50% Off Murder (Good Buy Girls) (9 page)

Maggie remembered that day so vividly. She could feel Laura’s small hand in hers, hear the birds twittering and smell the summer roses in bloom. It was one of her go-to memories in times of stress, and it always grounded her. She let out a sigh. She was okay.

Once her emotions were under control, Maggie started up her car and headed to the office where she did medical billing for Dr. Franklin. It had been a full-time job when she was younger, but now that Dr. Franklin was semiretired, Maggie worked just part-time for him.

As she turned onto Main Street and passed the library, she refused to look at the building. She didn’t even want to catch a glance of Sam Collins, for fear that he’d manage to get past her defenses again.

She inhaled a deep breath through her nose, held it and slowly let it out through her mouth. There was no point in dwelling on the past, no point in even thinking about it. Her
life had worked out the way it was supposed to, for if she hadn’t fallen in love with and married Charlie, she wouldn’t have Laura. She couldn’t imagine her life without her bright, beautiful girl. So there it was.

There was no point in looking over her shoulder at the shadows of her youth—it served no purpose. Of course, if she followed that line of thought, there wasn’t much point in being so angry with Sam Collins either. She didn’t think she was quite ready to let go of that, however.

She drove across St. Stanley to Spring Gardens, the assisted-care facility that was built into one of the historic homes in the center of town. Dr. Franklin had left his busy practice and kept a small office in the facility, figuring that the patients who needed him the most were the elderly who resided at Spring Gardens.

Maggie turned in past the large, wrought-iron gate that framed the gravel drive leading to the tall, three-story red brick building. A fountain bubbled in the middle of the circular drive, which she turned off of toward the small lot at the side of the building.

She parked in the staff section of the lot and found her ID badge.

As she headed toward the building, she saw Ray Roberson seated in the facility’s bus with his feet up on the dash while he scanned the newspaper. An older black man, heavyset with graying hair and dentures that he liked to move around in his mouth when he was cogitating on a problem, Ray had been a school bus driver back in the day. In fact, Maggie had ridden his bus when she went to St. Stanley Elementary. When Ray had retired, he’d bought one of the old school buses that was about to be retired as well.
Now he lived at Spring Gardens, rent free, in return for being the facility’s on-call bus driver.

Maggie stopped by the open door of the bus and called, “Hi, Mr. Ray.”

“Well, hello, Miss Maggie,” he said as he lowered the paper. “I didn’t think you worked today.”

“I don’t,” she said. “But I thought I’d pop on over. I have a bit of a dilemma, you see.”

“Do tell,” he said as he shuffled his dentures from side to side.

“I promised Hugh Simpson that eighteen people would come by the Frosty for ice cream, or he’s going to fire Max Button,” she said.

“Might be good for the boy,” Ray said. “He’s too smart to stay there.”

“Agreed, but since I’m the one who got him in trouble for abandoning his post, I don’t want him fired on my account.”

“Now where could you find eighteen ice cream eaters?” Ray asked. “I’m betting the bingo hall might offer supply to your demand.”

“That is an excellent suggestion, Mr. Ray,” she said. “Are you feeling up for a drive, by any chance?”

“I could be persuaded.”

“Bus driver gets a freebie,” she said.

“A cone or a sundae?” he asked.

“Sundae, for sure,” she said.

“With whipped cream and sprinkles?”

“And a cherry.”

“I don’t like cherries,” he said.

“No cherry, then,” she said.

“Mmm, I guess I could go for a sundae.”

“Excellent,” Maggie said. “Prep the bus. They’ll be out in five.”

Maggie entered the side door to the building and headed over to the recreation room. There was an intense game of bingo going on.

As Paula Duwalter called out, “B1,” Jerry and Dennis Applebaum looked like they were about to come to blows. Paula did not look particularly fazed by this, as the two brothers came to blows over every competition that the seniors had.

Maggie worked her way over to the table where the two men were sitting with teeth bared, hunched over their boards waiting for the next number to be called.

“Hurry up!” Jerry barked. “A man could die waiting for you to get to the next number.”

“If we’re lucky,” Dennis snapped.

Maggie peeked at their bingo cards. They only had a few spaces to go. Someone was going to win soon. Paula called out three more numbers, and Jerry shot up from the table, yelling, “Bingo!”

In his tank top with his gray chest hair poking out over the neckband, plaid shorts and loafers with black socks, Jerry was the epitome of old-man chic.

Wearing similar attire, except with striped shorts, Dennis popped out of his seat to look at his brother’s bingo card.

“He cheated!” Dennis shouted. “I challenge that bingo.”

Paula let out a put-upon sigh. Maggie suspected it was because she was forced to do this for every game. The rest of the seniors in the room looked like they couldn’t give two hoots who had won the bingo. This was just the opening Maggie needed.

“You know, Dennis,” she said. “If Jerry won this bingo round, that would be good for you.”

“How do you figure?” he asked. “I don’t see how his cheating is doing me any good.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Jerry argued. He cracked his knuckles, and Maggie was afraid he’d get himself sedated before her plan was in motion.

“It’s just that I saw the Spring Gardens bus out front, and it looked to me like it was headed to the Frosty Freeze, so if Jerry here is busy picking out his bingo prize, you would score the front seat, Dennis.”

The two brothers stared at each other for a heartbeat, and then they both scrambled for the door, throwing elbows and shoving each other.

“Misters Applebaum!” Paula hollered after them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“A trip to the Frosty Freeze,” Maggie said. “I heard the bus driver say they were going.”

Moving as one, the rest of the seniors hustled up from their tables and hurried to the door. There was a little bit of a jam-up, but Dennis gave Jerry a wet willy by licking his index finger and sticking it in his brother’s ear.
Ew!

As Jerry jumped back, all of the seniors stampeded past him on their way to the front door.

“What the heck was that all about?” Paula asked.

“Ice cream at the Frosty Freeze,” Maggie said.

“We don’t have a trip planned for today,” she said. “At least I don’t think so.”

This was the beauty of Paula Duwalter. She was a former Miss Virginia, by about thirty years, but she still walked
the walk and talked the talk, meaning she wasn’t the sharpest tack on the bulletin board.

“Really? I saw Ray getting the bus ready,” Maggie said.

“Huh, imagine that,” Paula said. “Hey, is Dr. Franklin in today?”

“No, why?” Maggie asked. She was itching to get on her way, but she knew Paula, and if she didn’t stop and listen, Paula would get all huffy, and that never boded well for anyone.

“I’ve got this twinge in my neck,” Paula said. “Whenever I sleep on my right side, I wake up all tight.”

Maggie glanced down the corridor. The seniors were almost at the front. Oh dear, she really didn’t have time for Paula’s hypochondria right now.

“I know how to fix that,” she said.

“Really?” Paula asked. “Because I don’t want any pills. One of the contestants in the Miss America pageant with me was addicted to diet pills. I won’t take pills.”

Somehow, Paula always managed to work her Miss America–contender status into every conversation. It was a gift, truly.

“There are no pills. It’s very simple,” Maggie said. She was losing sight of the oldsters. Time to go. “If sleeping on your right side hurts, then don’t sleep on your right side.”

She left the room with Paula frowning after her. Well, what did she expect when she asked the person in charge of billing for medical advice? It was like the old joke, “Doc, it hurts when I bend my elbow like this.” And the doc says, “Then don’t bend your elbow like that.”

She hustled down the corridor to the front of the building.
Ray was holding up his arms, trying to wave off the incoming tide of seniors that was headed for the bus. They plowed right over him in their orthopedic shoes.

Maggie took a quick head count as they climbed in: eighteen seniors, plus Ray. Excellent.

“Thanks, Mr. Ray,” Maggie smiled. “You’re really doing me a solid here.”

“Huh,” he said. “At least with ice cream, there won’t be any runners, not like at the mall.”

Maggie nodded. Ice cream would keep the oldsters subdued. One of the many reasons the facility liked Ray for their driver was that he had a knack for keeping tabs on the seniors, especially the runners, the ones who tried to make a break for it and go home.

“The things I do for free ice cream.” He glanced over his shoulder at the rowdy group. “Pipe down, or we’re not going.”

“Come on, everyone, let’s sing,” Dotty, a former cruise ship director, ordered.

There were resistant grunts and groans, but she ignored them and, with her platinum wig bouncing on her head and her fake eyelashes all aflutter, she sang in a high, clear soprano, “One hundred bottles of Ensure on the wall, one hundred bottles of Ensure, you take one down and pass it around, ninety-nine…”

Her voice trailed off as Ray pulled the doors shut and punched the gas. The bus bounced its way out of the parking lot toward the Frosty Freeze.

Maggie pulled out her cell phone and called Max. She had to give him a heads-up that Ray got a freebie. Now Hugh would have his eighteen, Max’s job would be secure, and
the seniors would be happy. Now she could go over to Ginger’s office and catch her up on what was happening.

Max sounded impressed when she told him to expect the bus. Then they agreed to meet at Claire’s later in the day to discuss their strategy, should Claire get called in by the sheriff again.

Maggie hopped into her car and drove to Ginger’s house. She lived in one of the historic houses on the town green. It had been a fixer-upper when she and Roger had bought it twenty years ago, and it had come a long way since, but with four teenage boys living in it, it had an air of frat house that could not be denied.

Ginger had converted the stand-alone garage into an office for her accounting business. It worked perfectly, except for when her boys were home and started to play basketball, using the hoop attached to her office, which was why she stuck primarily to morning hours.

Maggie parked in the drive and hurried to the side door. It was unlocked, so she popped her head in and found Ginger working on her computer. She waved and waited for Ginger to stop typing before she spoke.

“Okay, I’m saved and good,” Ginger said. “Now what the heck is going on? How’s Claire?”

“She’s been better,” Maggie said.

“Did Sam arrest her?” Ginger asked.

“No, but I’m worried that he will,” Maggie said.

“But why would he?” Ginger asked. “So what if she knew the man five years ago? It doesn’t make her the killer. I mean, why would she kill him?”

Maggie shrugged. She had been kicked out of the interview room, so she was left not knowing very much.

“That’s what we’ll have to ask her,” Maggie said.

“So, what’s the plan?” Ginger asked.

“I’m going to stop by More than Meats to see Joanne and get her up to speed, and then we’ll have an emergency meeting of the Good Buy Girls tonight and see what we can do to help Claire.”

“Does she want our help?” Ginger asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Maggie,” Ginger began, and then paused as if choosing her words carefully. “Not everyone is like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maggie asked, wondering if she should start feeling offended.

“Simply that you are not one for secrets,” Ginger said. “You are very open about your life and your feelings. Claire isn’t like that. Claire is very private. She may not want the rest of us mucking around in her business.”

“If Claire ever needed her friends, it’s now,” Maggie said. “I say we have the meeting, and if she wants us to back off, we will, but we’ll offer her our support first.”

Ginger nodded. “I guess that would be okay.”

Maggie studied her hands. She found it amazing that the person who knew her better than anyone else on the planet thought she wore her heart on her sleeve and had no secrets. She wondered if she should tell Ginger about her romance-gone-wrong with Sam Collins. She opened her mouth to begin, but then found she couldn’t say a word.

Somehow, talking about it would bring it all back, even more than having him here in St. Stanley again, if that was possible, and she was having a hard enough time with that. If anyone knew that they had once been a couple, she feared it would make dealing with him even worse.

“So, seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up,” Maggie said.

“I’ll be ready,” Ginger said.

“Bye.” Maggie rose and headed for the door. She always said good-bye first, so that Ginger could have the last word.

“Bye,” Ginger called after her, and Maggie smiled.

Since Maggie was already in the center of town, it was a short drive from the residential section of old, historic homes, around the town square, to the shops that lined Main Street. More than Meats, a combination deli and butcher shop perched on Main Street near First Street, was nestled between the Perk Up and the Enchanted Florist.

Maggie parked on First Street and walked back around the corner, pausing to admire the bucket of blossoms outside the florist, before heading into the deli. Thankfully, they were in the middle of the afternoon lull. Joanne was wearing her usual bright yellow apron while she hustled around the tables refilling the sugar bowls and wiping down any crumbs left from the lunch crush.

“Hi, Joanne,” Maggie called as the door shut behind her.

“Maggie, how’s Claire?” Joanne asked, dropping her cloth and reaching out to take Maggie’s hands in hers. “Ginger said she was taken in for questioning. Is she all right? I texted her, but she hasn’t gotten back to me.”