A Deal to Die For (17 page)

“I knew it,” she snapped. She walked up the steps and stopped beside him. “I knew
you were going to tease me about that.”

“About what?” he asked. He looked the picture of innocence as Maggie strode past him
through the door.

“You know very well what,” she said. “About Pete asking me out just like you said
he was going to. You were teasing me about it the day we found…”

Maggie’s voice broke off as she entered the parlor where the others were waiting.
She had been about to say “the day we found Vera Madison’s body,” but thankfully she
had gotten a latent blast of good sense and shut her mouth.

“Never mind,” she said, and went to sit on the other side of Ginger.

Sam looked at her as if he would have liked to continue their conversation, but Courtney
sidled over to him and looped her arm through his.

“Thank you for being here to support me during this
trying time,” she said. She gazed at him through what Maggie suspected were very long,
very lush, very fake eyelashes.

Ginger made a strangled noise in her throat but didn’t say anything.

Maggie glanced over at Bianca, and asked, “Do you still want Molly to work for you?”

Bianca glanced nervously at her half sister but then sat up a little straighter, and
said, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“She can’t,” Courtney said. “I fired her.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing about that,” Maggie said. She gestured at Molly to open her
handbag and take out the papers Max had drawn up. “Since Molly wasn’t in your employ,
she wasn’t your employee to fire.”

“But this is my house,” Courtney said. “And I get to say who works in my house.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” Ginger said. “You have only filed a motion; you haven’t been granted
the estate yet.”

Courtney let go of Sam and stomped her foot in consternation. “I won’t have her in
my home.”

“Until it’s yours, you can’t fire her,” Maggie said. “Unless, of course, you’d like
her to go ahead and file this wrongful termination lawsuit against you. That probably
won’t help you when you try to prove that this estate is yours. Hmm, yeah, I’m thinking
any judge who hears you started firing employees before you were the legal owner of
the estate might see that as a tad grasping and greedy.”

Molly held up the paperwork, and Courtney clenched her teeth, looking like she was
forcing back a few howls of outrage.

“Looks like you’re rehired, Molly,” Sam said. Maggie noted that he sounded pleased.
“And I expect Courtney will do nothing to impede your work in the household.”

The warning in his voice was unmistakable. Courtney tossed her hair and dropped his
arm.

“Do not go anywhere near my rooms,” Courtney ordered as Molly rose to go and see about
her duties. “And if I’m in a room, you stay out of it. Understood?”

“With pleasure,” Molly said. “I’ll go see to the kitchen, Bianca, yes?”

Bianca smiled gratefully and nodded.

“Fine, you can have your precious Molly back, but I still want
her
incarcerated for stealing my things,” Courtney said and she pointed at Maggie.

“About that: This should clear that up.” Maggie opened her purse and pulled out a
contract paper and a key. She handed them to Bianca.

“I don’t understand,” Bianca said.

“It’s the key to a storage unit out at Drew Constantine’s place,” Maggie said. “All
of your belongings are out there.”

“What?” Courtney shrieked. “How dare you?”

“Actually, I had to,” Maggie said, trying to make her voice sound as innocent as possible.
“You see, I’m painting my shop, and I didn’t want to risk any of the items getting
damaged with paint splatters, so I moved them to a storage facility for you.”

“With your name on it, I suppose?” Courtney asked. Her chest was heaving as she fought
to control her temper.

“No, not my name,” Maggie said.

Bianca was scanning the papers, but she only got a glance at them before Courtney
stormed across the room and snatched them out of her hands.

“Her name? You put her name on it?” Courtney asked as she flung the papers back into
Bianca’s lap.

“Well, I was holding the items for Bianca,” Maggie said. “So, it seemed appropriate.”

Courtney stared at Maggie as if she would happily choke her, and Maggie wondered if
it was only Sam’s presence that kept her from doing so.

“Why, you b—” Courtney began but Sam cut her off by clearing his throat.

“This certainly clears things up, doesn’t it?” he asked. “How about I escort you two
ladies out?”

He was slowly backing his way toward the door, and Maggie couldn’t blame him. Courtney
looked positively volcanic. He waved his hand for Ginger and Maggie to join him, and
they rose from their seats and followed.

Sensing she was about to be abandoned, Bianca got up, too, and said, “I think I’ll
just go and check on Molly. You know, see how she’s settling in.”

Bianca shot down the hallway, clutching her papers and the key to the storage unit
like a mouse with a coveted piece of cheese.

The rest of them beat it out the front door, not slowing down until they had reached
their cars.

“Maggie,” Sam called over the roof of his car. “Nice power play.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s not praise at my quick thinking and
ingenuity, is it?”

“It is,” he said. “But I’ll want to discuss it with you at the station—”

The front door opened, and out stomped Courtney Madison, cutting off whatever Sam
had been about to say.

“Later!” he added as he ducked into his car and fired up the engine.

Courtney turned and glowered at Maggie and Ginger, so they scurried into Maggie’s
car and fell in behind Sam as he zipped down the driveway to the main road.

“Well, that went well, don’t you think?” Maggie asked.

Ginger blew out a breath and busted out with a relieved laugh that turned into a chuckle.
Maggie started to laugh as well. They were still chuckling when Maggie pulled up in
front of Ginger’s garage-turned-office and stopped.

“Are you going to stop at the station now?” Ginger asked as she climbed out of the
car.

“No, I’m going to stop by and visit Max first,” Maggie said. “I didn’t get to talk
to him about Molly’s situation, and I want to make sure he understands what we’re
dealing with.”

“Good plan,” Ginger said. “I have a feeling Courtney Madison could skewer Max on one
of her spiky-heeled shoes if he doesn’t have his guard up.”

“Scary thought,” Maggie said with a shudder. She drove off with a wave. It was just
past ten o’clock in the morning, and she knew that, with the Frosty Freeze closed
for the summer, Max was making up his income by working as a pizza deliveryman for
A Slice of Heaven, the local pizza joint in town.

Maggie drove around the green and parked across the street from the restaurant. She
could see Max’s beat-up Ford Escort with the peeling maroon paint and mismatched tires;
it was riding on a spare and was parked in the delivery-only parking spot.

The glass door chimed when Maggie pulled it open and stepped inside. The restaurant
was empty, as it wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, but the smell of pizza in the brick oven
made Maggie’s mouth begin to water.

Max was sitting at a table in the corner with a couple of crusts on a plate and beside
an empty liter bottle of Mountain Dew.

He had three oversize books open, all of which featured paintings from Italian masters.

“Hi, Max,” she said when she entered. “How goes the dissertation?”

“Uh?” He looked up from his work, and his eyes looked fuzzy with the deep thoughts
that were running through his brain. Maggie gave him a moment to center himself so
he didn’t lose any pertinent information.

“Maxwell,” a woman called his name from the kitchen. “We have a delivery for you.”

“Coming, Mrs. Bellini,” he said. Then he turned to Maggie, and said, “So, did it work—the
wrongful termination papers?”

“Oh yeah,” Maggie said. “Molly’s got her job back, at least until a judge rules on
Courtney’s bid to take possession of the estate as Buzz Madison’s oldest child.”

“Good,” Max said.

“But I wanted to warn you about Courtney Madison,” she said. “She’s crafty. I wouldn’t
put it past her to find out who you are and try to charm you.”

“Charm me?” Max asked, as if he couldn’t even imagine such a thing.

“Maxwell!” Mrs. Bellini called him.

“Coming!” He left his books where they were and strode over to the counter, where
Mrs. Bellini handed him a large, flat, white box and a smaller carryout container.

“Maggie, how are you?” Mrs. Bellini asked. She was from Florence, Italy, and had lived
in St. Stanley for almost ten years. Her husband worked in the kitchen while she worked
the front counter. They made good pizza, but their pasta was a showstopper.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Bellini. How are you?” Maggie asked.

“Good, good,” Mrs. Bellini said. “You know we put candles on the tables in the evening,
and it makes it a very nice atmosphere in here.”

Maggie glanced around at the small tables and figured it would definitely be an intimate
setting given the lack of space.

“I’ll bet it’s lovely,” Maggie said.

“It’d be a good place for your date to take you, no?” Mrs. Bellini asked. “We could
play the soft music and fix a nice, romantic dinner.”

Maggie felt her face grow warm. How did Mrs. Bellini know about her date? Oh, good
grief. Had Sam blabbed to everyone? Because he was the only one beside Pete and her
who knew. That tore it. She was going to choke him the next time she saw him.

“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Bellini mistook Maggie’s look of alarm for a look of happy embarrassment.
“You tell Pete. We’ll make it nice.”

Max took one look at Maggie’s face and quickly asked Mrs. Bellini, “So, where am I
going with this?”

“Large extra cheese and twenty wings,” she said. “Same as always. It’s for Clay over
at the post office.”

“On it,” Max said. He scooped up the pie, and said to Maggie, “This is walkable. Want
to come with?”

“Sure,” she said. “Bye, Mrs. Bellini.”

“Don’t forget,” Mrs. Bellini called after her. “Romantic!”

Maggie fell into step beside Max. She knew she must look as horrified as she felt.

He waited until they were half a block away before he asked, “A date, huh?”

Maggie sighed. “With Pete Daniels—it’s just as friends.”

“Italian food and candles—I don’t generally eat with my friends under those types
of conditions, but yeah, sure, I could see where you might.”

“Are you mocking me?” Maggie asked.

“Just a little,” he said.

Maggie shook her head. Maxwell Button, boy genius—well she supposed she could call
him
man
genius now that he was within months of being legally able to pound back a beer with
the big boys.

“It
is
just as friends.” She felt the need to reiterate her comment.

“Did he say that?” Max asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Did he say that while you were trying to come up with a polite way to decline?” he
asked.

He turned the corner onto the small side street that housed the post office, and Maggie
followed.

“No. Yes. Maybe,” she admitted. “I don’t know. He caught me off guard.”

“Then he may say it’s just as friends, but it isn’t just friends for him,” he said.

Maggie sighed. Deep down she knew that, had always known that, but it was just easier
not to go there.

“How did you get so smart about this stuff?” she asked him as he pulled open the door
to the post office. She held it open while he walked in, and she followed.

“I am a student of the human condition,” he said. “I spend a lot of time watching
people.”

“You might consider going out on a date yourself,” Maggie said. “You know, and get
a little fieldwork done.”

Max gave her a shocked look, as if she had blasphemed in a house of worship. He walked
over to the counter and tapped the squatty silver bell, making it ring.

Clay Houseman appeared in the back door, carrying exact change. Since he ordered the
exact same thing every Tuesday, it didn’t require any guesswork.

“She’s right, you know,” Clay said.

Clay had a head of thick silver hair and a goatee. He carried a noticeable amount
of middle-age paunch around his belly but not so much that it looked as if he had
his own flotation device strapped on.

“Best thing I ever did was marry my high school sweetheart. Betty and I are celebrating
thirty-five years together next month.”

“That’s great,” Max said with a nervous swallow, as if even the thought of marriage
made him get the pre-vomit drool going.

“Congratulations, Clay,” Maggie said. “And tell Betty I said so, too.”

Clay gave her a sad little smile. “You and Charlie would have made it, too. Charlie
was crazy about you.”

“Thanks, Clay,” Maggie said. She turned to find that Max was already halfway out the
door, and she hurried to catch him.

“What’s the rush?” she asked.

“Too much relationship talk,” Max said. “I don’t like that stuff. It makes me uncomfortable.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you when people talk
about your late husband?”

“Bother me how?” she asked.

“You know, like what could have or should have been?” he asked. “Doesn’t it make you
sad?”

“It did at first,” Maggie said. “But then people stopped talking about it, and that
made me even sadder. But time passes, and you adjust. You have to remember that was
seventeen years ago. A part of me will always wonder what could have been, but I can’t
live my life like that—
wondering.”

Max nodded as if he understood. He gestured to a vacant bench by the road. “I should
have a few minutes before
another delivery comes up. No one orders as early as Clay. If you’ve got a minute,
I’d like to talk about Doc.”

“Okay, sure,” Maggie said, relieved to leave the relationship talk behind.

“I have to be honest, Maggie,” Max said. “I didn’t get much information out of him
the other day.”