Treacherous Tart (13 page)

Maggie was glad to move away from the subject of who she'd been. It was kind of fun seeing the jealousy in Ryan's eyes, but she didn't want to encourage it. She liked their relationship. It was uncomplicated, and they had a good time together.

“Nothing on Anna Morgan except her address, huh?” she asked.

“Well, there are always a few other things, if you're willing to look for them. I know what school she graduated from, and that she runs a day-care near the university. She's got good credit, and her husband is an economics professor at Duke.”

Maggie raised her dark brows. “Another married woman looking for a good time?”

“Only one of the women on Donald's page has never married—Debbie Blackwelder. Lenora and your aunt are the only widows. I'll bet Donald wasn't interested in the married women.”

“So you think he was shopping for the best bargain?”

“That's exactly what I think. No one tells the truth about themselves on the Internet. Donald sure didn't. He'd have to go out with a woman to be sure she was what he was looking for.” Ryan parked the car in front of a large Tudor-style home. “Maybe Anna Morgan got angry when Donald rejected her. She could've seen that he was dating other women and snapped.”

“I don't know if that makes sense. Why aren't we talking to Debbie Blackwelder first? She has her own business, part of Donald's MO, right?”

“You watch too much TV,” he scolded as he opened his car door. “We have to stick to the plan.”

Maggie shrugged. “I think the plan has a fatal flaw. It's too cold to go running all over Durham today.” But she got out of the car and followed him up the sidewalk to the house anyway.

Ryan rang the doorbell. An attractive woman, probably in her late fifties, answered. He introduced himself and showed her his credentials. “I'm here to talk to you about your relationship with Donald Wickerson.”

She twisted the pearls around her neck. “You mean the man from the dating service? I already talked to the police after his terrible death. I only went out with him once. I don't want my husband involved. It was a one-time fling.”

Ryan pushed back in a calm, practical way. “Was it his idea not to see him again, or yours?”

“Mine. He wasn't my type.” She looked back over her shoulder. “He was older, you know? From his picture at the dating site, I couldn't tell. That's not what I wanted.”

Ryan thanked her, and he and Maggie left.

“That's almost exactly what Angela said,” Maggie told him. “That's what happens when you lie
too
much on your profile.”

“Is there a right amount to lie?”

“Maybe. I made Aunt Clara a little younger, but not so much.”

They talked about Donald's death and Ryan's problem with the larger newspaper that had been printing the
Durham Weekly
. The larger newspaper had decided to shut down its printing operation in the city and send its printing operation to Raleigh. It was going to cost Ryan almost double what he'd been paying to have the
Weekly
printed.

“I think I'm going to have to hire a full-time salesperson to bring in more advertising to pay for the extra cost. I'm hit-or-miss on selling ads. I get too caught up in the story and forget to ask for the ads.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” Maggie said. “A full-time salesperson could take some of the responsibilities for the paper away from you.”

“It should work that way.” He'd stopped at a red light and turned to her. “Are you feeling left out? I know I'm scattered sometimes. I don't mean to be.”

“
Sometimes?
” She laughed. “I'm just teasing. You're very passionate about your work. I love that about you.”

He kissed her quickly, and the light changed to green. “You have a hunch or something about Debbie Blackwelder? Is that why you think we should see her?”

“I don't know. Except for
not
being a widow, she seems to fall into the same category as Aunt Clara and Lenora, that's all. He was looking for a well-to-do lonely lady with a successful business, and very little family.”

“What about Lenora?”

“Aunt Clara swears Lenora wouldn't hurt anyone, although she fits the profile too. She and her daughter are just scraping by at the consignment store right now, but Aunt Clara says Lenora's husband left her a lot of money.”

“Wouldn't having a daughter take Lenora off the list? Wouldn't she keep her mother from taking the big jump with Donald like you did with your aunt?”

“I don't know.” Maggie considered that. “It's possible. She and Alice seem very close.”

They arrived at the Dapper Dandy Salon about ten minutes later. There was a huge picture of a mustache and a bowler hat on the sign. Two men were walking into the small shop on the corner.

“I don't know if Debbie wanted to date Donald, or if he was coming here for manscaping.” Maggie
watched the men coming in from the discreet parking lot. They were all very well dressed.

“Manscaping? What does that even mean?”

“You know, trim everything up a little, or shave it off.”

He frowned and shook his head before he got out of the car. “Never mind. Let's check it out.”

Ryan introduced himself to Debbie. She was with a customer and said she would talk to him in a few minutes.

Maggie watched as Debbie shaved the portly gentleman's face, head, and chest. She smiled when she saw Ryan wince.

Debbie was medium height, with wild blond hair and extreme eyelashes that made her look as though she were wearing spiders on her eyes. She was a little portly herself, with a bountiful bosom that she showed off with a bright red tank top.

“She's really young for Donald,” Ryan observed. “Marrying her would break away from his routine completely.”

“Not necessarily. Even younger women can find someone like Donald attractive.”

“You two.” Debbie called them over after finishing with her client. She smiled seductively at the two men waiting for her. “Hang in there, boys. I'll be out in a minute.”

She took Maggie and Ryan behind a beaded
curtain. A desk and computer were in the tiny office along with a few chairs.

Debbie lit a small cigar and blew the pungent smoke into the air. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm looking for information about Donald Wickerson,” Ryan said. “I believe you dated him?”

“Not ‘date,' sweetie. He was a customer. A man like him is a rare find. Having him around was like old scotch.”

“So you
wanted
to date him?” Ryan coughed a little as she exhaled smoke again.

“Not my type.” Debbie's eyes lost focus. “He was interesting, though.”

“Did you ever see him with another woman?” Ryan scribbled in his notepad.

“A woman dropped him off here once. He said his car was in the shop.”

“Can you describe her?”

“She was an older lady. Long, gorgeous gray hair. Nice clothes. Conservative—not my style.”

“Did he mention anything about her while he was here?” Maggie thought about Lenora.

“Nope.” Debbie grinned, showing a tattoo of a rose on her front tooth. “They don't talk about other women when they're with
me
.”

Ryan thanked her and got up. She stopped him by putting her hand on his chest.

“I should be going,” he said.

“I could really do something
special
with you, baby,” Debbie purred. “Ditch the girl. Stay a while.”

He thanked her, and extricated himself with a smile and quick wink.

“She was lying,” Maggie muttered when they got outside. “You said she was on his dating profile when you hacked it. Either she wanted to date him, or she wanted to know who he was dating.”

“Whatever. She may have given us our first lead.”

“What lead? The description of the woman who dropped him off sounded like Lenora. We already know Donald was seeing her. How does that help us find his killer?”

Before he could answer, Frank's brown Toyota chugged into the parking lot.

“This doesn't look good,” Maggie said.

R
yan Summerour,” Frank
hailed him as he slammed his car door closed. “I hope you're here for a shave, and not because you're following
my
leads in the Wickerson case.”

“Sorry, Frank. They aren't
your
leads. The names were on the Internet. That's public domain.” Ryan glared at his friend as though they were prizefighters getting into the ring.

Maggie knew Ryan was lying about how he got the information, but she kept quiet.

“If you've got information I need for this case, you'd better hand it over.”

“My rights as a reporter are protected by the Constitution. I don't have to hand anything over.”

The two men were almost standing nose to nose in the parking lot.

Maggie inserted herself between them. “Can't we go somewhere for coffee and work this out? I know I could use a big cup. How about it, Ryan? Frank?”

Each man took a step back. Maggie took a deep breath.

“Suppose we could help you with a new lead?” she said quickly.

“What did you have in mind?” Frank still glared at Ryan, but was interested.

She told Frank about the woman who'd been meeting Donald at the sub shop before he was killed. “You could go over with us and question the owner.” Maggie offered him the opportunity as an olive branch. “You could always come back here and question Debbie.”

“Although Debbie didn't have much to say,” Ryan added.

“Did you interview my subject?” Frank demanded.

“Never mind that right now,” Maggie urged them. “Let's go to the sub shop.”

Frank agreed—but Maggie and Ryan had to ride
in his car. Maggie didn't care. She climbed in the front seat beside Frank. Ryan grudgingly sat in back.

“So what
didn't
Debbie say?” Frank started the car and pulled into traffic.

“She wasn't dating Donald,” Ryan replied. “She said he wasn't her type.”

“But you said she was tagged at Donald's spot on the singles' site. That meant they were interested in each other,” Maggie reminded them both.

“Debbie also said she saw a woman drop Donald off here when his car was in the shop,” Ryan added.

“This man had his own little harem going on, didn't he?” Frank chuckled. “I don't know how he did it. I can barely handle one woman—my wife.”

“Maybe that's why he's dead,” Maggie suggested.

“I don't understand why he changed his pattern,” Ryan said from the backseat. “In his other relationships, he seemed to just waltz into town and pick out the right widow. They got married. She died. Why was he having such a hard time finding the right woman here?”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe you were right about Maggie upsetting his plans. Let's think about it. He might've had his eye on Clara for a lot longer than we realize. When Maggie came into the picture, he'd spent so much time on her that it was hard for him to switch gears. It gets harder when you get older, you know.”

Ryan considered the idea. “You could be right.”

“Aunt Clara mentioned him being at the library dozens of times before she actually brought him home,” Maggie explained. “Maybe he wasn't sure how to restart, and that's why he joined Durham Singles.”

“I think he was already at Durham Singles when he met Clara,” Ryan disagreed. “He was trolling until he found the right one.”

“Which brought him to two other women who were ripe for the picking.” Frank turned into the parking lot at the sub shop. “From what I can tell, that meant Lenora Rhyne and Debbie Blackwelder.”

“And maybe whoever was meeting him here before he died.” Maggie got out of the car and hurried inside the sub shop.

Betty was happy to see her. “She hasn't been back for lunch, the mystery woman.” She pointed to the spot at the front window.

Frank introduced himself and then took out his rumpled notebook and pen. Ryan made notes on his cell phone.

“Describe her.” Frank shot a look of annoyance at Ryan, but let him stay.

“Long hair. Very pretty. Nice figure. I can't really understand why she'd want to be involved with a man that much older. She could get anyone she wanted, I'd think.” Betty patted Ryan's cheek. “Even you, baby face.”

Ryan's face turned red as he glanced at Maggie. “Did you see what kind of car she was driving?”

Betty shrugged. “I noticed her in here yesterday. I would have called Maggie, but when I looked up again, she was leaving. I tried to get her to take a bag of free chips. She wasn't interested.”

Frank put his notebook away. “Maggie says you saw the same woman with Wickerson when he was dating Clara.”

“That's right.” Betty nodded. “They were here a few times.”