*****
Had these events always been on a collision course? Since when? Since Elise came back? Since Nicole was born? Since Elise was born?
Maggie lifted the gin and tonic to her lips and smiled politely at her seatmate. He’d insisted on buying the drink for her. They were four hours into the trip. Four interminably long, agonizing hours.
She still couldn’t quite process the truth. Elise hadn’t died because of Gerard or because of her drug addiction. She died because of a sickness in her own country. She died because someone had been psychotically jealous of Elise’s less pretty little sister. Oh what a joke that was! That Elise would die because of a rival’s obsession with Maggie.
If it weren’t so heartbreaking, it would be the biggest laugh of all.
And what about Nicole? The damaged little waif who belonged to no one? Maggie thought of her parents experiencing one more loss, one more bone-crushing disappointment, and she took a long gulp of her drink.
“Plenty more where that came from.” Her seatmate smiled over at her.
“You’ve been very nice to me.”
“Ah, well, I’ve had a nervous flight here and there, myself.”
“I’m not really afraid of flying, you know.”
“The thought did occur to me. Want to talk about it?”
“Not really. But thanks.” She pulled out the inflight magazine and flipped through its well-thumbed pages, not seeing the pictures and advertisements. The alcohol was helping to calm her agitation at being entombed in the slowest Boeing 747 on the planet, but it was decidedly unhelpful in avoiding thoughts of Laurent.
In fact, she was pretty sure she was going to start bawling any minute.
“I say, I can’t help but notice that you really seem very upset. I’m happy to listen if it will help.”
Maggie took a long breath. “It might,” she admitted. “But you’ve got to promise not to call airport security as soon as we land.”
“Are you being funny?” The man frowned and Maggie couldn’t help but notice he looked a little less eager to listen.
“I wish I was. The fact is, I have information that a murder is about to take place. In fact…” Maggie tapped the man’s wristwatch, making him flinch, “…possibly at this very moment. So you can see why I’m stressed.”
He said nothing. Maggie noticed he inched away from her. “You probably want to be left alone,” he mumbled, reaching for his own magazine.
Exactly. “Thanks for understanding.”
Three more hours. Three more endless hours when anything could happen and Maggie was powerless to stop it. With Gary out of town, this was the perfect time for that crazy Patti to try something. Maggie rubbed her hands against her pant legs, but when the flight attendant came by she waved away another drink and asked for coffee instead. The booze was no longer helping her to calm down or deflect thoughts of Laurent. Might as well be as sharp as she could be for what was ahead.
Laurent.
What in the hell was she going to do about that?
Why did he follow me back? Why is he carrying on pretending to be my boyfriend? What is he doing here?
Did she have the nerve to report him to the police? What was she going to tell them when they asked her for the crime he had committed?
She slumped back into her seat and closed her eyes. Instantly an image of Laurent came to her. Smiling, laughing, giving her that look that always turned her knees to jelly.
What, indeed?
Murder in the South of France, Book 1 of the Maggie Newberry Mysteries Page 48
