Good Buy Girls 05 - All Sales Final (18 page)

“So, what did you need my help with?” he asked.

“I have a vanity table with a locked drawer and no key and since you’re the best lock picker I know, I thought you could have a go at it,” she said.

She gestured to the table and Max crossed the room to examine the vanity.

“Is it true that you found a skeleton in your new house?” he asked.

“Yes,” Maggie said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t believe the gossip.”

“Well, it seemed pretty far-fetched,” he said.

“Like getting married at the Frosty Freeze? Gee, I wonder how these rumors get started.”

“Touché,” Max said with a laugh as he knelt before the stuck drawer. “Do you have a flashlight and a hairpin?”

“Of course,” Maggie said and she went to retrieve the items.

She handed them to Max and then moved back to give him room to work. He stared into the keyhole with the flashlight. Then he inserted the hairpin. He turned it this way and that but it didn’t budge.

“I think there might be some sort of glue in there,” he said. “How about some nail polish remover and a cotton swab?”

“Let me check my supply kit,” she said. Maggie hurried back into the break room and checked her tool box. Score! She had both. She took the items back out to Max.

“Just out of curiosity if I had asked for rat poison and a shovel . . . ?” he asked.

“You’d be out of luck on the poison, but I do have a shovel.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you might think,” he said.

“I use the nail polish remover to get the stickers and
other ick off of dishes, picture frames, that sort of thing,” Maggie said. “The shovel is a consignment item from Quentin Parsall, he seems to think it’s valuable. And you never know when you’re going to need a cotton swab.”

“Clearly.” Max dipped the swab in the nail polish remover and then put the whole swab into the lock and jiggled it. “This will take a minute to soak.”

“Can I get you anything while you wait?” Maggie asked. “Pop, lemonade, coffee?”

“A cola would be great, thanks,” Max said.

Maggie retrieved a cola for Max from the back room and grabbed a water for herself. She sat beside him on the floor while they waited. Max popped the top on his can and then gave her a sideways glance.

“What?” Maggie asked. “Do I have dirt on my face?”

“No,” he said. “It’s just that I heard another rumor that is truly too preposterous for words, but . . .”

“Fire away,” Maggie said. “It can’t be any crazier than some of the other things I’ve heard lately.”

“Don’t punch me in the mouth, okay?” he asked.

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Because I’m known for punching people?”

“You might when you hear this one,” he said.

“I promise no punching,” she said.

“Cool. Okay, so I heard that Summer is now one of your Good Buy Girls, and I know that can’t possibly be true.”

“Well . . .” Maggie drew out the lone syllable until it was a five second whine.

“No. Just no,” Max said. He looked appalled.

“It’s on a purely trial basis,” Maggie said.

“Because you hit your head and forgot that she tried to steal Sam and in fact ruined your first relationship with him?” he asked.

“Hey, when did you get so judgy?” Maggie asked. “You’re the one who defended her when she was in jail for murder.”

“Only because her mother paid me really, really well,” Max said. “I’ve never forgotten how she befriended Bianca’s crazy step sister when she tried to take away Bianca’s inheritance.”

“So she had poor taste in friends,” Maggie said. “She’s trading up now.”

“I do not believe this,” Max said.

“I know, it’s weird,” Maggie agreed. “But Tyler said she’s changed.”

“He’s her husband, of course he said that,” Max argued. “Besides he’s been in love with her for years. He’s never had clear vision when it comes to his wife.”

“Agreed,” Maggie said. “But I promised I’d give her a chance.”

“You must be crazy in love with Sam,” he said.

“What makes you say that?” Maggie asked. “You know, other than us getting married.”

“Because only a person in love could forgive all of the crap that Summer has dumped on you all these years.”

“I like to think I gave as good as I got,” Maggie said.

Max laughed. “Yeah, you did at that. Just be careful, Maggie. You’re one of my favorite people, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I will be, I promise,” she said.

Max seemed satisfied and he put aside his soda and returned his attention to the drawer. He removed the swab and then resumed his work with the flashlight and the hairpin.

Maggie felt herself tense. What could be in the drawer that had required the lock being glued shut? The dreamer in her couldn’t help but wonder if it was something precious like a rare strand of pearls, or an emerald ring as big as a walnut. Or maybe it was some old stocks and bonds that would be worth a fortune now. Of course, she’d have to give it all to Blue, but still the idea of discovering a treasure made her all fluttery inside.

Max jiggled the hairpin back and forth and then he nudged it in deeper. Suddenly, there was a click and the drawer popped just a smidge.

“Got it!” Max cried in triumph.

Together they rose up on their knees as Max slid the drawer open. No diamond necklace or wad of cash glittered out at them and Maggie sighed.

“Seems like a lot of work to keep people from finding a dried up flower and a glove,” Max said ruefully.

“Agreed,” Maggie sighed.

She reached into the small drawer and removed what looked like it had once been a wrist corsage but was now a shriveled up bunch of weeds tied with a lilac ribbon. Below that rested a delicate kid glove. It was yellowed with age but still buttery soft to the touch. The small pearl buttons shone against the dullness of the leather.

“I think this must have been where Ida Dixon kept her treasures,” she said. “The sentimental ones.”

“How do you know it’s Ida’s vanity and not Imogene’s?” Max asked.

“From what I’ve read, Imogene was not the vanity type,” she said.

She reached farther into the drawer and pulled out a packet of cards. As she sifted through the yellowed papers, she noted they were addressed to Ida and were from birthdays and graduations, as well as other events in the young woman’s life.

“Do you need me for anything else?” Max asked, bringing Maggie back to the present.

“No, but thank you so much,” she said. As she stood a small card fluttered from the pile in her hands.

“Here,” Max said. He stooped down to get it and handed not a card but an old sepia photograph to Maggie.

She glanced at it and caught her breath.

“Maggie, are you all right?” Max asked as he gripped her elbow as if afraid she was going to keel over.

“Huh?” Maggie stared at the photo and then at Max. “What?”

“Are you all right?” he asked again. He looked worried. “You went so pale. Do I need to call Sam?”

“I’m fine, better than fine,” Maggie said. She looked at him and held up the picture. “I think we just found our skeleton in the basement.”

Chapter 18

Maggie called Sam but she got his voice mail. It picked up on one ring so he was clearly talking to someone else. She didn’t want to explain over the phone so she left a message asking him to call her.

She kept studying the photograph of the young couple—a woman in a flared-skirt day dress and a man in uniform—as if they would tell her who they were. It was killing her to not be able to ask anyone about the photo. There were no clues on it other than the notation of the year 1944 which had been written in blue ink on the back in the lower right-hand corner.

Max watched her study the photograph while she paced. Finally, he sighed and said, “Maggie, you’re going
to wear a hole in the floor. Do you want me to watch the shop while you go give the photo to Sam?”

“Would you?” Maggie cried. “That would be so great!”

“No problem,” he said. “I figure I still owe you a favor or two from the old days.”

Maggie kissed his cheek, grabbed her purse and hustled to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour at the latest.”

She hurried to her Volvo station wagon that was parked at the corner. Since she had one stop to make before she went to see Sam she figured it would be faster if she drove.

It was less than five minutes to get across town and pull in at Spring Gardens. She signed in at the main desk and then hurried through the lobby to the pool. She had been hoping to find Blue with his bevy of gray-haired beauties in his usual spot but no luck. She turned and hurried back to the main desk.

“I’m sorry, can you tell me where I might find Blue Dixon?” she asked.

“He’s not poolside?” the pretty brunette with a name tag that read A
NNE
asked.

Maggie shook her head.

“Oh, I see why.” The girl looked at her clipboard.

Maggie had a sudden heart-pounding fear that Blue might have up and died. Is that what the clipboard was, a clipboard of death?

“He’s in the pool tournament in the rec room,” Anne said. “I heard he and Dennis Applebaum are trying to work out their differences through a friendly pool match.”

“Which way?” Maggie asked.

“Down the hall and to your right.” Anne pointed.

Maggie jogged toward the room. Dennis and Blue had already been to Doc Franklin for one round of injuries. Who was the knucklehead who thought it was a good idea to give them long wooden sticks to play with? Maggie had visions of finding one or the other of them impaled on his pool cue.

She pushed through the double doors into the rec room to find a crowd had gathered around the pool table. A quick glance and Maggie could see that there were two solid balls, two striped balls and the eight ball. Dennis was lumbering around the table with a swagger that made Maggie think he had just sunk one.

“Lucky shot,” Blue muttered, confirming her guess.

“Seven in the corner,” Dennis said and pointed with his cue.

He missed and Blue looked thrilled. He clapped his hands together as if relishing the prospect of demolishing his opponent. As he moved around the table, Maggie elbowed her way past the front row of spectators.

“Blue, I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Maggie, I’m in the middle of something,” Blue protested.

“Sorry, but I have no time and this is really important,” she said.

Blue glanced at Dennis. “Five minutes?”

“If that’s what you need to build up your courage,” Dennis said with a careless shrug.

“Hey!” Blue started to protest but Maggie dragged him away.

“Bigger issues, Blue,” she said.

“To you maybe,” he grumbled. “My reputation is at stake here.”

Maggie fished the picture out of her purse. “Do you know this man?”

Blue looked from her to the picture. “No, but I know the woman. That’s my cousin Ida Dixon.”

“Are you sure?” Maggie asked.

“Positive. Where did you find that?”

“It was in the vanity table in a drawer that was glued shut.”

Blue leaned on his pool cue and rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. “Glued? I thought it was just locked and the key was missing.”

“It was locked and glued,” Maggie said.

“Strange,” Blue said. His eyes had a far-off look in them and Maggie wondered what he was thinking.

A crash sounded from the other side of the room and they both started and glanced over at the pool table.

“No! Stop! Argh!” Dennis cried. “This is no place for children! Who let this demon spawn in here?”

“Uh-oh,” Blue said and he hurried back to the table.

A towheaded boy about five years old was holding two of the pool balls in his chubby fists. He glanced up at everyone and a big fat tear pooled in his right eye.

“Is this saboteur yours, Dixon?” Dennis asked.

“No, and quit yelling,” Blue snapped. “You’re scaring
the poor kid.” Blue looked at the boy and said, “It’s all right. It’s just a game, but next time, ask before you take things that don’t belong to you.”

A sweet older lady gave Blue an adoring look before she enfolded the little boy in an embrace and wiped away his tears.

“Seems to me you should follow your own advice,” Dennis said as he placed his cue in the rack.

Blue rolled his eyes at him. “I demand a rematch.”

Dennis crossed over to where they stood. “Fine by me.”

He glanced at Maggie. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

“No,” Maggie said. She raised her hands in a gesture of innocence.

Dennis frowned at the photo. “Why do you have a picture of Jasper Kasey?”

Maggie glanced from Dennis to the photo. “Excuse me?”

“Jasper Kasey,” Dennis said. He tapped the picture with his forefinger. “I’d know him anywhere. My brother and I followed Captain Kasey around like puppies. He was a pilot in World War Two. We thought the sun rose and set on him. Who’s the dame?”

“My cousin Ida,” Blue said stiffly.

“Ah, well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Dennis said.

Blue balled up a fist and looked like he was going to pop Dennis, but Maggie looped her arm through his and held him back.

“Thank you, Dennis, you’ve been a huge help,” she said.