50% Off Murder (Good Buy Girls) (20 page)

Ginger scanned her notes. “I have lots of money stuff, but what I deemed most important were the businesses here in St. Stanley that had a ‘working’ relationship with John Templeton.”

“Other than Michael and me, who have you got?” Joanne said.

Maggie was pleased that Joanne wasn’t in a puddle of tears tonight. This was the no-nonsense Joanne Claramotta, the “there is a scuff on these shoes, so I want twenty-five percent off” Joanne Claramotta that they knew and loved.

“Well, it’s a pretty long list,” Ginger said. “With the recession, almost everyone is squeezed to the max, so people are borrowing from whoever is lending, and at disgusting interest rates, too.”

“Can we narrow it down by who is in trouble?” Joanne asked.

“Already on it,” Ginger said. “We have Jay and Gwen Morgan of the Perk Up.”

“I was just in there today, and Gwen said she’d never met him,” Maggie said. “I wonder if Jay did a deal and didn’t tell her. You know, the place looked dead.”

“That franchise on the outskirts of town is killing them,” Joanne said. “It has a drive-thru.”

“We also have Hugh Simpson of the Frosty Freeze,” Ginger said.

“No!” Maggie and Joanne said together.

“And then there are a few ties for third place,” Ginger
said. “The Clip and Snip hair salon and the thrift store My Sister’s Closet over on Main Street.”

“Okay, this makes no sense,” Maggie said. “Why would anyone invest in virtually every business in a town this small and in businesses that are so diverse?”

“I am delighted that you asked me that,” Ginger said. She smiled at Maggie as if she were her prize pupil. “I thought the same thing, too. Usually venture capitalists have a specific interest. This guy is all over the place.”

“A thrift store, a deli, an ice cream place and a hair salon…you think?” Joanne asked.

“But there is one thing they all have in common,” Ginger said.

“They’re all in St. Stanley?” Maggie asked.

“You’re getting warmer,” Ginger said.

“They’re all on the town green,” Joanne said.

“Exactly,” Ginger said. She flipped through her notebook. “I looked at other towns Templeton has invested in over the past two decades. They are virtually unrecognizable.”

“What do you mean?” Maggie said.

“The mom-and-pop shops are gone,” Ginger said. “Wiped out. And who has a vested interest in the franchises that take over?”

“John Templeton,” Maggie said.

“He did it to midsize towns all up and down the coast,” Ginger said. “It’s like he was on a mission to homogenize the entire eastern seaboard.”

“That’s awful,” Maggie said. “And not just from a financial standpoint.”

“Agreed,” Joanne said. “I mean, as a small business owner you hope to franchise one day, but to have all the
small businesses be swallowed up by franchises, well, how will anyone ever break into business ownership if everything starts with an established franchise?”

“What did you find out from Michael?” Maggie asked Joanne.

“Not as much as that,” she said. “He did say, though, that Templeton seemed almost disappointed when Michael made his payments on time, and he always found that a bit odd.”

“Well, now we know why,” Ginger said.

“What did you find out from Claire?”

Another boom of thunder followed rapidly by lightning caused them all to jump and glance out the windows. In a burst, the rain started to fall, not the pitter-patter of happy rain, but rather the incessant sound of a chorus of hammers pounding on the roof and against the glass.

“Let’s finish our cobbler, and I’ll tell you what I know,” Maggie said.

They each tucked into the decadent dessert, with Joanne having two pieces. While they ate, Maggie told them what Claire had told her. Ginger accepted the story without flinching, as she’d already heard it, but Joanne was upset.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” she asked. “We could have helped her.”

“I think she was hoping her past would stay there,” Maggie said.

“The minute he showed up back in town, she should have told us.”

“She probably found it difficult to work ‘By the way, I saw my former boyfriend dragging a body out of a building once’ into the conversation,” Ginger said.

“Kind of a show-stopper, that one,” Maggie agreed.

Joanne opened her mouth to protest, but then huffed out a breath instead. “You’re right. Poor thing. That must have weighed as heavily upon her shoulders as Summer Phillips’s last boob job does on hers.”

Maggie busted out with a laugh as the storm roared overhead. When both her laughter and the storm quieted, they could just make out a faint knocking on the front door.

“That must be Max,” she said. “We need to tell him about Hugh. Maybe he can help.”

Maggie yanked open the door and there stood Max Button, esquire. He had a hot fudge splat on his LEGO T-shirt, which he wore over cargo shorts and flip-flops. His hair was plastered to his head, and his acne looked a bit worse than usual.

“Max, come in, come in,” she said. She stepped back and swung the door wide. Max stepped into the entryway and began to drip all over the small, tiled area. “Here, let me grab you a towel.”

Maggie dashed down the hall to the master bathroom. She found a big, fluffy towel and then opened the small closet to grab her peach-colored, satin-trimmed terry cloth robe. It wasn’t terribly masculine, but at least it would keep Max from freezing to death.

She raced back down the hall and handed him the fluffy towel. He used it to wrap his hair, and Maggie held the robe out for him.

“I really don’t think that’s my color,” he said.

“Aw, it’s just us girls,” Maggie said. “Come and have some cobbler. We’ll do your nails while we chat.”

Max gave her an alarmed look as he shrugged on the robe. Maggie busted up.

“I’m joking,” she said. “Come on.”

Max squished behind her in his flops. Ginger and Joanne exchanged a look when he entered the porch.

“Trying on outfits for court?” Ginger asked.

Max grinned and turned this way and that, modeling the robe. “I think it really brings out the sallow in my skin, don’t you?”

“The towel totally makes the outfit,” Joanne said. “All we need is one shot of you in the towel and it will go viral. We could start selling them as the latest haute couture accessories.”

Max struck a pose, and they all laughed. Maggie remembered when he’d first come to her house to tutor Laura. He’d been so shy, he’d almost been paralyzed. He’d stammered and stuttered through the social niceties until they’d finally ended his suffering by opening a math book, at which time he became quite the loquacious speaker. Maggie had realized that Max was fine when he was in boy-genius mode. It was every other waking moment of his life that was torture.

Maggie had watched him mature over the past four years and develop into the kind, confident young man that he now was. She was pleased to have been a part of his life then and now. She had no idea where his overly large brain was going to take him, but with degrees in every subject under the sun, she hoped he’d be leaving the Frosty Freeze sooner rather than later—especially if Hugh, the owner, had some shady business deals happening.

Ginger cut Max a man-size slice of cobbler topped with a healthy scoop of vanilla ice cream, and he settled onto the couch to eat. While he ate, they told him what they’d learned,
and he chewed thoughtfully when they mentioned that his boss, Hugh Simpson, was one of the biggest investors with the venture capital company.

“So, that’s why he looked so weird when I told him who Claire was accused of murdering,” Max said. “He knew John Templeton.”

“Did he say that?” Maggie asked.

“No, he didn’t say a word.”

“Don’t you think that’s odd?” Joanne asked. “I know if I knew somebody who’d been murdered, I’d say so.”

“Unless you had something to hide,” Ginger said.

Max’s fork stalled halfway to his mouth. “You don’t…but that…that’s crazy talk.”

“Is it?” Maggie asked. “You know how much Hugh loves the ice cream stand. Maybe he killed to keep it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Max said. “Hold the phone. For all his seventies macho-man chic, Hugh is just a big marshmallow. He has a hard time calling in the exterminator. He certainly isn’t one to snuff out a life.”

“Desperation makes people do crazy things,” Maggie said.

As if to emphasize her words, a boom of thunder rattled the windows. They were all still until the sound died away.

“Maggie, I just don’t see Hugh shoving a cake knife into anyone’s chest, no matter how desperate he was,” Max said.

“Would you be willing to search his office?” Joanne asked.

“For what? Remnants of birthday cake frosting?”

“For anything that links him with the John Templeton,” Maggie said. “Max, I wouldn’t ask, but this is for Claire.”

“All right,” he groaned. “But you have to follow up on the other names.”

“We will,” Maggie said. “Ginger, why don’t you take My Sister’s Closet, since they gave you such a good deal on the shoes and handbag that you obviously have an in there. I’ll take the Perk Up and see if I can talk to Jay this time. Joanne, can you handle the Clip and Snip hair salon?”

“Oh, an excuse for a mani pedi,” Joanne said. “And I have a coupon for twenty percent off.”

“Nice.” Ginger gave her a high five.

Maggie looked at her own fingers. Her nails looked like she’d been dragging them up and down the sidewalk for giggles. Darn it. She should have picked the Clip and Snip.

Thunder rolled but it now sounded distant, as if the storm was done punishing St. Stanley and was slowly moving away.

A knock sounded at the front door, and Maggie glanced at the others. With Max here, they were all accounted for except for Claire, but Maggie sincerely doubted that she’d been released. Then again, maybe St. Stanley’s crackerjack new sheriff had solved the murder and arrested the per-petrator.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

“I’ll come with you,” Max said. He rose from his seat. “After all, there is a murderer on the loose. You can’t be too careful.”

He looked concerned and Maggie was touched that he felt the need to protect her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that, in his head towel and robe, the only people he was likely to scare off were the fashion police.

With Max at her back, Maggie pulled open the door, and there stood Sam Collins, with rain pouring off the brim of his sheriff’s hat.

She leaned into the doorway, barring his entrance.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Sam looked over her shoulder at Max and narrowed his eyes. “He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

Maggie shrugged. “He’s of age.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and Maggie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “He was soaked from the rain, so I let him borrow a robe and towel. I can get you a matching one if you’d like.”

“Hi, Sheriff Collins,” Max said. He slouched back into his relaxed stance since it wasn’t a crazed murderer on the other side of the door.

“Button,” Sam returned. He looked unhappy, which naturally made Maggie feel quite pleased.

“Uh, Maggie, I’m going to go dry off,” Max said.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded. Poor guy, he seemed to have just realized that he’d greeted the sheriff in a peach-colored, satin-trimmed robe.

“What can I do for you, Sam?” Maggie asked.

“The deal was that if I let you see Claire, then you tell me what she said.”

“You weren’t there today, so I couldn’t, now could I?” she asked.

“Which is why I’m here now,” he said.

“You could have called first,” she said. “I might have had a date.”

“From what I heard, you must have had a hot date today,” he said. He took in her tank top and shorts. “Too bad I missed the outfit, but this is nice, too. It brings back a lot of memories.”

“Really, of what?” she asked.

She met his gaze, and that’s when she understood the term
smoldering look
. She was pretty sure Sam Collins could ignite kindling at fifty yards with that look.

Instinctively, she stepped back, which of course Sam took as an invitation for him to enter the house. He removed his hat and let the excess water run off onto her front steps before he came in, but still, here he was again. Maggie wasn’t sure she liked this pattern.

“Sam,” Ginger said as she came strolling into the room.

“Hi, Ginger,” he said. They gave each other a half hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Maggie felt a hot lick of jealousy spurt up inside of her. Not because of the hug or the kiss but because they had the easy familiarity of old school chums, and that was something she and Sam would never have.

“Hello, Sheriff Collins…er…Sam,” Joanne said.

Sam gave her a kindly smile, and they shook hands.

“Good to see you again, Joanne,” he said.

Max walked into the living room. His clothes were still damp, but his hair was mostly dry.

“Listen, Maggie, I have to go prepare for Claire’s preliminary hearing,” he said.

Maggie could see he was back in lawyer mode.

“All right,” she said. She glanced at the group. “So, we’re all clear on what we need to do?”