1 Murder on Sugar Creek (6 page)

“I’m sorry for you.” Maggie wanted
to give Rhonda a hug. Despite all the time that had lapsed since the breakup of
her marriage, the pain showed on her sad face. “Did you part on friendly
terms?”

Rhonda rubbed her temple and
forehead. “I don’t know if friendly is the right word. I moved off of Sugar
Creek and didn’t see much of him again for years. Not until I started working
at Walmart. I had been there a few weeks when he came to the deli and picked up
a sandwich tray. Sometimes, when he was in the store, he’d come over and speak
to me. By that time, he had gotten remarried. I was happy for him. He adored
her.”

“When was the last time you spoke
to him?”

“Oh, I couldn’t say. I’ve been off
work for three years.”

“Well, is there anything you want
to say that I haven’t asked about?”

“Just that
this is a real tragedy. A good man was taken away from his loved ones way too
soon.”

Maggie appreciated all four seasons
and didn’t understand why people complained about the weather. During the
summer, they grumbled about thunderstorms and humidity. During the winter, they
grumbled about frigid temperatures and snow. In the spring, the budding flowers
triggered their allergies. In the fall, the biting rain chilled their bones. Maggie
considered it silly to complain about something you couldn’t change. Besides,
from her perspective, four distinct seasons kept life from becoming boring.

Still, if she had to choose a
favorite, she’d pick autumn. Even on sunny days like today, she could feel the
nip in the air. After finishing the interview with Rhonda, she had picked up
lunch and walked to the town park to commune with nature as she took her time eating
a Caesar chicken salad. She breathed the earthy smell of decaying leaves and
watched a little boy hop around the sidewalk. With each leaf he crunched under
his feet, the child giggled and looked at his dad.

Maggie removed the plastic wrapping
from the chess bar she had bought the previous day at Carla’s, which she
considered a reward for choosing a salad over chicken nuggets, and thought
about the interviews. She knew she had good material for the series of columns,
but she wasn’t sure she had learned anything to exonerate Kevin. Except for
Bug’s and Dottie’s contradicting stories about the security cameras and the
sudden way each had ended their respective interviews, nothing seemed amiss. And
both had legitimate reasons for terminating the conversations. Old women get
antsy when they can’t watch their shows and young men get testy when they’re
hungry.

She chased the
last bite of chess bar with a drink of water and rose from the park bench. On
her way out of the park, she threw away her garbage and crunched fallen leaves
with her feet.

When Maggie arrived back at the newspaper
office, she encountered Tyler hurrying out the back door.

“Hey, what’s going on,” Maggie
asked.

Tyler didn’t break his speed as he said,
“They’re releasing Kevin Mullins.”

Chapter Seven

Joe couldn’t answer Maggie’s myriad
queries, so she spent a restless afternoon transcribing her interview notes and
watching the clock. When Tyler returned two hours later, she bombarded him with
questions.

“I’m on deadline,” he snapped and
began pounding the keyboard.

“Tyler, watch the attitude.” Maggie
turned to see Joe leaning against the door to his office. “In case I need to
remind you again, this is not the
Washington Post
. You’re not
investigating Watergate and you’re neither Woodward nor Bernstein. You can take
two minutes to tell Maggie – and me – what you found out at the courthouse.”

“They’re releasing Kevin Mullins.”

“We know the what. We need the
why,” Joe commanded.

“The ballistic report came back.
It’s inconclusive.”

“So, it wasn’t Kevin,” Maggie exclaimed.
“I knew it.”

“Not so fast,” Tyler cautioned.
“It’s inconclusive. He could still be guilty.”

“The police must not think so –”

“Yes, they
do,” Tyler inserted his ear buds. “He’s still their only suspect.”

As five o’clock approached, Maggie
visited the restroom in preparation for her departure. When she returned to the
newsroom, Joe asked her to come to his office.

“Did you interview Mac Honaker’s
ex-wife today?”

“Yeah.”

“She just called. The receptionist
thought you had left and sent the call to me. Anyway, the ex-wife had a change
of heart and doesn’t want you to include her in the columns. She feels it would
be disrespectful to Mac’s widow.”

Maggie slumped into a chair. “Well,
that’s a bummer.”

“Not necessarily,” Joe argued. “You
could still use anything she told you on the record.”

“Now, Joe, in case I need to remind
you, this is not the
Washington Post
.” When he laughed, Maggie
continued. “Seriously, it’s not hard news. I write fluff and stuff and, if
she’s changed her mind, it changes the story.”

“It’s your call.”

Maggie stood to leave. “If she told
me something that’s public record, can I still use it?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Good, because Mac being voted
class clown during high school adds flavor to the columns.”

Joe nodded. “Of
course, it does. Have a good evening, Maggie.”

A few nights later, when Maggie
opened the door to let Barnaby outside, she caught the smell of wood burning in
a nearby fireplace. She inhaled, crossed her arms, and shivered. “Do you smell
that?” she asked Barnaby after he did his business and joined her on the step.
“That’s fall.” Barnaby answered by wagging his tail and scratching at the back
door. “You want to go in already? Why are you complaining about the cold? You
have fur.”

She bowed to Barnaby’s wishes and
they went inside. “It’s not too early in the season for hot chocolate, is it?”
When Barnaby didn’t object, Maggie poured water into a tea kettle. She had just
emptied a packet of cocoa into her “I Heart My Lab” mug when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Maggie? It’s Kevin.”

Maggie stirred mini marshmallows
into the steaming cocoa. “Hey, Kevin, I heard your good news.”

“It ain’t that good. They still
think I killed him. I don’t understand why they don’t know better by now. That
test they ran on Dad’s gun proved I didn’t shoot Mac Honaker.”

Maggie blew on the hot chocolate. “Actually,
it didn’t prove anything.”

“What are you saying, Maggie? Do
you think I killed him?”

“It’s not that. It’s … well, look
on the bright side. You’re out of jail. You’ve slept in your own bed for several
nights. That must mean something.”

Maggie heard Kevin sigh on the
other end of the phone. “It does, but everybody thinks I’m a killer. I went to
get some lumber with Dad today and everybody stared at me.”

“Maybe it was your imagination.”

“No, it wasn’t. Dad noticed it,
too. And now that guy you work with wants to interview me.”

“What guy?”

“I think his name is Taylor.”

“You mean Tyler.” Maggie attempted
to sip the hot chocolate, but drew back her mouth as soon as it touched the
scalding mug.

 “I guess so, but my lawyer don’t
think it’s a good idea. He told me to keep my trap shut.”

“You should probably listen to your
lawyer.”

“But I want everybody to know I
didn’t kill nobody.”

“I understand this must be
frustrating for you.”

“You got that right. I don’t mean
to bother you, Maggie, but I thought you was going to help me.”

“I told you I’d see what I could do
and that’s what I did. I talked to Mac’s wife and cousin and what they told me
was in today’s paper. Did you see it?”

“No, Dad, don’t take the paper.”

“Oh, well,
it’s in there.” She threw caution to the wind, slurped the cocoa, and wondered
if anything tasted as good as the combination of marshmallows and chocolate. “I
haven’t forgotten about you, Kevin.”

After Kevin’s phone call, Maggie
snuggled onto the couch with the still hot cup of cocoa and turned her
attention to
True Crime with Aphrodite Jones
on the Investigation
Discovery channel. Aphrodite’s eyes hypnotized Maggie and her name fascinated
her. She applauded Aphrodite’s parents for spicing up their ordinary-sounding
surname with an exotic first name. Their dramatic example inspired Maggie to want
to change her own name to something like Cleopatra Smith. Aphrodite and her eyes
had revealed the most gruesome details of the case when Maggie’s phone rang.
Maggie looked at Barnaby, who after a brief glance toward the shrill sound
returned his gaze to Aphrodite, and said, “Everybody knows not to call me
during my shows.”

She frowned, picked up the phone, and
uttered an unconvincing, “Hello,” into the receiver.

“Hello, Maggie.”

Maggie scrunched up her face.
“Seth?”

“Yes. I wanted to congratulate you
on the wonderful story in today’s paper.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t think you’d
be interested in a story about a woman who makes and sells dolls and then donates
the proceeds to the abuse shelter. What drew you in? The charitable angle? The
abused children angle?”

“Neither.” Seth cleared his throat.
“I didn’t read that story, but I will correct that oversight as soon as
possible. I’m sure it’s as wonderful as your story about Mac Honaker’s nearest
and dearest.”

“Seth, we’ve been through this
before. A story is not the same as a column. The dollmaker feature is a story and
the piece about Mac is the first in a series of columns.”

“We’ve also been through something
else before. You promised me you’d let the investigation run its course.”

“Hey, that was an assignment.”

“I’m sure it was. An assignment you
no doubt suggested to Joe.”

“Seth –”

“You promised me you’d leave this
alone and even accused me of condescending to you when I suggested you’d be
running around Sugar Creek searching for clues and interrogating people, but
that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“That’s not –”

“Don’t try to
justify this, Maggie. You know, there were two compliments I consistently paid
you. You were low maintenance and honest. Now, I’m not so sure about either.”

Maggie tossed and turned all night
and reported to work the following morning groggy and grouchy. She kept
replaying both of the previous night’s phone conversations in her head and found
it difficult to concentrate on her work. She had brought a can of low-sodium,
healthy-ish condensed soup for lunch but, at noon, decided she deserved Mexican
takeout. Unfortunately, she preferred food from the Mexican restaurant that
didn’t deliver. She walked out of the building with Joe, who was headed to meet
his wife for lunch. They had made it to the parking lot when Kevin Mullins
intercepted them.

“Hi, Kevin, do you know –”

Kevin interrupted her. “I thought
you was trying to help me.”

Maggie laughed nervously. “I don’t
know what you’re talking about.”

“The interviews. You said you
interviewed Mac’s wife and his cousin to help me. But that story in the paper
just talked about what a great man he was. It didn’t say nothing about me,
about how I’m innocent.”

Maggie couldn’t bear to look at Joe
and had almost as difficult a time facing Kevin. “Kevin, the column was
supposed to focus on Mac and the people who loved him. Even if it wasn’t you,
somebody killed him.”

“What do you mean ‘if’ it wasn’t
me? I didn’t do it.” Kevin leaned his head back and looked toward the sky. “I
know a man is dead and I ain’t saying that’s right. Believe me, I want the
killer captured as much as anybody else. No, more than anybody else. But I’m a
victim, too. I don’t have many people on my side. Mom ran out years ago, my
brother split a few months ago, and even my mammaw thinks I’m guilty, so it’s
just Dad. And you. At least that’s what I thought. But you’re just telling me
what I want to hear.”

Maggie tried to reason with Kevin,
but he turned his back and walked away.

“He’s not the only person you’re
just telling what you think they want to hear,” Joe said.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said as she
forced herself to meet Joe’s gaze.

“You should be. This will not
happen again.” Joe stared at Maggie with the same intensity she usually saw him
direct at Tyler. “You will not allow your personal agenda to dictate copy. Do
you understand?”

“All too well,” Maggie said.

Chapter Eight

Maggie’s Mexican lunch only served
to compound her guilt. She didn’t indulge in sugar-filled snacks, but the fatty
meal left her bloated. She needed to relieve stress and work off some of the
extra calories she had been consuming, so she joined Edie at the gym. Maggie
completed five miles on the elliptical machine before her physical exhaustion
matched her mental state.

“What’s wrong with you?” Edie asked
as they sat on a bench outside the cardio room.

“I’ve behaved badly.”

“You?” Edie asked.

Just as Maggie prepared to unload
on Edie, a man approached the bench.

“Hey, Edie,” he said.

“Oh, hi,” Edie answered.

“Ben said you guys worked out here.
Is he with you?”

“No, I’m here with my BFF. Maggie,
this is Luke Anderson.”

Luke extended a hand. “The
newspaper reporter. Good to meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you, too,”
Maggie answered as she shook Luke’s hand.

“Luke works at the bank with us,”
Edie explained. “Actually, he works in the same department as Ben.”

“Speaking of Ben,” Luke said, “where
is that slacker?”

“He usually works out in the
mornings, but I am not a morning person, so I work out with my girl here as
often as I can,” Edie said as she patted Maggie’s hand.

As Edie and Luke talked shop,
Maggie sized up Luke with a series of discreet glances. Although not
traditionally handsome, he possessed the kind of features that prompted a
second or even a third look. His oblong face contained no sharp angles or
jagged edges and his captivating blue eyes appeared serious as he listened to
Edie’s monologue and mischievous when he grinned.

“Hey, Luke, what are you doing
tomorrow evening?” Edie clutched Maggie’s arm in what Maggie supposed was a
blatant attempt to grab her attention.

“Not much.”

“How about you stop by the house
for dinner?” Still, holding Maggie’s arm, Edie continued, “Maggie’s coming. If
we sweet talk her, she might make some apple dumplings for us.”

Luke nodded. “That sounds good.
What time?”

“Hmm. We decided on seven, right
Maggie?”

“Uh, yeah, I think that’s right.”

Edie beamed. “It’s settled.”

As he passed Maggie on the way to
the weight room, Luke said, “I look forward to sampling those apple dumplings.”

When Luke was out of earshot, Edie
said, “Oh, my God. That’s the guy I’ve been telling you about. But before you
say anything, this wasn’t planned. It was just … kismet. Still, once I decided
to put my plan into motion, I wasn’t sure if you would go along with it.”

“I went along
with it because I’m too tired to fight you,” Maggie answered. “And because he’s
easy on the eyes.”

Maggie secured the glass dish of hot
apple dumplings into an insulated food carrier and checked her reflection in
the hallway mirror. She had decided on black slacks and a red blouse and
matching lipstick. Otherwise, she hadn’t spent much time on her appearance. She
figured that if she could catch Luke’s eye with sweaty hair and in an exhaustive
state then she didn’t need to waltz into Edie’s looking like she had just
received a transformation at a department store makeup counter.

Although nothing official had been
decided between Maggie and Luke, she regarded the evening as a trial first date.
First dates usually made her sick to her stomach, but she hoped Edie’s presence
would mitigate the anxiety. From what Edie had told her about Luke, Maggie
admitted that he seemed promising. He had recently relocated to Jasper after
receiving a transfer, he was the same age as Maggie, and had grown up on a
small farm in the heart of Kentucky’s Bluegrass region. And he was devoted to
his golden retriever.

As Maggie left
her house, she inhaled and said to herself, “You will enjoy the dinner, you
will concentrate on Luke, and you will expel the Mac Honaker murder
investigation from your mind.”

Ever since Edie had suggested
Maggie make dumplings, Maggie had been wondering how her friend would bridge
her fondness for theme meals and her reliance on crockpots or casseroles with
apples. Edie did not disappoint.

“Voila.” Edie lifted the lid off
the pot to reveal a simmering stew.

Maggie peeked inside the pot and
sniffed. “What is it?”

“Apple cider beef stew.”

“Apples and beef? Together?”

“Yes, along with a few other
ingredients. Apples aren’t just for dessert, snacks, and horses, Maggie. You
should broaden your palate’s horizon.”

“Okay,” Maggie answered. “My palate
and I will withhold judgment until the first bite.”

Although Maggie considered the stew
a little on the sweet side, after devouring half a bowl, she had to concede
that Edie was onto something.

“That was quite tasty, Edie,”
Maggie said.

“Yes,” Ben winked at his wife, “The
queen of the crockpot and casseroles comes through again.”

“This is very good,” Luke joined
the chorus of compliments. “I could eat the whole stew.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You can’t fill
up on the main course at the expense of the dessert,” Edie rose from her chair.
“Ben, help me clear the table and serve the dumplings. Maggie, I know better
than to offer you coffee, but would you like a cup, Luke?”

“Yes,” he said. “With a drop of
cream, please.”

Edie and Ben went to the kitchen
and left their guests to make small talk.

“Why don’t you like coffee?” Luke
asked Maggie.

“It’s too bitter. It reminds me of
dark chocolate.”

“I think dark chocolate always
tastes stale,” Luke noted.

“I do, too. One of the ladies in
our composing department brought her leftover Halloween candy to work. I didn’t
want to be rude, so I helped myself to a couple pieces of candy. I popped a
miniature Hershey’s into my mouth and immediately spat it out. I assumed I had
gotten hold of an old piece of chocolate until I noticed the wrapper. It was
one of those special dark Hershey’s.” Maggie shook her head. “I won’t make that
mistake again.”

“They say dark chocolate is better
for our health, but I’d rather be sick.”

“I feel the same way about coffee,”
Maggie said. “Supposedly, one cup a day can prevent you from getting everything
from a cold to cancer, but I’ll take my chances.”

Ben returned carrying the apple
dumplings and Edie followed with the coffee.

“This is fantastic,” Luke
proclaimed after taking his first bite of the dumplings. “Where did you get the
recipe?”

“From my mom.”

“Is it a family recipe?”

“Oh, no. I think she found it in a
magazine.”

“Well, it really is good.”

“It is,” Edie said.

“Unh-huh,” Ben offered before
addressing Luke. “Speaking of Maggie’s family, did she tell you she lives in
her grandparents’ house?”

Luke looked at Maggie. “No, she
didn’t. Is it an old house?”

“It was built in the ’40s, but it’s
been renovated.”

“Where do you live?”

“Maggie lives in the sticks,” Edie answered
for her friend.

“No, I don’t,” Maggie said to Luke.
“I live out in the county. To Edie, that’s the sticks.”

“I know she loves that house and
she likes being close to her parents, but we keep encouraging her to join us in
civilization.”

“It’s not that far away,” Maggie
assured Luke. “She’s exaggerating. I can be in town in fifteen to twenty
minutes.”

“Did you hear that?” Edie directed
her question to Luke. “She doesn’t realize how sad that sounds.”

“And to make matters worse, she
used to live in Jasper. But she moved back to Sugar Creek the first chance she
got,” Ben explained.

“She doesn’t even have cell service
out there,” Edie continued. “She has to depend on a land line. That’s so
primitive.”

Luke looked from Edie to Ben before
focusing his attention on Maggie. “Are you happy there?”

“Yes.”

 “There you go. And I know where
you’re coming from. I grew up about twenty-five miles from Lexington, which is
like fifty times bigger than Jasper.”

“Hey –”

 Luke smiled. “It’s the truth, Ben.
But my hometown is about a fifth the size of Jasper. We had a gas station, a
small grocery, and a hardware. It’s small and nothing ever happens, but there’s
nowhere in the world I’d rather be.”

“Exactly,” Maggie agreed. “And, besides,
it’s not like I’m missing out on that much. I love it, but we’re talking about
Jasper, not Manhattan.”

“Jasper has a lot going for it,”
Edie protested. “It’s the region’s economic and financial center and it offers
many of the same restaurants and department stores you find in bigger cities.”

“Then why do you do most of your
shopping online?” Maggie asked.

Luke laughed. “She’s got you
there.”

“Let’s be honest. Every eastern Kentucky community could be considered remote. Not just neighborhoods like Sugar Creek, but
even towns like Jasper. That’s one of the reasons we measure distance in time
instead of miles. And when someone asks us where we’re from, we give the name
of our county because odds are they haven’t heard of places like Sugar Creek or
Caldonia Road or even Jasper.” Maggie addressed Edie as she spoke, but when she
turned her attention to Luke, she was happy to see him smiling.