by Cate Dean
“Maggie.” Martin’s deep, quiet voice cut her off. “I’ve already talked to your solicitors. Spencer said he was fine, but I wanted someone we had worked with. They are ready to head down here, if Spencer needs help.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do, Martin.”
“Come home, Maggie.”
“Yeah. I’m coming home. Stay at the shop. I’ll come to you.”
Heather came around the corner of the house as Maggie ended the call. She pushed to her feet, bracing herself for the lecture.
“You all right, Maggie? You look like a ghost.”
“I just received some bad news.”
“Not Martin?”
“No—no, he’s fine.” She took a deep breath. Heather would hear sooner or later; better that it came from Maggie, rather than third hand gossip. “A friend of mine is being held on suspicion of murder.”
“Go.” Heather took her arm and marched her over to the Rover. “Ring me when you’re able to come back.”
“I don’t want to leave you in a bind.”
Heather waved her hand. “We can film without you here, and add voice over later. Get out of here. That’s an order.”
“Thank you.”
She forced herself to focus as she slipped behind the wheel and started the Rover. It took all her control not to punch the gas.
While she made her way down the driveway, she ran over her conversation with Martin. Something didn’t sit right, and it wasn’t until she remembered what Grace had said that she realized why.
Grace’s statement was a little too convenient.
With renewed hope, she sped up as soon as the road turned inland, and flew back to Holmestead.
She parked behind the shop and unlocked the door, taking a minute in the back room to catch her breath. Out in the shop, she heard multiple voices, and laughter. Life did go on, even in the middle of a crisis.
“Get out there and help, Maggie,” she muttered.
After exchanging her jacket for a cardigan, she took a quick glance at her hair, decided it would do, and walked out to the shop. A tour group wandered around, some of them hounding Martin with questions. With all that had happened, Maggie had forgotten that today was a tour day.
Ashton spotted her first, and from across the shop she could feel his sympathy. He nodded at her, and continued talking to the couple examining every inch of the sideboard she had just finished restoring.
She plastered a smile on her face and walked over to the nearest group. “Welcome to The Ash Leaf. Are you finding everything?”
“Too much, actually.” The older woman laughed at her own comment, and her two friends laughed with her. Their happiness helped soothe Maggie, and she spent some time with them, answering questions, and directing them to the treasures they were looking for. “Enjoy your hunt. If you have any questions, please give a shout.”
She turned, and found Martin behind her.
“Maggie.”
“Okay.” She nodded when he frowned at her. “I’m okay. I need to ask you something when we have a free minute.”
“I have—ˮ Three young women surrounded him, chattering and excited. They had obviously recognized him.
He gave her an apologetic smile and turned his attention to them.
Maggie moved through the shop, touching favorite items, grounding herself again. She stepped behind the counter and got everything ready for the mad last-minute rush.
Every tour group did it, without fail. They wanted as much time as possible to look around and decide before they paid for their purchases. She didn’t blame them one bit, and after her first few groups, she came up with a system to check people out quickly.
By the time they finished, she was starving, and Ashton looked like he was ready to fall over.
“You.” She pointed at him. “Take a long lunch.”
“But—I already ate.”
“Then go for a walk, go upstairs and take a nap. Don’t come back for two hours.”
“Yes, boss.” He flashed her a grin and strode to the front door.
Martin leaned against the front of the counter, one eyebrow raised. “Getting rid of him?”
“That was only part of it. He’s earned a long break.”
“You have a question for me, I believe.”
“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. So much could hinge on his answer. “Did you believe Grace?”
He blinked, obviously not expecting that question. Then he smiled, and she knew he understood where she was headed. “You think her timing is too convenient.”
“She’s hurt, and angry. As a woman, I know my gender can be vindictive.”
“Do you think she would lie, with so much at stake?”
“I don’t know her well enough to give you an honest answer. I want your honest opinion of what you saw, and what she said.”
Martin took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “Grace was agitated when she came in, then incredibly calm when Ian asked her for an informal statement. She is a tour guide, Maggie, and she is used to controlling herself in stressful situations. Ian is checking out her statement, and promised to get back to me.”
“Okay.” She lowered her head, feeling deflated. “I wanted her to be—ˮ
“The villain?”
“Yeah.”
Martin came around the counter and pulled her into his arms. “We’ll find the truth, love. I know Spencer didn’t kill Regina, and Ian won’t stop until he finds out what really happened.”
“I want to go see him.”
“Maggie, he’s in a holding cell.”
“I know. I still want to see him.” She lifted her head and met his eyes. Without his glasses, he always looked so much younger, like a grad student. “Can you watch the shop for me? That was the only tour group today, so it should be quiet.”
“I will, on one condition.”
She frowned up at him. “What?”
“You eat something.” He pressed his finger to her lips when she started to protest. “When you return. I know better than to tell you to eat before you leave.”
“I knew there was a reason I love you.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
She kissed him again, and practically ran for the door.
Nine
Spencer sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the concrete floor.
It was the safest spot; everywhere else he looked forcibly reminded him where he was, and the mess he was in.
Loud voices in the hall had him lifting his head.
“I demand to see him, Reynolds. Immediately!”
“Oh, no,” Spencer whispered.
Dr. Givens was the man shouting at Ian. That didn’t bode well.
The museum director appeared, his face so red that Spencer was afraid he’d burst at any moment. Or keel over.
“Do you have any idea what you have done to the museum? To me?”
“I am innocent, Dr. Givens.”
“An innocent man doesn’t sit behind bars!”
“Dr. Givens.” Ian’s deceptively mild voice stopped the man mid-tirade. “I do not allow anyone to shout in my station. If you can’t control your temper, I will have you escorted out.”
Givens opened his mouth, probably to shout, then obviously thought better of it. He turned to Spencer, an ugly gleam in his eyes.
“You are finished, Knight. You and your cursed exhibit.” He dropped an envelope in front of the cell. “Do not bother returning to the museum. I will have your artifacts packed up and delivered to you.”
Spencer watched him stomp out of sight before he crouched down to pick up the envelope. He knew what was inside before he opened it; termination papers. Givens had probably—
“Get out of my way, you stupid Yank!”
Spencer gripped the bars, furious and helpless.
“You can bully your poor employees in the museum, Dr. Givens.” Maggie’s quiet voice filtered back, and Spencer smil
ed at the anger snapping through it. “But you won’t order me, or anyone else, in a public building. Do we understand each other?”
A muttered response followed, then he heard the familiar stomp, heading for the front door. Moments later, Maggie walked into sight, her blue eyes furious.
“How do you put up with him?”
“I won’t have to any longer,” He passed the envelope through the bars, and watched her open it. “I’ve been sacked.”
“Oh, Spence.” She didn’t pull out the sheets, reaching for his hand instead. “How are you?”
“You know—bored, a little claustrophobic, a lot scared.”
“I have a solicitor ready to come down from London the second you need him. No, Spencer,” she lifted her free hand when he started to protest. “This is something I can do, so I’m doing it.”
“Thank you, Mags.” He tightened his grip on her hand, feeling hope for the first time since he walked into the kitchen and found Regina Draper.
“I can only stay a few minutes. I just wanted to see you, make sure you’re as close to okay as you can be.”
He let out a laugh, surprised that he could laugh at all. “It’s been peaceful. Ian and the constables have treated me with respect, Mags. Hopefully, I’ll be able to leave soon.”
“Soon would be now,” Ian said. He stepped past Maggie and unlocked the cell door. “I checked with several employees at the museum, including two maintenance workers who seem to be fans of yours. They all remember seeing you on the third floor, working on your display, around 9 pm.”
“I’m free to go?”
“For now. I still have questions, Spencer, and there is still the issue of your missing time. But I know you won’t run. Please don’t leave the village, for any reason, without consulting me first.”
“Right.” He shook Ian’s hand, relief leaving him shaky. “Thank you, for treating me as a person, and not a suspect.”
Ian nodded, and led them out to the tiny waiting area. “If I ask you to come back in, Spencer, I need you to return, immediately.”
“You got it.”
He took Maggie’s hand and followed her outside. The cold wind and the sun felt glorious. It felt like freedom.
That freedom may be short-lived, but while he had it, he was going to do everything in his power to prove his innocence.
***
Holding Spencer’s hand, Maggie walked with him down the high street, not surprised at all the stares and whispers from the locals they passed. Living in a village meant giving up any kind of privacy.
“Spence—are you hungry?”
“I wasn’t, but I am now. Martin had some food sent to the station, but I gave it to the staff.”
“We can head to the shop, and I’ll grab something at The Tea Caddy.”
“You don’t need to protect me, Mags.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll have to face the gossip sooner or later. I’d prefer sooner.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He flashed a smile, but she could see that he was ragged around the edges.
“Let’s go.”
They kept going, Maggie smiling at every person who stared, and adding a wave if the person frowned at her. When they passed Only Old Books, Patrick Tucker’s voice halted them.
“Maggie, Spencer. Might I have a word?”
“Sure.” She exchanged glances with Spencer, and followed Patrick into his bookshop. Her eyes widened as she looked around. “You’ve gotten more—stock.”
Patrick chuckled. “No need to be polite, Maggie. I received a shipment from a private sale in France. I had no idea, until the delivery driver and two other men began transferring box after box, just how substantial that private library had been.” He pushed up his thick glasses, and let out a sigh. “I am in process of acquiring storage space, until I can sort and discard.”
“I’ve some time on my hands at the moment,” Spencer said, wandering over to the first chest high pile. “I would be happy to help out.”
Patrick blinked, clearly surprised. “That would be—a welcome help, Spencer. I can pay you—ˮ
“No need. I’ll enjoy the hunt.” He smiled, and the knot in Maggie’s stomach eased. She should have known that he would bounce back. No matter how bad things got, Spencer was a fighter. “How does this afternoon sound?”
“Perfect. I was planning on closing the shop early, to deal with this.” He waved his hand at the numerous piles. “If we eliminate enough books, I might have room in the back for those that don’t fit out here.”
He sounded excited, and Maggie couldn’t help but smile. Almost a year ago, she had vowed to get him to smile at her. Surviving a desperate killer, and becoming friends with the quiet bookseller, had created another tight, permanent bond to the village she now called home.
“Spencer is going to eat first,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him to the door. It wasn’t easy; he’d found a book on Egyptian history, and looked like he was about to sit and dive into it. “Put the book down, Spence. You can play after lunch.”
“Yes, Mother.” He winked at her, and waved to Patrick. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Excellent. Give a sharp knock if the door is locked.” He turned back to the desk, the conversation over.
Maggie stepped outside, Spencer behind her. He looked excited, the ragged exhaustion all but gone.
“That was something,” he said. “Did you see some of those books, Mags? They belong in a museum. I might be able to—ˮ
“Talk him out of a few, as a loan to the museum? I’m sure you will.”
His smile faded. “I don’t have the authority, not anymore.”
“Spencer.” Maggie stopped and turned to face him, taking his other hand. “Don’t you let Givens’ outburst dictate your future. Besides, from what you told me, he doesn’t have the authority to hire or fire anyone.”
“You’re right.” He squeezed her hands. “Newcombe is the new leader of the rebellion.”
She rolled her eyes at the reference. Ever since he’d started working on the exhibit, his teenage passion for Star Wars had come back to life.
“Let’s go eat, Luke, before you plan your next attack.” She freed her hands and headed for the shop.
“Han Solo.” He caught up with her and draped his arm over her shoulders. “I am the rakish, devil-may-care Han Solo, thank you very much.”
“Don’t you dare call me Chewbacca, or your Han will have teeth missing when you smile.”
He burst out laughing, and hugged her. “I love you, Maggie Mulgrew.”
She couldn’t resist. “I know.”
Another laugh escaped, and Maggie joined him.
“Am I missing all the fun?” Martin’s voice had them both turning. He stood in front of The Ash Leaf, a smile tugging at his lips.
“How—ˮ
“I saw you from inside.” He pointed, and Maggie realized they’d come farther than she thought. They stood in front of the wide front window of the shop. “It is good to see you smiling, Spencer. I took the initiative and ordered lunch for all of us. Ian rang me,” he said, when Maggie raised her eyebrows. “He told me you had been released.”
“Thanks, old man.” Spencer held out his hand, and Martin shook it. “I wouldn’t be getting through this without Maggie, or you.”
“Any time.”
Maggie let Spencer walk into the shop ahead of them, and slipped her arm around Martin’s waist. “Thank you for thinking of him.”
He leaned down and kissed her, then brushed a stray curl off her cheek. “You would have done the same, love, had you been here.”
“Take the compliment, Martin.”
He smiled, and kissed her again. “Taken. Shall we?”
They walked into the shop, and found Spencer behind the front counter, wolfing down one of Lilly’s sandwiches.
“Sorry,” he said, after he’d swallowed. “I couldn’t wait. There’s a jalapeño bagel here for you, Mags, with enough cream cheese to exhaust the local
cows.”
She laughed, joining him. When she’d first opened the antique shop, she had sworn to never eat at the counter; Aunt Irene had spent every open minute in the shop, refusing to leave, even for lunch. Three months in, and Maggie had understood her aunt’s reasoning. Now she ate in the shop at least twice a week, though she did take time to sit in the back room when she could.
It was hard to stay away when she loved what she did.
With Martin and Spencer on either side of her, she savored her bagel, silently vowing to have a light salad for dinner. Right now, she planned to enjoy every bite.
Ashton came out of one of the side rooms, smiling when he spotted Spencer. “Good to see you out, mate.”
“Good to be out. How’s Maggie treating you?”
Ashton glanced at her, and she nodded. “Maggie offered me a partnership.”
Spencer nearly dropped his sandwich. “In The Ash Leaf?” His gaze swung to her. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
She heard the panic edge his voice. “Of course not. But things I didn’t plan are happening, and I can’t spend all my time at the shop. Ashton loves this place almost as much as I do, so, according to Martin, it was the perfect solution.”
“Ah.” Spencer relaxed. “I didn’t think it was your idea. Nice call, Professor. Now I won’t have to worry about her spending half the night restocking. Don’t deny it, Mags,” he said, when she opened her mouth to do just that. “I’ve seen you leaving here at all hours, more than once.”
“Busted.” She leaned into Martin. “I can honestly say I haven’t done that for quite a while.”
Spencer grinned and finished the last bit of his sandwich. “I’m heading over to the bookshop.”
Before Maggie could answer, he kissed her cheek and sprinted for the door.
She let out a sigh. “Sometimes, keeping up with him exhausts me.”
Martin turned her around and kissed her forehead. “That you keep up with him is impressive. How are you, love?”
She knew what he was asking. “It hurt, seeing him in that cell.” She told him what she had overheard between Spencer and Dr. Givens. “Don’t go charging over there, Martin. There’s new management in town, and Givens doesn’t have the power he used to.”
