Plum Deadly (11 page)

Despite the other two people in the room, Maggie wanted to be sure that Stan understood she wasn’t having an affair with Lou. She took a bite of pie and washed it down with a gulp of coffee.

“I didn’t know about Lou and his wife having problems. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in the last six weeks since he fired me. He appeared out of nowhere at the pie shop to tell me that he knew I was innocent and that he knew who was guilty of stealing that money. He left right after he told me. A whole shop full of people can testify to that, if necessary.”

Stan sipped his coffee, made a face, and replaced the cup on the saucer. “I wish he’d confided his plans to me before impetuously jumping on a plane and coming here. He told me about the press conference. I don’t know what he hoped to gain by it. The matter was closed, as far as the bank was concerned.”

“Maybe he was looking for justice,” she suggested. “Maybe the culprit was someone close to him, someone he was afraid of. Do you have any idea who Lou was talking about, Mr. Isleb?” Her tone implied what her words didn’t come right out and say.

“Not at all,” Isleb said. “I’m not convinced Lou knew what he was talking about, Ms. Grady. It’s possible his findings were flawed because he was so eager to prove you were
innocent. Anyone could have been blamed to take your place.”

“Or I could’ve been blamed to take anyone else’s place.” She smiled at him. “Even yours, Mr. Isleb.”

There was an awkward silence between them as they were all seated in the living room with their cups.

Maggie understood now why Stan had come to visit. No doubt he’d say something to the police about his belief that she was having an affair with Lou. That news outweighed the good news about the email that added to the evidence that she was innocent. It potentially gave her two reasons to have killed Lou.

Thinking about it made Maggie uneasy. She kept her mouth shut, worried that the old phrase the police used on TV shows could apply—whatever she said could be used against her.

Aunt Clara had no problem talking to Stan. She rattled on about the pie shop and teaching Maggie how to make piecrust. She asked about Stan’s children and grandchildren and took an interest in Ron’s dating problems. If she felt awkward at all with them, Maggie couldn’t tell.

Usually, Maggie was like her aunt. She could talk to anyone about anything. It was something that had made her good at her job. She’d met and spoken to thousands of people in her dealings for the bank. It seemed she’d left that skill behind, at least for the moment.

“What do you think happened to my brother-in-law, Mrs. Lowder?” Stan asked. “Were you at the pie shop the day he came to call on your niece?”

Aunt Clara shrugged her thin shoulders. “I don’t know.
It looked like he’d passed out on the back stairs at the pie shop. I thought at first he’d had a heart attack or something. Someone mentioned poison. I hope that isn’t true.”

“So you were there? You saw your niece with Lou?” Stan persisted.

“Yes, I was there that day. Maggie was very excited to see him,” Aunt Clara added. “It’s ridiculous for anyone to think she could be involved in this. The police have shut down my pie shop to check everything. It’s very disturbing. Not at all good for my reputation.”

Stan sipped his coffee again before abruptly getting to his feet. “I appreciate you speaking with me, Ms. Grady, Mrs. Lowder. I’ll be here until this matter is settled. Needless to say, my wife is very determined to find out what happened to her brother. We’ll be deeply involved with the investigation and may even offer a reward for information. Ron will give you our numbers in case something else occurs. Good day.”

The younger man hurriedly gave Maggie and Aunt Clara business cards from their hotel. He’d neatly printed Stan’s contact info on them.

Maggie showed the two men to the front door and watched as they walked out to the silver Lexus. Ron held the back door open for Stan then climbed into the driver’s seat and slowly moved away from the curb.

It was probably as close as Stan could get to a limo—his usual mode of transportation—on the spur of the moment.

“You know, I don’t really think that man cared that his brother-in-law is dead,” Aunt Clara said. “His wife might be grief stricken, but he isn’t.”

“What makes you say that?” Maggie was surprised by her condemnation.

“I don’t know. Gut instinct, I guess. I’ve got a nose for people. That’s what your uncle always said.”

“I didn’t even realize Lou had a sister or that she was married to Stan. I didn’t even think about Lou’s family and how this affects them. I guess I’ve been so busy feeling sorry for myself, I didn’t have time to think about anyone else.” Maggie closed the front door.

“Come away, honey,” Aunt Clara said. “You’ve been through a lot yourself at the hands of these people. Let’s bake that crust and make the crumb topping before you go put on something pretty and meet Ryan.”

While the piecrust baked, Aunt Clara showed Maggie how to mix flour, butter, sugar, and cinnamon to make a crumb topping for the pie. They sprinkled it over the apples after putting them into the pie shell.

“Now, you go up and change while I put this in for a few minutes. Then you can take it with you to the newspaper office. Nothing impresses a man like knowing a woman is a good cook.”

Maggie smiled. “I think there may be a few other things that impress men more.”

“Those things might catch a man’s eye,” Aunt Clara said knowingly. “They don’t stay with him. Although, I’d say you’ve got what it takes to catch a man’s eye too.”

“Maybe I should put off this lunch with Ryan.” Maggie suddenly had cold feet. “Just until I can wash some of my mother’s old things. He’s going to think I only have jeans and T-shirts. And he’d be mostly right.”

“About that, I knew you’d have to sort through those old things. They’ll have to be cleaned and such. I went out yesterday when you were wearing Uncle Fred’s old sports coat and picked up a little something for you. I hung it on the bathroom door this morning.”

“Aunt Clara, you shouldn’t have done that. Money is tight and I don’t know when I can pay you back.”

“Never mind. Go and change. We’ll work on your mother’s clothes later.”

Maggie kissed and hugged her. “You’re the best.”

Aunt Clara had excellent taste in clothes. Maggie loved the classic longer skirt and tailored shirt she’d found. It had tiny blue flowers in it with green leaves almost exactly the color of her eyes. She’d also bought a pair of matching green pumps that completed the outfit.

Maggie spun around in the full-length mirror that had been mounted on the back of her bedroom door when she was about fifteen. She felt a little more lighthearted and pretty, as Aunt Clara had said. Maybe she was up to having lunch with Ryan after all.

After going downstairs and twirling around for Aunt Clara, she took the warm packaged pie and left the house with a sense of confidence for the first time in weeks. Maybe the pie wouldn’t win Ryan over, but it smelled delicious. On the other hand, with the suddenly cheerful mood she was in, anything was possible.

Maggie had noticed the address of the newspaper office in the masthead last night, after reading two or three
Durham Weekly
newspapers between looking at her mother’s clothes.

Ryan was a good writer. He seemed to have a knack for getting to the heart of the story. He didn’t only skim the edges, as he’d said. He looked for all the nuances that electronic media didn’t have time for. It seemed to be paying off for him—his paper was still around even though many others had folded.

The newspaper office was located a few blocks from the pie shop. It was housed in an older building that was clean and well kept even though it showed its age. The green vinyl siding was something not seen much anymore on newer buildings.

Always looking at the financial side, Maggie imagined the newspaper had been here for decades. The building was probably paid for, like the pie shop. And like the pie shop, there probably wasn’t much money left over after expenses to do much in the way of upgrades.

Ryan’s Honda was out in front. She smiled as a little zing of excitement shot through her. It was wonderful to finally look forward to something. It was a balm for her heart after everything that had happened.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and smiled as she walked through the door.

“You know as well as I do that you shouldn’t be dating the woman.” An older man wearing a tweed coat with brown patches on the elbows was shouting at Ryan.

Maggie saw the family resemblance at once. This had to be Ryan’s father.

“There’s no law against going to lunch with someone because she’s a person of interest in a murder investigation,” Ryan yelled back.

The two men were facing each other in a large outer office filled with bundles of newspapers, computers, and a few old typewriters. The last seemed to be gathering dust in the corners. There were also awards posted liberally on all the walls.

The whole space looked like Maggie would have expected. There was even the strong smell of ink in the air. She didn’t see any printing machines. She supposed those were in the back.

“In my day, only second-rate reporters dated women to chat them up for information,” Ryan’s father continued. “I never wrote about someone I was dating.”

“You never dated anyone after you and Mom started the paper,” his son reminded him.

“It can lead to all manner of difficulties,” his father continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Surely you can see that?”

“Dad—”

“I’m telling you, son, you should dump her now before you drag down the reputation your mother and I built up for forty years.”

“Just back off, Dad. You don’t know what you’re talking about and you’re getting too upset over a simple lunch. Maggie Grady is an interesting woman, whether she murdered someone or not.”

Maggie realized she must have gasped or made some other sound that gave her away. What did they say about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good about themselves?

Both men turned and stared at her.

Before either of them could speak, Maggie fled back out the door and into the blinding sunshine. She ran right into someone standing on the sidewalk and dropped the warm apple pie.

“Good to see you again.” Frank caught her by the arm, ignoring the white pie box on the ground. “I’d like you to take a little ride to the station with me.”

F
rank brought two
Styrofoam cups of coffee into the small, drab room where Maggie waited. The table and two chairs barely fit into the tiny space.

She’d had to maneuver between the wall and the side of the table to get into the seat that faced the door. She wanted to be able to see what was coming at her. She was tired of being blindsided by so many recent events.

Frank really hadn’t said anything useful on the drive to the police station. It was all about the weather and the Duke Blue Devil basketball team’s winning streak. Maggie knew the big questions were waiting for her at the station.

She had said no when Frank asked her if she wanted to have an attorney present. He’d assured her that she wasn’t being arrested, or even accused of anything. He had some questions he wanted her to answer about new evidence that had come to him.

She was innocent. She didn’t need an attorney and she trusted Frank, mostly because Ryan had said he was a good man. She knew she could convince Frank that she wasn’t part of Lou’s death.

Something else must have happened, as Ryan had predicted, so Frank felt justified bringing her in for questioning. If Maggie had to make an educated guess, she’d say it was Stan Isleb. No doubt he’d come to convince Frank that she was guilty because people thought she and Lou were having an affair.

Just wait until Frank hears what I have to say about you, Stan!

Maggie thought about what she’d witnessed at the newspaper office. Obviously Ryan’s father didn’t like the idea of them being together. She didn’t think Ryan had kissed her, or wanted to spend time with her, just for a story. She’d already poured her heart out to him.

Maybe this was why Ryan and his father didn’t get along very well. She’d sensed it last night when Ryan was talking about him.

Her reaction to overhearing the conversation had been a stupid, knee-jerk one. She was on edge right now, that’s all. Of course Ryan wasn’t having lunch with her to get his story. She’d wasted a perfectly good pie on the sidewalk because she felt stupid for a minute.

Her mind kept wandering. Where was Frank? This interview
was starting to seem like something from a bad spy movie.

At least Aunt Clara had expected her to be out for a while. She couldn’t call and tell her this had happened—Frank still had her cell phone. It was probably just as well. She didn’t want to worry her.

Frank finally came back into the room. “It’s not as good as the coffee at the pie shop.” He put a cup in front of her. “But it’s what we’ve got and it’s free.”

“You’ve been to the pie shop?”

“Sure. I grew up here and went to Duke. Who hasn’t been to Pie in the Sky?”