50% off Murder

by Josie Belle

  “Well, as long as you’re all right.” Dr. Franklin rose from his seat, and the sound of flushing could be heard from the bathroom next door. He checked his watch. “Marshall Pinter, right on schedule. Excuse me, Maggie.”

  “Of course.” She nodded.

  “And if you find that you’re not as ‘eh’ as you think, I hope you know you can talk to me,” he said.

  “Thank you, Dr. Franklin, I really appreciate that,” she said.

  The door closed softly behind him, and Maggie sagged back in her chair. What was she doing? She glanced down at her dress. She was flirting with disaster, that’s what she was doing. Really, trying to make Sam notice her, and for what? He had left her once and never looked back; surely, twenty-four years and one outfit were not going to make him change his mind. She shook her head.

  “I’m an idiot,” she muttered. Then she turned up her radio and got back to work.

  Chapter 23

  At mid-afternoon, Maggie walked back to her car. It wasn’t a long walk, but the afternoon had a pre-storm stickiness to it that seemed to rise up from the cement sidewalk in waves. Cicadas hummed as if in a dither over the possible change in the weather, and Maggie wondered if they were warning one another to take cover or if they were looking forward to a good soaking.

  She kept a wary eye on the few people out in this heat. She was half expecting Summer Phillips to leap out from behind a mailbox to get her. Not for nothing, but she quickened her pace.

  She glanced at the sheriff’s department as she went by. She wondered if Sam had made it back to his office. She wondered what had called him away. She wondered if Dot had really told him that Maggie had legs up to her neck. And she wondered why she cared.

  Sam had left her busted up and broken when he took off without so much as a backward glance. Maggie had stayed in St. Stanley. She’d worked for Dr. Franklin and gone to the community college part-time and gotten her two-year degree. She had planned to go on and attend the university, but just when she’d been about to leave, she’d met Charlie Gerber, the new deputy in the St. Stanley sheriff’s department.

  He was kind and funny and he made no secret of the fact that he thought Maggie was the most perfect woman he’d ever met. He was a balm to her wounded soul, and she fell head over heels in love with him. Somehow, college got pushed aside for a wedding, and then she was pregnant with Laura.

  Maggie had figured she’d get back to college once Laura started school, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Charlie was killed in the line of duty, and suddenly all the dreams Maggie’d had of growing old with her husband evaporated like fog under a warm sun, and she found herself alone with a child to raise.

  She was lucky. She had a job and plenty of friends to help her along the way, but still, she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that when times were tough and she wasn’t feeling strong, she wondered how her life would have turned out if she and Sam Collins had stayed together.

  Maggie fished her keys out of her bag, relieved to be at her car and looking forward to cranking on the AC. She could feel a rivulet of sweat run down her neck and imagined her hair had gone quite limp during her walk. Ah, well, dressing up had seemed like such a good idea this morning.

  Feeling sluggish, she decided a caffeine pick-me-up was in order. She still had her punch card from the Perk Up, and today she could cash it in for a freebie. Feeling much more motivated, Maggie fired up her Volvo and circled the town green until she found a parking spot just down the street from the coffee shop.

  The bells on the door jangled when she pushed her way inside. The scent of roasted coffee beans filled her nose and the cool air of the shop washed over her skin. The place was empty of customers.

  “Hi, Maggie,” Gwen greeted her from behind the front counter. “What can I get for you?”

  “Something frozen and heavily caffeinated, please.”

  “How about an Almond Cappuccino Frost?”

  “Perfect,” Maggie said. She handed Gwen her punch card. “Can I have it to go?”

  “Sure.” Gwen put the card in the register. “Do you want to start a new card?”

  “Yes, please,” Maggie said. Gwen handed her a blank card, and Maggie put it in her wallet.

  The front counter wrapped around the side of the shop and had several stools for patrons to sit there as well. Maggie slid onto one of the tall stools.

  She watched as Gwen hustled behind the counter, fixing her drink. Gwen was tall and thin, with sharp features. She didn’t smile often, which Maggie thought was unfortunate, because her whole face lit up when she did.

  Gwen and Jay Morgan had come to St. Stanley several years ago and opened the Perk Up. It had become the place to hang out in town, but lately, Maggie had noticed that business seemed to be a bit slower for them. She wondered if the coffee shop franchise that opened on the edge of town last year had driven down their sales. Of course, there was no polite way to ask this, so she didn’t.

  Gwen wasn’t generally one for chatter, but since no one was in here today, Maggie thought she’d ask her what she thought about the murder. Given that the Perk Up was still busy in the mornings, maybe Gwen had a good idea of what people in town were saying.

  “So, what do you think about that murder in the library?” she asked.

  “I try not to think about it,” Gwen said. “A small town like this—that sort of thing shouldn’t happen here.”

  “Well, when times are tough, crime goes up,” Maggie said. “People get desperate.”

  “Claire Freemont has a cushy job at the library,” Gwen said. “What did she have to be desperate about?”

  “Claire didn’t do it.”

  Gwen stopped fussing with Maggie’s drink and stared at her. “That’s not what I heard. It was her knife in his chest, wasn’t it?”

  Maggie opened her mouth to give a well-thought-out rebuttal, but of course she didn’t have one. And in a moment of blind clarity, she realized that this was what Max was facing. Why was it Claire’s knife sticking through the victim’s chest? And with her fingerprints, no less.

  Gwen pushed the beverage in its plastic cup across the counter toward her, and Maggie handed her a tip for service.

  Maybe it was the panic of knowing how badly it looked for Claire, but Maggie didn’t leave right away. Instead she took a sip of her frozen drink. It was delicious.

  She watched as Gwen wiped down the counter, and even though she found the other woman intimidating, she screwed up the courage to say, “Gwen, can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot,” Gwen said without stopping her work.

  “What was your impression of John Templeton?”

  Gwen looked at her with a frown. “I never met him, so I don’t have one.”

  “But I thought he spoke to the young entrepreneurs group,” Maggie said.

  “Maybe he did,” Gwen said. “I don’t go to those meetings. They’re too boy’s club for me.”

  “Is Jay here?” Maggie asked. “I’d like to know what he thought of him.”

  “No, he’s out buying supplies,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I really have work to do.”

  “Oh, sure,” Maggie said.

  Since the hint to go away was given with all the finesse of a kick to the temple, Maggie hopped off her bar stool with her drink and headed for the door. She glanced around the empty café one more time before she pushed through the doors and stepped back out into the muggy heat.

  To the west she could see a thunderhead perched, as if gathering its strength before it moved in and struck like a sledgehammer. She glanced at the row of dogwood trees planted along the perimeter of the town green. She couldn’t help but notice as the hot breeze picked up that the leaves closest to the ground seemed to be turning over, as if beckoning the coming storm to bring them some rain.

  Maggie checked her watch. It was getting late, and it was pizza night. She didn’t want to miss that, especially since she’d skipped lunch and she was starving. She hopped in her car and headed home, mu
lling over the events of the day and feeling a little ridiculous that she’d dressed up for nothing.

  Dwelling on her own foolishness did nothing for her self-esteem, so she turned her thoughts over to the question of who had killed John Templeton. It was very apparent that he’d been a bad man, but still, someone had committed murder. The question was, why?

  She knew it looked bad for Claire. If Maggie was honest, Claire’s motive to kill Templeton was extraordinary. People certainly killed for less, but Maggie knew her friend wasn’t capable of taking a life.

  Claire said she hadn’t told anyone about why she had fled Baltimore, but that didn’t mean that John Templeton hadn’t told someone about Claire. If he had and that person wanted him dead, well, wouldn’t Claire be the perfect fall guy?

  As she pulled into her driveway, Maggie hoped that Ginger had some luck pulling up information about Templeton’s other investors. There had to be someone out there with a bigger motive than Claire’s, and it was up to the GBGs to find them.

  Chapter 24

  “Okay, the topping deal was a bust, so I had to go with double cheese,” Sandy said. “They wanted entirely too much money for the puny amount of pepperoni they were going to scatter on this pizza.”

  “Double cheese works for me,” Maggie said.

  She had changed out of her dress and heels and into a comfy tank top and shorts. As the storm flirted with the outskirts of town, the mugginess had become oppressive. Even though she didn’t love the rattle and boom of thunderstorms as much as she had when she was a kid, Maggie was ready for the relentless sticky misery to be over.

  They took their pizza out onto the sun porch. Sandy had cut Josh’s up into bite-size pieces, and he sat in his plastic chair while Maggie and Sandy each took one of the padded wrought-iron chairs.

  “Do you have study group tonight?” Maggie asked.

  “It was canceled,” Sandy said. “Some of the others were worried about being caught in the storm.”

  Maggie glanced through the glass windows that enclosed the room. The wind was beginning to whip the trees into a frenzy.

  “I think that was a wise choice,” she said.

  “What about you, any plans tonight?” Sandy asked. “Did you get asked out on a hot date today?”

  “No.” Maggie shook her head. “In fact, it’ll be a while before I wear heels all day again. I am so out of practice.”

  She stretched her bare feet, feeling the kinks in them protest. Did it always hurt like this after she wore heels, or was she just getting old?

  They spent the rest of the meal recapping the day’s events, and then Maggie baked a fresh blackberry cobbler and did cleanup while Sandy got Josh ready for bed.

  When the storm hit, the first boom shook the house. A flash of lightning lit up the sky soon after. The storm was here.

  Maggie hurried down the hall to Josh’s room. He didn’t like storms, but she met Sandy backing slowly out of the boy’s room.

  “He’s asleep,” she said. “I put the air filter on, so hopefully the hum will keep him from being disturbed by the storm.”

  “Good idea,” Maggie said. “Are you going to study now?”

  Sandy nodded.

  “Call me if you need me,” Maggie said. “Ginger is supposed to be coming by with the others.”

  “Another strategy session?” Sandy asked.

  “I really want Claire out of jail,” Maggie said. “It’s so depressing.”

  Another boomer rumbled through the night. They both jumped, and then a faint knock sounded on the door. Maggie went to get it while Sandy disappeared into the little office to hit the books.

  The wind whipped around the front door when Maggie opened it, propelling both Ginger and Joanne inside. The smell of rain, although there wasn’t any falling yet, gave the air a pungent, earthy smell.

  “Is Max with you?” Maggie asked.

  “He went to the jail,” Ginger said. “He talked to Sam today and was told he could bring Claire some books and things.”

  “Oh, good,” Maggie said. “Josh is asleep and Sandy is studying, so let’s go out to the porch where our talking won’t disturb them. We can watch the storm out there, too.”

  Joanne’s cell phone chimed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. “It’s Michael. He’s out with the guys. I have to text him that I’ve arrived.”

  She rolled her eyes at her husband’s overprotectiveness, but it was obvious that she was pleased by his concern. Joanne and Michael Claramotta were such a nice couple, Maggie really hoped the baby thing worked out for them, and soon. It would be one lucky baby to have such loving parents.

  While Joanne hammered on the keypad of her cell phone with her thumbs, Maggie and Ginger went into the kitchen. Ginger had brought the vanilla ice cream, as promised.

  The blackberry cobbler was cooling on the stovetop. Maggie hauled a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge while Ginger gathered plates.

  “Do you want to do the honors?”

  She handed Ginger the pie cutter and, while Ginger dished the cobbler, Maggie scooped the ice cream. Then she loaded up a tray to bring out to the porch. Ginger followed her.

  “Again, it just feels wrong without Claire here,” Ginger said.

  “I know,” Maggie agreed. “We have to get her out of jail, and soon.”

  They took their seats and Maggie set the tray down on the table. The thunder rumbled outside and the lightning flashed, but Maggie felt safe on her cozy porch. She hoped Claire was doing all right at the jail.

  “Well, to that end, I have information,” Ginger said.

  “Do tell.” Joanne slipped her phone into her pocket and took the plate Maggie held out to her.

  Ginger dug into her large purse for a small notebook and her reading glasses. She perched the glasses on her nose and flipped until she found the page she wanted.

  “Okay, here’s what I got from my background check on John Templeton,” she said. “He was fifty-four, lived in Baltimore, but had investments all down the east coast.”

  “All the way to Florida?” Joanne asked.

  “Yes, and he was very interested in scooping up post–Hurricane Katrina properties in New Orleans.”

  “Married?” Maggie asked.

  “No, and no children either,” Ginger said. “He started his venture capital company in the early nineties, and it has slowly grown into a multibillion-dollar company.”

  “He’s been audited by the IRS several times, but has always gotten away without any fines being levied against him,” Ginger said.

  “Good accountants?” Maggie asked.

  “Or government workers who take bribes,” Ginger said. “Hard to say.”

  Maggie blew out a breath. “Okay, what else?”

  Ginger scanned her notes. “I have lots of money stuff, but what I deemed most important were the businesses here in St. Stanley that had a ‘working’ relationship with John Templeton.”

  “Other than Michael and me, who have you got?” Joanne said.

  Maggie was pleased that Joanne wasn’t in a puddle of tears tonight. This was the no-nonsense Joanne Claramotta, the “there is a scuff on these shoes, so I want twenty-five percent off” Joanne Claramotta that they knew and loved.

  “Well, it’s a pretty long list,” Ginger said. “With the recession, almost everyone is squeezed to the max, so people are borrowing from whoever is lending, and at disgusting interest rates, too.”

  “Can we narrow it down by who is in trouble?” Joanne asked.

  “Already on it,” Ginger said. “We have Jay and Gwen Morgan of the Perk Up.”

  “I was just in there today, and Gwen said she’d never met him,” Maggie said. “I wonder if Jay did a deal and didn’t tell her. You know, the place looked dead.”

  “That franchise on the outskirts of town is killing them,” Joanne said. “It has a drive-thru.”

  “We also have Hugh Simpson of the Frosty Freeze,” Ginger said.

  “No!” Maggie and Joanne said together. />
  “And then there are a few ties for third place,” Ginger said. “The Clip and Snip hair salon and the thrift store My Sister’s Closet over on Main Street.”

  “Okay, this makes no sense,” Maggie said. “Why would anyone invest in virtually every business in a town this small and in businesses that are so diverse?”

  “I am delighted that you asked me that,” Ginger said. She smiled at Maggie as if she were her prize pupil. “I thought the same thing, too. Usually venture capitalists have a specific interest. This guy is all over the place.”

  “A thrift store, a deli, an ice cream place and a hair salon…you think?” Joanne asked.

  “But there is one thing they all have in common,” Ginger said.

  “They’re all in St. Stanley?” Maggie asked.

  “You’re getting warmer,” Ginger said.

  “They’re all on the town green,” Joanne said.

  “Exactly,” Ginger said. She flipped through her notebook. “I looked at other towns Templeton has invested in over the past two decades. They are virtually unrecognizable.”

  “What do you mean?” Maggie said.

  “The mom-and-pop shops are gone,” Ginger said. “Wiped out. And who has a vested interest in the franchises that take over?”

  “John Templeton,” Maggie said.

  “He did it to midsize towns all up and down the coast,” Ginger said. “It’s like he was on a mission to homogenize the entire eastern seaboard.”

  “That’s awful,” Maggie said. “And not just from a financial standpoint.”

  “Agreed,” Joanne said. “I mean, as a small business owner you hope to franchise one day, but to have all the small businesses be swallowed up by franchises, well, how will anyone ever break into business ownership if everything starts with an established franchise?”

  “What did you find out from Michael?” Maggie asked Joanne.

  “Not as much as that,” she said. “He did say, though, that Templeton seemed almost disappointed when Michael made his payments on time, and he always found that a bit odd.”