by Tim Myers
“I heard,” I said, wanting to add that I’d heard they’d been a lot more than that, but I didn’t know how to do it delicately.
Jeffrey said, “Why am I not surprised? There’s not much that goes on in this town that everyone doesn’t know about two seconds after it happens.”
He reached for the photograph, but I took a step back. “Jeffrey, is there any way I could get a copy of this?”
He snatched it out of my hands. “Why on earth would you want one?”
I shrugged. “I lost her too, and this is the way I’d like to remember her. It’s exactly how I’ll picture her from now on.”
Jeffrey offered it to me. “Keep it. I’ve got others.”
“I couldn’t,” I said. “I’d just like a copy.”
He pushed it on me. “I insist. Jennifer, your request just now was more of a memorial than she had out there on the lawn. Can you imagine such nonsense?”
I had to ask. I just had to. “Jeffrey, when’s the last time you saw her? I’m not asking for alibis, just memories.”
He looked at me a moment, then said, “So you think it’s murder too?”
That surprised me. “What makes you say that?”
“Come, Jennifer, I haven’t known you long, but you J seem fairly intelligent. What is the police’s theory, that Maggie fell asleep driving and missed her turn? In the middle of the afternoon? I don’t think so.” He’d certainly captured my attention.
“So what do you think really happened?”
Jeffrey stood and paced around the room. “Don’t you think I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure that out? Maggie was a special woman, the most alive person I ever knew. When she agreed to pursue a relationship with me, a man twenty years her senior, I actually tried to talk her out of it! Can you imagine that? I didn’t want to hold her back, but she’d have none of it. Three months might not seem like a long time, but it was the best part of my life, those days I had with her.”
Though there wasn’t a single tear on his face, I could tell he was destroyed inside, fighting to keep hold of his emotions. There was only one thing I could say after hearing that. “Okay, I admit it. I’m trying to discover what happened to her. You’re right; I don’t believe it was an accident, either. Jeffrey, did she send you a card in the mail?”
“Are you kidding me? She sent dozens. Maggie loved making them, and they were great fun to get. Follow me.”
We walked into a room that turned out to be a spare bedroom. On a card table, I saw quite a fewest handcrafted cards, all with Maggie’s distinct touch. Beside me, he said, “She had a real knack for it, didn’t she?”
“No doubt about it,” I said. “Do you happen to remember the last one she sent you?”
He frowned, scratched his chin a second, then grabbed one and handed it to me. Maggie had added a few real oak and maple leaves to the front, their stems crossed like swords. They were pressed under contact paper, and I knew they’d stay like that forever. I opened the card, and saw in Maggie’s distinct script, “I’d Fall for You All Over Again.”
“This was the last one? You’re sure?”
He nodded, then took it from me and placed it back on the table in his makeshift shrine. “Why are you so adamant about it?”
Should I tell him about the other messages from the grave, and let him know that she’d skipped him? What purpose would it serve, to break his heart for no reason? I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“I just wondered about it,” I said.
I wasn’t absolutely certain he bought it, but if he didn’t, it was pretty obvious he was going to let it slide. “So why do you think anyone would kill her?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Believe me, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”
The poor man looked as if the tears were about to fly. I had to change the subject, and quickly, if I was going to get anything else out of him. “How did you two happen to meet?”
He hesitated for a moment, then said, “It’s ironic, but Frances introduced us. They were best friends, and I happened to run into them outside one day. I was smitten with Maggie instantly; she had that effect on me from the start. I asked Frances to introduce us formally, and I started courting her soon after.”
“Tell me a little about Frances,” I said, trying to acquire more information that might prove to me one way or the other if the two friends’ deaths could be related.
“She was gruff, stubborn, a real pain at times,” Jeffrey said, contradicting his word choices with a great amount of love in his voice. “We were cut from the cloth, so it was natural that we became friends the second day she moved into Whispering Oak.”
“I heard she was rich,” I said.
Jeffrey snorted. “Hardly. Her parents were—I knew that—but Frances lived on a pretty modest pension from them. When they died, they left her a rock, a pair of doorstops, a batch of other worthless things and a note chastising her for her choices in life. From what I understand, the rock was symbolic of their entire relationship.”
“So if she didn’t get their money when they died, do you know who did?”
He laughed. “Anyone who knew Frances was well aware of that. There’s a trust fund set up now in Rebel Forge for neutering stray cats and dogs, and from the lit size of the account, there won’t be an unwanted pet in this entire part of Virginia. She thought it was a wonderful idea, and never made a squawk about not getting anything from them.” So that ruled out money as the reason for her death.
“Did she have any enemies that you knew of?”
“Frances? She had scores of them. As I said, she as wasn’t an easy woman to get along with.” He paused, oil then added, “Jennifer, I thought you were looking into Maggie’s death. Why the sudden interest in Frances?” I started to stammer out some lame excuse when he said, “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Forget I asked, as It’s perfectly natural for you to want to find out what an happened to the woman who once lived in your apartment.” He led me out of the bedroom and to the door. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do to help you to in your investigation, I trust you won’t hesitate to call on me. Day or night, I mean it.”
“Thanks,” I said at the door. “I just might take you up on that.”
“Please do,” he urged me.
Barrett must have come out of his apartment at the sound of my voice. He’d been listening to the last bill of my conversation with Jeffrey, but how much had he really heard? He stared at me cryptically a few moments, then said, “It didn’t take you long to make friends, did it?”
“I respond well to civil behavior,” I said as I turned my back to him and hurried upstairs to my apartment. After I changed into my most comfortable pair of jeans and an old shirt, I decided to feed my roommates before I left, just in case I didn’t get back until late. If they noticed the change in their dining schedule, neither one of them commented on it.
I was all ready to blast Barrett again when I went downstairs, but his door was shut, as was Jeffrey’s. Lillian was outside her car, leaning against it and staring off into space.
She studied me closely, then said, “Jennifer, it took. you all that time to choose that to wear?”
“Just get in the car and start driving to The Lunch Box. I’m starving.”
She did as I asked, so I explained, “I only took a minute to change.”
“I can’t tell you what a relief that is to hear,” she said.
“Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?”
Lillian bit her upper lip. “Of course I do. Not another word from me, I promise.”
I didn’t see how I could possibly hold her to that, but it was a step in the right direction. “I spent most of my time talking to one of my fellow tenants.”
Lillian sighed, then said, “Jennifer, if you’re going to tell me you had a quick dalliance with Barrett, please spare me the details.”
I flicked her arm, not enough to sting but enough to show my disple
asure with her assumption. “I was with Jeffrey Wallace, if you must know.”
“Far be it from me to criticize, but isn’t he a tad old for you?”
“Lillian, get your mind out of the gutter. We were talking about Maggie. You’ll never believe this. He thinks she was murdered, too. They were in love.”
Lillian nearly swerved off the narrow path. “So it is true? He was dating Maggie?”
“He confirmed it, and there were a dozen cards on display that she’d made him. The one I read inside certainly indicated that they had some kind of relationship.”
“You just never know, do you? So what else did you discover in your impromptu interview?”
“Nothing,” I said, “but he offered to help.”
Lillian glanced at me quickly. “And what else did he offer you, Jennifer?”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked as we finally neared The Lunch Box.
“Did it occur to you that his offer might be to see what we discover, and not out of some altruistic motive?”
I unbuckled my seat belt. “I’m not following you.”
“If he killed her, wouldn’t he want to know if we were getting close to him? He could have murdered Frances too, for that matter. After all, who else had better access to her apartment than he did?” What was my aunt talking about?
“How about Barrett? He lives there, too.”
Lillian studied me a moment before speaking. “Jennifer, are you suggesting that Barrett had something to do with both murders? I hope you’ve got more proof than an honest dislike for the man.”
“That’s the trouble, isn’t it? We don’t have much proof of anything yet, just a few cards and some suspicions.”
“Perhaps that’s about to change,” she said as she handed me a twenty.
I took the bill, then asked her, “What’s this for, my superior detective work?”
Lillian grimaced. “Don’t flatter yourself; it’s for the food I ordered while you were inside. Knowing Savannah, it’s ready and waiting for us.”
“I can’t let you buy dinner for me, too,” I protested. “You pay for too many of my meals as it is.”
“Think of it as a business expense for our new venture. As far as I’m concerned, Patrick Benson can pick this one up. After ail, we’re doing him a tremendous favor on rather short notice.”
“Is that how you’ve spun it in your mind?” I asked. “He hired us under unusual circumstances at your request so we could have some legitimacy for our snooping. So now you’re going to stick him for our dinner?”
Lillian laughed. “Why not? He’s got more money than he knows what to do with.”
I opened the car door and asked, “So what did you order for me?”
“It’s a surprise,” she said. “If you’re that curious, ask Savannah yourself.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’m sure whatever it is will be fine, as long as it’s not anything healthy.”
Lillian averted her gaze.
“Are you telling me you ordered me a salad too? Lillian, you’ve got to be kidding.”
“I never said anything like that. Stop jumping to conclusions.”
I walked into the restaurant, and the second Savannah saw me, she called back to her husband, “Pete, Jennifer’s here.”
He handed her two bags, and as I gave her Lillian’s twenty, I said, “So what are we having tonight?”
“I’m having brown beans, spinach and corn bread,” she said.
“You know what I mean,” I said.
“If I had to guess,” she said as she handed me my change, “Lillian’s having a salad and you’re having a barbeque sandwich and onion rings, but I could be wrong. I might have that mixed up.”
“I’m willing to bet you got it dead-on. Thanks, Savannah.”
“You’re most welcome, girl. If you don’t mind my raying so, you could use a few more pounds to help take the sharp edges off that figure of yours.”
“Savannah, if I gain much more, I won’t have any edges left at all. See you later.”
“Bye, Jennifer. You behave yourself now, you hear?”
“Now what fun would that be?” I asked as I walked back out to the car. As I handed Lillian her change, I said, “Just be glad there really weren’t two salads in there.”
“I never claimed there were,” she said. “Should we wait until we get to Maggie’s to eat?”
I looked at one of the picnic tables in front. “I know it’s a little chilly out, but I’d rather eat before we start working if it’s all the same to you.”
“I understand and agree. Let’s dine outside, shall we?”
We’d hardly sat down at the table when the front door of The Lunch Box opened. Savannah stared at us for a second, then asked, “What are you two trying to do, freeze to death?”
“We find the brisk weather invigorating,” Lillian said frostily.
“Well, when you’ve had enough invigorating, come on in. I’ve got fresh coffee that will take that right out of you.”
Lillian shook her head, then gathered up her food. “Come on, Jennifer, I knew this wouldn’t work.”
I protested, “Hey, where are we going?”
“Inside, where we don’t have to freeze to death,” she whispered to me as we walked in past Savannah Lillian paused, then told her friend, “Not one word, do you hear me?”
Savannah stared at her a second, then both of them started laughing. They had the oddest friendship I’d ever seen, and I envied them both every ounce of it.
We took a spot at the serpentine counter, and Savannah delivered two fresh cups of hot coffee. As she finished pouring Lillian’s, she said, “Now if I was going to comment on your outfit, which I won’t because you’ve asked me nicely and I respect your request, I’d have to say I think you look mighty fine. But I’m not talking about it.”
Lillian said, “It’s a good thing, or I wouldn’t have a chance to eat because I’d be sitting here all night listening to you.”
Pete rang his little bell in back from the kitchen to let Savannah know another order was up. The restaurateur said, “You, dear girl, have been saved by the bell.”
“It’s not the first time,” Lillian said, and again the two shared a private joke that nobody else in the world got. The diner was half full, but it was late for their usual crowd. I knew Savannah; her husband, Pete; and their daughter, Charlie, did most of their business at noon, feeding everyone from factory workers to judges, but they liked to stay open for the early dinner crowds, something I heartily endorsed. Charlie wasn’t around, no doubt off working on her degree. I knew that neither Savannah nor Pete had gone to college—though they were both extremely bright— and it was their one stone-cold rule that Charlie was going to get the best education she could.
After Savannah delivered a hamburger plate to a lone diner, she came back over to us. “What brings you two out together in the evening? And why aren’t there lines of men clamoring to get your attentions?’“
I started to answer when Lillian said, “It was all we could do to avoid the crowds, but we denied them all. We heard the cuisine was better here at night.” Savannah leaned forward. “And what’s your diet?” There was no jesting in her voice, and I hoped Lillian didn’t get us banned from the place with an ill-timed joke.
“I can’t imagine there’s anything in the world that could beat your lunchtime fare. Honestly, I think they’re both great.” Savannah whooped and slammed the counter with her spatula. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. Now are you ready to answer my real question?”
Lillian said softly, “If you’d lower your voice, perhaps I would.”
“I can speak softer than you can,” Savannah said in a near whisper that still seemed to carry across the room. “Now what are you two really up to?”
“We’re helping clean Maggie Blake’s house. Did you know her?”
Savannah nodded, and her ever present smile faded for a few moments. “She used to come in here now and then before she got all he
alth craze nuts on me. It’s a real shame what happened to that girl.” Lillian leaned forward and said, “And what exactly did happen to her?”
Savannah looked startled by the comment. “You mean you think something happened to her?”
“Keep your voice down,” Lillian snapped.
Savannah actually looked contrite. “Sorry, that surprised me, that’s all.” She appeared to think about it for a few seconds, then turned to me and said, “What do you think?”
“You’re asking me?” I said after I finished my bite, “I trust your instincts, Jennifer; I always have. You know that.”
I searched her face for a hint of a smile, but she was deadly serious. “I agree with Lillian. Something’s not right.”
Savannah nodded, then said in a loud voice, “Did anybody here know Maggie Blake?”
I thought Lillian was going to kill her on the spot but I was surprised when an older woman raised her hand. “I knew her fairly well,” she volunteered.
“Then get right over here,” Savannah said. “If you can add anything to the conversation, I’ll give you a slice of lemon meringue pie on the house.”
That got the attention of everyone in the diner. Savannah was famous for her pies, and she charged accordingly.
“I know her, too,” the diner with the hamburger plate called out.
“Heck, we used to go out,” a man in his thirties yelled.
“I’m her godfather,” another old man said.
“We’re sisters,” a woman barely out of her teens added.
Savannah slammed her spatula down on the counter, and that ended the chorus. “Funny, you all are riots, every last one of you. Now eat your food before I charge you double.”
There were a few grumbles but mostly laughs as the crowd went back to their food. Savannah could do: that, kid and cajole a group of strangers and make them feel like they all belonged to the same family. She was an artist at it, and I wished I could do the same with my customers.
The original woman who’d spoken joined us at the bend in the bar. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can: tell you about Maggie. She was a friend of mine, but I never got as close as I would have liked. She was fun, you know? Always a real joy to be around.”
