Treacherous Tart (12 page)

When they sat down to eat, the kittens kept tripping over their feet. Aunt Clara laughed at them and gave them bits of rice, which they gobbled greedily.

Dinner was delicious. Ryan kept them laughing with his stories about the city council meeting he'd
attended that day. The kittens commanded center stage for a while, trying to pounce on Fanny and ending up rolling away.

Aunt Clara excused herself, and Maggie wasted no time telling Ryan about her conversations with Angela and Frank.

“I can't believe he'd use you to get to me.” Ryan kept his voice low, understanding that Maggie didn't want Clara to hear what Frank had said. “The man has no conscience.”

“The two of you need to make up and share information,” Maggie urged. “He might need you to help catch whoever killed Donald, especially with Captain Mitchell thinking it could be Aunt Clara.”

“So you didn't get any kind of vibe from Angela, huh? You think she really didn't date Donald out of respect for your aunt?”

“I don't know. I don't think knowing my aunt would stop Angela from taking something if she really wanted it. Maybe when she actually met him, he was too old for her. She's lived with men much younger than her for a long time.”

Maggie also explained that Angela was clear of gunshot residue at the scene too, like she and Aunt Clara were.

He shrugged. “I'm sorry I added to your aunt's problem with the police. I wanted the captain to see that checking out the other women who had dated Donald could help him.”

“To get back at Frank because he gave you a hard time about writing that piece for the paper, right?”

“I suppose.” He ran his hand around the back of his neck. “I really only wanted to help. I didn't get the feeling that Captain Mitchell was that impressed with my idea. I still plan to go and talk to those women on the list.”

“But first you're going to talk to Frank, right? Maybe over the phone would be best. He mentioned something about shooting you. The phone or email could work until he's not so angry.”

“I like Frank,” Ryan admitted. “He's a good guy. But he can't tell me what I can and can't write.”

“I'm sure that's not what he's saying.” Maggie hoped this disagreement would go away quickly. “He's frustrated that he can't do more on the case. And I don't think he wants to see Aunt Clara involved in this any more than we do. That's why he gave me the heads-up.”

“I'm sure you're right.” He kissed her as Aunt Clara walked back into the kitchen.

“Need me to go back the way I came?” She laughed.

Ryan's phone rang. He took the call but didn't seem too happy about it. “My father is stranded at the country club. He refuses to drive if there is any snow or ice on the road. I have to go get him.”

“Be sure to tell him hello for me.” Clara began to clear the table. “Be careful on the streets.”

Maggie walked Ryan to the front door. He wrapped his arms around her, and they exchanged a few heated kisses.

“I'll talk to you later.” He twined his hand with hers. “Don't worry about me and Frank. Something will come up to make everyone forget that your aunt was ever even mentioned. Whoever killed Donald won't stay hidden for long.”

“Thanks. I don't want Aunt Clara to get a hint of this. She'd be devastated if she thought Frank had considered her a suspect at all.”

“It's going to work out, Maggie.” He kissed her again. “I'll make sure of it.”

After watching him slip and slide on the sidewalk to the street, she closed and locked the door. When she went back to the kitchen, Aunt Clara was putting down extra rugs and towels as beds for the kittens and Fanny.

“I don't know if we can take care of seven cats.” Maggie voiced her doubts.

“We'd never have to worry about mice again.” Aunt Clara patted one of the blankets and made cooing noises at Fanny. The cat ambled slowly toward her and finally sank down, purring.

“She looks exhausted,” Maggie said.

“You would be too if you had six children to keep up with. I'm sure that's why she's so thin too. She's a good mother. She went out to get her babies once she
heard it was going to be the coldest night of the year. She knew they'd be safe here.”

Once the cats were settled in, Maggie and Aunt Clara cleaned up the kitchen. The cold wind whistled through the eaves in the old house.

Maggie shivered, hearing it. “I hope the furnace can make it through until spring. I wouldn't want to find a repairman on a night like this.”

“Me either.” Aunt Clara wiped down the kitchen sink. “You know, I was really surprised today when Frank suggested that I might have killed Donald. What did Ryan think when you told him?”

Maggie stopped covering the rest of the peach pie in a plastic container. “You heard that? Why didn't you say something?”

“Why didn't
you
say something?”

“I was afraid it would hurt your feelings. I was hoping you didn't hear it.”

Aunt Clara laughed. “I'm not deaf, dear. I can hear quite well. I think we've discussed this before. I have a decent memory too.”

“Of course you do.” Maggie put the rest of the pie in the refrigerator as her aunt turned off the kitchen light. “I'm sorry you heard that. Believe me, Frank wasn't serious. He was only trying to get my attention so I'd talk to Ryan.”

“I think he
was
serious. It seems like Donald's death has put him in an uncomfortable position,”
Aunt Clara continued as they went upstairs together. “I can understand why he's questioning everything. It's his job. I want to know what happened to Donald too. I know it wasn't me, but I suppose you never know what someone is likely to do.”

“I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you about it,” Maggie said. “I guess I always think you're more fragile than you really are.”

Her aunt laughed. “I've never thought of myself as
fragile
. I'd rather know the truth straight up anytime. I don't run away from my problems, Maggie—never have, never will.”

As they parted to go to their separate rooms, Maggie smiled and said good night. “I won't ever think you're fragile again.”

“Good night, dear. Your piecrust tonight was excellent. Just remember at the shop, don't push so hard, and not so much flour on the rolling pin.”

Maggie went to her room and put on her warm flannel nightgown. She lay in bed listening to the wind for a long time, wondering how it was possible that the chain of events could have led Frank to question whether or not Aunt Clara was guilty of murder.

There was no doubt that she and Ryan had to find some answers to clear her aunt's name. Soon.

T
he next morning
dawned bright and clear. By 10:00 a.m., the streets were wet but clear of snow and ice. The trees dripped heavily on the sidewalks and houses, soaking everything. The sky was blue, and the warm sun beat down, bringing the temperatures up into the fifties.

The pie shop was busy that day, with many people wanting to get out and enjoy the fine weather. Between that and the Christmas shoppers, Aunt Clara and Maggie were busy right up until closing time. They sold a record number of pies and
congratulated each other as they locked up the shop that evening.

Maggie and Aunt Clara got home, ate something quickly, and changed clothes so they were ready to go when Ryan arrived. He was dropping Aunt Clara off at the library before he and Maggie went to talk with the other women on Donald's dating list.

Ryan held Aunt Clara's arm as she walked down the stairs. Maggie followed, locking the door behind them.

“Do you think Fanny and the kittens will be all right alone in the house?” Aunt Clara paused to consider.

Maggie smiled. “We can't be here with them all the time. I'm sure they'll be fine.”

“Seven cats,” Ryan mused. “That's a lot of cats.”

A tall man with a red cap and matching scarf walked down the sidewalk from the neighbor's house next door. He reached them as Ryan was helping Aunt Clara into his car.

“Maggie! It's you, isn't it? After all these years.”

Ryan looked at her, and she shrugged. It was hard to say if she knew the man or not. He was bundled up so much that his face was barely visible.

“David. David Walker. Remember me from school?” He unwrapped his scarf and took off his hat. “Sorry. I'm up from Florida visiting, and it's
freezing
.”

“David!” Maggie remembered her childhood friend well. They'd gotten in many scrapes together
when they were growing up. The fence still swung loose between their two yards, a victim of their escapades.

Maggie and David hugged briefly, and laughed as he replaced his hat and scarf. She wasn't sure how he'd recognized her—she wouldn't have known him on the street. He was as tall and thin as she remembered, but his face was thinner, and his dark hair had gone salt-and-pepper.

Ryan closed the passenger door and coughed, almost discreetly.

“Oh. Sorry. Ryan Summerour, this is David Walker. We grew up together. It's been a long time since we've seen each other.”

David reached his gloved hand to Ryan.

“Sorry to interrupt,” David said. “My mother said you were back, Maggie. Maybe we can have dinner sometime before I go back home. It would give us a chance to catch up.”

“I'd like that.” She smiled at him, and Ryan started the car. “I have a few things to do, but I'll be back later. It's wonderful to see you, David.”

“You too, Maggie!”

Maggie got in the back of the warm car and waved to David as they pulled away from the curb.

“He's looking well,” Aunt Clara added. “I think his mother said that he's a successful electrical engineer in Miami. Good field to be in. He owns his own home
and
a sailboat.”

“I can't believe he knew it was me.” Maggie smiled out the window, recalling all the good times she and David had together when they were young. “I'm sure I look a lot different now too.”

“I saw your yearbook picture. I would've recognized you,” Ryan said. “Besides, who else would be coming out of your house with your aunt?”

“I suppose that's true.” She caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “It was still a big surprise. I never expected to see him again.”

Aunt Clara laughed. “I'm sure his mother gave David a heads-up too. She probably called and told him you were home again. You know that boy always worshipped you. He was devastated when you went to New York.”

“I wouldn't say ‘worshipped.' ” Maggie felt her face get warm. “We had some fun together, but we were only kids.”

Ryan dropped Aunt Clara off at the library, taking an extra minute to make sure she got into the squat building safely. He came back out to the car—Maggie was in the front seat.

“So David worshipped you, huh?” He grinned, but his blue eyes were serious. “How did you feel about him?”

“I felt about him like any fourteen-year-old feels about her friends. If you're asking if we were romantic—”

“That's what I was asking.”

“We weren't. I never let myself get romantically involved with anyone in high school, or even college. I knew I was leaving, going to the life I'd always dreamed about, and they were probably going to stay here.”

Ryan squeezed her hand. “You don't have to live in Miami or New York to be successful.”

“I know.” She kissed him. “Look at
you
.”

Ryan began driving to the address he had for Anna Morgan, the first woman from the dating service on his list. Maggie regaled him with her and David's childish exploits to reach the moon and backpack to the Arctic.

“I'll bet David didn't feel as platonic about you. Fourteen-year-old boys tend to take their first love very seriously. Why didn't he go with you to New York?” Ryan asked in his reporter's voice

“I was very ambitious,” she confessed. “David wasn't. Once we got into high school, that was the end of our friendship. I pushed him away. I never thought about him again, until I came back last year.”

“Good.” He grinned, obviously relieved. “You must've been hell on wheels back then.”

“I was very driven and focused.” She touched his hand. “Things are good now, though. I want different things. I'm glad to be back home.”

Maggie knew she was a much different person than she had been when she first got out of school. All she'd been able to think about then was getting
away from Durham as quickly as she could. But things were different now. She was happier and less intense. She knew what life was like on the fast track, and it no longer interested her.

Ryan jumped back into the possible leads in Donald's death. “I haven't been able to find much about any of the other people Donald dated. There is plenty about Angela, of course. Debbie Blackwelder owns a hair salon, so she's out there too.”