50% Off Murder (Good Buy Girls) (6 page)

“That probably came out harsher than intended,” she said.

“Really?” he asked. He didn’t look like he believed her.

“Yes, really,” she said. She sounded impatient, and she glanced away before she made a bad situation even worse. Oh, this man just rubbed her the wrong way. She was normally such a nice person. How, after all these years, did
Sam Collins still manage to bring out the absolute worst in her?

“I find that hard to imagine,” he said. “Don’t hold back, Maggie. Why don’t you clear the air and say what you really feel?”

“Did you have questions for us?” Maggie countered. She was not about to be intimidated by Sam. “Because my nephew is rapidly approaching his nap time, and it won’t go well for anyone if he misses it.”

Sam glanced at Josh, happily drawing at the desk. “He looks fine to me.”

Maggie narrowed her gaze at him. Oh, she’d give almost anything for Josh to pitch a fit right now, if for no other reason than to prove her right. But of course, he didn’t, making Sam think he was right. How very annoying.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said.

“In fact, I do need to ask you ladies some questions,” Sam said, ignoring her dire tone.

“Certainly,” Claire said.

He asked them each to recount the details of finding the body in the basement. They took turns. Claire went first and
described what happened up until she fainted, then Maggie finished the tale. Sam said nothing but made notes on a small pad that he took out of his shirt pocket.

“Do either of you know the identity of the man in the basement?”

“No,” Maggie said. She looked at Claire, whose face had gone white.

“Actually, yes, I know him,” Claire said.

It sounded as if every word was being dragged out of her by force. Sam’s gaze sharpened on her face.

“Who is he?” he asked.

“His name is John Templeton,” Claire said. “I knew him when I lived in Baltimore.”

“How well did you know him?” Sam asked.

“He was an acquaintance,” she said.

Sam looked at Maggie. He gave her a look that told her he hadn’t missed the lack of surprise on her face. She stared back. She had only found out that Claire knew the man a few minutes before he did; surely, he couldn’t blame her for that.

She crossed her arms over her chest. He frowned at her, then he turned to Claire, and said, “Ms. Freemont, I’m going to need you to come down to the station.”

“She’d be happy to,” Maggie said before Claire could respond. “We’ll just call her attorney and meet you there, shall we?”

Claire reared back and stared at Maggie in surprise. Sam glowered and looked like he wanted to slap handcuffs on Maggie just for kicks and giggles, but she didn’t care. She’d watched enough episodes of
Law & Order
to know that you never let the police question you without an attorney present, whether you’d done anything wrong or not.

“Fine,” Sam snapped. “Have your attorney meet us there in fifteen minutes. Ms. Freemont, however, will ride to the station with me.”

As he stomped away, Claire said, “I don’t have an at-torney.”

“You will,” Maggie said. “Ready, buddy?”

She hustled over to the desk and gathered up Josh, who wrapped his arms about her neck with a whoop of delight.

“I have to get Josh back to his mother, but I’ll meet you at the station with representation. Do not say a word without an attorney present. Clear?”

“But doesn’t that make me look guilty of something?” Claire asked.

“No, it makes you look smart,” Maggie said. “Remember, not one word.”

“But where are you going to find an attorney?” Claire asked.

“The Frosty Freeze,” Maggie said. “Where else?”

Maggie pedaled as fast as possible. She was relieved to see Sandy’s car in the driveway, and she hustled Josh into the house as fast as she could.

“I have to go,” she said as soon as she handed Josh to his mother. “Claire. Jail. Attorney. Back later.”

“What?” Sandy asked. She had her school books open on the kitchen table. and she hugged her son close while she stared at Maggie with her head to one side like a dog hearing a high-pitched whistle.

Maggie was out of breath from the bike ride, however, and couldn’t explain any more than that. She tossed her helmet aside and grabbed her keys. She hustled out to her Volvo station wagon and started it up.

The Frosty Freeze sat on the edge of the center of town, just off of the town square on a small side street. When the
local veteran’s organization put on their summer band concerts in the gazebo on the square, the Frosty Freeze did a bang-up business. Maggie was pretty sure it was the profits from the concert series that kept it afloat for the rest of the year.

The Freeze, as it was called, was a vintage building from the fifties, which boasted the classic long front windows and squared-off edges popular at the time. Maggie remembered what a special treat it had been when she was a kid to go and get a cone at the Freeze. She had always ordered a soft vanilla ice cream dipped in cherry coating, a candy-like liquid that hardened around the cold ice cream, while her older sister had gotten soft chocolate dipped in chocolate. To this day the taste of candied cherry on vanilla reminded her of summer.

Now that it was late August and the hot summer was departing like a going-out-of-business sale, the Freeze wasn’t as busy as usual, so she only had to wait for the man ahead of her to get his double-dip cone and get out of her way.

“Welcome to the Freeze, what can I get you?”

Maggie hunkered down to peer through the small window used for placing orders. Most of the large windows on the front of the building were taken up by huge faded posters of ice cream sundaes, cones and milk shakes. In order to be seen, she had to practically stick her head inside.

“I need an attorney, Max.”

The young man, who hadn’t been looking out the window, raised his head up so fast that he smacked it on the glass partition.

“Ouch! Maggie!” he said, rubbing the spot on his head that had connected with the glass. “Way to scare a guy.”

“Sorry, but this is an emergency,” she said. “I need a lawyer who specializes in criminal law.”

“Did you try the phone book?” he asked. “How about a Martindale-Hubbell directory? I hear they put out a fine list of attorneys.”

“Maxwell Button,” Maggie said in her most threatening, scary-mom voice. “Don’t you get smart with me.”

“Aw, Maggie, you know I don’t practice law for real,” he said. “I only sat for the bar exam because it was something to do that summer.”

“Well, you didn’t spend those years studying at the T. C. Williams School of Law for nothing. The time to use that degree is now,” she said. “This is an emergency. Now come on.”

“I can’t just close up the Frosty Freeze,” he said. “Hugh will kill me.”

“Claire is in trouble. Big trouble.”

Max blew out a breath. “I’ll get fired.”

“Good,” she said. “You’re wasting your potential in there. Now lock up and let’s go.”

To the grating soundtrack of a lot of male muttering, which Maggie pretended not to hear, the window slammed shut and the open sign was flipped to closed.

In a few minutes, Max came around the building and Maggie took in the sight of the knock-kneed, greasy-haired, pimple-ridden, twenty-year-old boy genius who had tutored Laura to outstanding grades in math, all while studying for the Virginia State bar exam in his spare time.

“So, how is Claire in trouble?” he asked. His voice cracked when he said her name, letting Maggie know he still had a powerful crush on the librarian.

She led the way to her car and said, “A man was found murdered in the basement of the library.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“It gets worse,” Maggie said as they climbed into her Volvo station wagon. “Claire used to date him when she lived in Baltimore.”

Max let out a low whistle. “That’s bad.”

“Get your game face on,” Maggie said. “She needs you.”

Max ran a hand through his long hair as if trying to give it some sort of order. Maggie would have told him not to bother, that it was his mind that they needed, but she knew he was trying to get himself into lawyer mode.

Maxwell Button was a wunderkind. In addition to his law degree, he also had an advanced degree in physics and was currently studying for his doctorate in art history. If it was true that human beings only used 10 percent of their brains, Maggie was pretty sure that Max was the exception to the rule and was operating at 80 percent capacity at least.

The problem with Max was that he while he loved acquiring knowledge, he wasn’t much for applying his smarts for useful purposes. He was happy working the cone-dipping machine at the Frosty Freeze and felt no compunction to actually utilize his education. Maggie found this to be maddening, but she’d discovered that no amount of encouragement heaped upon him motivated Max enough to leave the ice cream stand behind.

“You know, I’ve been immersed in my dissertation on Botticelli,” he said. “I’ll need some time to recall my Juris Doctor.”

“You have five minutes,” Maggie said. “Get busy.”

Max closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Maggie
turned onto Main Street, stopping at the light and trying not to give in to the anxious feelings that were swamping her.

She wondered where Claire was now and if Sam was being nice to her. Having not seen Sam in over twenty years, she really didn’t know what sort of person he had become.

The Sam she once knew represented everything she disliked in a man. He was far too good-looking and self-assured. He’d never had to work hard at anything in his life. He’d pretty much charmed his way through high school and into a full college scholarship. He’d gotten lucky with a job on the Richmond PD and swiftly scored a sweet gig as a detective on the force, not that she had paid any attention to the constant stories of the former St. Stanley hometown football hero. Nope, not her.

Now Sam was back in St. Stanley and had taken the job that should have been Maggie’s late husband’s, had he lived and continued to pursue a career in law enforcement.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. She knew it. She could even admit it. But even after more than fifteen years, she had a hard time letting go of Charlie and what their life could have been together. Charlie had been killed in the line of duty, while he was a newly minted deputy on the St. Stanley force. He had never gotten the opportunities that Sam Collins had and, whether it was fair or not, Maggie couldn’t help but resent Sam for it.

She put on her signal and turned into the parking lot for the police station. The lot was packed, and she was forced to park at the back. That was fine. The walk would give Max a chance to get his plan together.

“Max,” she said. “We’re here.”

Max blinked his eyes open and blew out a breath.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he said.

As they got out of the car, Maggie noticed Max’s attire for the first time.

He was wearing a vintage Yoo-hoo chocolate soda T-shirt with a splat of raspberry sauce on it, paired with khaki shorts and bright red Converse high-tops. Yep, he was the epitome of lawyerly suave. Oh dear.

“Surely you jest,” Sam said.