50% Off Murder (Good Buy Girls) (13 page)

Maggie and Ginger used her momentary distraction to race to Maggie’s car. They had barely slammed their doors shut when Summer hurried after them as fast as her platform sandals would allow, which was thankfully not fast at all.

“Punch it!” Ginger ordered, and Maggie threw the car
into reverse and backed out of the lot, put it into drive and raced down the road. Her last sight of Summer was of her shaking her fist as ice cream and hot fudge flattened her hair and dripped down her face like snow off the mountaintops in summer.

“What were you thinking?” Ginger demanded. “She is going to have you arrested.”

“Really? A dead guy was found with a cake knife in his chest, and she’s going to have me arrested for dumping my ice cream on her head?” Maggie asked. “Sam may be a horse’s behind, but even he wouldn’t do that.”

“If she hollers loud enough, he’ll do it just to shut her up. If there is a will, there is a way and, believe me, Summer has the will,” Ginger said. “What do you have to say to that?”

“Oops?” Maggie asked with a shrug.

“Why do you let her get under your skin so easily?” Ginger said. “Obviously, she’s just trying to yank your chain by saying you had the hots for Sam Collins back in high school. I mean, everyone knows you can’t stand him. Why do you let her wind you up?”

Maggie blew out a breath. Again, here was another opportunity to tell Ginger the truth, and yet, she couldn’t do it.

Why had she reacted so strongly to Summer’s words? Well, duh, it was because for a terrified second she had thought that Summer knew about her and Sam. It was ridiculous. No one knew about them. It was one crazy summer so long ago that it hardly mattered, and yet, it did matter. To her.

“I don’t know,” she lied. “Summer just pushes all of my buttons.”

“Pushes your buttons?” Ginger repeated. “Honey, that was a direct hit, and you fell for it.”

“I know, I know,” Maggie said. “I suppose I owe her an apology.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Ginger said. “This is Summer Phillips we’re talking about. After what she said about my boy, I was ready to douse her with a sundae myself. But yes, you should try not to react so strongly to her, perhaps.”

As they cruised down Main Street, the sheriff’s car passed them going the other way. Maggie and Ginger exchanged a wide-eyed look. Sam Collins had been driving the car, and while the lights hadn’t been flashing, he was still driving in the direction of the Frosty Freeze like he meant business.

“Hmm,” Maggie hummed. “Since we’re already in trouble, should we go for broke and see if we can get in to see Claire?”

“We? What we?” Ginger asked. “You mean
me
not
we
, because you are in trouble and I am not. However, I promise to come visit you when Sam locks you up for assault with a deadly maraschino cherry.”

“Aw, that’s my bosom buddy,” Maggie said. “So how ’bout it? Are you feeling charming?”

“Why not?” Ginger sighed. “The worst they can do is say no.”

“Or lock us up,” Maggie said. At Ginger’s alarmed look, she added, “But that would be highly unlikely.”

Being the county seat, St. Stanley had one courthouse adjacent to the sheriff’s department, which had a small jail. Usually, it was just a drunk tank for anyone picked up with
a DUI after the Friday night high school football game, but presently the lone resident was Claire.

Maggie parked outside the sheriff’s department, and Ginger loaded the parking meter with change. The only metered parking in St. Stanley was in front of the courthouse, the sheriff’s department and the jail, and Maggie wondered if it was to discourage anyone from lingering.

The buildings were all made from red brick with wide stone steps, and each had an imposing glass front door. They went to the building on the right, as the courthouse was on the left. Maggie was really hoping they weren’t going to have to go there anytime soon.

Ginger and Maggie hit the steps, and Maggie noticed that her palms were sweaty. She was nervous about seeing Claire. Max had seen her briefly earlier in the day, and he said she’d been holding up okay but, really, how good could she be doing? She was in jail!

They entered the building to find it fairly quiet. At the front desk sat a deputy who was talking on the phone. Ginger and Maggie waited for him to hang up, perfecting their smiles of ingratiating sincerity.

When he did, he glanced up and recognized Ginger right away. “Hello, Mrs. Lancaster. What can I do for you?”

“Stephen Rourke, well, look at you,” Ginger said. She gave him a big smile. “The boys told me you had gone into law enforcement, but I didn’t know you were working here as a detective.”

“Oh, I’m just a deputy, ma’am,” Stephen said.

He looked to be about the same age as Ginger’s oldest. Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at how thick Ginger was spreading the flattery.

“Well, a smart fellow like you, I’ll bet you’re running this place in no time,” Ginger said.

Maggie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She was afraid Ginger was going overboard, but as she glanced back at the deputy’s flushed face, she realized her friend was spot-on in her approach.

“Now, Stephen, I’m wondering if you can do us a little favor,” Ginger said. “My friend Claire has been arrested for murder, and Ms. Gerber, here, and I were hoping we could get in to see her.”

Stephen started to shake his head, but Ginger just pushed forward as if he were nodding.

“Aren’t you a dear?” she asked. “Isn’t he, Maggie?”

“Oh yes,” Maggie said. She decided to play it to the hilt and put on her most relieved voice. “You are a lifesaver—literally. You see, I’m taking care of her cat, and he’s been getting sick—hairballs and whatnot all over the place. I need to ask her what to do.”

“Oh, I don’t know about this. The sheriff was very clear that while he was out no one was to go back there.”

“But you know me,” Ginger said. “I’ve fed you custard pie since you were knee-high to a tadpole.”

“You do make a fine custard pie, ma’am,” he said.

Maggie almost felt bad, strong-arming him like they were. But this was ideal, getting to see Claire without Sam around. And there was no telling how long Summer would keep him occupied with her complaint against Maggie.

“Aw, come on, Stephen. You wouldn’t want a poor little cat to suffer, would you?” Ginger asked.

“Well, no, ma’am, but…”“

“Great, then it’s all settled,” Maggie said.

“Of course, we wouldn’t want you to get in trouble,” Ginger said. “So, I’ll just stay here and keep you company while Maggie goes to ask Claire about the cat. It won’t take more than a minute.”

Stephen frowned at them. “Well, since it’s for a cat, I suppose it would be all right. You’ll need to leave your things here, though.”

“Sure.” Maggie handed her purse and keys to Ginger.

He hit a button on his desk, and the half door beside him popped open.

Maggie glanced at Ginger, who nodded toward the window, letting Maggie know that she would act as a lookout in case Sam got back before Maggie was done.

“Follow me, ma’am,” Stephen said. He led the way through another set of doors toward the back. They passed through a metal detector and came to a small lobby. Two hallways ran off of it. One led to the men’s jail and the other to the women’s.

Stephen led her though another door. A female deputy was sitting at another desk, and she looked up when they entered.

“What’s this, Deputy Rourke?” She looked suspiciously at Maggie and at Stephen.

“A visitor for Ms. Freemont,” Stephen said.

“I thought she wasn’t supposed to have any visitors unless Sheriff Collins is present,” the woman said. She was short and sturdy with dark brown skin, and her hair was combed back and held in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her uniform was the same as Stephen’s, a dark brown shirt over tan pants, with a star on the left side and her name on a badge on the right.

“Deputy Wilson,” Maggie said, reading her badge. “I’m Maggie Gerber. I’m taking care of Ms. Freemont’s cat, and he’s been very sick. I just need to ask her a quick question, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“What kind of cat?”

“A gray tabby,” Maggie said. “And he’s very old.”

“Oh, I have a gray tabby named Puddin’,” Deputy Wilson said, looking sympathetic. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

She stood and unlocked the door behind her. With a nod to Stephen, she led Maggie into a room full of small cells. They approached one at the end, and Deputy Wilson tapped on the bars with a pen from her pocket.

“Ms. Freemont, there is someone here to see you. I have to get back to my desk. Five minutes, and I’ll be watching.” She stared hard at Maggie, who nodded.

The young deputy left them, and Maggie turned to see Claire rise from the thin cot in the corner. She was in an orange jumpsuit that made Maggie’s breath catch. The orange, zip-up onesie was an affront to the senses, no question, but the worst part was that it made it all too real: Claire could go to jail for a crime she didn’t commit, and there was nothing Maggie could do to stop it.

Claire adjusted her glasses and sighed. “It’s not my best color, I know.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Maggie put her hands on the bars, and Claire put her hands on top of Maggie’s. “That color makes you look like a pile of pumpkin vomit.”

Claire busted out with a surprised laugh, which had been Maggie’s intent.

“What, fluorescent orange isn’t the new black?” Claire teased. “How’s Mr. Tumnus?”

“He’s good. In fact, if the guards seem to think he’s not good, just go with it,” Maggie said. “Excessive hairballs were my excuse to get in here.”

Claire nodded.

“Now listen, I get that you don’t want to talk about John Templeton,” Maggie said. “But you’ve got to help me so I can help you.”

“I don’t know what I could say that would help,” Claire said. “As you know, I dated John back in Baltimore—not for long, we weren’t even together for a year, but then I got the job here, and I moved and that was that.”

“Claire, no single girl in her early thirties leaves a sweet, full-time position in her chosen profession and a boyfriend to move to a tiny town in another state to take a job as the second fiddle in a puny library,” Maggie said.

“Ouch, that’s harsh,” Claire said. She took her hands off Maggie’s and stepped back.

“You were the head of one of the Baltimore branch libraries, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“No, don’t give me the buts,” Maggie said. “No one is going to believe you came here because you wanted to live in a Podunk town as an assistant director. Now, why did you leave Baltimore, Claire. What were you running from?”

Claire stared at her from behind her narrow glasses. She moved her fingers over her lips as if trying to keep in the words that desperately wanted out. Maggie waited. Claire lowered her hand.

“I was running from him—John Templeton,” she said.

Maggie blew out a breath. She had figured there was something there, but hearing it confirmed only gave her more questions and no answers.

“What happened?” she asked. “Why did you have to run from him? Did he hurt you? You know if he abused you, you could say it was self-defense.”

Claire barked out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t hurt me, and I didn’t kill him, Maggie.”

“Then why—”

“Why did I run from Baltimore?” Claire asked. “That’s easy. I ran because I saw him kill someone.”

“Oh, wow,” Maggie said. She didn’t know what to say. This was beyond anything she had imagined. She had expected a tale of love gone wrong, not one of murder. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said. Her voice cracked, and she looked down at her feet.

“Tell me what happened, Claire.”

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s bad.”

“Worse than being in jail for a crime you didn’t commit?” Maggie asked. “I can help you, Claire, but you have to tell me what happened in Baltimore.”

Claire glanced over her shoulder, taking in the thin cot with one blanket and a flat pillow on it, the astringent smell and the steel toilet in the corner.

“John and I had been dating a few months. He seemed like a decent, hardworking guy. I knew he was well connected within the community, and I knew he was a venture capitalist, you know, someone who invested in small companies to help them get their businesses started or to help them grow.

“One night we had tickets to the symphony at the Meyerhoff, and John didn’t show up to get me, so I took a cab to his office.”

Claire sucked in a breath, and Maggie nodded for her to continue. She glanced at the door to see if anyone was coming. She didn’t want to rush Claire, but she knew they were running out of time.

“It’s okay,” Maggie said. “You can tell me.”

“I walked into his office and I found him, with another man, carrying a body toward the stairwell.”

The door at the end of the hallway opened, and Maggie feared Sheriff Collins had arrived. But no, it was just Deputy Wilson. Obviously, their five minutes were up.

“Then what happened?”

“I demanded to know what was going on, and he said it was none of my business and that if I told anyone what I’d seen, he would tell everyone about me and my past,” Claire said. “So, I panicked and I ran. St. Stanley seemed far enough away and small enough. I thought I’d be out of his reach. I was wrong.”