Plum Deadly (17 page)

“Has anyone considered that Lou Goldberg could have been collateral damage in the property fight?” Frank stared thoughtfully after the black car’s taillights.

“I did.” Aunt Clara perked right up when Mann was gone. “Would you like to come in and have some dinner so we can talk? I can hear quite well, Detective. No reason to mutter at Maggie.”

Frank took Aunt Clara up on her invitation to eat with them. He sent the patrol car away and even made polite conversation through their dinner of franks and beans.

Maggie was on edge the whole time. Even though he’d done them a favor by getting rid of Albert Mann, she was still wary of Frank.

He hadn’t been overly nasty to her when he’d questioned her at the police station, but he’d still lied to try and get her to confess. That didn’t make for pleasant conversation on her part.

She waited through the entire meal for him to bring up something about the murder investigation. He never mentioned it—not even in a witty way. His manner was calm and pleasant with no surprises.

Maggie wasn’t quite ready to accept him as a friend. She still had the feeling he was waiting for her to make a mistake or say the wrong thing.

He was only doing his job, she supposed. Some of his tactics struck her as underhanded, even though Ryan had assured her that all police officers did the same thing. They were single-minded, interested in solving the case.

Instead of talking about crime, they talked about Durham and their individual memories of growing up there and attending Duke University. The old school had changed a great deal between when Aunt Clara had gone there and when Maggie and Frank had. Maggie guessed he must be in his midforties.

She thought about telling him she’d seen Mark in the car with Mann. She wasn’t sure he’d understand the connection. She could have explained, but she wasn’t prepared to bring up the case, not when the conversation was so nice without it.

Instead, she waited impatiently for him to leave so she could tell Aunt Clara about Mark. She wanted to call Ryan and let him know too. Her anger and sense of betrayal needed to be vented. Polite conversation with Frank wasn’t doing it.

Was the paper finished yet? She looked at the wall clock. It was after eight. She wasn’t sure when it was safe to call Ryan. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be disturbed until the paper was done. How long did it take to put out a newspaper? Would he call her when he was ready to go home?

After dinner Aunt Clara offered them coffee and pie. They ate Popular Peach pie in the living room and listened to music. Aunt Clara enjoyed classical music—especially piano concertos.

Frank told them that he enjoyed jazz and tried to get
down to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for the Duck Jazz Festival in October every year.

Maggie reluctantly admitted to a love of old rock and roll. Frank leaned that way too. They found that they both liked a few of the same bands—the Byrds, the Turtles, and the Monkees. Frank had seen the Monkees in concert once. They ended up with plenty to talk about.

At nine, Frank finally said he should be going. He’d already explained that he still had to pick up his two children from his mother-in-law’s house that night. His wife was out of town with friends, just as Ryan had said.

Aunt Clara thanked him for a lovely evening, gave him a slice of peach pie, and told Maggie to walk him to the door. She winked at Maggie then began cleaning up.

Her aunt obviously hadn’t understood that Frank was married. The wink had always been their signal that her aunt thought there was a marriageable man with her. Maggie understood it with Ryan, but Frank was off the market!

Maggie walked with him to the front door and opened it, glad Frank was leaving so she could relax. While the evening hadn’t ended up being as bad as she’d imagined it would be, she was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. She glanced outside. The reporters hadn’t returned.

“I didn’t want to distress your aunt,” Frank said on his way out, “but something could be up with this Mann person. I’ll check into it tomorrow. You two watch your backs. And call me if anything out of the ordinary happens.”

“What about his friend the mayor? You don’t think he’ll give you a hard time for what you said to him tonight?”

“If I had a dollar for everyone who said they were personal
friends with the mayor or the governor, I’d be rich. The law is the law, in my book anyway. I don’t care how rich or well connected a person is. I can lock them up the same.” Frank shrugged. “The money part comes in after that. I can lock them up. That doesn’t mean they stay there.”

Maggie smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for a nice, adult evening. It’s hard when my wife is out of town. I’m not as good with the kids as I’d like to be. The pie was fantastic, as always. I don’t have anything against the two of you, you know. Don’t hold it against me that the pie shop was closed. I was doing my job.”

“Of course you were.”

He studied her face in the dim foyer light. “Look, I know you’ve been through a rough time and I’m sorry about that. A man you knew was killed. We have to explore all avenues. I’m sure you want us to do our best to find your friend’s killer.”

“I understand.” She wasn’t sure she did understand, but she didn’t want to debate it anymore with him that night. She no longer felt like he was serious about pursuing her for Lou’s murder. That was enough for her. “Good night, Frank.”

“Good night, Maggie.”

She closed the door firmly behind him and locked up. She went back to the kitchen and helped Aunt Clara wash and dry the dishes then locked the back door. She’d never leave either door unlocked again, even to go upstairs.

“I think Frank is a very nice man and a good policeman,” Aunt Clara said. “He’s been doing his job, trying to find out who killed your friend.”

“At my expense sometimes,” Maggie muttered.

“It’s nothing personal. He has to cross everyone who could be involved off of his suspect list. You need to watch more crime shows on TV. I understand the process perfectly.”

Maggie laughed at that. “Maybe you’re right. He didn’t mention looking for the person who broke in here and stole my laptop. I should’ve asked him about that.”

“I’m sure he’s looking into that too. There are only so many hours in the day.” Aunt Clara folded a clean tea towel. “Let’s not talk about that anymore tonight. I like my murder mysteries to stay on television. This one is hitting a little too close to home.”

“Okay.” Maggie held her tongue about Mark being with Albert Mann. It was bad enough her aunt was involved in all of this. She didn’t want to give her nightmares about not being able to trust her customers.

“You did very well today making piecrust,” Aunt Clara said. “I was so proud. Did you have a piece of one of the pies you made?”

“No. I didn’t really have time to. Was it terrible?”

Aunt Clara smiled and hugged her niece. “Not at all. It was very good.”

“I know it’s not up to your standards.”

“I’ve been making piecrust for a long time. You’ll get better as you continue making crust. It takes practice, like anything else.”

“Thanks.” Maggie put her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “It’s something new for me. I’m really good with the microwave.”

“I think you’re going to be as good with the oven. Your mother would’ve been very proud of you today too.”

“I appreciate that, Aunt Clara. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

They both went upstairs, turning off lights as they went. Maggie was tired, but not sleepy. She stayed up with her lamp on looking at her mother’s possessions again.

Tomorrow she’d take the clothes to the dry cleaners a block up from the pie shop in the afternoon when it got slow. The other clothes she’d wash. It was exciting to think about having something different to wear again. She thought about wearing those clothes the next time she and Ryan went out.

She’d tried calling Ryan’s cell phone. It went to voice mail. She didn’t leave him a message. He’d get back with her when he was ready. Getting the paper finished for press was obviously a big job. It probably didn’t help that it was only him.

One thing that Frank had said still nagged at her. She was curious how Ryan would handle the newspaper article about what had happened at the pie shop—about her. She was willing to make some allowances. She couldn’t see any way to tell the story without making her look a little bad. It was a question of exactly how bad she looked.

Some of the other newspapers and TV reporters had made her sound like some kind of manipulative, lying, thief/killer who probably shouldn’t be out on the streets. One editorial had already questioned why the police hadn’t arrested her.

She hoped Ryan hadn’t painted her that way. She’d
trusted him to say what was right without being mean. She expected him to include the part about her being fired for stealing money—
allegedly
stealing money anyway. That was the basis for everything that had happened afterward.

He couldn’t leave out the part about her finding Lou’s body or being questioned by the police either. In short, reading whatever he wrote was going to make her wince.

She supposed she should be thicker skinned by now. Everyone in Durham already seemed to know what had happened. People had asked politely about it at the pie shop that day. She could tell they’d read and heard plenty about it.

Maggie thought about what Frank had said about Ryan having inside information about the case because he knew her and Aunt Clara. She didn’t see how that could help or hurt her.

Still, she admitted, at least to herself, that she was nervous about it.

• • •

N
ot sleeping had
its benefits. Maggie was up and dressed before Aunt Clara for a change. She made coffee and pancakes for them for breakfast and they were out the door earlier than usual.

The
Durham Weekly
was waiting on the front porch in a plastic bag to protect it from the rain.

Maggie picked it up as they started walking to the pie shop in the early morning darkness. She was anxious to read the article, but it was too dark. She had to wait until they got to the shop.

Aunt Clara was talking about making Amazing Apple with crumb topping her pie of the day as they walked by quiet houses. Lights went on as people started waking up.

As soon as they got to the pie shop, Maggie looked at the article. The story was on the front page of the paper, along with an unflattering photo of her.

As Ryan had promised, it went into much greater detail than the dailies had. Maggie did more than cringe as she read what he’d written. He’d not only used information he’d gotten from her and Aunt Clara, he’d said everything in a hurtful way that made her want to cry.

She couldn’t believe he’d taken advantage of their new relationship. What a fool she’d been to trust him. She was so glad she hadn’t gotten in touch with him last night or he probably would have used what she told him about Mark against her too.

Aunt Clara saw her stricken face as she put on her apron. “What is it? Are you sick?”

Maggie sat down in the first chair nearest the door. “No. I’m stupid.” She gave the paper to Aunt Clara. “He said terrible things about us. I can’t believe I trusted him, even after I asked about what his father had said to him. He lied to me. He used me to boost the sales of his paper.”

Aunt Clara glanced at the paper, her lips moving as she read some of the hurtful article. “Good heavens! I am so sorry, Maggie. It was my fault for trying to push the two of you together. He seemed like such a nice man. I’ve always admired his writing.”

Maggie wiped the tears from her eyes. Really, what was
one more betrayal? She’d thought things were getting better. She was wrong.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry he was mean to you too. Obviously, he’s a jerk.” Maggie looked around the empty pie shop. “Never mind him. Let’s get ready for the rush.”

It was good to have something to do with her hands. Maggie matched Aunt Clara’s pie shells and fillings. She made six Amazing Apple pies with crumb topping, and four Popular Peach before the shop opened.

Coffee was brewing and sweet tea was already cooling before the first customer stepped through the door. Unfortunately for Maggie, the first customer was Ryan.

Her smile left her face when she saw him. “What are you doing here?”

Ryan continued smiling. “Coming by for the first piece of pie of the day, I suppose.” He tried to put his arm around her. She moved away. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? You are the worst of all the media people who’ve made fun of me and accused me of stealing and killing Lou. I didn’t
know
any of them. I thought I
knew
you. I guess I was wrong.”

His handsome face grew serious. “I’m sorry, Maggie. You knew how it was going to be. It was a hard story for me to write because of our relationship. I stuck to the facts. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about our relationship affecting your writing anymore.” She went behind the counter and brought out the laptop he’d let her borrow. “Take this with you too. Sorry there isn’t anything on there you can use.
Maybe you can find some other murder suspect who’ll be as gullible as I have been and exploit her.”

Ryan took the laptop and shook his head. “I really tried to keep it simple. I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Simple?” She picked up her copy of the paper. “And I quote, ‘Maggie Grady couldn’t find a company that would have her after she was charged with embezzlement by the bank she’d worked for in New York. She had to be content working at her aunt’s pie shop close to the Duke campus where she spends her time praying she can find better work.’ What do you call that?”

“What?” Ryan put the laptop down on a table and took the newspaper from her. “I didn’t write that.”

He read through the front-page story, a puzzled expression on his face at first, then he looked angry. Without another word, he threw down the paper and stormed out of the pie shop, leaving the laptop on the table.