Buried in Bargains (Good Buy Girls) (14 page)

Maggie took a sip of wine. “So you don’t think it was Joanne, do you?”

“No, I checked through her alibi again, and it’s pretty tight,” he said.

“And Michael?” Maggie asked. “You don’t really think it was him, either?”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know. Until he wakes up and tells us what he knows, I can’t say.”

“But it couldn’t be him,” Maggie protested. “He was unconscious in a pool of blood.”

“Maybe,” Sam said. “It could be that Diane whacked him in the head while he was strangling her but he didn’t pass out until after she was dead.”

Maggie shook her head. She refused to believe it.

“See? This is why you need to show me the pictures,” Maggie said. “You’ve been away for years, but I haven’t. I know these people, I know this town. I might see something in the photos that you’ve missed. I can help you.”

“Maggie, I don’t want you anywhere near this case,” Sam said. “I don’t want you in danger.”

“I appreciate that,” she said.

She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. She meant it. She did appreciate that he wanted to keep her safe. It meant a lot to her to have someone who felt that way about her again, but there was more at stake here than just her safety.

Sam turned his hand under hers and wrapped her fingers with his.

“I just got you back,” he said. “I won’t risk losing you again.”

The affection in his gaze mingled with his fierce protectiveness made her heart melt, and it was all she could do to stay in her seat and not fling herself into his arms. She had to make one important point first.

“If you want to keep me safe, then keep me informed,” she said. “If there is a killer among us, I’m more likely than you to know them. Trust me, Sam, and let me help.”

He squeezed her fingers in his while he studied her face.

“You’re just going to keep digging and digging no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

He sighed. “I really hate this.”

“I know.”

“I can’t tell you everything,” he said. “I can’t put the case in jeopardy, but I’ll tell you about the pictures.”

“Thank you.”

He groaned and then gave her a small smile as he released her hand and they resumed eating dinner.

“Yes, some of the photos were of her in her apartment,” he confirmed.

“Were they taken from the field behind the house, the old house next door or the plumbing-supply shop across the street?” Maggie asked.

Again Sam looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

“What? I looked out the windows while we were at her apartment,” she said. “I was trying to see where the killer might have watched her from.”

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” he said. “What if the killer was watching you? What if he saw you poking around in there? You may have made yourself a target.”

A shiver scurried up Maggie’s back like a spider climbing up its web.

“You’re trying to scare me,” she said.

“Is it working?”

“A little.”

“Good,” he said. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and drank some wine. “From the angle, I think the picture had to be from the roof of the plumbing-supply store.”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but he held his hand up to stop her.

“I already spoke to Henry Colbert, the owner, and he said the upper stories are just for storage, and no one has been on his roof since he had his air conditioner serviced last summer.”

Maggie chewed a bite of tomato from her salad while she thought about what he’d said. Just because Henry didn’t know someone had been on the roof didn’t mean they hadn’t been there.

She was about to say as much when she heard her phone ringing inside her purse.

“Excuse me,” she said, and Sam nodded. Normally she wouldn’t check her phone during a meal, but she wanted to be sure Joanne was all right.

She opened her purse and dug out her phone. It was a text message from Ginger. It was short and to the point.

She glanced from the phone to Sam to find him watching her.

She blew out a breath, and said, “Michael is awake.”

Chapter 17

“I’ll drive,” Sam said.

They hurriedly put away the remnants of their dinner and hustled out to the car. Sam didn’t use the siren but he drove at a brisk clip across town to the hospital.

He parked close to the building, and together they rode the elevator up to five and then jogged down the hall toward the ICU. Claire was waiting, but there was no sign of Joanne or Ginger.

“Maggie, I’m so glad you’re here,” Claire said as she hugged her. “Hi, Sam.”

“What happened?” Maggie asked. “Is Michael okay?”

By this she meant was he mentally impaired from the blow he’d taken to his head, but she felt this was the more tactful way to ask.

“I don’t know,” Claire said. “Ginger went in with Joanne about a half hour ago, but they haven’t come out yet. All I know is that the doctor came and told Joanne that he was awake and asked her to go and see him.”

“I’m going to call back there,” Sam said. He went to the phone on the wall that allowed visitors in the waiting room to call the nurse’s station in the ICU. He dialed quickly, and Maggie heard him identify himself and ask to see Michael Claramotta.

After a moment, he hung up and looked at Maggie. “I’m going in.”

“Can we come with you?” she asked.

He shook his head regretfully. “Only two are allowed at a time. Ginger is on her way out.”

Maggie nodded. She knew it would do no good to argue. This was the hospital’s rule, not Sam’s.

The doors opened and Ginger came out. She saw Sam and hesitated. It looked to Maggie like she wanted to say something and then thought better of it. Instead, she nodded at him and squeezed his forearm as she passed him. Sam returned her nod and hurried through the open doors.

“How is he?” Maggie asked. Her chest felt tight, and she realized she was holding her breath.

“He’s loopy,” Ginger said. “The meds they’ve had him on haven’t worn off, and he thinks he’s at a party. He doesn’t know why he’s here and, as far as we can tell, he doesn’t remember anything.”

“Not even Joanne or the baby?” Claire asked, horrified.

“No, sorry,” Ginger said. “He remembers who he is and all of that, but he doesn’t remember what happened to him.”

“Did Joanne tell him?” Maggie asked.

“She’s waiting for the doctor to give the okay,” Ginger said. “The doctor wants to wait until he’s a little more lucid before hitting him with bad news and potentially causing his condition to worsen.”

“So, he doesn’t know that he was attacked and that Diane was murdered,” Claire said. “Wow, I think the doctor is spot-on. Who knows how that kind of shock would affect his recovery, besides which I’m not really sure how you work all of that into a conversation.”

“Do you think Sam will question him?” Ginger asked Maggie.

“I’m sure that’s why he went back there.” Maggie stared hard at the door as if she could see beyond it and find out what was happening.

“Don’t worry,” Ginger said. “Sam’s a pro. He’ll handle it well.”

Maggie paced. She didn’t know what else to do with her nervous energy. If Michael didn’t remember anything, then they were no better off than they were when he was unconscious. Of course, he was better off, and she was grateful for that for Joanne’s sake.

While she paced she thought about the photos, the lack of a personal history for Diane and the possible motives of her two friends. She refused to entertain the thought that either Michael or Joanne could be Diane’s killer. It was ridiculous, but if it wasn’t them, then who was it? Who’d had a grudge against Diane?

As she crossed the room, she had to stop to make way for Ginger, who was pacing across her path, and then again for Claire, who was pacing around the room in a circle. She felt as if she were dancing at the ball again, except they were all missing their partners.

Maggie stumbled to a halt. The ball. The gowns. Britney Bergstrom. The idea flashed through her mind with the speed of a strobe light.

How could she have forgotten Britney Bergstrom threatening Diane in the shop the day before the ball? And then at the ball, Maggie had seen Britney with her group of friends mocking Diane and trying to make her miserable until Ginger’s boys and Laura had formed a protective circle around Diane, making it clear that she was not to be bullied.

“Maggie, you’re in the way,” Ginger said as she went to walk around her.

“Sorry, I just had a crazy thought,” Maggie said.

“Do tell,” Ginger said as she and Claire came to stand beside her.

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but the automatic door opened and Sam stepped back into the room, causing Maggie to forget what she’d been about to say.

He looked unsatisfied, and Maggie knew that Michael hadn’t been able to tell him anything of use.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Not good,” Sam said. “He kept asking me if his bow tie was tied just right. He thinks he’s back at the Madison ball. Dr. Graber seems optimistic that his memory will come back, but he wants me to wait to question him.”

“I want to go see him,” Maggie said.

“I thought you might.” Sam gave her an understanding smile. “I told Joanne I’d send you in. He’s in room three thirty-six.”

“Thanks,” she said. She kissed his cheek and hurried into the ICU.

The ICU was a circle of glass rooms built around the nurses’ station, which sat in the middle. Maggie checked the numbers on the doors she passed. She saw several patients who appeared to be asleep. They were alone with no one standing vigil by their beds. It made her sad, and she wondered how many patients came in here alone and left alone.

Michael’s room was toward the back. She saw Joanne standing by his bed. They were holding hands and looking at each other as if each were trying to memorize the other’s face on the off chance one of them should blink out again.

Maggie hated to interrupt, but she knew visiting hours were ending in minutes, and they were about to be chucked out of the hospital for the night.

“Knock, knock,” she said.

Michael rolled his head on his pillow, and Joanne glanced up. They both smiled. Michael’s smile was weak, but Joanne beamed at her.

“He woke up!” she cried. Maggie had known her friend was worried, but she hadn’t appreciated just how much until she saw how relieved Joanne was.

Maggie crossed the room and hugged Joanne and then Michael.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. She patted his hand, and he sighed.

“You, too, Maggie,” he said. “Although aren’t you a bit underdressed?”

Maggie glanced at Joanne, who was fretting her lip.

“We’re at the ball,” she said, and she tapped her finger to her temple. Maggie gave her a nod of understanding.

“You’re right,” Maggie said to Michael. “I’ll go change in a minute.”

“Good plan,” Michael said. “You don’t want to miss the mini quiches that they’re passing around. They’re loaded with bacon and cheddar.”

Maggie gave a faint chuckle that she hoped didn’t sound as forced as it felt. Michael peered out the door of his room as if expecting a waiter with a tray of quiches to appear at any moment.

“Did the doctor say when he can leave?” she asked Joanne.

“No, they’re worried about the memory loss,” she said. “He doesn’t even realize he’s in the hospital.”

“Who’s in the hospital?” Michael asked.

“You,” Joanne said.

Michael gave her a funny look, and then his face cleared, and he said, “You’re teasing me.”

Joanne sighed and patted his hand. “Just so.”

Michael’s face looked pale and tired under the bandage wrapped around his head, and he closed his eyes and seemed to drift to sleep. Maggie gave Joanne a worried look, but Joanne shook her head.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “He’s been doing that on and off since he woke up.”

“I’m sorry, ladies, but visiting hours are over,” a nurse said as she entered the room.

“So soon?” Joanne asked.

The nurse gave her a sympathetic look. “I promise to keep a very close watch on him.”

“Thank you,” Joanne said.

“I’ll give you some alone time,” Maggie said. She slipped out of the room with a wave and made her way back to the waiting room.

The others were still there. She noted that they were sitting and not pacing anymore. She took an empty seat next to Sam.

“So, Michael’s still at the ball,” she said.

“Yup, and he didn’t approve of my attire,” Sam said.

“Mine either,” Maggie said. “He was very concerned that I’d miss out on the mini quiches.”

They shared an awkward chuckle.

“At least he’s awake,” Sam said.

“How long will you give him?” Maggie asked. “You know, before you have to tell him.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. He sounded reluctant, and Maggie suspected he would much rather be operating with absolutes, such as knowing that Michael would remember everything tomorrow.

The doors to the waiting room opened and Joanne stepped through. She looked happy with a side of fretful, and Maggie knew it was worrying her to leave Michael when he had just woken up.

“He’ll be all right,” Ginger said. She hugged Joanne, and said, “I’m babysitting you tonight, and I promise we’ll call the hospital every half hour to check on him if you want.”

Joanne’s eyes got watery, and she hugged Ginger close. “Thanks. I’d say I’ll be all right on my own, but it would be a big fat lie.”

“I can stay with you, too,” Claire said as she joined the embrace, which for Claire was big, as she wasn’t a hugger as a rule.

“Me, too,” Maggie offered, jumping into the group hug.

“Aw, thanks,” Joanne sniffled. “You gals are the best, but I think it might be good if we work you all in on a rotating basis. I don’t know how long this will go on, and I don’t want you to get sick of babysitting me.”

The four of them stood in a huddle with their arms around one another.

“Sounds like a plan,” Claire said.

“We’re going to get through this,” Ginger said.

“Remember,” Maggie said, “it’s one for all and all for one, unless it’s a two-for-one sale on Italian shoes, and then it’s every girl for herself.”

Joanne laughed as Maggie had hoped she would, and the huddle broke up. Sam stood watching them with a look of bemusement, and Maggie moved to stand beside him.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. He led her toward the door, and Maggie felt the others fall in behind them. Then he leaned close, and whispered so only she could hear him, “It really is going to be okay.”

Maggie squeezed his arm to let him know she’d heard him and appreciated it.

Once they reached the parking lot, they waved to the others, and Sam opened the passenger door for her. Maggie’s phone rang as she was getting into the car. She fished it out of her purse and saw Max’s number.

While Sam circled the car to get in, she answered, “Hello?”

“Maggie, it’s Max.”

“Hi, Max. What’s up?”

“I’m not sure, but I think I might have a lead on where Diane Jenkins is from,” he said.