A Deal to Die For (8 page)

She gave Sam a seductive look, and Maggie felt her temper erupt like fireworks in
the sky. She went to charge Summer, but Sam looped an arm around her waist and held
her back.

Summer gave her a nasty laugh and tossed her hair in triumph. “Listen, Sam, when you
get bored with her and want a real woman, call me.”

She made a kissy face at him and stalked away. Tyler Fawkes watched her go, his face
slack with longing while the women all glared.

It took Sam’s muscular forearm and every ounce of personal strength Maggie had to
keep from chasing Summer down and putting a hurt on her.

She did some deep-breathing exercises, trying to find her
inner Zen. Sam waited. She did some more breathing exercises and tried to find her
personal happy place.

“Are you okay now?” he asked. He released her very slowly as if afraid she might bolt.

“I’m fine,” she said. She closed her eyes for a long moment and then opened them and
looked at Sam, pleased that she could feel that her heart rate was back to normal,
and she had unclenched her fists. “So, what should I do with Bianca’s things? Her
house? The station? My shop? What?”

Sam looked alarmed at the idea of so many boxes at the station.

“Can you keep them at your shop?”

“Sure. I’d been planning to, but I don’t want to be accused of theft. Is there anything
I need to do?” she asked. “Make up an inventory or sign a form or something?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said with a small smile. “I trust you.”

Maggie glanced at him. His gaze was steady, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there
was another layer of meaning in his words. She wished she were brave enough to ask
him, but no.

Maggie strode back into the tent to retrieve some boxes. Sam helped, and they hauled
several to Tyler’s truck before turning back to get more.

“Did you find anything of interest while packing it all up?” he asked. He held out
his arms and Maggie loaded boxes into them.

“Loads of stuff, if you’re into vintage clothing,” she said. “But nothing if you’re
trying to find out more about the person who owned the clothes. She had amazing taste—that’s
about it.”

“Not terribly helpful,” he said.

Maggie picked up a large box, and they walked toward the waiting pickup.

“How is Bianca holding up?” she asked as she hefted her box into the bed of the truck.

“As well as can be expected,” he said. “Considering her mother was murdered.”

“What?” Maggie gasped. “But who? How?”

Sam glanced around them and shook his head. “Forget I said that. I spoke out of turn.
It’s just—”

“Just what?” she asked.

They moved aside to let Ginger and Joanne load their boxes into the truck. Sam took
Maggie’s arm and led her out of earshot of the others.

“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “But I don’t like anything about this situation.”

He looked grim.

“Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” she asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked affronted.

“Sam, you worked homicide in Richmond for over twenty years,” she said. “I read the
paper. I know that Richmond’s murder rate has been ranked five times higher than the
national average.”

“It’s dropped significantly over the past several years,” he said. “The Richmond PD
has done amazing work.”

Maggie could hear the pride in his voice, and she tucked her smile into her cheek.

“No doubt in large part because of you and your fellow detectives,” she said, trying
to appease him. “But look around you. Does St. Stanley look like Richmond?”

Sam turned and looked over the town green. Maggie followed his gaze. The dogwoods
had changed color, and their large spoon-shaped leaves were a vibrant scarlet that
would drop and be gone in just a few days.

Sam took a deep breath in, and Maggie noticed that the smell of the donut booth nearby
permeated the air with the scent of frying dough.

Groups of neighbors chatted with one another while they shopped the flea market. Children
ran around the tables and tents beneath the watchful eyes of all of the grown-ups
who were present.

Despite the horror of what had happened to Vera at Dr. Franklin’s office, St. Stanley
was a busy, happy place with residents who genuinely cared about one another. Yes,
occasionally someone overstepped their bounds and got into her business, but Maggie
could live with that if it meant that the burdens she had to carry were shared as
well.

“The buildings are shorter,” he said.

“Really, Sam?” she asked with a laugh. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Maggie, you’ve lived your entire life here in this town,” he said.

Maggie waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

Instead, he looked at her with eyes that had seen too much pain and too much suffering
to forget what human beings were capable of doing to one another.

Maggie felt an overpowering urge to hug him tight, just like he had done to her earlier,
to try and make the horror
go away. She thrust her hands in her pockets to resist any such foolishness.

“That’s true,” she said. “And I know I haven’t been exposed to the things you have,
but still, that doesn’t mean Vera’s death was murder.”

Sam put a hand on the back of his neck. He gave her a rueful glance. “Maybe you’re
right. Maybe I haven’t acclimated just yet.”

“Maggie, we’re done loading,” Tyler called. “Do you want to meet me at your shop?”

“Thanks, Tyler,” she said. She glanced at Sam to be absolutely sure this was okay,
and he nodded.

“I trust you,” he said.

Again, Maggie felt a surge of warmth from the inside out. Why this made her feel good,
she had no idea. In fact, she didn’t particularly want to dwell on any feelings in
regard to Sam Collins. She dipped her head and studied her shoes.

“Thanks,” she said.

When she looked up, he was gone.

“Are you ready, Maggie?” Ginger asked. “I’ll give you a lift.”

“What?” She was scanning the booths of the flea market, but there was no sign of Sam.

Kim Chisholm, who was working the donut booth, came over with a heaping plate of donuts.

“Here you go,” she said. She was short and stocky with blonde hair that she wore under
a baseball cap. Her apron had grease splatters, and streaks of powdered sugar covered
her arms. “I heard about what happened to Vera. You all deserve this for helping Bianca
out.”

“Aw, thanks, Kim.” Tyler reached over Maggie and grabbed two.

Ginger gave him a sharp look, but Kim had been generous, and there were at least ten
more donuts on the plate.

There were a chorus of thank-yous, and then Kim’s husband, Steve, came over with a
pitcher of apple cider and several cups.

“I heard it was a heart attack,” he said. “Did Dr. Franklin say that?”

Maggie felt everyone’s eyes upon her. She knew better than to mention what Sam had
said, so she went for a vague answer, which was nice because it was also the truth.

“I don’t think they know what the cause of death was just yet,” she said.

“I heard from Bill Parsons—he and his wife play bridge with Vera—that Vera goes to
her doctor in Dumontville three times a week,” Steve said.

“Did she have a condition?” Joanne asked. “I mean, she always seemed to be in good
health.”

“According to Bill, she was in excellent health but was a complete hypochondriac.
If she had a headache, it was a migraine. If she had heartburn, she was having a heart
attack. You know the type.”

“And how,” Ginger said. “I had an aunt like that. She spent every day of her last
fifty years always about to die.”

“Well, now I feel bad,” Kim said, “for not being more patient with her when she was
complaining.”

“At least Vera can have the last word,” Claire said.

“What do you mean?” Maggie asked.

“She can have an epitaph put on her grave that reads,
I told you I was sick
,” she said.

“Claire!” Joanne chastised her and then burst into a nervous giggle.

“What?” Claire said. “It’s a famous epitaph.”

“Well, if anyone would put it on their headstone, it would be Vera,” Ginger said as
she finished off her second donut.

The group nodded in agreement. Vera was well known for her strong opinions and controlling
nature. Given her position as the wealthiest resident in the community of St. Stanley,
no one had wanted to cross Vera Madison.

“All we can do now is try to help Bianca through this difficult time,” Maggie said.
“She’s going to have a lot to deal with. I just hope Vera left everything in order
for her.”

“Poor Bianca,” Joanne said. “When she’d come into the deli with Vera for lunch, you
could see her always trying to guess what her mother wanted. Vera could be very difficult.”

“How is Bianca taking her mother’s death?” Kim asked.

“She’s pretty distraught,” Maggie said. “Molly Spencer is looking after her.”

“Molly is a good woman,” Kim said. “She’ll help her through it.”

“Well, time to go,” Tyler said. He was looking forlornly at the empty donut plate.

Maggie shook her head. Tyler should have a sign around his neck that read, Will work
for food. She was pretty sure that if she stabbed a hot dog with a stick and held
it out in front of him, she could get him to do anything she asked.

“We’ll meet you at the shop, Tyler,” Ginger said.

“Can you pull around to the back so we can put these boxes in my storage room?” Maggie
asked.

“Will do,” Tyler said. He climbed into the cab of his truck, and with a wave he pulled
out into the street.

“Thanks again for the donuts and cider,” Maggie said to Kim and Steve.

“Anytime,” they said in unison.

Maggie and the Good Buy Girls left the flea market and
strode across the street to the corner, where her shop, My Sister’s Closet, was situated.
Maggie unlocked the front door and let them in.

The space still needed a lot of work, but it was coming along. She tried to ignore
the feeling of panic that hit her as she realized she had purchased nothing at the
flea market, and if she didn’t get a move on, she was going to have a grand opening
with a whole lot of nothing to sell.

Then she thought of Vera and Bianca, and she realized that what she had to deal with
was minuscule in comparison.
Perspective
.

Maggie woke up early the next morning. Mostly because her grandnephew, Josh, had climbed
into her bed in the middle of the night. He was a little mover and shaker in his sleep
and just before the sun came up, he had flopped his body across the bed, firmly lodging
his big toe in her ear.

Maggie gently pushed his feet away from her head and gazed in wonder at the towheaded
little man beside her. It seemed like just yesterday her own daughter, Laura, had
been this size, and now she was a sophomore at Penn State. She would be home in a
few weeks for Thanksgiving break and Maggie couldn’t wait to see her.

Laura was even more excited about Maggie’s shop than Maggie was, and Maggie could
certainly use a blast of her daughter’s optimism right now. After the disaster that
was yesterday’s flea market, Maggie was beginning to fear she was in over her head.

She slipped out of the bed, even though the sun wasn’t completely up yet, and carefully
tucked Josh back in. He didn’t even notice, and she envied him his ability to sleep
so soundly.

Not wanting to disturb her niece, Sandy, she kept the lights off while she crept to
the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She and Sandy were perfect coffee buddies, as
they both tended to make it strong. Maggie wondered if it was a motherhood thing.
A woman needed serious jet fuel to spend her days chasing a toddler.

While the coffee brewed, she went outside and retrieved the Sunday paper. She had
thought about giving up her newspaper, since the cost of home delivery had gone up
again, but the coupon-clipper inside of her just couldn’t let go of her Sunday circulars.
When she’d done the math, she’d figured out that the amount of money she saved in
coupons from the Sunday paper more than made up for the money she spent on the paper
itself.

She sat down at the kitchen table and skimmed the front page. There was nothing about
Vera’s death in the local section, so she hoped that Sam had been wrong and that Vera’s
death had not been a homicide as he feared.

Maggie had finished with the paper when Sandy came into the kitchen. Her reddish brown
hair, so like Maggie’s in color, was sporting a rooster-worthy case of bed head.

“Rough night?” Maggie asked.

“Fell asleep on my laptop,” Sandy said. “I had a nice imprint of the keyboard going
across my face.”

Maggie squinted at her. “Well, it looks like it’s faded.”

“Thank goodness,” Sandy said. “I really didn’t want to sit in my human growth and
development class with a space bar on my cheek.”

Maggie laughed. “You’re almost done. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Sandy said. “It’s going to be so nice to finally be able to call myself
a nurse.”