told her. “Just squeeze the trigger slow and easy.”
Britney’s next shot hit the sheet, in the center of the human’s head.
“Nice,” Alan said, “but aim for the center of the body.”
“I was,” Britney said. “I just got lucky with that one.”
Alan moved to Maggie’s side. She hadn’t even drawn the gun from the shelf, let alone shot a bullet.
“What’s wrong, Maggie?”
“I don’t know, I just can’t do it.” Tears were falling from her eyes; as another shot rang out from somewhere on the range, she jumped.
“You have to shoot at least one bullet to get certified,” Alan said.
Maggie picked up the gun and aimed the barrel at the target. Another shot rang out. She dropped the gun back onto the shelf then ran away from the range, not stopping until she reached the parking lot. She had no idea what had just happened to her, she was visibly shaking, and she couldn’t control the tears. It took Alan a few minutes to get out to her because he couldn’t leave the other two ladies.
Maggie concentrated on her breathing. The tears stopped, but she was still shaking when Alan reached her.
“What the heck is going on, Maggie?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know!” she said.
“Have you been in a traumatic event involving guns?”
“No.”
“Your reaction to gunfire says different,” he said. “Were you in the military?”
“No,” she said again. She breathed deeply and felt her body relax a bit.
Alan put his good arm around her shoulder. “I’m not sure owning a gun is a good idea, Maggie.”
Maggie nodded several times. “You’re probably right.”
Britney came out of the gun shop, carrying her target like a proud kindergartener showing off her first finger painting. “Check this out.” She held up the target with the bullet hole in the exact middle of the head. A few other scattered shots had penetrated the target as well.
“Great shot,” Maggie said, but she was still a little shaky.
Behind The Gates (A Maggie McFarlin Mystery Book 1) Page 10
