Treacherous Tart (16 page)

Maggie understood. He'd always been that way. His face was covered in soot. She wet a paper towel and rubbed the spot on his cheek. Then she realized what she was doing and handed it to him.

“Mr. Hernandez will be back on Monday. We'll be fine until then. Thanks for trying anyway.”

David rubbed the paper towel on his face. “Of course you will, Maggie. You've always been good at taking care of yourself. I wanted to lend a hand if I could. That's all. I know replacing a furnace can be expensive. I'll see you later.”

He shook hands with Ryan, which left soot on Ryan's hands. Maggie thanked him again and put down the fireplace poker.

“You take care now.” David leaned in quickly and kissed Maggie's cheek. Ryan turned back from the paper towel rack in time to see his display of affection.

He waited until David was gone. “Something you want to tell me?”

“We've known each other a long time.” She shrugged, though she was secretly as puzzled as he
was by David's quick kiss. “It has nothing to do with me and you. He was always affectionate.”

Ryan picked up the shopping bag full of pie-making supplies. “So if my ex-girlfriend stopped in at my house to repair a major appliance and kissed me, all the time making remarks about our past history, you'd be good with that?”

“It's not like that.” She opened the front door and let him go through, carefully setting the alarm and locking the door again. “That was pre–high school, and he isn't my ex-boyfriend. I think you're reading too much into what he said.”

Ryan waited while she opened the trunk of the car. “Maybe you should tell
him
that.”

She smiled. “You're really cute when you're jealous.”

“Right.” He put the shopping bag in the trunk and slammed the lid closed.

They both got in the car, and Ryan started the engine. Maggie could see he was still upset, but she knew there was nothing for him to be upset about. How could there be, since she hadn't seen or thought about David for at least fifteen years?

When they stopped for a red light on the way back to Ryan's house, Maggie smiled and touched his cheek. “You're not really upset about David, are you?”

“I'll let you know if my old girlfriend is at my house working on a freezer or something.” But he smiled a little when he said it.

“Does she live here in Durham?” She knew he was joking—or at least she thought he was.

“When she became a super-hot runway model, she started traveling a lot. She comes back every now and then to repair a major appliance.”

Maggie laughed. “You're crazy. And I don't think that's fair. David is hardly a super-hot model.”

“No. But he
is
an electrical engineer, which probably means he makes more money than me, and isn't trying to keep a business already on life support alive.”

“That doesn't mean anything to me,” she said. “I like that you're trying to keep your newspaper running. Your dedication has a romantic appeal.”

He glanced at her. “Romantic, huh? What did your last boyfriend do for a living?”

“He worked at the bank. It was more convenient that way. That's what I was looking for at that time. Expedient and easy. No emotional entanglements.”

Ryan pulled into his driveway and stopped the car at the door. “That doesn't seem like you, Maggie.” He kissed her and apologized. “Don't worry. Unless I can find something terrible in David's background to have him locked up for, I'll ignore him from now on.”

Maggie looked into his steady blue eyes. “You're not joking, are you?”

He laughed as he got out of the car.

No help at all.

Garrett was in the kitchen with Aunt Clara when they went back inside. They were both sitting at the kitchen table, having a cup of tea and reminiscing about the way Durham used to be when they were growing up.

Maggie smiled. She realized that a few days with Garrett might be good for her aunt's self-esteem after Donald's death, or at least a welcome distraction. She knew it had been hard on her, especially with news of her boyfriend plastered all over TV and the newspapers.

She and Ryan unloaded the shopping bag they'd brought from the other house. Ryan drifted off, probably to look up David on the Internet.

Maggie told her aunt about finding David in the basement at their house. “He said he was working on the furnace. Did you call Mrs. Walker and ask her to have him look at it?”

“I didn't think of that! Did he fix it?”

“No.” Aunt Clara's words made Maggie pause and think. Why had David lied to her?

Was he embarrassed at being caught down there trying to do a good deed? Men could be so odd with their emotions—like Ryan being jealous of David.

“I'm surprised he couldn't fix that old furnace.” Aunt Clara put the flour and shortening into the freezer with the bowls and other pie-making utensils.
“Being an engineer and knowing the furnace the way he does, it should've been a snap.”

Ryan made a groaning sound as he came back in on the tail of the conversation.

“What's wrong, son?” Garrett appraised his face with a concerned frown. “You didn't hurt yourself lifting those bags, did you?”

“No.” Maggie sat down at the table. “He's jealous of David and couldn't find anything bad about him on Google.”

Garrett's chest puffed out. “Ryan has no reason to be jealous of
anyone
.”

Aunt Clara chuckled. “Even if David is a
highly
paid professional?”

“Thanks.” Ryan smiled at her. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

“Why, Maggie's, of course. May the best man win.”

“Ryan
is
the best man,” Garrett countered. “Though I'm not really sure what we're talking about.”

“I think we should work on that filling.” Maggie tried to shift the conversation.

A cell phone rang. Maggie, Garrett, and Ryan checked their pockets.

It was for Ryan. He spoke for a moment and then excused himself, leaving the kitchen.

“Probably the mayor or someone from the city council. They all call to talk to him.” Garrett was obviously proud of his son.

Maggie and Aunt Clara took out the chicken, stock, vegetables, and herbs for the potpie. Maggie finely chopped carrots, onions, and potatoes. Aunt Clara had Garrett chop a little bit of sage.

“I just love sage in chicken potpie, don't you?” Aunt Clara asked Maggie as she worked on the chicken.

“I couldn't begin to tell you when I ate chicken potpie last,” Maggie replied. “I don't like the little freezer kind.”

“This won't be a bit like that.” Her aunt strode around the big kitchen like a captain on a ship, as though she had that much space every day. “I think we can start on that crust now. Let's make four of them for the top and bottom of two pies.”

Ryan came back into the kitchen. “I guess bad news travels fast. That was Albert Mann offering to buy the
Weekly
building from us.”

Garrett looked up from his tedious task. “How much? Was it a decent price?”

“I suppose that all depends on what you think is a decent price.” Ryan named the figure, and his father grinned.

“That sounds decent to me. Did you accept?”

“Not without talking to you. Both of our names are on the deed.”

“I'll be happy to give him a call, son.” Garrett got up from the table, brushing sage from his hands.

“I'm not thrilled about selling to him, Dad. The man is a little on the shady side.”

“Who isn't in real estate? And what do we care? We just need the money.”

“I suppose that's true.”

Aunt Clara couldn't believe it. “You know what he's like, Ryan. How can you sell to him?”

“It's not the same for us as it is for you,” he explained. “You wanted to keep your property. We can't afford to. I know this is a good offer, and it means we wouldn't have to look around for a buyer.”

“How do you think he knew?” Maggie put the vegetables into a bowl. “You just found out. Did you say something to someone else about it?”

“I didn't.” Ryan looked at his father. “Did you?”

Garrett looked a little shamefaced. “I might've mentioned it to a few of my friends at the club. That's why a person has influential friends. Believe me, they can be very helpful when one is in a bind.”

Ryan tossed his cell phone carelessly on the table. “Mystery solved! We can sell the building to Albert Mann. Let's hire someone to make a banner for the outside of the building: ‘Another Conquest by Mann Development!' ”

Maggie could see in Ryan's face that he was miserable at the idea of it. She wished there were some other way, but she certainly wasn't in any position to help him out.

Aunt Clara took the flour, shortening, and water out of the refrigerator. Maggie got the bowl. They mixed up piecrust dough for two pies and tops and then rolled them out on the marble countertop.

Garrett followed his son out of the kitchen, trying to calm him and restate his case about why the building had to be sold. Maggie could hear them arguing through the house.

Aunt Clara patiently picked up each crust and set it into a pie pan. “I know this is hard for Ryan. His father too, for that matter. That building has been theirs for a long time. It's not fair for them to lose it.”

“I know,” Maggie agreed. “I hope Ryan can continue the paper. I know he really loves it.”

“Yes.” Clara stirred the filling before she put some into each crust. “Didn't he say he'd always wanted to be a police officer? Maybe he should change professions.”

“I don't think he wants to do that anymore.” Maggie lowered her voice and glanced at the open doorway. “I've never seen anyone as dedicated to their job as Ryan. He'll keep the
Weekly
going, even if he has to do it out of the basement here.”

“Will you put those top crusts on and seal the pies?” Aunt Clara cleaned the flour from her hands and went to open the oven.

Maggie found a cookie sheet and put it down on the rack before she put the pies in on top of it. She
didn't want the potpies to leak in Ryan's oven, as they did sometimes at home and at the shop. She could tell no one ever used the oven here—it was spotless.

As they got the pies in and Aunt Clara had closed the oven door, Ryan strode into the kitchen. Maggie was glad they weren't still talking about him.

“I have someone to talk to about Donald,” he said. “He owns Durham Singles. Want to come?”

A
unt Clara said
she would wait for the pies. “Besides, I'm in the middle of a new book and I'd appreciate some quiet time to read.”

Maggie went with Ryan, hoping to get him to open up about losing the
Weekly
's building more than anything else. Maybe they could even brainstorm some answers about where he could move.

“Marco Ricci actually met with Donald.” Ryan started the engine before Maggie got in the car. “I think he might be able to shed some light on what he was doing and who he was dating.”

“I understand that.” Maggie put on her seat belt as the car raced out of the drive. “I'm not sure what good that will do.”

“That's the thing. You never know what's really going on until you talk to as many people around the subject as you can,” he explained. “Sometimes people don't even realize what information they have. You ask the right questions and it comes out.”

“Well, I hope he has some better ideas about who killed Donald.”

“If he doesn't know who killed him, maybe he can help us understand
why
he was killed.”

Maggie stared at the side of his face. “Is that our new take on this?”

“Like I said, we have to look at it from all different angles, just like Frank does. You notice they're following the same leads. Maybe Marco has some ideas we haven't thought of.”

“About the office,” Maggie started. “Maybe Angela has some ideas about affordable rental space.”

Ryan frowned. “She's on our list for Donald's murder. I don't think I can talk to her about a business deal until all of this is over.”

“Except that Frank said she had no gunshot residue on her hands.”

“She could have washed it off. It's not that hard.”

“She was at the pie shop the whole time. That's why she knew Aunt Clara wasn't there.”

He glanced at her. “You're not being very helpful.”

“You're being obstinate. I think it's because you don't want to think about leaving the
Weekly
building.”

“It's objective journalism,” he corrected. “How would it look if I rented a space from her and then had to report that she's guilty of murder?”

“Bad, I guess.” She shrugged. “I know you're upset about this, Ryan. Maybe it would help if we talk.”