by Josie Belle
“Twenty, huh?” Hugh studied her from beneath heavy lidded eyes. “No tricks?”
“From me?” Maggie asked. She opened her eyes wide, the picture of innocence.
“You’re sly,” he said. “Always with the coupons and the price matching, I want twenty individual paying customers with no special deals.”
Maggie nodded and held out her hand. Hugh studied it as if looking for a toy buzzer. Reluctantly, he took her hand in his and pumped it up and down.
“I hope this works out for you,” Hugh said to Max. “When you don’t have your nose jammed in a book, you’re a good employee.”
“Thanks, Mr. Simpson,” Max said. He pushed two fudge ripple sundaes with hot caramel sauce through the open window. Claire paid their tab and Maggie smiled at Hugh and said, “Eighteen to go.”
Hugh grunted and strode around to the side door and disappeared into the small office he had there.
Maggie and Claire approached the window.
“Sorry about that,” Maggie said to Max. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“I think he enjoys firing me,” Max said. “You really don’t have to go get eighteen more customers. He’ll get over it. He always does. Remember when I had my physics final, and I forgot to come into work for a week? He got over it. Good ice cream dippers are hard to find, you know.”
“Thanks, but a deal is a deal,” Maggie said. She scooped some of her sundae into her mouth. “He’ll get his customers. Don’t you worry.”
“How are you planning on doing that, anyway?” Max asked. “I mean, it’s August, and everyone is gearing up to go back to school. We’ll be closing for the season at the end of September.”
“I have a plan,” Maggie said.
She devoured more of her sundae. She was feeling the pressure to get going, but didn’t want to waste her ice cream by tossing it out. She made a concentrated effort to finish it, wincing through a bout of brain freeze. When she tossed the empty paper cup out, she noticed that Claire had been busily pushing her own sundae around, helping it melt but not tasting it.
“I need to go back to the library to see what sort of damage control needs to be done,” she said.
“I’ll drop you off,” Maggie said. “Thanks again, Max, we’ll see you later.”
Claire tossed her ice cream out, and they climbed back into Maggie’s car.
“Are you sure you want to go back there?” she asked Claire. “I mean, the body…er…the investigators may not be done yet and it could be disturbing.”
“I need to be there,” Claire said. “With my boss on vacation, I’m supposed to be in charge. I had to leave Hannah, our children’s librarian, to supervise while I was at the police station. Supervising is not her strength. I have to get back.”
“All right, but I’m coming in with you,” Maggie said. “Just to make sure everything is okay.”
“Thanks,” Claire said.
They parked in the library lot and noticed that only one sheriff’s car remained. When they approached the door, they found it locked, and Claire looked worriedly at Maggie.
She used her key to let them in, and they found the library quieter than Maggie had ever seen it. A lone woman, Hannah Teague, sat at the circulation desk. When she saw them, her shoulders sagged in relief.
“Oh, Claire, thank goodness,” she said. She was a petite woman with medium-length brown hair and glasses. She came around the desk and gave Claire a big hug, which Claire stiffly returned. Claire wasn’t a hugger by nature.
“Are you all right?” Hannah asked. “That must have been awful, finding a body like that.”
Claire nodded and quickly changed the subject, asking, “Hannah, why is the door locked?”
Hannah blew out a breath as if she wasn’t sure what Claire would think of what she had to say.
“Well, I didn’t know what else to do. They told me they were going to wheel the body right through the middle of the library, and I had just finished toddler time and there were tons of kids here. All I could think was that we had to get everyone out of here. So I closed the library for the day.”
Claire nodded. “That was a good call. I should have done it before I left, but things were…”
“Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “Crazy. Are you going to call Carlton and tell him what’s going on?”
“I suppose I have to,” Claire said. She glanced down the hall where her office was located. “Is anyone still here?”
“Sam Collins,” Hannah said. “He’s taking one last look around the basement before he seals it.”
Claire nodded. “Okay, then. Well, I’d best go call Carlton. You can go, Hannah. There’s no need for you to stay.”
“I’m not leaving you alone in the building,” Hannah said. “I’ll be in the children’s area, weeding the board books. You let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll leave together.”
Claire gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”
They watched as Hannah walked back to her area. Maggie went with Claire to her office. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the mess they found.
“What is this stuff?” Maggie asked, finding a black, filmy dust on her fingers from the door.
“Looks like they checked my office for fingerprints,” Claire said. “Probably to see if John was in here before he was killed.”
“Well, that’s just…”
Maggie began to wind up into a tirade when a voice from the door said, “Thorough.”
They spun around to see Sam Collins standing there. He looked harried, but Maggie didn’t care. She didn’t like that he was questioning her friend, and she had no problem letting him know.
“They don’t teach cleanup at the police academy?” she asked. “Pretty sloppy if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” he said. He turned to Claire, “Will the library remain closed?”
“For the day,” she said.
He nodded. “I’ve sealed off the basement. No one is to go down there under any circumstances.”
“Understood,” she said.
“I’ll need you to collect the keys to the basement from anyone who has one,” he said.
Claire reached into her drawer and pulled out a key ring. With shaky fingers, she pulled off a key and handed it to him. “The only other person who has a key besides me and Preston, the maintenance man, is Carlton, our director, but he’s on vacation until next week.”
“I’ll get Preston’s key, then, and lock it up,” he said. He turned to leave the room and then turned back. “You’re not planning any vacations in the near future, are you?”
“No,” Claire said. She looked frightened, and Maggie had to squelch the urge to go over and kick Sam in the shins.
“Good,” he said. He turned and left the room.
Maggie studied Claire. “Are you all right?”
Claire nodded, but they both knew she was lying.
“I’m going to call Carlton and tell him what’s happening,” she said. “Then I think I’ll go home for the day.”
“I think that’s an excellent plan,” Maggie said. Even though Claire wasn’t a hugger, Maggie stepped across the room and gave her a big one. To her surprise, Claire hugged her back hard.
“Do you want me to stay?” Maggie offered.
Claire gave her a small smile. “Don’t you have eighteen ice cream eaters to gather?”
“That can wait,” Maggie said.
“Thanks, but I’ll be all right,” she said. “I have Hannah here, and I’ll be leaving shortly. You go on.”
“If you’re sure,” Maggie said. Claire nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”
Claire nodded again.
Maggie left the library in a hurry. Claire was right. She had to get eighteen people to the Frosty Freeze, and she wanted to get the Good Buy Girls together, because if Claire thought she was going to sit at home alone tonight and brood, she was seriously mistaken.
Maggie was just getting into her car when she
felt someone step up behind her. Years of self-defense classes whirled through her brain. She spun around, assuming a fighting stance ready to do some damage, but it was just Sam.
“Ah! You scared me!” she snapped. She inched away from him, not liking having him in her personal space bubble. Bad things happened when this man got into her bubble.
His eyes narrowed as if he was offended that she felt the need to move away from him. Too bad.
“Maggie, you look like you want to punch me,” he said. “Any particular reason?”
Oh, she had a whole list; instead, she said, “You’re awfully oversensitive for a sheriff. Surely, you must know most people aren’t happy to see you.”
“When I save their lives, they are,” he said.
“Yeah, but I bet you write more tickets than save lives, so really, small wonder your popularity isn’t all that,” she said. She knew she was being mean, but it was nothing compared to what he’d done to her. She refused to feel badly for being snippy.
“Why are you so angry with me?” he asked, stepping closer and looking thoroughly exasperated.
“I’m not angry,” she said, stepping back. She shrugged and glanced away. “I couldn’t care less about you.”
“In the police academy, they teach the five signs that someone is lying,” he said. “You just gave me two of them by shrugging and looking away. I can tell you’re lying, Maggie.”
“Huh,” she scoffed.
“That would be another sign,” he said.
The fact that he was right only made Maggie even madder at him. But when all else failed, she went with her first line of defense: deny, deny, deny.
“Oh, please, what’s the matter? Is the return of the football hero to St. Stanley not all you thought it would be?” she asked. “What did you think? The town was going to fill the football bleachers and drive you around the field in a convertible and cheer your homecoming?”
Sam stared at her. His blue eyes were blazing, and she was surprised she didn’t catch fire under his glare. His jaw was clamped, and she could see the knot of muscles in his cheek clench and unclench. He looked close to losing his temper, and she wondered if she had pushed him too far.
“For your information, the only thing I remember about the football bleachers is being under them…with you,” he said. He looked like he wanted to take a step closer to her, but instead he spun on his heel and stalked away.
Chapter 11
Maggie opened the driver’s-side door with hands that shook and fell into her seat with legs the consistency of jelly. He remembered. All this time she had thought she was just a summer conquest for him, a postscript to his senior year that was forgotten in the glory of his college days, and in one sentence he had stripped her of that angry, protective coating.
She punched her steering wheel, feeling hot tears well up behind her eyes. How did he do that? How did he reach past twenty-four years of her shoving aside his memory with an angry huff and make her feel that stupid, ridiculous flicker of longing again?
And with that longing, she felt swamped by guilt. She had loved her husband, Charlie Gerber. He had come into her life in the wake of her heartbreak over Sam, and he had been handsome and funny and kind, a perfect husband and father, and she felt so lucky that he had chosen to spend his life with her. But even the deep love she felt for Charlie had not erased the crazy passionate feelings she’d had for Sam Collins, and that made her feel guilty, which made her even more annoyed with Sam and his ability to bring back those old feelings.
She rested her head on the steering wheel and forced herself to think about happy things, like her daughter, Laura, a pretty redhead who, like her father, was as kind as she was smart. One of Maggie’s favorite memories was of Laura catching ladybugs in their small garden. One ladybug had climbed under her pretty yellow dress and tickled its way across her belly, making Laura laugh her contagious little-girl giggle.
Maggie remembered that day so vividly. She could feel Laura’s small hand in hers, hear the birds twittering and smell the summer roses in bloom. It was one of her go-to memories in times of stress, and it always grounded her. She let out a sigh. She was okay.
Once her emotions were under control, Maggie started up her car and headed to the office where she did medical billing for Dr. Franklin. It had been a full-time job when she was younger, but now that Dr. Franklin was semiretired, Maggie worked just part-time for him.
As she turned onto Main Street and passed the library, she refused to look at the building. She didn’t even want to catch a glance of Sam Collins, for fear that he’d manage to get past her defenses again.
She inhaled a deep breath through her nose, held it and slowly let it out through her mouth. There was no point in dwelling on the past, no point in even thinking about it. Her life had worked out the way it was supposed to, for if she hadn’t fallen in love with and married Charlie, she wouldn’t have Laura. She couldn’t imagine her life without her bright, beautiful girl. So there it was.
There was no point in looking over her shoulder at the shadows of her youth—it served no purpose. Of course, if she followed that line of thought, there wasn’t much point in being so angry with Sam Collins either. She didn’t think she was quite ready to let go of that, however.
She drove across St. Stanley to Spring Gardens, the assisted-care facility that was built into one of the historic homes in the center of town. Dr. Franklin had left his busy practice and kept a small office in the facility, figuring that the patients who needed him the most were the elderly who resided at Spring Gardens.
Maggie turned in past the large, wrought-iron gate that framed the gravel drive leading to the tall, three-story red brick building. A fountain bubbled in the middle of the circular drive, which she turned off of toward the small lot at the side of the building.
She parked in the staff section of the lot and found her ID badge.
As she headed toward the building, she saw Ray Roberson seated in the facility’s bus with his feet up on the dash while he scanned the newspaper. An older black man, heavyset with graying hair and dentures that he liked to move around in his mouth when he was cogitating on a problem, Ray had been a school bus driver back in the day. In fact, Maggie had ridden his bus when she went to St. Stanley Elementary. When Ray had retired, he’d bought one of the old school buses that was about to be retired as well. Now he lived at Spring Gardens, rent free, in return for being the facility’s on-call bus driver.
Maggie stopped by the open door of the bus and called, “Hi, Mr. Ray.”
“Well, hello, Miss Maggie,” he said as he lowered the paper. “I didn’t think you worked today.”
“I don’t,” she said. “But I thought I’d pop on over. I have a bit of a dilemma, you see.”
“Do tell,” he said as he shuffled his dentures from side to side.
“I promised Hugh Simpson that eighteen people would come by the Frosty for ice cream, or he’s going to fire Max Button,” she said.
“Might be good for the boy,” Ray said. “He’s too smart to stay there.”
“Agreed, but since I’m the one who got him in trouble for abandoning his post, I don’t want him fired on my account.”
“Now where could you find eighteen ice cream eaters?” Ray asked. “I’m betting the bingo hall might offer supply to your demand.”
“That is an excellent suggestion, Mr. Ray,” she said. “Are you feeling up for a drive, by any chance?”
“I could be persuaded.”
“Bus driver gets a freebie,” she said.
“A cone or a sundae?” he asked.
“Sundae, for sure,” she said.
“With whipped cream and sprinkles?”
“And a cherry.”
“I don’t like cherries,” he said.
“No cherry, then,” she said.
“Mmm, I guess I could go for a sundae.”
“Excellent,” Maggie said. “Prep the bus. They’ll be out in five.”
Maggie entered the
side door to the building and headed over to the recreation room. There was an intense game of bingo going on.
As Paula Duwalter called out, “B1,” Jerry and Dennis Applebaum looked like they were about to come to blows. Paula did not look particularly fazed by this, as the two brothers came to blows over every competition that the seniors had.
Maggie worked her way over to the table where the two men were sitting with teeth bared, hunched over their boards waiting for the next number to be called.
“Hurry up!” Jerry barked. “A man could die waiting for you to get to the next number.”
“If we’re lucky,” Dennis snapped.
Maggie peeked at their bingo cards. They only had a few spaces to go. Someone was going to win soon. Paula called out three more numbers, and Jerry shot up from the table, yelling, “Bingo!”
In his tank top with his gray chest hair poking out over the neckband, plaid shorts and loafers with black socks, Jerry was the epitome of old-man chic.
Wearing similar attire, except with striped shorts, Dennis popped out of his seat to look at his brother’s bingo card.
“He cheated!” Dennis shouted. “I challenge that bingo.”
Paula let out a put-upon sigh. Maggie suspected it was because she was forced to do this for every game. The rest of the seniors in the room looked like they couldn’t give two hoots who had won the bingo. This was just the opening Maggie needed.
“You know, Dennis,” she said. “If Jerry won this bingo round, that would be good for you.”
“How do you figure?” he asked. “I don’t see how his cheating is doing me any good.”
“I didn’t cheat,” Jerry argued. He cracked his knuckles, and Maggie was afraid he’d get himself sedated before her plan was in motion.
“It’s just that I saw the Spring Gardens bus out front, and it looked to me like it was headed to the Frosty Freeze, so if Jerry here is busy picking out his bingo prize, you would score the front seat, Dennis.”
The two brothers stared at each other for a heartbeat, and then they both scrambled for the door, throwing elbows and shoving each other.
