50% Off Murder (Good Buy Girls) (5 page)

Maggie studied his face. She didn’t know him. She’d lived in St. Stanley all her life and knew most everyone by reputation if not personally, and she found it disturbing that this strange man had been stabbed and bled to death in her town library, and she had no idea who he was.

“Come on, Maggie, there’s nothing you can do for him.”

“Should we just leave him here?”

“Well, I don’t suppose he’s going anywhere,” Preston said.

Maggie shook her head. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

She paused, her attention caught by the book lying beside the man. She noticed the cover of the book was well worn with age and use, but the title was printed in large letters and read,
The House of Mirth
. Yeah, not so much.

She led the way back up the stairs to Claire’s office. She called the sheriff’s office, proud that her fingers only shook a little and her voice only quavered on the word
body
. When
the deputy was done taking the information, she hung up, feeling a little sick to her stomach.

“Miss Claire, are you all right?” Preston asked. He had placed her on the old brown couch that ran the length of her office wall.

She made a whimpering noise, and he turned a helpless gaze toward Maggie. Preston was a whiz at fixing all things mechanical, but give him a person hurt or in tears and he was rendered helpless.

“Claire, can you hear me?” Maggie moved to stand beside the couch. “Claire.”

She gently patted Claire’s cheek, and her eyelids fluttered open. Behind her glasses her hazel eyes looked unfocused but, as Maggie watched, Claire slowly took in her surroundings and remembered what she’d seen.

“What happened…wait, is he dead?” she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if her scream had done some damage on its way out of her mouth. She sat up, looking pale and shaky but determined.

Preston handed her the metal water bottle she kept on her desk, and Claire twisted off the top and took a small sip. She swallowed carefully as if afraid it might hurt or refuse to go down.

“Yes, he’s dead,” Maggie said.

Claire looked as if she might faint again, so Maggie gripped her hand and squeezed it hard. Claire squeezed back, whether in gratitude or to make her stop, Maggie wasn’t sure, so she eased her grip.

“We called it in to the sheriff’s office,” Maggie said. “They should be here any minute. Preston, would you mind
blocking the hall so that no one gets through until the sheriff gets here?”

“Sure,” he said. He gave Claire a concerned look, but left without questioning her.

Claire got up on unsteady feet and began to pace the room. She looked as if she was trying to stay in motion so she could outrun the bad images that were dogging her in her mind.

Maggie watched her friend with concern. She didn’t know what she could say that could make the grisly scene in the basement any better. A man was dead, obviously stabbed here in the library. This sort of thing just didn’t happen in St. Stanley.

But when Claire passed by her for the fifteenth time, Maggie thought she ought to at least try to talk her down.

“It’s all right, Claire, really. The sheriff will be here any second, and he’ll take care of this. I know that Carlton is on vacation, and as acting library director, this is something you’re going to have to sort out, but really it’s the sheriff’s problem not yours. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

“It’s not all right,” Claire moaned as she sat down. “It’s never going to be all right.”

“Oh, honey, I know this was a bit of a shock…” Maggie began, but Claire interrupted her.

“No, you don’t understand. The man, the dead man, I know him. I used to date him.”

“You used to—” Maggie began, but Claire hushed her as Sheriff Sam Collins strode into the room.

Maggie felt the air catch on her inhale in a hiccupy gasp that was impossible to turn into a fake cough or even a sneeze. Sam Collins stopped halfway across the room, looking as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

In spite of herself, Maggie took in the sight of Sam, noting that the years since she had seen him last had hardly left a mark on him. He was as tall as she remembered, with the football-player shoulders that had left most of her high school classmates panting after him like a pack of rabid dogs. His wavy brown hair was still thick and full, with just traces of gray in it.

He wore the sheriff’s uniform well, the starched white shirt with his badge pinned above the left pocket with a
narrow dark tie over dark pants. He looked every inch the head of the sheriff’s department, and Maggie wondered how the deputies were adjusting to having a new boss.

Sam still had the stubborn jaw and sharp blue eyes that when he was younger had given him a rough-edged masculinity beyond his years. She wondered if his tough-guy look had helped his career over the years. She imagined it had, but this wasn’t Richmond, this was St. Stanley. Memories, particularly hers, were less impressed with appearances than with substance, which if she remembered correctly he had little of.

“Maggie.” He said her name in his familiar low drawl, and she felt it reverberate right through her chest.

Dang it! How had she forgotten about his voice? And why hadn’t he gotten fat or bald? Why was he even better looking than she remembered? It wasn’t fair.

“Sam,” she said. She was pleased that her voice didn’t betray the emotion she felt at seeing him again.

“I have some questions for you, ladies,” he said.

Claire turned her head so that only Maggie could see her. “Don’t tell,” she whispered. “Please.”

Maggie looked at her friend, and then at Sam, and then back at Claire. Oh, she really didn’t like this. She studied Claire’s face. Behind the narrow glasses, she looked dead scared. There had to be a reason she was asking Maggie to keep her secret.

Maggie nodded. She would keep quiet until Claire could tell her what was going on. She owed her friend that.

Claire had been the one who’d found the best tutor in St. Stanley for Laura when she needed to bring up her math
grades to get into Penn State. And Claire was the one who had helped Joanne and Michael find the best doctor to assist them in their quest for a baby. Claire was always there to help others. If there was history between her and the dead man in the basement, Maggie could wait to hear what she had to say.

Of course, the fact that Maggie detested Sam Collins helped, because no matter how good-looking he still was, she was pretty sure she’d rather Zumba in bare feet over hot coals than talk to him.

Claire rose slowly and extended her hand to Sam, shaking off her fainting spell like a duck flapping water off its wings.

“Good morning, Sheriff Collins,” she said. “I’m Claire Freemont. Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Preston said you fainted.”

“I’m fine now,” she said. “Luckily, Maggie broke my fall, so no damage was done.”

Sam looked past her to Maggie as if verifying what she said was true. Maggie gave him a curt nod but found she couldn’t maintain eye contact.

Maggie had known Sam since they were both Josh’s age. Even as a kid, Sam had been the smartest kid in the class, the fastest runner and the quickest with a joke. Every girl in St. Stanley had worshipped Sam Collins from afar, and some from not so far. Every girl, that is, except for Maggie. Maggie couldn’t stand him.

Mostly, it went back to their elementary school days. As Ginger had reminded her, her hair back then had been the unfortunate shade of orange found mostly on carrots, and Sam Collins had teased her mercilessly about it. Maggie had never forgiven him for that, among other things.

“How have you been, Maggie?” he asked, forcing her to look at him.

“Fine, thanks,” she said with a sniff, refusing to acknowledge that he affected her in any way.

“Can you wait here while I go check out the basement?” he asked. His gaze fastened on Maggie as if he knew she was the flight risk. “Both of you.”

“Yes,” they agreed.

He left the room, pulling a pair of blue latex gloves out of his back pocket as he went. As his footsteps faded away, the only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.

Claire sat back down next to Maggie and rested her elbows on her knees, then she lowered her head and blew out a breath.

“Thanks for not saying anything,” she said.

“No problem,” Maggie said. “You will explain it, though, won’t you?”

“Yes, just not right now,” Claire said with a worried glance at the door. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling you don’t like Sheriff Collins.”

“What makes you say that?” Maggie asked.

“Please, if looks could kill, there’d be more than one dead body in the library,” Claire said.

“Huh,” Maggie grunted, opting to remain noncommittal. She glanced at the clock and realized story time would be ending shortly.

“I have to go collect Josh,” she said. “If Sam returns before I do, tell him I’ll be right back.”

“All right,” Claire said.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” Maggie asked.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Claire said.

Maggie could tell she was trying to look brave. “I’ll be just a minute.”

Maggie hurried down the hall and back into the main part of the building. She slipped into the story-time room right as the kids were getting their hands stamped. Josh toddled over to show her the train stamp he had on the back of his hand.

She crouched down next to Linda, who was rolling to her side in order to get to her feet. Maggie hurriedly gave her a hand.

“Thanks,” Linda said. “I swear this baby grows a pound a minute.”

“Thanks for minding Josh for me,” Maggie said. “I was unexpectedly delayed.”

“No problem,” Linda said. She held her hand out to Freddy, who slipped his small hand into his mother’s. “Say, bye to your friend.”

“Bye,” Freddy said and reached out to hug Josh.

“Bye-bye,” Josh answered and hugged him in return.

Maggie watched Linda and Freddy go, and said, “Let’s go say hi to Auntie Claire, Josh.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

They had to work their way across the wooden bridge again. Josh held on to Maggie so as to make sure she didn’t fall into the water. They crossed the large open space of the main library and made their way to Claire’s office in the back.

In the few minutes Maggie had been gone, several more officers had arrived. The hallway to the basement was now
crowded with people, including Sam and what looked to be several of the state’s crime lab personnel.

Maggie scooted around them and slipped into Claire’s office. Claire was still sitting on the couch looking lost amidst the flurry of activity happening around her.

Maggie sat beside Claire and pulled Josh up into her lap. “How’s it going?”

“It looks like it’s going to be a long day,” Claire said.

“Will you have to stay here for all of it?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m thinking we should close the library, but I don’t know how Carlton would feel about that. He doesn’t even like to close on Sundays or holidays.”

“Well, this is a little more serious than that. I’m sure the investigators can make a recommendation if you think Carlton would need justification to close.”

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Claire said. “They’re going to block off the hallway to the basement. Maybe that will be enough.”

“Bill, I’m warning you!” a stern voice shouted in the hallway.

Maggie looked at Claire and she explained, “Bill Waters from the
St. Stanley Gazette
is out there asking questions, and I heard Sheriff Collins threaten to toss him if he tried to get into the basement one more time.”

“Auntie Claire sad?” Josh asked, and he reached out and patted her cheek.

“A little,” Claire said, and she pressed his plump hand to her face and gave him a small smile. “Would you like to color, Josh?”

His eyes lit up and he hopped off of Maggie’s lap and
followed Claire to her desk, where she always kept a stash of crayons and coloring paper for him. He set busily to work, completely disregarding the lines and blithely coloring every inch of the paper in black, his most favorite color.

Claire sat back down with Maggie, and she said, “I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

“Have they asked you any questions?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I think the sheriff has been too busy directing the crime scene investigators. He doesn’t seem particularly happy with them.”

“Yeah, he’s so conceited he probably doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to solve a crime in St. Stanley before he became sheriff,” Maggie scoffed. “And I’m sure he’s probably afraid the state’s investigators are going to steal all of his glory.”

Claire blanched, and Maggie felt her scalp prickle.

“He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” she asked.

Claire gave a tiny nod of her head. Maggie felt her face get warm, but then she refused to feel ashamed. Her grandmother always said that eavesdroppers seldom hear anything good about themselves, so it served Sam right—or so she tried to convince herself.

She glanced over her shoulder at Sam. His face read
not happy
and was doing a quick slide into
really irritated
.