Maggie and the Inconvenient Corpse

by Barbara Cool Lee

  She watched the dog's white ruff as he snuffled the shrubs at the edge of the yard.

  Reese's voice continued, softly: "Betelgeuse and Cassiopeia and Andromeda," he recited in the darkness. "Even after I dropped out of high school to tour with the band, I still thought I'd go back some day. We all did. We didn't know there was no going back…."

  "Where's Frank now?"

  "In Deep Creek," he said. "He left the day after the car crash."

  "So he wasn't with you when—?"

  "When I tried to end it all? No. I was alone."

  His voice sounded so calm. Matter of fact. He was alone. That was the primary fact of his life. Then, and now.

  He was still staring up at all the stars, the ones he knew by name, and could pick out from the blackness like recognizing old friends, long forgotten.

  "Is Frank…?" she asked.

  "Sober? Yeah. He quit the day he ran away and went home to Deep Creek. He quit the drugs and alcohol cold turkey that day."

  "And you did a week later."

  After trying to kill himself. She couldn't help glance at his wrists, where she knew the old scars still showed pale against his tanned skin.

  "It's been a wild trip," he said.

  "Would you have been happier?" she asked.

  "If the fame hadn't happened? Yeah. Probably. But you can't change the past. It was all fun back then. Be an astronaut or a rock star? That's the kind of question you ask when you're a kid. Now it's too late. I am what I am."

  Maggie's phone rang, and she felt around in her jeans to get it.

  Reese got up and took all the trash from their meal and headed into the house to throw it away, leaving her alone to take the call. When he got inside, he flipped on the patio lights, and she blinked in the sudden brightness, trying to read the phone screen. She gave up and just answered it.

  "Hello?"

  "Aye, Mrs. McJasper," Mrs. Queen's familiar brogue came through on the line. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch with you."

  Maggie felt a huge relief at the sound of her voice. She sat up in her chair. "Oh, it's so good to hear from you! I've been worried about you."

  There was a catch in Mrs. Queen's voice when she talked, like her throat was sore from crying. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have been there to take care of you, and the good dog."

  "You don't need to take care of me. Or the dog. I've got him. You need to focus on yourself right now."

  She could hear the woman's sigh over the phone. "It was just a little rough," she said, in a bit of understatement, "losing my dear husband and then my Mr. McJasper so close together. I'd known them both so long. My life was all bound up in them for nineteen years. And now they're both gone, and I'm not sure what to do with myself. It hit me hard."

  "I'm sure it did. And I'm so sorry about that. Are you starting to feel a bit better now?"

  "Oh, yes. I will be okay," Mrs. Queen said in a brave tone. "I'll be fine, soon enough. But now, what about you? You need my help, and I'm right sorry I wasn't there to help you."

  "I'm fine. I only need a little help with Jasper."

  The dog helpfully barked from his spot near the bushes, where he was continuing his search.

  "Is that him? My but his voice sure does carry, doesn't it?"

  "Yes," Maggie said. "But he's way across the yard now, searching for Mac."

  "Searching for Mac?" Mrs. Queen echoed, sounding confused. "I don't understand."

  "Ever since I brought him home, he's been searching all around for Big Mac. He paces my house and won't go to sleep, and now he's wandering in the yard here at Casablanca, just searching for his owner."

  "Oh, no," Mrs. Queen said firmly. "He's not searching for Mr. McJasper, God rest his soul. He barely knew the man."

  Maggie frowned. "Well, then, I don't understand. He's searching for someone. He won't rest, or settle down, and he must be totally exhausted. Oh!" she said, finally getting it. "He's searching for you."

  "No, no," Mrs. Queen corrected her. "He doesn't look for me. I leave him alone for hours on end while I do my housework. He's used to that. He's searching for his sheeple."

  "His what?"

  "His flock. His little flock."

  "I don't understand."

  "He has a little stuffed sheep. He's very devoted to it."

  "A toy?" Maggie said doubtfully. "No. I can't imagine he'd be this upset about a toy."

  "Of course he is upset," Mrs. Queen said. "He's a herding dog, and he must keep his flock safe from harm. He keeps his little stuffed sheeple with him and he won't go to sleep unless he knows it's safe in his arms. It's his own little flock, what with being a collie dog and all. He has to keep his sheep in his sight or he won't rest. I can't even put the old thing through the washing machine without him getting all concerned and crying."

  "Well, that's amazing," Maggie said. "A sheeple."

  Jasper came running. He stood in front of her and barked several times.

  She repeated it, "sheeple," and he barked again, all excited. "Oh, you poor boy," she said to him. "You were trying to tell me all along and I didn't understand." She went back to the phone call. "So where would this toy be?"

  "In his bed, most likely," Mrs. Queen replied.

  "At Big Mac's house," Maggie said with a groan.

  "That's right. You can ask Ms. Virginia to let you have it. I'm sure she will. She has no interest in the laddie dog, though I think she feels sorry for him. Oh," she added, "I just realized the lady might still be with the police, and can't do that."

  Maggie got silent for a minute, and Mrs. Queen said, "are you still there, Ma'am?"

  "Yes," Maggie said quietly. "Virginia is with the police and can't help me, Mrs. Queen."

  "Well then I'll have to come and get it for you from the house. I'll walk over, since Patrick is not here to drive me right now."

  "Don't do that," Maggie said. "It's late at night. I can get it. I'll drive over and pick up your key from you."

  "No key," she said. "There's one of those code things on the door, all high tech. I'll give you the number. It's 100599. Just punch that in the little box, and the door will open." She told Maggie where the dog's bed was, and his food and other things. "But I should come help you," she added.

  "I don't want you walking around the village in the dark, Mrs. Queen. I'll do it. Now you get some rest and I'll take care of everything. Oh!" she added, "before I forget: does Jasper have any registration or ownership papers? I may need them if I take him to a rescue group."

  "They would be in the mister's office, but I was never to touch his papers, so I don't know."

  "All right. I'll see what I can find. Now you just relax and forget about all this. I'll talk to you soon."

  She hung up the phone.

  Chapter 21

  "So is the old lady all right?" Reese asked, coming into the yard again.

  "Yes, and she solved the Mystery of the Searching Dog. He's been looking for his sheeple all this time."

  Jasper barked.

  "What's a sheeple?"

  Jasper went over and bumped Reese and barked again at the mention of his beloved flock.

  "It's his toy sheep. He guards it and protects it, apparently, and so he's been all worried without it. I'm heading over to Big Mac's house now to find it, so we both can get some sleep tonight."

  She would have sworn her voice and expression didn't change at all, but Reese came over and put his hand on her shoulder just the same. "You're not going over there alone."

  "I'm fine," she said bravely.

  "Don't play tough with me. You're a sensitive soul. You found two different bodies over there in the last few days. You aren't going to go there alone to that empty house and face those ghosts."

  She stood up and put her phone back in her pocket, sniffing away the tears. "I could act like I don't need your help."

  "You could, but we'd both know it was a lie."

  "Yeah," she said, wiping the tears off her face, and hating herself for her weakne
ss. "I wish I was… more… I don't know, worldly, like everyone else."

  "Worldly?"

  "I'm so naïve. So soft. I never plan how I can get ahead of others. I never see the bad in people. I don't spot the scheming and the darkness under the surface. I'm such a Pollyanna about everything. And then when I'm faced with the real ugliness in life, I fall apart and turn to mush."

  He took her in his arms and hugged her. It wasn't a flirtation. It was just a real hug, between good friends. "Please don't change," he whispered into her hair. "You don't want to be cynical like the rest of us. You're perfect just the way you are."

  They both pulled away at the same time.

  "Come on, Jasper," Reese said to the dog. He picked up the leash Maggie had left on the ground near the lounge chairs and snapped the hook onto the dog's collar. "We're going to go vanquish some ghosts."

  Big Mac's new house wasn't as nice as Casablanca, Maggie felt, but she may have been biased. They stood there just inside the door, and then Reese reached over and turned on a switch, flooding the entry with light.

  "We're not burglars," he pointed out when she looked at him. "We don't need to go slinking around in the dark."

  She looked down. Ibarra had told her Virginia had been strangled, so there was no blood on the floor where her body had lain. The floor was of teak, inlaid with an intarsia pattern that looked, in an awful bit of coincidence, like a leaping dolphin. She turned her head away.

  Reese put his arm around her. "Hold on," he said. "Now where's this famous sheeple?"

  Jasper barked at the word, and his voice carried up to the skylight far above them, then echoed back down around their ears.

  "Get your sheeple," she said to him. She let go of his leash and the dog headed to the left.

  Reese let go of Maggie and the two of them followed the dog, his leash trailing across the floor with a slither like a snake.

  Maggie shivered.

  They found the dog in the laundry room, where, just as Mrs. Queen had said, Jasper's big bed was in a niche near the washing machine. And he stood there, holding his little fuzzy sheeple in his mouth.

  "It's purple!" Maggie said with a gasp.

  The toy was a fat little lamb with curly lavender fleece and a big embroidered eye. Its curving smile was winsome, and its face showed the stain of drool marks from its caretaker's affectionate kisses.

  "Oh, Jasper, you feel better, don't you?"

  He was so visibly relieved to find his flock safe and sound that she felt like crying at his happiness. He started to dig at the bed, but she took hold of his leash. "No, don't lie down. We're going to take all this stuff home with us," she explained.

  Reese picked up the big padded bed, and Maggie gathered his brushes and leashes. "I'll have to come back for the food," she said, looking over the large bin of kibble that must weigh fifty pounds.

  "We'll drive over and get it in the morning," Reese said.

  She looked around. "So I guess that's all we need for now."

  Jasper carried his sheeple, and they carried the rest, and they went back to the entry.

  "I wish I had his papers," she said, glancing toward the main part of the house. "But I think I'll have to wait until an executor is assigned. I'm not on speaking terms with his attorneys, but maybe they can expedite things. I just hate to leave the dog in limbo while the legal situation is up in the air."

  "We're here now," Reese pointed out. "It wouldn't hurt to try to find the papers. They must be in Mac's office."

  "I guess," she agreed reluctantly. "But it feels like trespassing to go through a dead person's house."

  "We're not stealing. We're trying to do right by the dog," Reese said. "And if we get arrested, I'll take the rap."

  "They'd never dare arrest you."

  "Exactly," he said with a grin. "I have rich dude immunity. So let's find Mac's office and take a peek."

  The phone beeped to let her know she'd gotten a text.

  She set down all the stuff she was carrying and pulled out her phone. The screen was blank. "Weird," she said. "I thought I got a text. It must be your phone."

  Reese shifted the big dog bed to his right side and pulled out his phone with his left hand. "I didn't get one either."

  "But I heard the beep," she said. "Oh," she added. "I suppose it's Mac's phone or Virginia's. It must be somewhere nearby."

  It felt eerie, standing in the empty house and realizing someone was texting a dead person, never realizing the owner was lying on a slab at the morgue.

  "Let's get out of here," Maggie said. "I want to go home."

  "You don't want to look for the papers?" he asked.

  Jasper dropped his sheeple and barked.

  They both jumped.

  "Don't do that, boy!" Maggie scolded. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

  He ignored her and headed toward the living room, pulling on the leash.

  She followed him into the dark space. At the far end of the room, she could make out a pair of teak pocket doors that led into a side room. The doors were partly closed, but Maggie could see a light through the gap. The light had a greenish glow, and Maggie said, "that's his office right there."

  "How do you know?"

  "He always has one of those green banker's lamps on his desk."

  Jasper was pulling toward the office and they followed.

  "They must have forgotten and left the light on when they locked up the house," Reese was saying.

  Then several things happened at once.

  The green light was switched off.

  The teak doors were thrown open.

  The drumming of feet running across the teak floor came closer in the darkness.

  Jasper barked and lunged forward.

  And something slammed into Maggie, hard, knocking her off her feet.

  Chapter 22

  "Are you okay?"

  Reese was pulling her to her feet in the darkness.

  "Something hit me," she mumbled, feeling for her chest, where the wind had been knocked out of her.

  "But you're not hurt?" he asked quickly.

  "No. Not hurt."

  He was only a silhouette in the shadows of the empty house.

  Maggie realized Jasper's bark was coming from far away. "Where is he?"

  "Who?" Reese asked, still holding her arm to support her.

  But she wiggled away from him. "Jasper!" The dog's bark was coming from the back of the house. She could hear the echo of it off the hardscape in the yard. "He must have gone after Ned."

  "Stay here," Reese said firmly. He headed toward the French doors to the yard, which Maggie realized were standing open.

  Soon Reese was out of sight, and Maggie was alone in the dark house. She walked over to the open office doors, then went in and switched on the light.

  She saw the place was a mess, with file drawers jimmied open and papers scattered everywhere. There was a trail of dropped papers leading out of the office toward where Ned had run into her as he barreled his way out the door.

  She followed the trail back to the living room, and saw Jasper's beloved sheeple where he'd dropped it when she'd been knocked down. She bent to pick it up, then gathered a handful of the papers as well.

  She straightened up, and listened to the sound of Jasper's bark, and the thud of Reese's running feet, as they headed away from her down the beach stairs.

  "What am I thinking?" she suddenly asked herself, realizing she was wandering around the house, numb, while a killer was getting away.

  She pulled out her phone.

  Ibarra picked up on the second ring.

  She quickly explained about coming to Mac's house to find Jasper's things, and Ned attacking them in the dark, and Reese and the dog running off down the beach after him, and needing the police to help them in case Ned was dangerous.

  Ibarra acted odd on the phone, repeating, "Ned? Ned?" while she talked.

  "Yes, Pool Boy Ned," she said. "What's the matter with you?"

  "Pool Boy Ned was j
ust picked up at the border, trying to escape the country," she heard him say.

  "That's not possible. Who are they chasing down the beach?" she asked dumbly.

  "Good question," Ibarra said. "I'm on my way. Stay put."

  She put the phone back in her pocket.

  She realized she was still holding the sheeple and some papers in her other hand. She started to drop the papers, then spotted a phrase on the top page. EB-1 VISA. How odd.

  Maggie knew what an EB-1 visa was. She'd filled out the paperwork for them many times when she'd been Big Mac's secretary.

  An EB-1 was a special visa for foreigners who wanted to immigrate to the United States and bypass the incredibly long waiting process that most people had to go through.

  An EB-1 was commonly called an Einstein visa, because it was supposed to be for people with "extraordinary ability," like scientists, athletes, and (for the ones she'd typed up all those years ago) actors and directors. Someone whose talent was so unusual that they needed to bypass the line and enter the country immediately, often to become the head of a major company, or compete in the Olympics, or star in a major motion picture.

  She looked at the name on this particular visa, and the whole thing began to make sense.

  She headed out the French doors to the back yard and ran down the beach stairs.

  On the sand everything was peaceful, with the splash of the waves hitting the shore and the full moon bright overhead, waiting patiently for little Stanley Tibbets to come visit it.

  She could see lights on in Casablanca's yard next door, and that, along with Jasper's bark, made clear where they had gone. She headed that way.

  She reached for her phone as she walked, to call Ibarra back and explain to him what she'd figured out about the case, and to tell him to come to Casablanca.

  But she heard something behind her. Two things actually, and they froze her in her tracks and sent a shiver through her.

  The first was the sound of footsteps in the powdery sand, a soft swish as the sand crystals were pushed aside by someone's feet. It was a normal sound, one she'd heard a thousand times. But not when she was alone, on a beach, in the middle of the night, with a murderer on the loose.