A Murder Among Friends

by Ramona Richards

  Fletcher lowered his gun slightly. “But now she was leaving.”

  Tim held his hands out, and his voice became even more Southern, almost a parody of the accent. “Yeah! I couldn’t stand that, y’know? I have to be with her! It drives me crazy. I’ve followed her everywhere until now. But I just can’t keep going on like this.”

  “That’s why the letters come from all over.”

  Tim grinned. “I like movie sets. But now…I just thought, if she were gone, then…I would get okay. She wouldn’t be in my head anymore.”

  “And Aaron?”

  Tim looked down a moment, then back up at the detective. “He hit her! Then I overheard the fight with Miss Maggie about his drinking, then what he’d done to Mr. Jonas, and I just lost my temper. It made me nuts the way he treated Miss Lily, like she was some kind of a—”

  “You plan to use the insanity defense, don’t you?”

  Tim grinned and stood a bit straighter, the good-ol’-boy routine suddenly gone. “Sounds good to me.”

  “But this wasn’t about you being crazy. This was because Aaron was going to fire you.”

  Tim hesitated. “Yeah. He did fire me. That night, because he’d found out about me and Lily. He was coming back to tell her and Miss Maggie.”

  “So this didn’t have anything to do with Aaron hitting Lily. You got mad because he was sending you away from her.”

  “Mama always did say I had a bad temper.”

  Fletcher stepped out of the shadows. He didn’t want to hear any more. “Time for the handcuffs, Tim.”

  The younger man smiled and turned around, putting his hands behind him. “You know this is just between me and you. Not on the record. And even if you testify, you’ll have to say how crazy I am.”

  Fletcher holstered his gun and pulled his handcuffs from his back pocket and snapped them on Tim’s wrists.

  “And I will get off. I did before.”

  Fletcher pulled Tim backward suddenly and whispered into his ear, “That was trespassing. This is murder. And you just confessed to a licensed private investigator. I’m not even acting for Tyler tonight. Just me and Maggie.”

  Tim twisted sideways, his mouth open. “What?”

  “You must have a nice bruise from your fight with Maggie. Maybe even a scrape, if she got you as hard as she thinks she did. Has that healed yet?” Fletcher pushed Tim out from under the deck. Tim stumbled and went to his knees, but Fletcher grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

  As his hand closed down hard on the bicep, Tim jerked, trying to pull away. “You’re hurting me, man!”

  Fletcher slung Tim facedown on the steps of the deck. His prisoner writhed, trying to turn over, and Fletcher drew his gun. “You were running away, weren’t you, Tim? Trying to get away. Just you and me, right? No proof. Just an accident. Just like Aaron!”

  Tim cried out, “Oh, man, don’t do this!”

  “Why not? Like you said, no one’s around. Who would know?”

  “Fletcher!”

  Maggie’s voice silenced both men. They froze, and Maggie walked to the top of the steps. Fletcher slowly raised his eyes, remembering the sound of the door opening. She’d heard everything. Backlit by the house lights, she looked like a figure of the darkest vengeance hovering over them.

  “It’s over,” she said quietly.

  Or a messenger of God’s mercy, he thought. Fletcher felt all his tension drain away, and he whispered a quick prayer of thanks, not quite believing what he had almost done. He lowered the gun and stepped away from Tim.

  Tim squirmed and started to speak.

  “Don’t, Tim!” Maggie commanded. “Don’t say a word.”

  He didn’t, remaining still until two of Tyler’s newly arrived officers came out of the house and gathered him up off the steps. As they herded him toward their car, Fletcher holstered his gun slowly, watching the three men walk away. “How’s Lily?”

  Maggie came down the steps. Ignoring the red stain, she stopped on the last one so that she was eye level with him. “On her way to the hospital. She’ll be all right. It didn’t seem to hit anything vital. She’s just in a lot of pain.” She touched his shoulder. “You knew where he’d go. That he’d come back to the house,” she said softly. “That’s enough.”

  He shook his head, still looking at Tim’s back. “No. I should have known. I should have seen it sooner.”

  “But you didn’t fire when he reached into his pocket.”

  Fletcher’s gaze snapped back to her. “What did you say?”

  “Aaron told me. A long time ago. I’ve been praying for you. Now you know.”

  “Do I?” Fletcher’s eyes stung and he looked out through the woods.

  “Yes. I was watching. You’re good, but you’re human,” she whispered. “You’re not Judson.”

  He turned his head to stare at her, not quite believing what he’d heard. Her eyes gleamed, with both humor and tears, and he relented. “You, too, could be the victim of a horrible accident,” he said, his voice low.

  She laughed. A genuine, sweet sound of relief, and he reached for her. She moved into his arms easily, as if she’d always belonged there. She kissed his neck, then whispered into his ear, “We have to let him go. Let Aaron go.”

  He nodded, burying his nose in that sandalwood-scented hair and holding her tightly against him.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Winter makes everything look new. Clean, washed by even the first touches of snow. Like God’s forgiveness, Maggie thought, as she stood at the back wall of the lodge, sipping a steaming cup of coffee and looking out at the woods through the fat, white flakes that were cascading down around the retreat. At this rate, we’ll have a foot before nightfall, she thought. Her deck was already covered, including, she knew, the red stain at the bottom of the steps. If she salted the steps, by spring the stain would be bleached out. A final goodbye.

  She wrapped both hands around the mug, cherishing the warmth. The morning had been pleasant. Most of the writers had left for the holiday while Lily was still in the hospital, leaving only Scott, Lily, Fletcher and her behind to hold down the fort. All four of them had stayed in the lodge house since Lily had returned, with Scott and Lily in the guest room and Fletcher in Aaron’s room. Tim was long gone, transferred up to Portsmouth for safekeeping, but it still felt safer to have everyone under one roof.

  And more fun. They had stayed up late last night playing board games and talking. This morning, Maggie had gotten up early to drive Scott and Lily to the train, then fixed a quiet breakfast for her and Fletcher. Fletcher had now gone back to his cabin to pack the last of his clothes. He’d not even suggested that they stay in the house alone together, and that respect for her made Maggie admire him even more. She’d also loved cooking for him, and she still clung to the unexpected feeling of desire and comfort that the mere act of scrambling eggs and making biscuits had given her. She grinned. Lily would be stunned. Cookie would be proud.

  “Maggie?”

  She took a deep breath. That voice. But now it was one she cherished hearing, its low rumble stirring something in her she never thought she would feel.

  She turned, setting her coffee on the mantel. Fletcher put his arms around her, and she leaned her head against his chest as he curled his fingers into her hair. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “Mmm?” he asked, his mouth against her head.

  She laughed and pushed away from him. “Are you packed?”

  He let go of her and took her hand, tugging her closer to the fireplace. “Regretfully, yes.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go. Everyone’s leaving me,” she said, her mouth in a playful pout.

  He bent and gave her a quick kiss, dissolving the pout. “Did Scott and Lily get off without a fight?”

  She nodded. “Her agent called. She got the part, and the film starts shooting after the holidays. Scott’s going on location with her, just this time. She also whispered something about getting back into church before she left as well.�
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  He grinned. “Think Scott will go along with that?”

  Maggie nodded, her mouth twisted thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do. I think once they get out of this—” she waved her arm around in the direction of the cabins “—drama and get into the more normal and perverse drama of L.A., he’ll be fine. You know, he never was violent toward her until Aaron and Korie started messing in their lives.”

  “Yeah, they had that effect on a lot of people.”

  “Said the man who once attacked a tree.”

  “I’m going to regret telling you about that, aren’t I?”

  She giggled.

  His eyebrows went up. “Did you just giggle?”

  Maggie stepped away from him. “Nope. Not me.”

  Fletcher took her hands. “There’s something else,” he said softly.

  A twinge of fear shot through Maggie. “What?”

  Fletcher squared his shoulders and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper. “While you were at the train station, I went back over to Aaron’s house. At first it was just to make sure I hadn’t left anything in the bedroom. But on a whim, I checked his office again. I wasn’t sure why. I thought maybe there’d be something else about Scott or Tim—” His voice broke for a second. He swallowed, then continued. “Instead I found this. It was tucked into his calendar. It’s addressed to you.”

  Maggie took the paper slowly, almost afraid of it. She gasped when she saw Aaron’s angular handwriting. Her eyes flew to Fletcher’s.

  “It’s dated December twenty-first. Apparently, that was the day he’d planned to make his move.”

  She swallowed. “Just before Christmas.”

  Fletcher stroked her cheek. “Just read it.”

  She did, part of her heart breaking all over again.

  Sweet Maggie,

  Mea culpa. You may hate me by now, and I cannot deny that I deserve your anger. What I can say is, “I’m sorry.” And a little more. Remember that speech Elvis had hanging in his office, “The Man Who Counts”?

  You were the one who counted, babe. The one who held my feet to the fire and my backside over the flame. You were my muse, far more times than I can remember or recount. The one who changed my life…and my perspective.

  The one I regret leaving.

  When this all comes down, things may get rough for you. If you want to escape, look in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet. It doesn’t make up for what I’ve done, but I dearly hope it’s a bandage for the wound.

  Love,

  Aaron

  Maggie’s vision blurred, and Fletcher pulled her into his arms one more time. “Not to murder you,” he said. “In the fuzz that his brain had become, he took your card to give you a new identity. He still wanted to protect you.”

  She pushed back from Fletcher. “Thank you.”

  He stroked her cheek. “It helped me, too.” He cleared the tears from one corner of her eye, his fingers touching her so gently that Maggie fought the urge to sigh and moon like a school girl. Romantic fool, she scolded herself.

  Fletcher rubbed her arms. “You aren’t really going to spend the holiday by yourself.”

  She shook her head. “No. The church is doing a big dinner for some of the families in the area who can’t afford it. Lots of kids. I’m going to keep the nursery, then Cookie and I are going to bed down at her cottage and drink hot chocolate and tell each other lots of stories. I’m actually looking forward to it. What about you?”

  “My uncle and I are going to get together. I may even cook a turkey. I called a couple of my cousins and persuaded them to get their—get themselves home for a change. And he…um…wants to go to church.”

  Maggie’s eyebrows arched. “Don’t tell me God’s been poking you in the back, too?

  Fletcher snorted. “Why don’t you ask Cookie about that?”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  “Have you heard from Korie?”

  Maggie slid her arms around his waist again. “She’s still not taking my calls. I called her lawyer while you were packing. He said she’s definitely going to contest the will. In the meantime, I’m going to pay off her mortgage and sell that house. Edward is helping me with that. I already have a buyer, who—Y’know, I really don’t want to talk about all that right now.” She tightened her grip on him, loving his smell, the feel of him against her.

  Fletcher pressed her against him and kissed the top of her head. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “When will I see you again?”

  “I’m not sure. Soon. I’m going to sit down with my business plan and Edward when I get back and see what’s possible. I’ve got a lot to think about. You. New York. God. I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Want to hear something funny?”

  Maggie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to let go of him. “What?”

  “Tyler made me an offer.”

  Maggie pushed back, her eyes gleaming. “Get out! He didn’t!”

  Fletcher grinned. “Yep. Benefits and everything.”

  “Hey, at least you know you’ll have a place if New York gets too crowded.”

  He ran one finger down her cheek. “I already knew that.” Leaning forward, he kissed her, gently at first, then deeper as one hand cupped the back of her head.

  Maggie’s chest tightened and she responded fully. Her hands clutched his back, and she trembled at the touch of his hand on her side. As the kiss ended, he searched her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, slowly opening her eyes. “When did you say you’d be back?”

  Fletcher laughed and released her, holding only to one hand as he picked up his suitcase and walked to the door. He kissed her again, lightly, before heading out to the rental car, which was warming in the driveway, its exhaust sending a light fog up into the trees where it froze on the branches. Fletcher turned once, looking back at her as he tossed his bag into the back seat.

  Maggie waved, then watched as the car disappeared up the long driveway. She closed the door and looked around. She took a deep breath, making a mental list of chores and preparations she needed to take care of over the next few days. It was going to be lonely for a while, that was certain. Still, she had a lot of work to do.

  But first…

  She grabbed her coat off the sofa and headed for the back door. Snow angels were waiting to be made.

  Judson looked out the window of his apartment, sipping a specially brewed coffee and watching the snowflakes drift lightly down over New York City. It had been a good week. They had arrested the right man, and justice would be served to all who needed it. Lee had proved himself to be a diligent partner, yet strong enough that Judson would not overwhelm him. Everything was in its rightful place.

  He was, in the end, content.

  THE MAN WHO COUNTS

  It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man tumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly, who errs, who comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; and spends himself in worthy causes; who at the best knows in the end of the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.

  —Theodore Roosevelt

  Dear Reader,

  There are times I believe that following Jesus’ command to “love one another the way I loved you” is the hardest instruction He ever gave us. Our friends and family aren’t always that easy to love! They’re human; they make mistakes, just as we all do. And sometimes those mistakes go so completely against our faith and beliefs that we don’t know what to do. Do we, in fact, continue to hate the sin but love the sinner?

  This is the trial set in front of Maggie Weston as she deals with the mistakes made by her friends
, her family—even herself—in A Murder Among Friends.

  Friends can be both a help and a hindrance in your life. That’s the joy of journeying through life hand in hand with them, and good friends don’t give up just because one of them stumbles. I hope you’ll take Maggie and Fletcher’s struggles and triumphs to heart as you read, remembering a few of your own friendship journeys.

  Blessings,

  Ramona Richards

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  Maggie’s quick prayers to God and reliance on Scripture help her to deal with Aaron’s death. How has your faith sustained you through the loss of someone you loved?

  Do you say little prayers to God throughout the day? Why or why not? Do you think this is what Paul means when he advises us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17)?

  When Maggie finds the champagne bottle, she knows people will think Lily is the killer, even though Maggie does not. She’s torn between protecting the sister she loves and what she knows is right—turning in the bottle. How do you feel about the path she chooses? How would you have handled the situation?

  Has anyone you loved ever put you in a position of choosing between your faith and your loyalty to them? How?

  Throughout the story, Maggie’s faith influences Fletcher, even though she never talks to him about her beliefs. Instead he finds that he admires the way she lives it. Have you ever been strongly affected by how someone lives out his or her beliefs?

  Do you think your faith shows in how you live as well as by what you say? Why or why not?

  Maggie’s romantic relationship with Aaron dissolves, in part, because she won’t sleep with him. Has a stand you’ve taken because of your faith ever damaged a relationship? How did you respond?

  Do you freely discuss with your friends how your ideas and beliefs may differ from theirs? Do you think being friends with someone whose values are different from yours can strengthen or weaken your own? Why or why not?