Maggie's Image (Maggie McGill Mysteries Book 1)

by Sharon Burch Toner

  “Well,” Maggie said, “some strange things have been happening. We were just wondering if we should report them or not.” She continued, telling them about the man in the green car in Big Sur and about the latest incident in the art gallery. “We weren’t sure that there was anything that the police could do. I mean, no one was hurt and nothing really happened.”

  “There’s something to that, ma’am. It’s hard to say if there’s any connection to this. Jackson’s sent for the forensic team. Doubt we’ll get any prints. Looks like a professional job. Please don’t touch anything until the fingerprint people finish. D’you plan to stay here tonight?”

  Allie looked worried, “We hadn’t thought about it. What d’ you think, Mom?”

  Maggie looked at her watch, “Let’s see, it’s after five now. I think we can put things in enough order by bedtime so we can sleep. I don’t think I’ll feel afraid. How about you? We could find a hotel in Santa Monica for the night?”

  “Let’s play it by ear. I want to get things back to normal as soon as possible. If we feel afraid at bedtime we could run over there. For that matter, we could stay with my friend Eleanor in Pacific Palisades.” Allie was beginning to sound more confident.

  “Sounds good.”

  When all the police finally had gone, they started putting the house to rights. Allie worked upstairs and Maggie tackled the downstairs. Physical activity felt good. It helped relieve some of the anger and frustration they both were feeling.

  By midnight the house looked much better. The office files would require more attention, but nearly everything else was in place. “Mom, let’s quit for tonight,” Allie called. “Do you want to find a hotel?”

  Maggie climbed the stairs and said, “I’m not afraid to stay here if you’re not. Whoever it was, whatever they were doing, if they’d wanted to hurt us they had a perfect opportunity when we first came back and they didn’t, so I think it’s okay.”

  “Okay. We stay here. Let’s get some sleep.” Allie pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Mom?”

  Maggie looked at her in response.

  “Mom, thanks. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. This has been pretty scary, and it’s really good to have you here. Thanks.”

  Maggie turned. “For whatever I’ve done, you know you’re welcome. I feel I should be thanking you.” A pause. “I love you, Allie.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  Maggie’s body seemed to relax in painful little stages as she lay on the sofa bed. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. In spite of her fatigue or maybe because of it, sleep did not come quickly. The events of the day flashed through her mind, movies projected on an internal screen. The cold, foggy morning. Ed’s call. The news about Brigitte Fouchet. The incident at the gallery and the break-in here at the house. This day had seemed at least a week long. But outside the moon was shining, cool silver rays, and she could hear the waves hitting the beach far below. Who could have done this to Allie’s house? Tomorrow.

  Chapter Four

  Wednesday dawned with the sun shining weakly through the coastal haze. Maggie opened her eyes and lay quietly for a few moments. She heard soft footsteps and then a quiet whisper, “Mom, are you awake?”

  “I am,” she said positively, “and what’s more I’m up.” She stood up and started putting the sofa into its daytime mode. “How about you? Are you up? How’re you feeling? Did you sleep? D’you have plans for today?”

  “Wait, hold it! I’m not thinking yet. Give me a few moments,” was the sleepy reply.

  They dressed quickly and discussed possible plans for the day. The two walked through the house, carrying tea mugs and examining their clean-up efforts of last night.

  “Mom, I really need to finish putting the office back together.”

  “Okay, what can I do to help?”

  Maggie sorted papers and photos into related stacks around the floor. Allie inspected and stuck them back in the file cabinets. Sooner than they expected the papers had disappeared into the file cabinets and the clean-up job was officially completed.

  “Whew!” Allie breathed a huge sigh of relief. “It’s good that most of my negatives are stored at the lab. This could have been a real disaster if they’d been here. Thank you for helping, Mom. I’m relieved to have that done. Now. What next?”

  “Well, we can’t ignore that something’s going on. It looks like we’re involved. It all must be connected. I’d like to do something, but for the life of me, I can’t think what,” Maggie said.

  “Neither can I.” Allie sat hunched over with her head in her hands. Finally, she straightened and said, “Do you think I should call Ed? Maybe he has some news about the Fouchets or some idea?”

  Maggie looked at her, “I don’t know. I’m so frustrated and in the dark that I feel like grasping at any straw. We’re getting no help from the police. They seemed to want to focus on the break-in only. It’s a bit like sitting in a bed of poison ivy and putting calamine on the rash. Calling Ed is your decision.”

  Allie smiled at Maggie’s metaphor, “Well, I’m itching to get to the bottom of it!” Allie straightened her shoulders and said, “We need more information. Things are getting too intense. We could be in real danger. Neither of us is incredibly strong physically. I’m going to call him.” She picked up the telephone and punched the numbers.

  When Allie had Ed on the line, Maggie rose to walk out to the deck in order to give Allie privacy for the call. But Allie motioned her to stay. “Ed, I’m calling for a couple of reasons. First, the Fouchets. D’you have any news about them? My mom is with me and I’m going to put on the speaker phone.”

  “Hello, Mrs. McGill.” Ed’s deep voice boomed into the room. “Things are not good here. Now Andre Fouchet’s missing, too. That is, he left his hotel room yesterday afternoon and hasn’t returned.”

  As they listened Allie’s face became even more grave. “Whew! Poor Andre and Brigitte. I hope you have good news soon. The second thing I called about is to tell you what happened to Mom and me yesterday. We wonder if it could be connected to what’s happening up there.” Allie gave him an account of Maggie’s gallery adventure and of the break-in, stopping from time to time to consult with Maggie and to clarify when Ed had a question. Finally, she stopped talking. There was a long silence.

  “Allie, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m glad you called. We need to get to the bottom of it. Everything we learn makes the situation sound more and more ominous. I’m gravely concerned for your and your mother’s safety. I’m wondering what we can do to ensure it. What are your plans? Will you be there for a while? I’d like to make some calls. I think the people up here need to hear your story. It is okay for me to tell it?”

  Allie glanced at Maggie and said, “We may run out for a little while, but we’ll be here most of the time. The machine will be on. And I’ll have my cell phone with me.” She gave him the number. “Of course. Tell anyone. It’s no secret as far as I’m concerned.”

  Maggie agreed, “Thank you for being concerned, Ed. It’s comforting to know someone is doing something.”

  Allie turned off the speaker and listened a little longer. Maggie strolled out onto the deck. The sun had burned off the haze and once again it was a beautiful warm-cool day with golden sunshine. Maggie heard Allie murmur a word or two and then put down the receiver.

  “What d’you think?” Allie asked as she came out on the deck.

  Maggie said, “Well, I don’t know what he can do, but for the first time I feel better about the situation. It sounds like Ed plans to do something.”

  “Yeah. We may complain about men, but they can have their good points.” Allie grinned. “It’s turned out to be a nice day. How about lunch or a walk on the beach? Or shopping? Or something?”

  “They all sound good to me. Let me change. I feel grubby.” They changed into clean jeans, shirts and walking shoes and headed the little car down the winding streets.

  Allie pulled into a shopping center
of small boutiques just off the PCH in Malibu. They lunched under bright umbrellas in the courtyard that contained a children’s play yard and fountains surrounded by bright flower borders. The sun was warm. Children laughed in the play yard. People smiled and talked in small groups. Allie’s eyes met Maggie’s. “This is the way it should be. Nice. Normal. People enjoying themselves. No mystery. No fear. Think we’re going to get that back?”

  “I certainly plan to,” said Maggie. “I can’t say I’m very fond of the kind of excitement we’ve been having.”

  “I know, Mom. I’m so sorry that your vacation has had all this stuff happening.”

  “Well, I haven’t given my counseling practice a thought for several days. So I guess it really has served as a get-away in that respect,” Maggie said ruefully.

  “How about a walk on the beach?”

  “Great.”

  They parked beside the highway in front of heavy wooden gates centered in a long, high stucco wall. Allie opened the gates with a key and they entered a spacious low loggia in front of low buildings on either side of the gate. The loggia was floored with red Spanish tiles, the roof supported by heavy wooden posts and beams. The beach side was furnished with heavy wicker chairs and chaises. Pots of scarlet geraniums hung from the beams. Maggie caught her breath, “How lovely,” she said. “And how elegant!”

  “No big deal, Mom. This is owned by the neighborhood association and is maintained for our use. Isn’t it cool?”

  They left their shoes on the loggia and walked across the broad beach to the water’s edge. Maggie drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She turned around in a little circle, taking in the entire scene. To the north the low coastal mountains curved to form the northern edge of the Los Angeles basin. To the south she saw the coastline continue, lined with houses, and farther down, taller buildings. Behind them were the Malibu hills and somewhere Allie’s house. Barely discernible across the water was an island that Maggie thought must be Catalina. “This is simply beautiful.”

  “I know. I come whenever I can. Let’s walk.” They strode briskly up the nearly deserted beach. Maggie had to scramble to keep up with Allie’s long legs. After a while they turned and more slowly started back down the beach. When she had caught her breath, Maggie asked Allie about her conversation with Ed.

  “He’s just great,” said Allie. “You heard most of it. After you stepped out on the deck he said that he really wishes he could go to Vienna and be here, too. Oh, life! He agreed that staying friends is the most important thing. He seems determined to help us get to the bottom of this mystery. You know, Mom, he’s a good person.”

  “I know he must be, honey.”

  Allie kicked the sand with her bare foot. “Yeah! Well, I guess if this were the love affair of the century, we’d find a way to be together. That we haven’t probably says something.”

  They walked in the bright sunshine in silence for a while. The beach was becoming more populated. Other walkers and runners smiled in greeting as they passed by. Maggie was thinking that the collective physique on this beach was different and much more interesting than that at home in Florida. She watched a figure approaching them. Tall, muscular, bronzed by the sun. He was jogging at the water’s edge. In his bright yellow running shorts he easily could have been an advertisement for suntan lotion or body building or vitamins or . . .. He looked at them as he came nearer, smiled, and passed by. Maggie turned to watch him and was embarrassed to find that he had turned around, was running in place and looking back at them. She turned to comment to Allie only to find Allie, also, had twisted around to look back at the runner.

  Allie, her face turning red, grinned and said, “He’s very attractive, isn’t he?”

  “Attractive is an understatement. Wow! Quite an eyeful!” Maggie said. “He seemed intrigued by you. For a moment I thought he was going to come back and say something.”

  “Well, yes. I guess so. I’ve seen him down here before. He must run a lot. He really is good looking,” Allie answered. “I’d like to meet him, but he never stops running. I guess I could throw myself across his path. I wonder if he’d stop or just leap over my inert form and keep on going.”

  “Well, I think he’ll recognize you the next time you meet!” Maggie commented.

  Laughing, they continued down the beach, enjoying the hot sun on their faces.

  Back at the clubhouse, they lounged in the dark green wicker chairs on the loggia, silently enjoying the sun and the air. Allie closed her eyes. After a while Maggie closed hers too. It was very peaceful, listening to the waves on the beach, the gulls crying.

  “Could I have a word with you, Mrs. McGill?” The deep, gruff voice was very close. Maggie and Allie jumped and opened their eyes. His eyes still were tired. The suit still was rumpled. Maggie recognized the man immediately and she was sure that somewhere near there must be a small green car.

  “WHO ARE YOU?”

  “And what do you want?”

  “Why have you been following us?”

  The man nodded at Allie and looked at Maggie. “My name is Harry Cavanaugh.” He reached in his pocket and brought out a small leather case that he handed to Maggie. “I work for the CIA. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Maggie took the ID, glanced at it and handed it to Allie.

  Allie examined the ID carefully, “Mr. Cavanaugh, whatever is going on?” She stood up looking serious and severe.

  “That’s what we’d like to know. We thought you, Mrs. McGill, might know something about an investigation we’re working on, but after last night’s break-in we’re afraid you might be in some danger. I don’t want to alarm you, but we don’t want either of you hurt.”

  “How do you know about the break-in? Have the police contacted you?” Allie asked.

  “No. We’re not working with the police at this time. Our investigation is only that right now. But we’ve got our sources. What about the break-in? Any idea who did it or why?”

  Maggie and Allie stared at him and then looked at each other, bewilderment in their faces. “No, of course not. Nothing was taken that we’re aware of. They just made an awful mess. It took us a long time to clean it up.” Maggie said indignantly.

  “On the airplane, Mrs. McGill, you sat beside a French couple. They were at a party you attended in San Francisco. Did you know these people before the airplane trip?” Cavanaugh stared at the two women intently.

  “No. I’d never seen them before the flight. I was amazed when they showed up at the party. I really didn’t know what to think,” Maggie said cautiously.

  Cavanaugh continued his questioning, “Did they say anything out of the ordinary to you? Did they give you anything?”

  “They said little I could even understand. If they were trying to give me some sort of message, they or I failed. I don’t know French and their English was not that great. The girl spoke very little English at all.” Maggie shook her head, “They didn’t give me anything. They were young and sweet. Honeymooners. When the movie began I took a nap. That’s about all. We said good-bye and left the plane. That was it.” Maggie continued, “But you should know. You were right there. You sat just behind us.”

  “That’s true. What you’ve said bears out what I saw. Except for one thing. Andre Fouchet speaks excellent English. I wonder why he didn’t use it that day.” Cavanaugh’s brow wrinkled as he thought.

  “Did you follow us to the lodge in Big Sur?” Maggie asked. Even though her instincts told her he was to be trusted, the events of the last week had left her wary.

  Harry Cavanaugh sighed audibly and said, “Yes, I did.”

  “Why?” From Allie.

  “Why? Well, you sat beside them for several hours on the plane. You talked to them. But then, some other people began to show interest in you.”

  “What!!?”

  He looked even more tired. “People who at first seemed to be interested only in Andre Fouchet began to show interest in the two of you. We wondered why. A
t first we suspected you were working with them, but then we weren’t so sure. After the break-in, we became concerned for your safety. We hoped you’d be able to tell us something useful.”

  Allie raised her eyebrows. “Other people? Showed an interest in us? Who? How? What do you mean?”

  “As you know, Andre Fouchet is an expert on Middle Eastern terrorism. He knows more about terrorist tactics, terrorist organizations and the people in them than probably any other man on earth. Fouchet is a very valuable resource for us. By the way, he’s not quite as young as he looks.”

  Allie interrupted, “As we know? What do you mean? How would you know what we know about Andre Fouchet?”

  Cavanaugh took in a long breath. “You’re quick, Miss McGill. I guess I may as well tell you. After your return from San Francisco, we installed electronic listening devices in your apartment and on your phone.”

  “You what?” Maggie’s face was pale with shock and anger. She looked at Allie who was nodding her head slowly.

  “It fits together, Mom. The vans in the neighborhood. That feeling of not being quite alone. Didn’t you sense that too?” Allie turned to Cavanaugh. “So after hearing our conversations with Ed you could be pretty sure about our level of involvement.”

  “You understand we had to know how you fit into the whole thing,” Cavanaugh said.

  “I understand,” Maggie said slowly, “and I still can’t help feeling violated. It’s a terrible invasion of our privacy. I almost feel more violated by knowing this than I did yesterday at the gallery or after the house was broken into.” She looked at Cavanaugh. “I can’t help it, that’s the way I feel.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Cavanaugh said, looking even more tired. “But it was necessary. What about the gallery? We heard your accounts on the telephone, of course. Is there anything else you can tell us about it? Exactly what did the man look like?”

  Maggie frowned as she concentrated, “He was very large, tall, but broad, too. Sort of like a footfall player or a wrestler. And he was dark skinned, Middle Eastern looking, black hair and black eyes. He probably was in his late thirties, but I can’t be sure about that. There was a look in his eyes that was memorable; they shone, but, even so, there was a flatness to them, almost a dead look. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”