Maggie's Story (Intergalactic Matchmaking Services) (2 page)

Maggie proceeded to put up her belongings while talking to Mamzell. “Well, it looks like the police have no new information…or any real assistance…on our case.”

“
Mrawr
,” came the expected reply.

She managed to put away her bags and coat while telling Mamzell all about the pre-Halloween activities the kids at school performed today. Maggie then walked into the kitchen and picked up the cat’s food dishes. After refreshing Mamzell’s cat food and water, she made her way down the short hall toward her bedroom.

It was time to get dressed in what she fondly referred to as her “grungies.” This consisted of sweat pants and a t-shirt, each of which had seen better days, but were soft and perfect to spend the evening in. She didn’t care that stylists would disapprove of such loose clothing on her curvy form; she dressed for comfort, not to please other folks. Maggie was a woman comfortable with the fact that she wasn’t built like the latest super models. She had curves where she felt they should be and starving herself for the interest of a man had never appealed to her either. While she wasn’t obese, she could never be considered svelte; and she was fine with that.

After changing clothes, Maggie grabbed her messenger bag and retired to the sofa in her living room. The apartment had come furnished and Maggie had no choice in the flowered upholstery on the couch. It was something reminiscent of the ‘80s. Regardless of the less-than-attractive floral pattern, it was a comfortable sofa; it was great for unwinding while watching the news and movies. Maggie also sat here in the evenings while working on the schoolwork she brought home each day. If she wasn’t correcting student work she was usually working on lesson plans or wrestling with Mamzell over the yarn while she crocheted scarves. Since she couldn’t sit idle for long periods of time, she crocheted scarves and hats for the needy and homeless each year. They were pretty popular back in Minnesota, with the frigid winters; she hoped they were just as popular here in the damp Pacific Northwest.

As Maggie was pulling out the papers she wanted to review tonight, a bright pink slip of paper fell out of the bag. It was the flyer she had found on her truck at the police station. She must have automatically stuffed it into her bag without thinking about it. She tossed the flyer onto her coffee table, planning to toss it into the recycling bin when she got up the next time.

With the cat in her lap, she turned on the TV to watch the news. The news announcer was commenting on a body found.

“
A body was found today by the groundskeeper at the Mount Vernon Cemetery. The body is of a young woman who appears to be in her late teens. The only detail the police are releasing at this time is that a yellow bandana was also found by the body. The police are asking for help identifying the woman since she was not carrying identification. If you have any information, please call the Mount Vernon Police Department at the number posted on your screen.
”

There was a picture of a young woman’s face on the screen. It was easy to see she was lying on a metal table. It was also easy to see she had a lot bruising on her face and neck.

“Oh, God, Mamzell! The poor girl! It has to be a Snake’s bandana they found.”

Maggie set the tiny cat aside, rose from the sofa, and walked to the living room window which faced out over the street in front of the building. The view afforded her beautiful views of the sunset over the Puget Sound and the nearby Fidalgo Island. She turned her head to the right to see the group of young men was still standing on the corner of her street. Just as she was about to return to her seat one of the men turned in her direction and looked up at her apartment window. He pointed his hand at her, holding his fingers in the universal sign of a gun, and jerked his arm back, just as you would when pulling the trigger on a gun. He smiled at her as he held his index finger to his mouth and blew on it. Just like they did in old western cowboy movies.

She quickly dropped the curtain back over the window and returned to her seat. She picked up the cat and hugged her to her chest. “What are we going to do, Mamzell? They know where we live!”

“
Mrawr
!” Mamzell purred as she resettled in her owner’s lap.

At that moment, the young woman’s green eyes fell on the flyer on her coffee table. She reached for it, reading it through again.
“Must be willing to relocate.”
Would it really come to her having to relocate to another city? Her bank account was pretty low after moving here only three months ago. She had moved to Washington in July for the new school year that started at the end of August. It was now only October. Her students were working on craft projects for the upcoming Halloween holiday. Maggie did not want to move again. She had started to love western Washington; she loved the people and the weather and, more importantly, her students. She had never seen such lush, green territory as she had found in the Pacific Northwest. The only negative thing to happen to her since arriving here was witnessing the murder of the clerk at the corner gas station.

After watching a couple hours of TV while working on papers, Maggie decided to turn in for the night. As she was making her way to her bedroom, she peeked out the window again one more time. The young men were no longer there, but she still felt unsafe. She couldn’t get the image of the gangster blowing on a gun out of her mind.

“Come on, Mamzell. Time to brush teeth and head to bed.” Curling up with her loving cat was just what she needed right then. Of course, it would be even better if it was to a loving partner, but Maggie didn’t have a lot experience with long-term relationships. The life of an Army brat meant lots of moving. So, for now, it was just her and the cat.

CHAPTER 3

Maggie woke Tuesday morning to the loud blaring of her alarm clock. Time to get up and face another day of inquisitive minds. She stumbled to the bathroom in search of a shower to help her wake up. As the water was warming up, she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her auburn hair, with gold highlights, was a mess. Her curly mass of hair was why someone came up with the phrase “bed head.” She had to either wash her hair every day or resort to a pony tail.

Her morning routine of showering, dressing, and eating didn’t take too long. Maggie did not consider herself a vain person so she wore very little in the way of make-up. She considered herself average in almost every way. When she was given a compliment, she figured the person was just being nice. She didn’t see the special spark that others did when they looked at her. After her last boyfriend cheated on her, she took a pretty serious hit to her self-esteem. Her faith in men was not what it could be. She hoped to one day have a relationship like her parents did, but at twenty-eight, she was starting to have her doubts.

After sifting the kitty litter box and throwing that out, she washed her hands and gathered her messenger bag, purse and coat. Maggie locked up her apartment and headed down the dim hallway to the outside door. It would be wonderful to have a door that had a small window or even a peephole in it. As it was, the door was a simple aluminum style that opened directly onto the landing outside. The residents were unable to glance outside to determine if anyone was loitering in the parking area of the alley.

Maggie considered herself lucky any time she opened the door and did not encounter a member of the Snake gang. That was her biggest fear these days, opening that hallway door and coming face-to-face with a gang member.

Unfortunately, her luck stopped there. As she was leaving the alley she noticed another group of jean-clad young men, all wearing yellow bandanas, across the street. They watched her as she pulled out onto the street and headed north to the school. All the way to work, Maggie worried over the fact that it now appeared as though the Snake gang was keeping her under surveillance. She had hoped her feeling of being watched was just her imagination. After parking in the teachers’ parking lot, she pulled out her cell phone and called Detective Miles.

“Homicide, this is Detective Miles,” answered a gruff voice.

“Good morning, Detective, this is Maggie Cline.”

“What can I do for you, Ms. Cline?” asked the detective. She could hear him taking a drink.

“I wanted to let you know that it now appears the gang is hanging out near my apartment! When I arrived home last night there were three of them on the street corner of my block. And this morning, when I left, there were several of them across the street from my alley. How did they find out about me?”

“Hmm…I’m not sure Ms. Cline, but I’ll look into it. I’ll make a note of it in the file, too. Unfortunately, if they’re just watching, we can’t do anything,” stated the detective. He sounded distracted.

“What?! You mean you have to wait until they kill me like they obviously did the girl found in the cemetery?” exclaimed Maggie. She knew her voice was raised, but she was so scared by the police department’s apparent inability to capture a shooter.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but ‘til they take some type of action, our hands are tied,” said Detective Miles. “All I can say is try to stay safe, keep an eye on your surroundings, and call us if anything happens.”

“Unbelievable! Good bye, Detective,” exclaimed Maggie.

This was so unreal to the young woman. How could honest, tax-paying citizens feel safe if the police department couldn’t help? Maggie heard the first bell of the morning ringing across the school grounds and knew she needed to hurry to class. She gathered her belongings, locked up her car, and hurried to her classroom.

All through the morning Maggie worried over the fact she was being watched. How long was this going to go on? Why couldn’t they find one single man to bring him to trial? The acid in her stomach roiled at the thought she would have to live with this feeling of insecurity indefinitely.

By lunch time Maggie found her mind kept returning to the bright pink flyer from yesterday. Maybe that would be the solution to her situation. She wasn’t opposed to matchmakers or their work. Just because she wasn’t involved with anyone now didn’t mean she didn’t
want
someone in her life. It would be nice to have someone in her life she could count on. While she wasn’t the “crazy lady with the cats” yet, she knew for sure that she didn’t want to end up that way, either. She had put so much time into her schooling and then her career, giving no thought to her future.

Maggie spent her lunch time in the Teachers’ Lounge. As she ate her lunch, she shared yesterday’s events with one of her fellow first grade teachers, Shirley Hampton.

“So what are you going to do, Maggie?” asked Shirley.

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to have to move again. I like it here. But I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this; the constant fear is wearing on me.” Maggie knew Shirley would understand her considering her own background.

“Yeah, living in fear twenty-four-seven is no way to live. When I had that stalker after me, I almost fell apart. I even developed an ulcer that took a long time to heal.” Shirley had had a stalker a few years back. From the horror stories she told about the experience it was very scary.

“I even considered calling a matchmaking service that proclaims to include relocation services!” stated Maggie.

“What? No way, you can’t leave now. I would miss you too much,” pouted Shirley. “But I understand the need to take action. Just keep me in the loop in case anything happens, please.”

“I will. Thanks for listening to me,” muttered Maggie. It was obvious she was discouraged by the recent events.

Just then the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period. Both teachers sorted out their recyclables and threw away their trash before heading to their respective classrooms. Maggie had a class full of little kids that she hoped would keep her distracted from her troubles for the rest of the afternoon.

CHAPTER 4

At the ringing of the last bell, Maggie walked her students out to the crowded busing zone to make sure they were all taken care of. After the last student was gone, she collected her things and waved goodbye to the other teachers. A quick trip by the grocery store for pantry staples and cat supplies, then it was off to home for the night. Mamzell would be waiting for her evening feeding and evening “conversation.” Even if it was a cat, Maggie was grateful to have someone to go home to; someone that depended on her and cared for her. She also knew that feeling would be even better if there was a man or a family waiting for her at home. Someone to have a real conversation with.

The closer Maggie got to her block, the more her stomach churned. She wondered how many young gang members would be loitering around her apartment this evening. As she turned left onto Warren Street, she noticed yesterday’s group of gang members standing on the corner again. All three turned to watch her drive by. She turned right into the alley bisecting 6
^th
and 7
^th
Street and drove down to her designated parking spot behind the antique store. After gathering her belongings and the grocery bags, she quickly opened the truck door, engaged the locks, and dashed up the steps to the apartment hallway landing. She kept her thumb hovering over the red alarm button on her key fob.

The aluminum exit door closed behind her and she found herself in the long, dim hallway. She just needed to get to her apartment door and she could breathe easier. She could smell noxious paint fumes hanging in the air. As she came to her apartment door, she noticed something odd on it. There was graffiti on her door! Upon closer inspection she realized she was looking at a hand, held in the position of a gun. Thumb up, index finger pointed outward to the left, and the other three fingers folded inward.

Maggie quickly opened her apartment door, kicked it closed behind her and dropped all her bags on the entryway floor. She immediately turned to engage the locks on the front door. The scared young woman stood there, leaning on the door, breathing harshly through her open mouth.