“That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes, but I’m sure I can find a buyer. In fact, I’ve already received a few inquiries from potential buyers, all of whom would keep the store open. That’s important to me because Mac was rooted to Sugar Creek and the store could remain as a reminder of him. Unless I change my mind, I’m going to sell the house, too. Mac grew up on that property, in the house next door to ours. It’s so hard to be there. That’s one of the reasons I came back to work so soon. I needed to get out of that house and I needed to stay busy and focus on something positive.” Carla motioned her head to a photo on the wall that showed her wearing a tank top and shorts, holding a medal, and beaming. “I finished my first marathon at age 40. I keep that picture as a reminder of what you can accomplish with a little hard work and a lot of determination. And I’m determined not to let my grief engulf me.”
“I admire your resolve.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you for your time. I know this couldn’t have been easy.” Maggie closed her notebook and bought three chess bars – one for herself and two for her parents – before leaving.
Just as was the case with Carla, Mac’s first wife also expressed misgivings about submitting to an interview and initially refused Maggie’s request. Yet, just as Carla had done, she changed her mind. Maggie considered asking her why, but decided to leave well enough alone.
When Rhonda opened the door to her apartment, Maggie was startled by her appearance. She had been expecting someone resembling Carla, but quickly remembered that Carla was several years younger than her late husband. So, she shouldn’t have been surprised by Rhonda’s frizzy, graying black hair or her tired eyes. She thought Rhonda looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her.
“Hello,” Maggie extended her hand. “I’m Maggie Morgan. It’s nice to meet you.”
Rhonda shook Maggie’s hand. “I read your stories in the paper. You’re so funny and talented.”
“Thank you.”
“Come in and have a seat. Do you want something to eat?”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“I’ve made a cheese and cracker tray.”
The appetizer didn’t fall under Maggie’s adversarial food group – sugars – so she saw no reason to resist the temptation. “Well, maybe a little.”
Rhonda set the tray, small paper plates, and a cup of water on the coffee table.
Maggie selected a wheat cracker and a slice of pepper jack cheese. “Yummy, and it looks so professional.”
“I’ve had lots of experience. I used to manage the Walmart deli.”
Maggie finished munching on a cracker before speaking. “I remember you. You sliced turkey to my generic specifications – not too thick, not too thin. Where do you work now?”
“I don’t. I’m disabled.” Rhonda indicated her surroundings with her hands. “That’s how I ended up here. I had to move out of the trailer I was renting.”
“This is nice.” Maggie nodded and looked around at Rhonda’s sparse and cozy quarters. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the concrete floors and walls, but Rhonda’s well-placed rugs and family photos added a personal touch to what could have resembled a jail cell. Although she had heard that tenants in public housing were subject to surprise inspections by the landlord and that they had to pay extra on their rent to keep pets, she didn’t understand Rhonda’s obvious embarrassment. “What led to your being disabled?”
Rhonda pointed to her head. “Migraines.”
“Oh, you poor thing. I’ve never had one, but I hear they’re worse than death.”
“Sometimes when I’m having one, I wish for death.” Rhonda put her hand to her head. “People say, ‘Just take an aspirin.’ You might as well take a Flintstones vitamin as an aspirin or any of those other over-the-counter pain relievers. I know people judge me for getting my disability on headaches, but it got so bad that I couldn’t work. I went through a stretch of three months where I only worked five days. Then, the doctor pulled me off work. I applied for my disability and my case didn’t even go to a judge. The Social Security board approved me. That was three years ago.”
“How are your headaches now?”
“A little better, but I don’t have as much stress.” Rhonda grimaced, “Actually, I have a headache today.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maggie apologized. “We don’t have to do this today.”
“No, it’s manageable and, if I’m going to do this, I want to get it over with.”
Maggie swallowed one last bite of cheese. “I’ll make this as fast and as painless as possible. You and Mac were high school sweethearts?”
“Yes,” Rhonda smiled. “We started dating sophomore year. There was no other boy for me after that.”
“What was it about him?”
“Oh, gosh. He was cute and nice and just mischievous enough to be fun.” When Maggie gave her a quizzical look, Rhonda explained, “What I meant is that when some boys acted up, they came across as jerks. But Mac was just funny. He was always playing jokes on people and making them laugh. Did you know that he was voted the class clown?”
“No.” For that anecdote alone, Maggie deemed the interview a success. “You have good memories of that time?”
“The best. I wish high school had gone on forever. But,” Rhonda sighed, “it didn’t.”
“You were married right out of high school?”
“Well, not really. It was almost a year later.”
“Where did you live?”
“In a trailer on his parents’ property. It’s in the same place where his house sits now. That’s a really nice house. I guess you’ve seen it, being from Sugar Creek.”
“It is an attractive little cottage and it stands out among all the ranches,” Maggie agreed. “How long were you married?”
“Not quite five years.”
“Do you mind telling me what happened? Why did the marriage end?”
Rhonda frowned. “I don’t mind telling you. Real life happened. It’s just like the words to that John Cougar song.”
“Which one?”
“‘Jack and Diane.’ He says something in the song about holding on to sixteen as long as you can. In our minds, we were still those same kids who went to a ball game every Friday night and hung out at the lake every summer. But, just like in the song, we had become a woman and a man.” Rhonda brushed away a piece of lint from her jeans. “Five years don’t seem like a long time, but I’m surprised it lasted that long. The first couple years were good, but after that, the bloom wore off and we fought about everything. I guess we stayed together as long as we did because we were both taught that divorce was wrong. I left him a few times, but I always went back. The last time I left was a Monday. By Thursday, I was ready to go back, but his daddy came to my mommy and daddy’s, that’s where I had went, and talked to me. He said Mac was ready to call it quits. McKinley, that was his daddy, didn’t believe in divorce, but he told me he thought it would be best if me and Mac separated. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and I tried to call Mac, but he wouldn’t answer. I went back to the trailer one evening and waited for him to come home. That was it.”
“I’m sorry for you.” Maggie wanted to give Rhonda a hug. Despite all the time that had lapsed since the breakup of her marriage, the pain showed on her sad face. “Did you part on friendly terms?”
Rhonda rubbed her temple and forehead. “I don’t know if friendly is the right word. I moved off of Sugar Creek and didn’t see much of him again for years. Not until I started working at Walmart. I had been there a few weeks when he came to the deli and picked up a sandwich tray. Sometimes, when he was in the store, he’d come over and speak to me. By that time, he had gotten remarried. I was happy for him. He adored her.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“Oh, I couldn’t say. I’ve been off work for three years.”
“Well, is there anything you want to say that I haven’t asked about?”
“Just
that this is a real tragedy. A good man was taken away from his loved ones way too soon.”
Maggie appreciated all four seasons and didn’t understand why people complained about the weather. During the summer, they grumbled about thunderstorms and humidity. During the winter, they grumbled about frigid temperatures and snow. In the spring, the budding flowers triggered their allergies. In the fall, the biting rain chilled their bones. Maggie considered it silly to complain about something you couldn’t change. Besides, from her perspective, four distinct seasons kept life from becoming boring.
Still, if she had to choose a favorite, she’d pick autumn. Even on sunny days like today, she could feel the nip in the air. After finishing the interview with Rhonda, she had picked up lunch and walked to the town park to commune with nature as she took her time eating a Caesar chicken salad. She breathed the earthy smell of decaying leaves and watched a little boy hop around the sidewalk. With each leaf he crunched under his feet, the child giggled and looked at his dad.
Maggie removed the plastic wrapping from the chess bar she had bought the previous day at Carla’s, which she considered a reward for choosing a salad over chicken nuggets, and thought about the interviews. She knew she had good material for the series of columns, but she wasn’t sure she had learned anything to exonerate Kevin. Except for Bug’s and Dottie’s contradicting stories about the security cameras and the sudden way each had ended their respective interviews, nothing seemed amiss. And both had legitimate reasons for terminating the conversations. Old women get antsy when they can’t watch their shows and young men get testy when they’re hungry.
She chased the last bite of chess bar with a drink of water and rose from the park bench. On her way out of the park, she threw away her garbage and crunched fallen leaves with her feet.
When Maggie arrived back at the newspaper office, she encountered Tyler hurrying out the back door.
“Hey, what’s going on,” Maggie asked.
Tyler didn’t break his speed as he said, “They’re releasing Kevin Mullins.”
Chapter Seven
Joe couldn’t answer Maggie’s myriad queries, so she spent a restless afternoon transcribing her interview notes and watching the clock. When Tyler returned two hours later, she bombarded him with questions.
“I’m on deadline,” he snapped and began pounding the keyboard.
“Tyler, watch the attitude.” Maggie turned to see Joe leaning against the door to his office. “In case I need to remind you again, this is not the Washington Post. You’re not investigating Watergate and you’re neither Woodward nor Bernstein. You can take two minutes to tell Maggie – and me – what you found out at the courthouse.”
“They’re releasing Kevin Mullins.”
“We know the what. We need the why,” Joe commanded.
“The ballistic report came back. It’s inconclusive.”
“So, it wasn’t Kevin,” Maggie exclaimed. “I knew it.”
“Not so fast,” Tyler cautioned. “It’s inconclusive. He could still be guilty.”
“The police must not think so –”
“Yes, they do,” Tyler inserted his ear buds. “He’s still their only suspect.”
As five o’clock approached, Maggie visited the restroom in preparation for her departure. When she returned to the newsroom, Joe asked her to come to his office.
“Did you interview Mac Honaker’s ex-wife today?”
“Yeah.”
“She just called. The receptionist thought you had left and sent the call to me. Anyway, the ex-wife had a change of heart and doesn’t want you to include her in the columns. She feels it would be disrespectful to Mac’s widow.”
Maggie slumped into a chair. “Well, that’s a bummer.”
“Not necessarily,” Joe argued. “You could still use anything she told you on the record.”
“Now, Joe, in case I need to remind you, this is not the Washington Post.” When he laughed, Maggie continued. “Seriously, it’s not hard news. I write fluff and stuff and, if she’s changed her mind, it changes the story.”
“It’s your call.”
Maggie stood to leave. “If she told me something that’s public record, can I still use it?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Good, because Mac being voted class clown during high school adds flavor to the columns.”
Joe nodded. “Of course, it does. Have a good evening, Maggie.”
A few nights later, when Maggie opened the door to let Barnaby outside, she caught the smell of wood burning in a nearby fireplace. She inhaled, crossed her arms, and shivered. “Do you smell that?” she asked Barnaby after he did his business and joined her on the step. “That’s fall.” Barnaby answered by wagging his tail and scratching at the back door. “You want to go in already? Why are you complaining about the cold? You have fur.”
She bowed to Barnaby’s wishes and they went inside. “It’s not too early in the season for hot chocolate, is it?” When Barnaby didn’t object, Maggie poured water into a tea kettle. She had just emptied a packet of cocoa into her “I Heart My Lab” mug when the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Maggie? It’s Kevin.”
Maggie stirred mini marshmallows into the steaming cocoa. “Hey, Kevin, I heard your good news.”
“It ain’t that good. They still think I killed him. I don’t understand why they don’t know better by now. That test they ran on Dad’s gun proved I didn’t shoot Mac Honaker.”
Maggie blew on the hot chocolate. “Actually, it didn’t prove anything.”
“What are you saying, Maggie? Do you think I killed him?”
“It’s not that. It’s … well, look on the bright side. You’re out of jail. You’ve slept in your own bed for several nights. That must mean something.”
Maggie heard Kevin sigh on the other end of the phone. “It does, but everybody thinks I’m a killer. I went to get some lumber with Dad today and everybody stared at me.”
“Maybe it was your imagination.”
“No, it wasn’t. Dad noticed it, too. And now that guy you work with wants to interview me.”
“What guy?”
“I think his name is Taylor.”
“You mean Tyler.” Maggie attempted to sip the hot chocolate, but drew back her mouth as soon as it touched the scalding mug.
“I guess so, but my lawyer don’t think it’s a good idea. He told me to keep my trap shut.”
“You should probably listen to your lawyer.”
“But I want everybody to know I didn’t kill nobody.”
“I understand this must be frustrating for you.”
“You got that right. I don’t mean to bother you, Maggie, but I thought you was going to help me.”
“I told you I’d see what I could do and that’s what I did. I talked to Mac’s wife and cousin and what they told me was in today’s paper. Did you see it?”
“No, Dad, don’t take the paper.”
“Oh, well, it’s in there.” She threw caution to the wind, slurped the cocoa, and wondered if anything tasted as good as the combination of marshmallows and chocolate. “I haven’t forgotten about you, Kevin.”
After Kevin’s phone call, Maggie snuggled onto the couch with the still hot cup of cocoa and turned her attention to True Crime with Aphrodite Jones on the Investigation Discovery channel. Aphrodite’s eyes hypnotized Maggie and her name fascinated her. She applauded Aphrodite’s parents for spicing up their ordinary-sounding surname with an exotic first name. Their dramatic example inspired Maggie to want to change her own name to something like Cleopatra Smith. Aphrodite and her eyes had revealed the most gruesome details of the case when Maggie’s phone rang. Maggie looked at Barnaby, who after a brief glance toward the shrill sound returned his gaze to Aphrodite, and said, “Everybody knows not to call me during my shows.”
She frowned, picked up the phone, and uttered an unconvincing, “Hello,” into the receiver.
“Hello, Maggie.”
/> Maggie scrunched up her face. “Seth?”
“Yes. I wanted to congratulate you on the wonderful story in today’s paper.”
“Thanks, but I didn’t think you’d be interested in a story about a woman who makes and sells dolls and then donates the proceeds to the abuse shelter. What drew you in? The charitable angle? The abused children angle?”
“Neither.” Seth cleared his throat. “I didn’t read that story, but I will correct that oversight as soon as possible. I’m sure it’s as wonderful as your story about Mac Honaker’s nearest and dearest.”
“Seth, we’ve been through this before. A story is not the same as a column. The dollmaker feature is a story and the piece about Mac is the first in a series of columns.”
“We’ve also been through something else before. You promised me you’d let the investigation run its course.”
“Hey, that was an assignment.”
“I’m sure it was. An assignment you no doubt suggested to Joe.”
“Seth –”
“You promised me you’d leave this alone and even accused me of condescending to you when I suggested you’d be running around Sugar Creek searching for clues and interrogating people, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
“That’s not –”
“Don’t try to justify this, Maggie. You know, there were two compliments I consistently paid you. You were low maintenance and honest. Now, I’m not so sure about either.”
Maggie tossed and turned all night and reported to work the following morning groggy and grouchy. She kept replaying both of the previous night’s phone conversations in her head and found it difficult to concentrate on her work. She had brought a can of low-sodium, healthy-ish condensed soup for lunch but, at noon, decided she deserved Mexican takeout. Unfortunately, she preferred food from the Mexican restaurant that didn’t deliver. She walked out of the building with Joe, who was headed to meet his wife for lunch. They had made it to the parking lot when Kevin Mullins intercepted them.
“Hi, Kevin, do you know –”
Kevin interrupted her. “I thought you was trying to help me.”
1 Murder on Sugar Creek Page 5
