Mossy Creek: A Maggie Mercer Mystery

by Jill Behe

  “Hmm. He wasn’t upset, or disappointed, or anything?”

  “Oh, no. They both seemed quite happy with my choices.”

  “Who actually made the initial request?

  “Oh, Mayor Patterson. He and his wife had discussed it, he said. My suggestion of the senior class seemed to please them. He did suggest not adding any boys to the list. Said a senior girl would be more responsible, and probably have more experience.”

  “Gotcha. So, how many have babysitted … ah, babysat, for the Pattersons?”

  “Well, just three. Three years. Three different girls.”

  “May I have their names, please?”

  “Sure. First was, let’s see, Susie Chapin. The next year was Evey Peters. And, unfortunately, this year was Miranda Richards.”

  My Martian antennae went up. “Really? How very interesting.”

  “Yes. Well, actually, it was a little odd.”

  “Odd?”

  “Yes. This year, at least. The Friday before school ended, the mayor called for a backup girl. He’d never done that before. He had a banquet that evening, and didn’t want to use Miranda anymore. I asked him why, since there had been no complaints up to that point. But just wanted a change, he said. Being such short notice, I told him I couldn’t guarantee that the backup would be free. He said he didn’t care, that he wanted someone else.

  “I called each of the two backup girls, and neither of them could make it. I hated to call Miranda, because he’d said they wouldn’t be using her again, but there was no one else to call. Miranda was very confused, and a little angry, because she’d already been planning to sit for them.”

  Then a low sound, like she wasn’t sure she should say anything more.

  “And then—and I don’t know if this is connected—but I had a call from Evey Peters, this past Wednesday. She said I shouldn’t recommend any more girls to the mayor. I didn’t really understand why, although, if I had a suspicious mind…. But that would be, well, that’s just sick.”

  I didn’t comment, could hardly catch my breath. Good Lord. No wonder the mayor stared so hard at Evey and Susie. Annetta had been onto something big. “Thank you, Miz Forbes.” I hurried her. “You’ve been a great help. I appreciate your talking to me.” Hanging up, I slouched back in my chair, stunned. We definitely had to talk to those two girls, pronto. And, I needed to let Wyatt know what I had found out.

  “What’d she have to say?”

  “AAH!” I jerked so hard I nearly fell off the chair; my heart jumped, too, into race mode for several seconds. “For Pete’s Sake, Wyatt. What’s the deal, sneaking up on a person so deep in thought? That’s twice today you almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry, thought you knew I was there.” He’d parked himself on the other end of my L-shaped desk. I twisted in my chair to look at him. He leaned forward, until we were almost touching noses. “Besides, I think you’ve got a very healthy heart.” “Thank you.” I answered automatically. It took another second for his comment to sink in. Whoa. I needed to not think about that, for the moment. Had to shove it to the back of my brain, and only bring it out when I had more time to analyze it.

  I rolled my chair away, about six inches. Right now, I had to focus on the new information I’d collected. “How soon is Ricky going to be back?” I sounded winded.

  “He should be walking through that door any second.”

  “He should hear this, too. Can you wait that long?”

  “Long as you need.” He stood.

  My top teeth grabbed a lip, and I briefly closed my eyes. Heat bloomed.

  He’d stopped being subtle; maybe he never had been. Maybe I’d been too dense to see it. Either way, the box was open. No way was it getting shut again.

  He nodded, as though he could read my thoughts. “When he gets here, come on back.”

  An hour later, after I relayed all I’d learned from Evelyn Forbes, and my opinions on what I thought it meant, my two comrades were just as flabbergasted.

  CHAPTER 17

  FRIDAY, EARLY AFTERNOON

  JUST AFTER LUNCH, I was startled again when the front door banged open. Obviously, I wasn’t going to leave as early as Wyatt intended. The diary was burning a hole in my purse, figuratively, of course, at my feet.

  Vera-Mae Wellington sailed—or rather, it looked as though she wanted to, but hampered by the ace bandage still wound around her leg, all she could do was limp heavily—into the room.

  She stopped in front of my desk, the whole of her short slim body vibrating with anger. She shook the copy of The Mossy Creek Gazette clenched in her out-stretched fist. “How could you, Magdalena Donovan? How could you embarrass me like this? You had no right.”

  Wow. She must be even more upset than it looked like. I hadn’t been a Donovan since I married Bernie, almost thirty years ago. Not knowing what she was ranting about though, I waited to see if she explained herself before deciding whether or not to be angry. I did stand and wave to a chair. “Sit down, if you please, Miz Wellington, and we’ll talk about what’s bothering you.”

  The dark purpling of her face was causing me some concern.

  She squinted, her mouth all scrunched up as if she’d eaten a really sour lemon. “Don’t patronize me, young lady.”

  “I wasn’t trying to. I’m trying to get you to sit down before you fall over and break a hip.”

  She smacked at my arm with the newspaper. “Oh, don’t give me that.”

  My brows shot up. “Then, how about: I don’t want you to have a heart attack in front of my desk?”

  She harrumphed. “I’m as healthy as a horse. You’re stalling.”

  “Miz Wellington, I honestly don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Please, sit down and calm yourself. How’d you get here, anyway?”

  “I drove.”

  “Thought you weren’t supposed to drive with your leg all banged up.”

  “I’m well aware of that, thank you, but I was just so darned furious.” She sat with a thump, aggravation radiating in waves. “Goodness, now I’m cussing, to boot.”

  I bit my lip to keep from smiling at her definition of a curse word. “What are you so het up about?”

  Her eyes bored.

  My eyebrows went up, again.

  “You … you blabbing your mouth about my mint juleps. What I do in my own house, is my own business. You had no right—”

  “Hold it.” I held up my hand, shocked at her words. I was getting angry. “What are you talking about? I don’t blab my mouth.”

  Her eyes narrowed even more. “Don’t you read the paper?”

  “Actually, no. Not if I can help it. Why?”

  “Read today’s headline.” She thrust the badly crumbled paper at me.

  I sat down and smoothed it out, then sucked in a breath as I silently read said headline, and the article beneath. TEETOTALING TEACHER TIPSY. Uh oh. She may be retired, but Miss Vera-Mae Wellington is still a respected leader of the community. However, this reporter has learned through diligent research, and a reliable source, that the distinguished former educator spends her evenings sipping fermented spirits.

  “Oh, dear. Oh, Miz Wellington. This is terrible.” I scanned the byline and was even more appalled. I studied the beleaguered woman in front of me. Should I sympathize first, or be irritated that she thought so badly of me? I crossed my fingers and went for a midway approach.

  “First of all,” I began. “I’m as shocked by this as you are. Second….” I shook my finger. “I’m mad at you. Do you really think I’d stoop so low as to tell anyone what you said to me in confidence? What would I have to gain from it? Did you even notice who wrote this piece of trash?”

  She had her mouth open to speak, but only shook her head. I guess I shocked her with my ‘mom’ voice.

  “Forsythia Morgan, that’s who. Why on earth Owen Harris hired her as a reporter is beyond me. But, tell me, Miz Wellington, just who would have been her reliable source? And, what kind of research would she have ha
d to do, to get that kind of information?”

  The woman groaned and covered her face.

  “Yes.” I nodded at her, though she couldn’t see me just then. “You should be ashamed. Forsythia did come here, right after you left the other day, and tried to pump me for information. But, I didn’t tell her anything. I wouldn’t be much of a police dispatcher if I gossiped with the head of the grapevine, now would I? Besides, she’s the one who mentioned the mint juleps. Sounds like the two of you have had some grand ol’ times.”

  Vera-Mae lifted her head; red-rimmed watery blue eyes stared. “Why would she do something like that? We’re supposed to be friends.”

  “Why does Forsythia Morgan do anything?” I shrugged, and all my anger dissipated.

  Clutching her pocketbook, she took a breath. “Can I have her arrested?”

  Sitting back in my chair, a smile tugged at my lips. “I don’t know if it’s legal, but we might be able to sweet talk the chief into making a very public ‘token’ arrest on say … libel?”

  The woman’s face brightened. “Really? Oh, that would be splendid, and so satisfying.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Magdalena, I’m so very sorry. I’m so ashamed. I don’t usually jump to conclusions so quickly.”

  What could I say? Forgive and forget. I waved away her apology. “Don’t you worry about that, Miz Wellington. Why don’t you put a little bug in the chief’s ear, when he comes out to talk to you?” I took a good look at her. “Are you feeling all right, now? Your color’s coming back.”

  She nodded, smiling. “I’m just fine, my dear. Thank you.”

  * * *

  ONCE MISS VERA-MAE LEFT, I was alone. Ricky was out questioning the last of Miranda’s cheerleader squad and Wyatt was following up some loose ends of his own. Since I had to stick around until they came back, now would be a good time to dig into that new diary—barring any interruptions.

  I retrieved the little book from the bottom of my bag and opened it.

  March 7th: My first date as Kendall’s babysitter is tomorrow night. I can’t wait. Ridge Patterson is such a hunk. If he’s as horny as Evey Peter’s told me he was, I probably won’t even have to talk him into it. I’d noticed him before, he is the mayor, of course, but the chance to make out with him is so … wow. Makes me wet just thinking of the possibilities. Danny’s pissed because I told him he’s not mature enough for me. Sure, the sex was great, but he’s such a clinging … hee hee … Klingon … yeah, that’s it. Can’t breathe when Ridge’s around me.

  MARCH 8TH: Ridge made a point of driving me to and from his house. Insisted on it, even. What a rush. On the way back, he stopped on Foggy Bottom Road. My heart started pounding. As soon as he turned off the car, I slid over the seat, up against him, and kissed him, hard. He sure was surprised. Guess he liked it, a lot, because he started kissing me right back, and grabbed my boobs. What a dork. But then, he started rubbing my—

  “HEY, Maggie.”

  I gasped and jerked; the diary flew to the floor. Holy hot potatoes! Took a few slow deep breaths to calm down. My heart sure was getting a workout. I bent to pick up that steamy little volume. “Ricky, you scared me near to death.”

  He was grinning, like he knew and had done it on purpose. “Wyatt around?”

  I swallowed. “No. Why?”

  “I’m gonna run out to the lake and look around.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Saw Dodge a minute ago. Says he saw the mayor Sunday, around noon. Watched him take off from The Corner Grocer’s, and head down Skunk Hollow Road toward the lake.”

  I nodded. “I’ll let Wyatt know when he gets back.”

  “Shouldn’t take more’n an hour and a half, tops.”

  I saluted as he went out the door. Good grief. Wondering if I was ready to tackle more of Miranda’s triple-X passages, I got up for a bottle of water. If all else failed, I could pour it over my head.

  By the time Wyatt and Ricky returned, I needed an industrial strength fan and a cold shower … or two. And, there was more to read! Holy Hannah-Banana.

  Five minutes later, Wyatt called us to his office, feet propped on the corner of his desk. “Anything to report, Rick?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got some news.”

  “Maggie?”

  “Um, yeah. But, you better turn up the air conditioning before I give it.”

  Wyatt laughed. “I actually came up dry today. So, Rick, you go first. Whatcha got?”

  “Nothing new from the rest of the cheerleader squad; didn’t really expect there to be. They’re, uh, no offense, Maggie, but they’re pretty ditzy. Didn’t know anything. Didn’t see anything. Didn’t really want to. That kind of attitude. Hate that.”

  “Why apologize to me? Besides, not every cheerleader is like that, Ricky.” I wanted to defend them, but as I’d never been one—mainly because most, even in my day (shh), acted like brainless Barbies—I didn’t have much to back it up with. Mind you, I didn’t say they were brainless, just that they acted like it.

  “Oh, I know. When I played football, there were a couple of girls on the squad that were okay.”

  “So, why don’t you look them up and ask them out?”

  Ricky opened his mouth to answer, but the boss interrupted. “Could we make dates after work, please?”

  “Sorry, Wyatt.” Ricky sent me a mind-your-own-business look and went back to his report. “Anyways. I was on my way back, when Dodge Peters stopped me. Sunday he saw the mayor comin’ out of The Corner Grocer’s with a couple a six packs. Looked spooked about somethin’. Didn’t say a word, though, just got in his car and took off down Skunk Hollow Road … toward the lake. I drove out there and looked around. Unless he cleaned up his own empties, the maintenance people must’ve policed everything.” He looked up from his notes. “You said Mac was out there. Maybe he saw ’im.”

  “Now, that’s good stuff, Rick. I’ll give Mac a call in a minute, see what he has to say.” Wyatt swung his feet to the floor and leaned on the desk with his elbows. “Anything else?”

  Ricky shook his head.

  “All right. Maggie?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe you want to call Mac first.”

  “Because?”

  “Because, what I have to report might, well, it’ s…. Just call Mac.”

  Wyatt complied without comment, which surprised me. “Mac, question. When you were out at the lake last week, did you happen to see Mayor Patterson?” His eyebrows rose. “Really. Oh, yeah? And then went to his car for another two? Huh.” He picked up a pen, slid his legal pad closer, and began to scribble. “I see. Thanks, Mac. I appreciate that.” He closed his eyes. “Yeah. I know, Mac. I’ll try to get there today. All right? Yeah. Okay. Thanks again. Bye.”

  Ricky fiddled with his pen. “He was there? On Sunday?”

  “Yes. He was there, with four six packs. Must have been saving up. Drank twelve bottles, then went and got another two sixes out of his trunk. Mac said he acted like he was upset about something, and didn’t want company. Even offered the man the use of his porch, but Ridge went and sat on the dock to drink. Tried to keep an eye on him. Didn’t want him falling in.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means: the mayor has an alibi for Sunday.”

  “Did Mac happen to mention what time he saw the mayor?”

  “Says it was just after lunch when he got there, but that the man was still downing brews after dark.”

  “What was the coroner’s time of death?”

  He flipped open the file at his elbow. “Sunday, 9:45 pm.”

  Ricky frowned. “But, the mayor’s still a suspect.”

  “Everybody’s a suspect.”

  “You’re sure Mac saw him on Sunday?”

  Wyatt leaned back in his chair and studied the rookie. “Rick, you’re the one who told us Dodge saw him with two six packs.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He ran his hands over his stubby hair.

  From Wyatt: “So, what’s the problem?”

  “
I don’t know. It just feels … wrong.”

  “Let’s table it for now. Maggie, your turn.”

  UGH. I slung the pink journal across the table. Ricky caught it as it passed. “You might need some oven mitts.” I warned him.

  “Yeah?” Wyatt kept his attention on his notes, but looked amused.

  “That hot, huh?” Ricky poked the corner of it with his finger, then shook it, like the book’d burned him.

  “Worse than some of those romance novels I used to read.”

  “Trashy?”

  “Course not. I don’t read trash … didn’t … don’t.” I sniffed. “Erotic.”

  “Oh. ’Scuse me,” Ricky laughed. “Erotic.”

  Wyatt looked up from the file, mischief on his face. “You read those things?”

  “Not anymore.” I fanned my face, sure it was beet red. I’d actually forgotten how arousing those novels could get, ’til I read Miranda’s blow-by-blow.

  Stop snickering.

  Her narrative.

  Oh for Pete’s sake, not you too?

  Wyatt’s “too bad” had me fighting a grin of my own.

  CHAPTER 18

  RICKY WAGGED HIS HEAD. “I can’t believe you read stuff like that. You’re a mom, for Cripes sake. Mom’s aren’t supposed to be interested in that kind of thing.”

  “If we weren’t interested in ‘that kind of thing’, we wouldn’t get to be moms.”

  Wyatt snorted. Ricky’s neck went crimson.

  I ignored them both. “I’ll tell you one thing, she was sure this one wasn’t going to get read by anyone but her. Wow. Talk about explicit. There are things about the mayor I never ever wanted to know.” I pointed to the book. “Disgusting. I wish I hadn’t read it, but boy, does it paint a different picture of Miranda and Mayor Patterson.”

  Ricky wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

  “Aha. See? You shouldn’t need to read that kind of stuff, either. You’re … um, probably.… You don’t need … uh, any help—crud. Never mind.” I groaned. “I’ll bet that’s why you read your sister’s diary. You wanted to know all the juicy stuff she wrote about.”