"Ah, you remember your old caretaker, do you, my lad?" Mrs. Queen said to the dog, and he rubbed on her some more.
"That's enough, boy," Maggie said, and told him to go sit down again.
He didn't listen until Mrs. Queen said firmly, "now listen to your mistress, young man. Go sit on your bed."
He immediately did as he was told, shoving his way back onto the pillow next to Hendrix.
Maggie shook her head in wonder. "Why won't he do that for me?"
Mrs. Queen smiled. "You're too gentle to give orders. He doesn't think you mean it." The little lady was half a foot shorter than Maggie, but somehow she exuded an air of authority that had even kept Maggie's blustering husband in line back when she'd been Casablanca's housekeeper.
Maggie held the old lady at arms' length to look her over. "Your suntan is finally fading," she said, examining the wrinkled face in front of her.
Mrs. Queen laughed. "My sunburn, you mean." She had the naturally pale skin of her Irish homeland, and it had taken nearly two months for her creamy, freckled skin to return to normal after its assault by the bright sunshine of Santorini.
But the trip had done her good. She was more at peace since her return, and Maggie told her so.
"Aye, it's the truth. I needed to get away after the loss of my husband and your dear departed. Now I'm ready to start life afresh."
Maggie's departed ex-husband was hardly dear to her, though she knew Big Mac had been good to Mrs. Queen. Her doubt must have shown on her face, because Mrs. Queen said, "yes, Ms. McJasper, Mr. McJasper was dear."
Maggie started to argue, but the lady nodded to a set of necklace samples that were displayed next to the cash register.
Maggie looked. The mourning beads necklace she had created after her ex-husband had died was there. She had made it of black and deep purple seed beads. She had woven them into a pattern of dark Celtic circles, since her ex had both Scottish and Irish ancestry, and that had somehow seemed an appropriate memorial to him. She had worked on the necklace for a long time, using the repetitive stitching as a meditation, trying to make peace with her complicated feelings for the man she had married and then divorced.
"You once loved him, you cannot deny it."
"You're right," Maggie admitted. "But you can hate someone and love them at the same time."
"That's true enough," Mrs. Queen said. She looked around the former barber shop. "When people go, they leave echoes. Always there, whether we want them or not." She smiled. "I like what you've done with the place," she said, as if she were changing the subject, but she wasn't.
She ran one wrinkled finger across the counter. "My dear Sean wouldn't understand all the posh things." Her hand waved at the colorful beads that covered every wall. "But he would like that someone is taking care of the place."
Maggie laughed. "It's a bit different now than when it was your husband's barber shop, that's for sure."
"That's so."
Maggie motioned for her to sit down at the big work table, and the two of them sat chatting for a while.
Mrs. Queen told her about her many hobbies, and about how it was getting a bit dull now that she'd retired from housekeeping and had moved to a tiny apartment upstairs from the knitting shop down the street.
"Maybe you should travel more," Maggie suggested.
"I'm comfortable enough where I am," Mrs. Queen said with a smile. "I don't think I want to take too many long trips like this last one."
Reese had given her the vacation to the Greek island as a gift. It had been part of his Oscar's swag bag, and he'd recognized the old lady's grief and offered it to her to help her cope.
"Your Reese is a nice man," Mrs. Queen said, and Maggie wondered if she'd seen the tabloid picture, a consequence of her dating that "nice man."
But Mrs. Queen didn't mention it. She just chatted about her crocheting projects, and asked about Maggie's life. Maggie told her about how her shop was going, and about the dog, and her latest attempts at learning to cook, and they had quite a nice conversation and got caught up on everything.
After they'd talked for a while, Mrs. Queen stood up to go. "It was so good to catch up with you," she said. "But I actually did come for another reason, too."
"Oh?"
"I want to buy some little beads." She pulled out a piece of crocheted lace, something old and yellowed that had been taken off a blouse collar. "See? I want to re-create this pattern, but add something like little pearls down the middle."
So Maggie showed her the right beads and she picked some out for her project. While Maggie rang up the sale, Mrs. Queen looked at all the project samples next to the cash register. "So these are all your classes?"
"Yes," Maggie said. "I'm not offering all of them during the winter, but I have taught each of these classes at one time."
"Which one is the easiest?" Mrs. Queen asked.
Maggie pointed to the design for her beginner necklace. "I'm actually teaching that one this afternoon. It's only an hour long, and you'll end up with a finished necklace, in a choice of two color options."
She added, "one of the two choices is pink," and Mrs. Queen laughed.
She signed up on the spot. "I've got to keep myself busy," she said. "Sitting and fussing doesn't do a body a bit of good."
After she left, Maggie got out her phone again. "Nope," she said to herself. "It doesn't." She tried Lauren's phone number again.
Chapter Four
At noon, she flipped the sign on the shop door to closed and took the dogs home for a quick lunch. Her part-time assistant, Willow Norris, would be in at 12:30, when her high school biology class let out.
She decided not to wait for her. Willow had a key of her own and could hang out until Maggie got back.
She left a note on the counter to tell the girl she'd be back before one, and to unlock the door for the students who would be coming to class at that time. Then she took the dogs and left.
She could have eaten at the coffee shop across the street. She could have grabbed a fast food meal a block away. Or she could have skipped it entirely, since she wasn't even that hungry.
But she decided to drive home with the dogs. It seemed the thing to do.
Maybe she was hoping she would find a note from Lauren pinned to her door. Or something. Anything to explain why she hadn't returned for her dog.
But of course there wasn't anything at home. No note, no explanation.
And there was still no answer to Maggie's repeated texts and messages. She texted Lauren again, and called and left another voicemail.
She knew it was foolish. It was like rattling the handle on a locked door over and over, even though you knew it was locked and the door wasn't going to open. Somehow it was impossible to accept the truth right in front of you, and you had to try it anyway.
At her tiny house she let the dogs off their leashes, then gave each of them a biscuit from a big treat jar with Jasper's name embossed on it in purple script.
Jasper took his biscuit with enthusiasm, and lay down with a happy grunt to chew it into oblivion, leaving crumbs and drool all over.
Hendrix, as stoic as ever, carefully put the biscuit in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully, without a crumb spilling. When he finished, the floor under him was as clean as ever.
She made herself a peanut butter sandwich on sourdough bread. Then she sat at the table, chewing the dry sandwich and washing it down with a cup of tea she brewed and then let sit for so long it was lukewarm and rather tasteless.
And she stared at the big German Shepherd as he lay on the floor with his massive head resting on his paws and his soulful brown eyes gazing at a blank wall, as if he, too, was thinking hard about what had happened that morning and was attempting to make sense of it all.
When Maggie finished lunch she decided to walk back downtown instead of driving.
So she set out along the lovely cobblestoned private street that edged the massive cliffside mansions. The sky had turned overcast again as a new set of cl
ouds drifted in from the ocean, and she pulled out her phone to check her weather app. The clouds were harmless, the dancing kitten on the screen informed her. The first storm of the season was headed their way, but not until later in the week. In the meantime, the sky just added a sullen grayness to the day that suited her mood.
Jasper and Hendrix trotted alongside her, unfazed by the gray. She put her phone away and tried to let their attitude rub off on her.
Hendrix walked neatly at her left side, on a loose lead, head high and pointing straight ahead. He anticipated her moves, keeping himself even with her leg, not moving ahead or behind at any time.
Jasper, on the other hand, meandered from side to side, wrapping his leash over and under Hendrix's with each pass. He stopped at every plant to give it a quick watering, and each time, Hendrix and Maggie paused and waited for him to finish.
Maggie also used that time to untangle the two leashes.
When he finished his potty break, they'd start walking again. And again Jasper would manage to get the leashes wrapped around each other within about a dozen steps.
"Have you tried macramé, pup?" Maggie asked him. "You make such pretty knots."
He smiled at her, proud of himself and pleased with her obvious praise for his knotting skills. His fluffy tail wagged enthusiastically, and she found herself smiling back, unable to stay mad at him. They walked on.
Very soon after that Jasper managed to get himself completely stuck. There was only about a foot of line left between his collar and Hendrix's, and no easy way to work it loose without unhooking the two leashes and letting the boys run free.
Maggie stopped walking. Hendrix sighed. "I know," she said to the older dog. "He has a lot to learn."
Jasper wagged his tail, smacking Hendrix in the side, and grinning his head off at the mess he'd made of the leashes.
"If you like it, maybe you can stay that way," she told him, and started walking again. With the leash so short, Jasper was forced to follow Hendrix and stay close by his side.
Jasper grinned and pranced his way down the sidewalk, enjoying this turn of events. Hendrix plodded stolidly next to him with the resigned air of a condemned man chained to a deranged prisoner.
They walked the rest of the way downtown like that.
When they made it to the bead shop it was closed. Locked.
Her students stood outside, next to the spinning barber pole. There were five students, and they were waiting with varying degrees of patience.
There were supposed to be six students for the necklace class that was scheduled to start in ten minutes.
Mrs. Queen was one of the five remaining, and she spoke up when she saw Maggie mentally taking a head count. "Aye, Mrs. Hightower didn't like having to stand out here on the street. She decided to leave."
Maggie knew the wealthy Mrs. Hightower quite well, and was sure she would have considered it gauche to wait on the street like a common peasant. Maggie wondered if she should call her, but couldn't bear to face her whining today, so just shrugged it off.
Without another word, Mrs. Queen took the leashes from Maggie's hand and began untangling them. Jasper bumped and pranced and rubbed himself against the little old lady. He'd seen Mrs. Queen just a couple of hours before, but he acted like it had been years. He fawned over her and kissed her and wiggled like a puppy.
Mrs. Queen hushed him and told him to "now behave, my little laddie," and he grinned and preened and didn't behave at all.
Maggie pulled out her keys and unlocked the door, then led the students inside.
"Hello?" she called out.
No reply. The lights were on, but no one was home. Maybe her nerves were on edge after the morning, but the emptiness made her uncomfortable. Where was Willow? Had something happened to her, too?
But she had a class, so she hid how she felt. She greeted everyone cheerily, and encouraged them to take off their jackets and sit down at the big table in the center of the room. Before she'd left for lunch, she had laid out trays for each student, filled with the beads and supplies for the class.
Mrs. Queen led the dogs in last. The two leashes were neatly coiled, and the boys followed her, one on each side. Maggie pointed to the cushion under the work table, and Mrs. Queen nodded.
She took them over there to lie down together on the dog bed, and unhooked their leashes. Then she sat down in the chair closest to them and started enthusiastically examining the beads in front of her.
While she did that, Maggie looked around on the table, then on the counter. Her note was still there, telling Willow to unlock the shop before one o'clock.
She went to the back of the shop and unlocked the door to the alley. Went out there.
Silence. The sound of a trash truck in the next block. The smell of the stale dumpster at the end of the alley. The sight of the tall weed that grew in its familiar crack in the pavement. No sign of the dreaded photographer who had snapped her picture out there just a day earlier. And no sign of Willow, dead or alive.
She went back inside. "Willow?" she called out. "Are you here?"
Her shop looked undisturbed. Nothing was out of place. Her students waited patiently for her to start the class. "I'll be just a moment," she said. "Each of you can take one of the trays on the table there and get familiar with the beads and findings we'll be using in the class."
Mrs. Queen gave her a reassuring look, then said to the other students, "oh, my, aren't the beads so pretty? What colors do you have?" They began to chatter among themselves.
Maggie checked her business phone. No messages.
She went and opened the cash register. The money was there, so it wasn't a robbery.
So she stood by the cash register and leaned her elbows on the counter and tried calling Willow's number. She drummed her fingers on the countertop while the phone rang.
"Oh, hi," said Willow when she picked up, and Maggie stopped panicking and got mad.
"Hi?" Maggie asked. "That's all you have to say?"
"Oh, yeah," the girl said. "I guess I should have told you I wasn't going to show up on time."
Maggie felt her heartbeat begin to slow down as she listened to the relaxed tone in the girl's voice. "So what happened?" she asked.
"Grey wanted to have lunch together," Willow said. Grey was the boyfriend, all of eighteen years old and sullenly attractive, with a Rebel Without a Cause vibe about him. He and Willow were both goth kids with spiky black hair and a dozen rings on their fingers, so they made a perfect match. Grey was a nice kid. So was Willow. But—
"So you just didn't come to work?!" Maggie asked. The women at the table stopped their chatter to stare at her. Her voice was clearly too loud, so she tried to take it down a notch. Worrying about Lauren was getting to her, and Willow not showing up had sent her over the edge into a panic. "This isn't okay, Willow," she said, trying to get the frightened squeak out of her voice.
Silence on the phone, as if it was just occurring to the teenager that when you have a job you can't just decide to go see your boyfriend instead of showing up. "I figured I would come in when I was ready," she said resentfully.
"I see," Maggie said. "So what time were you planning on getting here?"
"I dunno. I guess I'll come now."
"Do you have anything else to say?" Maggie asked the girl.
"No," Willow said blithely. "Grey and I are at the beach right now, so I'll be there when I get there."
Maggie opened her mouth. She shut it, then opened it again to say, "all right. I'm glad you're okay. I have a class at the moment, so there isn't time to talk about it any more right now. Get here are quickly as you can."
"Okay," Willow said, not sounding the least bit concerned. "See ya." She hung up.
Maggie put her phone away. She could feel her heart pounding, and she couldn't make up her mind if she was overreacting because Lauren hadn't answered her calls, or if she had a legitimate reason to have been worried about Willow's disappearance. She turned to face the back wall for a minute,
and took several breaths. Then she went over to the class table and sat down.
"All right," she said cheerfully. "Let's get started."
Chapter Five
Willow showed up around 2:30. Grey kissed her goodbye at the door, and Maggie politely turned her head to give them their moment. They said goodbye like Romeo and Juliet bidding farewell forever.
Maggie felt herself smile. She knew that's how they actually pictured themselves, but still, she needed to be more stern, and teach the girl how to be responsible. Mrs. Queen had been right about the dog. Maggie let things go and didn't express enough authority to be taken seriously by teen rebels, whether Jasper or Willow.
So after Grey left she talked to the girl about punctuality and promises for a bit, and Willow seemed to get it. "I'm sorry about flaking. I guess I never thought about you getting worried."
"That's all right," Maggie said. "I'm a little stressed today, so maybe I overreacted. But I need you to call me next time. When you make a promise to someone, you need to live up to it. Got it?"
Willow nodded morosely and went back to staring at her nails.
The nails were black, and went with the sixteen-year-old's black outfit, black hair, and black lipstick. Willow was in a particularly goth mood this week, and Maggie wondered if there was anything wrong.
But when she asked, the girl said, "oh, no," with a big smile. "Grey's got extra time off work every day this week."
"I'm glad," she said. "Would you like to change your schedule this week to see him during his time off?"
"Oh, yeah, I could do that," Willow said.
They pored over the timesheet and Willow figured out when she would like to have longer lunches or come in later in the afternoon after class so she could spend time with Grey. After that she was a bit more cheerful, and Maggie asked, "so, can you cover the shop for a half-hour or so while I run an errand? The dogs should be fine while I'm away."
Maggie and the Whiskered Witness Page 3
