Buried in Bargains

by Josie Belle

  “How about dinner tonight, say seven o’clock?” he asked as he stepped back.

  “Okay,” she said.

  She turned to go back to the waiting room, giving Sam a quick wave as the elevator doors closed behind her.

  As soon as she stepped off the elevator on five, she fished her phone out of her purse. She opened her contacts and fired a quick text to Claire. They needed to have an emergency meeting of the GBGs as soon as possible.

  She knew Claire would come back to the hospital on her lunch hour, and that would give them a chance to strategize. She had no doubt that Sam wouldn’t be happy with her for what he was sure to think of as her meddling, but it couldn’t be helped. These were her friends, and she could no more sit by and watch their world torn apart than she could pass up a two-for-one sale.

  • • •

  It was just minutes after one o’clock when Claire raced into the waiting room. She was wearing a navy pencil skirt with a pretty paisley blouse and matching navy pumps. Her blonde bob was windswept and her dark rectangular glasses were perched on her nose as if she was ready for any reference question that could be fired at her.

  Ginger and Maggie were sitting in the corner. Joanne had gone into the ICU to sit with Michael, and Laura had left a while ago to go tend the shop. It was the perfect time for a meeting.

  “How is Michael?” Claire asked as she hugged both Ginger and Maggie. “And Joanne?”

  “No change with Michael,” Ginger said.

  “Joanne is holding up very well, all things considered,” Maggie said.

  Claire slipped into an available chair. “So, what can we do to help?”

  Maggie had been thinking over what she could and couldn’t tell the others. She didn’t want to compromise Sam’s investigation, but she had to tell them something so that they would understand what they were dealing with and why it was so critical that they find out more about Diane.

  “Sam has been having a very hard time trying to track down Diane’s next of kin,” she said.

  Ginger and Claire gave her curious looks, and Maggie explained that there was no file for her in the deli and that Sam had been unable to find any link to her past in her apartment.

  “That’s weird, isn’t it?” Claire asked.

  “Maybe it’s just an oversight,” Ginger offered, although it didn’t sound as if she believed it. Being a CPA, she wasn’t big on oversights when it came to paperwork.

  “I want to look at her apartment,” Maggie said.

  “Why?” Ginger asked.

  “Because maybe we can find something that Sam missed,” Maggie said.

  “Yeah, because a thrift-store owner, a librarian and a CPA are so much better at investigating than one of Richmond’s former finest?” Ginger asked.

  “Don’t be a doubter,” Maggie said.

  “And if Sam finds out we’re doing this?” Claire asked.

  “I don’t see any reason why he should,” Maggie said.

  “We live in a town the size of Q-tip,” Ginger said. “Of course he’s going to find out.”

  “Find out what?” Joanne asked.

  The three women were startled to discover that Joanne had come into the room without them noticing.

  “Um . . . uh,” Maggie stammered, stalling for time.

  “Sam will find out that we’re trying to learn what happened to Diane and Michael,” Claire said.

  Joanne stared at each of them in turn. “Okay, now what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Ginger asked in her most innocent tone of voice.

  “Please,” Joanne said. “You three have guilt with a capital G imbedded on all of your foreheads. Why do you think you need to help find out what happened to Diane and Michael? What’s going on?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. Maggie looked at Ginger who looked at Claire who looked back at Maggie. It was clear that the other two did not want to take charge of this conversation.

  “We were thinking we should find out more about Diane’s past,” Maggie said. There. That was nice and vague and didn’t give anything away.

  “Why?” Joanne asked. “Isn’t that Sam’s job?”

  “It is,” Maggie agreed.

  “But we think we might be able to help,” Ginger said. “Being the enterprising type of women that we are.”

  Joanne gave them a small smile, and her stiff posture relaxed. “I love that about you all. Is there anything I can do to pitch in?”

  “You just watch over Michael,” Claire said. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Thank you,” Joanne said as she slumped into an empty seat and they all rallied around her. Claire went to the cafeteria to bring her lunch while Ginger put an arm around her and Maggie held her hand.

  Maggie noticed that while Joanne sat, her slowly emerging tummy looked bigger than before, and a fierce protectiveness filled Maggie. They would help Joanne find out what happened at the deli, and her baby would not grow up like Laura had, without her father.

  • • •

  “So, where do we start?” Claire asked. She was dressed head to toe in unrelieved black, just like Ginger and Maggie.

  “That depends—where would you hide any personal documents that you didn’t want found?” Ginger asked.

  They were standing in Diane’s apartment. It was a one-bedroom that was sparsely decorated with just the essentials. A bed and dresser were in the bedroom along with a small couch and television, and a café table and two chairs decorated the main room. The closet in the bedroom had minimal clothes and shoes. The kitchen had just enough cookware and dishware for one person.

  Maggie knew that Sam had already been here. There was no computer or telephone to be found, and she wondered if Diane had even owned either of those.

  She had to remember to ask Laura if Diane had had a cell phone. She didn’t imagine that Laura had always called the deli to get in touch with Diane, but maybe she had.

  Maggie glanced around the room as she considered Ginger’s question.

  “Maybe her personal papers were taped to the bottom of a dresser drawer,” she said.

  “You’ve watched way too many episodes of Sherlock,” Claire said even as she went to the bedroom to start checking the bottoms of the dresser drawers.

  Maggie spied a canister set on the counter and went to inspect that, while Ginger checked the kitchen cupboards and drawers for any clues. They continued on through the apartment, looking for any possible hidey-hole for personal documents or photos. There was nothing.

  Finally, they sat in the middle of the living room floor, defeated.

  “It’s as impersonal as a motel room,” Claire said. “There’s clothes and food and nothing else.”

  “I have a really bad feeling about this,” Ginger said.

  “It’s like she didn’t want to leave a hair or even a fingerprint behind,” Maggie said.

  “It’s strange,” Ginger agreed. “Most people can’t get enough attention. Look at how lame television has become, with every reality-star loser trying to spin their fifteen minutes of stupid into a career.”

  They all shuddered.

  “There’s only one reason I can think of that her place would be this barren,” Claire said. “She was in hiding. She didn’t want to be found.”

  Ginger and Maggie both studied Claire. A few months ago, she had been someone who didn’t want to be found. She’d come to St. Stanley with a new identity, hoping to start over, but her past had found her. Had the same thing happened to Diane?

  “No wonder Sam is so frustrated,” Maggie said.

  Ginger glanced at her cell phone. “Speaking of Sam, don’t you two have a date in half an hour?”

  Ginger held up the phone so Maggie could see the time. Ginger was right. She had thirty minutes to get home and get ready.

  “Yikes!” She bolted up from her seat. “Thank Mrs. Denton for me, will you?”

  Mrs. Denton was one of Ginger’s clients, and she had agreed to
let them look at the apartment in return for a discount on her next tax preparation.

  “Yes, now go!” Ginger promised. “I’ll be at Joanne’s tonight if you need to call for advice or anything.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes at her friend, but she didn’t have time to make a snappy retort as she hustled out of the house to her car. She had planned to look extra special tonight to make up for the minor tiff she and Sam had earlier. Now she was going to have to go for a quick spit and polish and hope that Sam was too consumed with the case to notice.

  She parked in her driveway and blew into the house on a draft of cold air. Jake, Sandy and Josh were eating at the kitchen table, and she knew that Laura had already made plans to go out with friends.

  “Hi,” she said as she dumped her purse on the counter and bent over to kiss Josh’s head. Then she darted down the hall, calling, “Bye!”

  In her room, Maggie pulled on a pretty green sweater to highlight her eyes. She ran a brush through her auburn hair and yanked on a pair of skinny jeans that she paired with black high-heel leather boots. She checked her makeup, which was always minimal, and slicked on some lip gloss just as there was a knock on the front door. She glanced at her alarm clock. Seven o’clock on the dot. She might have known Sam would be right on time.

  She dashed down the hallway only to see that Jake had answered the door and was shaking hands with Sam while Sandy stood with Josh, who was tugging on Sam’s pant leg.

  Sam hunkered low and was rewarded with a hug around the neck from the precocious toddler.

  “Do you want to play trains with me?” Josh asked.

  Sam’s smile was warm and lit up his blue eyes in a way that made Maggie catch her breath.

  “I’d like to, little buddy, but I promised I’d take your Aunt Maggie to dinner,” he said. “Another time?”

  “Promise,” Josh said.

  Sam stood and ruffled Josh’s blond hair. “I promise.”

  “Have fun, kids,” Jake said as he held the door open for them.

  “Call if you’re going to be late,” Sandy said.

  “She has a curfew,” Jake said to Sam. “We would hate to have to ground her.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes at Sam, and he chuckled.

  “Good night, kids,” she said as she pulled on her coat and slipped out the door.

  As they walked to the car, she looked at Sam. “Sorry about that. My family isn’t used to me having dates.”

  He grinned. “Is it wrong that that makes me happy?”

  He held open the door, and she slid into the passenger seat of his squad car.

  “Are you on duty?” she asked.

  “Always,” he said.

  He closed the door and circled around the car to the driver side. He got into the car and started the engine. Maggie felt a blast of heat shoot across her feet for which she was grateful.

  As he reversed down the driveway, he braced his arm across the back of her seat. While he navigated the short drive, he glanced at her, and said, “So, do you want to tell me what you, Ginger and Claire were doing in Diane Jenkins’s apartment tonight?”

  Chapter 16

  Maggie contemplated bluffing. But really, what was the point? Ginger had been right. St. Stanley was the size of a Q-tip, and Maggie should have known that Sam would hear about their visit to Diane’s apartment.

  “Are you mad?” she asked.

  “Not as mad as I should be,” he said. “What were you hoping to find?”

  “Something that would tell us about her past,” Maggie said.

  “And you thought you’d be more skilled at searching someone’s house than a trained professional?”

  “No, but I hoped we’d get lucky,” she said.

  They were both quiet for a moment, and Maggie suspected she was about to have the worst date of her life. She had that ick feeling she always got when she felt guilty, and she really wasn’t enjoying it.

  “So, did you?” he asked. “Get lucky?”

  “No,” she said. “It was as if no one actually lived there.”

  “Indeed,” he said.

  Maggie studied his profile. She could see the muscle in his cheek moving; it was either clenching or having spasms. She wondered if she should call off their date. On top of the awkwardness and tension now between them, she also felt guilty about not being with Joanne. Claire was spending the night with her again, but Maggie felt like she should be taking a turn.

  “Maybe we should postpone our date until things settle down,” she said. She realized as soon as she said it that she didn’t want to call it off, but she didn’t want to spend an awkward, guilt-ridden evening either.

  “Is that what you want?” Sam stopped at the stop sign that led away from her street and glanced at her.

  “No! Um, I mean, no, but I . . . What do you want to do?”

  “Honestly, I have been a cop long enough to know that the lines between working and not working are very blurry,” he said. “If you get a chance to have dinner with a beautiful woman, then you take it, because you may not get another.”

  Maggie smiled at him. She couldn’t help it. He’d called her beautiful and, coming from Sam . . . Well, his compliments always made her dizzy.

  “Since you put it that way,” she said. “Onward.”

  Sam grinned at her and turned left. They wound their way through town until they reached a small house on the edge of her neighborhood. Sam pulled into the driveway and switched the engine off.

  Maggie glanced at the house and then at him. “Doesn’t the Hall family live here?”

  “They did,” he said. “Until Mrs. Hall passed away and Mr. Hall went to live with his son in Richmond. We were on the force together.”

  “That’s right,” Maggie said. “I forgot Christopher Hall became a cop, too. How is he?”

  “Married with two kids in college,” he said. “He’s retired and has his own security company now. When he heard I was coming back, he offered to rent me his dad’s house since his dad was going to move in with him.”

  Maggie turned and looked at the small bungalow. It was white with black shutters and a red front door. The lawn was neatly mowed and the bushes trimmed, but it lacked a lived-in look and reminded her of Diane’s apartment in that way. A wreath on the door or a swinging bench would help.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Sam said. “I thought I’d cook dinner and that way, if there is a break in the case and I have to go, we won’t be running out of a restaurant in the middle of the meal.”

  “It’s fine,” Maggie assured him as he led her up the walkway to the house. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Mostly, it’s bachelor food,” he said. “Spaghetti with ketchup.”

  Maggie cringed, and he laughed.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I turned it up a notch just for you.”

  “I’m honored,” she said.

  Sam studied her for a second; his eyes scanned her face as if trying to see inside her. Whatever he saw, he made no comment and Maggie didn’t ask.

  “Come on,” he said. He held open the door and ushered her inside.

  The first thing that struck Maggie was the lack of pictures on the walls. The furniture was very male, as in it was all brown leather, crowded around a huge television.

  Sam led her through the living room and into a surprisingly modern kitchen with granite counters and copper pots hanging over an island in the middle of the room. A cozy dining nook with a round table and four chairs sat at the other end of the room overlooking a small but well-kept backyard.

  The spotlight was on, and Maggie peered out the two French doors between the kitchen and the dining nook and noticed that there was a grill and an eating area on the small patio, and the lawn, although now brown from the winter, looked like it had been thick. There was no sign of a garden, just a plain wooden fence that enclosed the back.

  A noise from near her feet sounded, and Maggie jumped back. One of the panels in the French door was actually a pet door. A
s it was pushed open, a bundle of gray-striped fur half fell and half tumbled onto the floor.

  “Marshall Dillon,” Sam said to the cat. “What have you been up to, buddy?”

  The cat, which looked to be somewhere between a kitten and a cat, galloped toward Sam as he squatted down. The gray fur ball stood on his back legs and placed his front feet on Sam’s knee. Sam leaned his head down and the two of them bumped foreheads, which Maggie took to be the cat’s version of a high five or a fist bump.

  It was impossibly charming, and she found she was grinning stupidly at Sam as he scooped the cat up and held him with one arm while he turned to look at Maggie.

  “Marshall Dillon?” she asked.

  “We like to watch old Gunsmoke episodes together,” Sam explained. “And his stripes make an M on his forehead.”

  He held the cat out so Maggie could see the M, which did sit right over his eyes like an inquisitive unibrow.

  “Marshall adopted me the day after I moved in,” he said. “I tried keeping him in the house, but it didn’t go well. He peed all over the place and shredded a pair of my pants.”

  He frowned at the cat, who blinked at him, the picture of innocence.

  “So, he’s nipped and tucked, tagged and microchipped, but I’m respecting his need to be a free spirit and letting him go outside.”

  “You sound like a worried parent,” she said.

  “I know.” He looked chagrinned. “After all of these years on my own, having someone else to look after, well, it’s scary.”

  Maggie lowered her head to hide her smile while she held out her hand for Marshall to inspect. He sniffed her and then rubbed the side of his face against her fingers. He started to purr, and Sam lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

  “You’re the first person he’s taken to,” he said. “He scratched Deputy Rourke when he stopped by the other day, but then again, Rourke doesn’t smell as nice as you.”

  Sam leaned over the cat and kissed Maggie lightly on the lips. As always, it left Maggie breathless.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since I picked you up,” he said.