Deadly Diaries

by C. E. Waterman

  Robin put a spoonful in Tony’s mouth and made yummy noises. “You should ask Greg. Mark didn’t tell me much, and besides it will give you a chance to call him.”

  “I don’t want to call him.” Maggie hesitated. “I’m going to break it off.”

  Robin glanced up. “What? Why?”

  “Something doesn’t feel right. I’m not cut out for marriage. In fact, even having Allie stay with me is a strain. I’m just not good at relationships.” Hearing herself say it out loud validated the feelings she’d had the night before.

  Tony squawked, and Robin stuck another spoonful into his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

  “I feel claustrophobic. I don’t want to move. I love my house. And I don’t want anyone to move in with me either.”

  “Hmm.”

  “OK,” Maggie folded her arms across her chest. “Let’s have it.”

  Robin glanced up from Tony again. “I think you’re making a mistake. Greg isn’t your father, Maggie. He won’t wait until you’re comfortable and start needing him and then leave you. I know him. And so do you.”

  Maggie traced the pattern on the tablecloth. “I know he’s not my father. I never said he was like my father.”

  Robin blocked Tony’s reaching hand and plopped another bite in his mouth. He promptly spit it out, and she screwed the lid on the jar. “Please think about it. And pray about it a lot before you do anything rash, OK?”

  Maggie ran a clean cloth under warm water and handed it to Robin. “I suppose I do push men away,” she said. “It’s never gotten as far as an engagement before, though.”

  Cooing, Robin wiped Tony’s face and hands, cleaned up, and put everything back in the diaper bag.

  Maggie picked him up, kissed his round cheek, and carried him up the stairs.

  Robin slid the cover off the crib and started unfolding it. “Remember Donald? You guys dated the longest before Greg. Didn’t he want something serious?”

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t right for me. I figured I’d know when the right one came along, and truthfully, I thought it was Greg. But if he’s the one, why do I feel this way?” She perched on Aunt Esther’s bed with Tony in her lap while Robin snapped the final piece in place. “How do you know if a person will be right for you for the rest of your life? What if you change? Or worse, what if he changes and doesn’t want you anymore?”

  Before Robin could answer, Maggie sprang to her feet, facing the bookcases. A large empty hole gaped right in the middle. The diaries were gone.

  8

  Maggie and Robin checked the entire house, but the diaries weren’t anywhere. “I guess I have to talk to Greg now,” she said. “And you can stop smirking at me.” She plucked her phone out of her purse and left the room, punching in Greg’s number. “By any chance did you guys come back after the funeral and take my aunt’s diaries?” Great, Maggie. Don’t let the niceties of hello slow you down.

  “No, in fact, I’d like to borrow them if I could.”

  “Unfortunately, you can’t. They’re gone.”

  She pictured his face as he processed her statement.

  “Gone? As in missing?”

  “Yes, and I know they were all here after she died, because I flipped through them.”

  “When was the last time you saw them?” At least, he didn’t ask if she was sure.

  “Monday, the day before the funeral.”

  “Does anyone else have a key?”

  “Maria comes in every other week to clean, so she has one. I don’t know if my dad does or not. I know my mom doesn’t. She asked to stay here for the funeral, but the lawyer wouldn’t let her. If she’d had a key, she wouldn’t have asked. He told me I could let her in if I wanted to, but her attitude of entitlement irritated him, so he said no. I had to laugh since I’ve had the same reaction.” Embarrassed by rambling, she got to the point. “Anyway, I’ll call everyone who may have a key and ask if they’ve seen them. Maybe Dad came in and borrowed them or something. I’ll let you know.”

  She hung up from Greg and called Maria.

  “Diaries? I don’t have no diaries, Miss Maggie. I no touch the señora’s diaries.” Stress edged the lady’s voice.

  “It’s OK,” Maggie soothed. “But did you happen to see anyone go upstairs? Maybe someone could have been glancing through them?”

  “No, but I was in the kitchen most of the time. I didn’t see anyone go upstairs.” She paused. “Those were her private thoughts, Miss Maggie. She wouldn’t want anyone but you to read them.”

  Assured of Maria’s sincerity, Maggie dialed her dad’s number.

  “A key? Yeah, I had one at some point, but I never use it. I don’t even know where it is. Why, did you lose your key? I can have a locksmith out in no time if you—”

  “No, Dad, but thanks. Aunt Esther’s diaries are missing, and I wondered if you had borrowed them or if you saw anyone with them.”

  “I haven’t seen them, but if someone can get in her house, maybe you’d better let me send over the locksmith. I don’t want you in there alone until we’re sure it’s safe.”

  “It must have happened at the funeral reception. Did you see anyone go upstairs?”

  “No, I didn’t, sweetheart, but maybe one of her friends knows something.”

  She thanked him and hung up. She didn’t want to call her mom but couldn’t find a way around it.

  “It’s not enough your stupid lawyer doesn’t trust me to stay there overnight, now you accuse me of stealing?” Her mother gave the expected response.

  “Mom, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just wanted to know if you saw them during the reception.”

  “No, of course not. I didn’t even go up there. I’ll bet it was one of her snooty friends. They’d be interested, wouldn’t they? Wanting to see what she wrote? I’d better not find my name published in her memoirs or anything. I mean it, Margaret, I’ll sue.”

  Maggie hung up regretting the call. She and Robin ate lunch and then worked for a couple of hours while Tony slept. Subconsciously, she thought the diaries would show up. Unfortunately, they didn’t. Driving home, she had to assume the worst. Someone had stolen them.

  Back at home, she stared at the four volumes she’d taken. Why would someone want to steal another person’s diaries? And how did they get them out without anyone noticing? There must have been twelve books. She opened the last one to the final pages and the lunch Ruth had mentioned.

  Lindy’s was cheerful as always,” it read. “And the food was terrific. I met Ruth outside the door, both of us having arrived at the same time. Carla was already there, and Ginger was late as usual. It amazes me how Ruth can come from Colorado Springs, and I can come from Pinon Heights, both over an hour and a half away, and we can arrive on time, but Ginger can’t make it from Golden, thirty minutes away. Annoying, but we love her anyway.

  Maggie smiled. Aunt Esther had been a stickler for punctuality.

  She continued reading.

  Dale McDonald waved at us from a corner table, and Janet Livingston was having lunch with her new beau. I’ll have to tell Maggie I saw Bluebird on the street out front, but he flew off. The afternoon reminded me of when she and I used to go there when she was a little girl. We would get all dolled up and have lunch in the city. Christmas was especially fun when they had the moving figures in the May D & F window.

  Warmth flowed up from Maggie’s abdomen and knotted somewhere in her chest. Knowing the same memories she held dear were special to her aunt as well made her want to laugh and cry. But before she could do either, Allie bounded up the stairs.

  “Are you ready for dinner yet? I’m starving.”

  Maggie set the diary down and looked at the clock. Six thirty. Having a teenager in the house sure was different. She’d have to eat more often. “How does pizza sound?”

  Allie agreed, and Maggie called Nico’s, the pizza place that delivered. When it showed up, she brought out paper plates, and they dug in. Wow, how much could a teenage girl eat anyway? Between
the two of them, they put away a large pizza, and Maggie hadn’t eaten much.

  When they finished, Allie pranced into the living room, plopped on the sofa, and flipped on the TV. So much for helping with the dishes. Although, to be fair, they’d used paper plates, and Allie was a guest. Did she get away with this at home?

  As Maggie finished wiping off the table, her phone rang. The display showed Greg’s picture. Oops, she had forgotten to call him back.

  “I take it no one you called today knew the diaries’ location?”

  She ambled to the nook and melted into her favorite cushy chair, putting her feet up. “No. In fact, a few people were angry or scared when I asked.”

  “Who was scared?” His voice sharpened.

  “Maria. She thought I would accuse her of stealing.” He was silent, so she continued, “I’d never suspect her—she’s too honest. And she’s been with my aunt for years.”

  “When was the last time she saw them?”

  “Maria and I cleaned before the funeral reception, and they were there then.” Maggie’s feet hit the floor, and she leaned forward, ready to pounce. “But wait a minute. She didn’t take them. I wouldn’t have told you at all if I thought you would accuse my aunt’s trusted friends.”

  “Whoa, who made accusations? I didn’t say a word.”

  “It was what you didn’t say. Like you were suspicious but didn’t want to call attention to it.”

  “Suspicion is my job.” A smile warmed Greg’s voice. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t believe Maria took them. She had no reason to, and she has an alibi for the day Esther was killed. You said someone was angry. Who was it?”

  “My mom,” she repeated the conversation and leaned back, putting her feet up again. “The only time the house was open since I mentioned them at the funeral was at the reception. I think they were taken then.”

  “That’s pretty bold.”

  “I know. But it’s better than someone coming and going as they please in her house.” She drummed her fingers on the chair arm. “I think I’ll get new locks put on anyway. There’s still a lot to go through, and being alone there now gives me the willies.”

  “It’s too bad they’re gone. I’d like to know why someone would find your aunt’s diaries interesting enough to steal. I doubt your mom’s theory is correct.”

  “No.” She frowned. “Aunt Esther wouldn’t have written gossip. She didn’t even speak it. I can’t figure out why anyone would want the diaries so bad. They mean a lot to me, but no one else would get anything out of them. I’m glad I brought some of them home, so at least I have those.”

  “You have some of them?” Greg’s response was abrupt. “Which ones?”

  “I have the first one, two in the middle, and the last one.”

  “I’d like to have them, please—at least the last one.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s pretty coincidental—you mentioning the diaries in your eulogy and them going missing the next day. Someone could be worried she wrote something to implicate them.”

  “Of course, you can have it.” She nodded. “But I’d like to copy it first. I’m enjoying them.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” An edge sharpened her voice.

  “You might be in danger if someone knows you still have them.”

  “No one would know I kept a copy.”

  “The fact you read them might be enough. And you’ll be looking now, you won’t be able to help yourself. I just want you to be careful.”

  She heard the concern in his voice at this last bit, and she smiled, her irritation leaving as quickly as it came. “I promise I won’t tell anyone I have them, and I’ll let you know if I find anything. I just want to read about her life, you know? I want to hear her voice again, even if she’s talking to herself.”

  He hesitated. “I know I’ll regret this,” his voice was light. “But bring the last one by the station tomorrow, along with a list of people at the funeral, would you?”

  She hung up, confused. If she wanted to break up, why did talking to him feel so good? She shook her head to clear it. Maybe she could ask some of her aunt’s friends if they saw anything suspicious. First, she needed to copy the last diary. She entered her office and started the machine. The business phone rang, and choosing to ignore it, she put the first page on the glass. The answering machine blipped on.

  “Maggie? Maggie, are you there?” A pause. “I guess not. This is Ginger. You know, your aunt’s friend.”

  Maggie raced over and grabbed the handset off the base. “Ginger, wait. Don’t hang up.” She wrestled with the machine and sighed. “Sorry. How are you?”

  A hiccup came over the line. “I’m OK, I guess, but I wanted to let you know Carla passed away.”

  “Carla Graham? What happened?” Maggie pictured Carla—Aunt Esther’s age and in good health. At least, she looked good. “Was she sick?”

  “No, it was a car accident. It happened yesterday, but I thought you should know.” Ginger’s voice cracked. “I can’t believe I lost two friends in the same week. I know these things happen, but it doesn’t seem fair they happened so close together, you know?”

  Maggie moved back to her favorite chair and settled in. Words flooded out of Ginger about how close she’d been to both Carla and Esther. The wave ended, and Ginger gave an embarrassed chuckle. “You don’t need to come to the funeral or anything, honey, but I thought you’d want to know. Maybe send a card or something.”

  “Yes, of course, thank you for telling me.” Maggie wasn’t quite sure why Ginger called her, since she barely knew Carla. Then she realized it was Aunt Esther she’d wanted to call. Just like Maggie, Ginger was missing Esther.

  Maggie hung up and sat for a moment, considering the coincidence of two friends dying in such unusual ways so close to each other. Although the car accident, she guessed, wasn’t unusual in today’s world. Speaking of Carla, didn’t she read her name in Esther’s last diary?

  She snatched it off the glass and thumbed through it, searching for Carla’s name. There it was, the lunch they’d had together. She reread the paragraph. Nothing there, except the part about Ginger being late. Unless…could it be possible something happened in the restaurant? But if something serious enough to kill over had happened, wouldn’t they have called the police? She was being fanciful. The whole idea was ridiculous, but when she gave him the original, Maggie would draw Greg’s attention to it anyway.

  9

  Greg waited at the station for Maggie. There’d been something in her voice last night. Something wrong. Not in the words she used, but her voice…distant, as if she couldn’t wait to get off the phone. Ever since their disagreement over where they would live, he’d felt her drawing away. How could he get their closeness back?

  He had tried to persuade her to come at noon and have lunch with him, but she’d declined. He straightened the piles on his desk. Should he have agreed to let her keep a copy of the last diary? Not like he had a real choice. He was surprised she’d told him first. But then her honesty was a character trait he loved most. She put it out there, and one could do with it what one would, but she wouldn’t lie to anyone.

  As if drawn by his thoughts, Maggie arrived to the usual turning of heads. She attracted appreciative glances, which became jealous as he rose to meet her. She had no idea how beautiful she was. Tall and slim in well-fitting jeans, her long brown hair swinging from a ponytail, she strode toward him.

  “The list is inside.” She thumbed through the pages. “I didn’t see anything suspicious, but you might take a look at the lunch she had at Lindy’s.” She found the page and pointed.

  Keeping her place, he flipped the book around and read the section above her finger. It didn’t look promising. “Is something relevant to her death in here?”

  “Only that two of the people at the lunch are now dead.”

  “What? Two? Who’s the other one?”

  “Carla Graham. She
was killed in a car accident in Denver.” She explained Ginger’s call the night before. “I’m sure it’s a coincidence, but it’s weird.” She smiled her heart-stopping smile, promised to see him later, and left.

  Unable to stem his disappointment over her quick departure, he carried the diary to his desk and began to read, starting with the last week of Esther’s life. A few new names showed up, but nothing to indicate a reason for murder. Although it was most likely coincidental, he couldn’t ignore the deaths of two friends in the same month. Who did he know in Denver?

  He called Jackson Bristol, someone he’d met a few times, and got right to the point. “I’m interested in a fatal car accident involving Carla Graham. It happened a couple days ago in your area. Did you identify the person who caused the accident?”

  “No, we didn’t. It was a hit and run. What’s your interest?”

  “I’m searching for a connection to a murder investigation we have here in Pinon Creek. Our victim, Esther Campbell, was killed June fifth in what we assume was a burglary. But it appears Carla and Esther, along with two other women, had lunch together the week before it happened.” He doodled on his pad. “One of the four, Ginger Phillips, called our victim’s niece and told her, and she passed it on to me. I promised to check it out. A normal accident would be one thing, but a hit and run is suspicious.”

  “Does anything other than the lunch connect the two episodes?”

  “No. It’s probably not related, but would you keep me in the loop on Carla’s investigation?”

  After getting a promise from the detective, and agreeing to do the same, Greg opened the journal and examined it again. Another person joined them for the lunch, Ruth. He remembered her from the reception. He checked the list Maggie had given him. There she was, Ruth Baker. Greg would get her address and give her a call.

  He wrote down the other names Esther mentioned, but without any other information, finding them might be hard. He pored over the diary from front to back, but found nothing incriminating. Certainly nothing worth stealing the diaries over. Maybe the killer didn’t know and didn’t want to take any chances. Or maybe the thief got what they came for, and it didn’t have anything to do with Esther’s murder, but with something else. Something they wanted to remain private. If so, it could be in any of the diaries, and he might never know. Could it have been Darla, Maggie’s mom? If so, and it had nothing to do with the murder, maybe he didn’t want to know.