Marked Down for Murder (Good Buy Girls) (9 page)

“How uncomfortable?” Maggie asked. “Like awkward uncomfortable, or ‘I want to cause you physical harm’ uncomfortable?”

“Now hold on there,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Really? What am I thinking?” Maggie asked.

“That Summer murdered her stepfather to protect her mother,” he said. “And I’m telling you she didn’t. I’d stake my life on it.”

“Oh, man, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Maggie
asked.

“Got what bad?” he asked.

“You’re in love with Summer,” Maggie said. Tyler’s face went slack, as if this had never occurred to him. “Oh, don’t tell me this is news to you.”

“Well, I mean I like her,” he said. He made an hourglass shape in the air with his calloused hands. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to drive those curves?”

Maggie squinted at him. Was he for real? How could he be so out of touch with his own feelings?

“Come on, Tyler, dig deep,” she said.

“Yeah, well, sure, I care about her,” he said.

“Tyler, look at you,” Maggie said. “You are here pleading her case to her archenemy, trying to figure out a way to get her out of being tapped for her stepfather’s murder. I hate to break it to you, but you looooooove her.”

Tyler flinched. Maggie almost laughed, but he looked so horrified, she couldn’t do that to him.

“You need to do some thinking,” Maggie said.

Tyler scratched his beard again. He looked perplexed. Given that he wasn’t a very deep thinker, Maggie had a feeling that this might take the entire afternoon.

“You’re right,” he said. He slapped his cap back onto his head. “I gotta go.”

He turned and headed to the door. Halfway there, he spun back around. “But you’ll think about what I said, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Maggie said. She was not about to tell him that Sam had all but ordered her to steer clear. She didn’t want it to seem like she and Sam had the same kind of relationship as Blair and Bruce. She absolutely did not want anyone, and by “anyone” she meant “Sam,” thinking that he could boss her around and she would blindly obey.

The door shut behind Tyler, and Maggie shook her head. She had been doing so well with the butting out until he showed up.

Her cell phone chimed and Maggie picked it up off the counter and checked the caller ID. It was Ginger. Perfect. She needed a girlfriend consultation.

“Hi, Ginger,” she said.

“We need to talk,” Ginger said.

“Are Roger and the boys all right?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Because ‘we need to talk’ generally indicates a big problem, and since I know they’re your reason for living I figured it had to do with them.”

“It’s true, they are, but mercifully, they are all fine,” Ginger said. “Summer Phillips, however, is not.”

“Oh, no, not you, too,” Maggie said.

“What do you mean?” Ginger asked.

“Tyler Fawkes was just in here asking me to look into the situation and to use my influence with Sam to get Summer off,” she said.

“Oh, wow,” Ginger said. “He’s smitten.”

“That’s what I told him,” Maggie said. “I think it was news to him.”

“Huh. Why is it men are always the last to realize that they’re in love?” Ginger asked. “They’re really so thick.”

“And Tyler is thicker than most,” Maggie said. She laughed. “He left with quite the ponderous look on his face.”

Ginger laughed, too. “I can just see it. Sort of like a dog when it hears a high pitched whistle.”

“Yup, that’s the one,” Maggie said.

“Well, listen, you know how I feel about Summer,” Ginger said.

“About the same as me,” Maggie said. “Only you’re less demonstrative in your dislike.”

“I never felt the need to show my loathing and contempt in public, no,” Ginger said. “Then again, she never made a habit of trying to steal Roger . . .”

“Which would be a game changer,” Maggie said.

“Agreed.”

“Still, you think we should help her,” Maggie said.

“I was just thinking I’d take a peek at the Cassidys’ financials,” Ginger said. “I’m sure Sam is already on it, but I thought I’d do a little digging, and if I find anything, I’ll pass it along.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Maggie said. “Unfortunately, I had to promise Sam I would keep away from the entire investigation.”

“Do tell,” Ginger said.

Maggie paced around her shop while she talked, straightening clothes and arranging the furniture. It didn’t need it, but she felt a restless energy she had to expel.

“Sam’s worried that whoever did this is still out there, and he’s concerned that if I butt in, I’ll make myself a target,” she said.

“Well, it has been known to happen,” Ginger said. “He finally got you back in his life—you can’t blame the guy for wanting to keep you safe.”

“I don’t,” Maggie said. “I even agreed to mind my own business.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there,” Ginger said.

“He’s been away from St. Stanley for a long time,” Maggie said. “I know the residents; heck, I even know the passers-through better than he does.”

“Agreed,” Ginger said. “But if you go back on your word now . . .”

“I know, I know,” Maggie said. “It’ll damage the relationship.”

“Yes, and as you know, good men are hard to come by in these middle years; they’re either taken or, well, they’re like Tyler Fawkes, forty going on fourteen.”

Maggie shuddered as a picture of Tyler in his underwear streaked through her mind—but not nearly quickly enough.

“Yeah, I know,” she said.

“There has to be a middle ground,” Ginger said. “You just go about your business, and if people talk to you like I will if I find anything funky, then you tell Sam. He can’t get mad at you, because I am doing this on my own and just reporting it back.”

“I suppose,” Maggie said. “But what do I tell Tyler when he asks if I’m working on the situation?”

“Hopefully, his brain in love is at capacity and he won’t ask,” Ginger said.

Maggie conceded that this seemed a likely possibility.

“But if he should ask, then you just go all vague politician on him and say, ‘Why, yes, Tyler, I am working on it to the best of my ability,’ which would be the truth.”

“I suppose,” Maggie agreed, but she didn’t like it. Was being involved with the sheriff going to make her feel this tied down? She wasn’t sure she wanted to sign on for that.

As if reading her mind, Ginger said, “Give it time.”

“Fine,” Maggie said. She knew she sounded pouty, but she couldn’t help it. She hung up after Ginger promised to report back with anything she learned.

“Stop thinking about the Cassidys,” she chided herself and decided to rearrange the shoe rack at the back of the shop to keep her hands and mind busy.

She had just finished rearranging the shoes and helping Candace Lester unload some of the baby clothes she had sorted from her five growing children when the doors opened and Claire came dashing into the shop.

Candace had picked up two dresses and passed Claire on her way out. She paused to talk to Claire about the waiting list on a book at the library, and Claire gave her a quick nod and blew right past her. Maggie looked at her friend’s face and knew immediately that something was up.

“Is Joanne in labor?” she asked. “Are they on their way to the hospital?”

“No,” Claire said. “At least I haven’t heard anything if they are.”

Maggie and Claire both paused to check their phones. No new messages for either of them. “Michael would have texted us,” Maggie said.

“For sure,” Claire agreed. “I came by about something else.”

“A fabulous sale?” Maggie asked hopefully.

“No, why, what have you heard?” Claire asked. She was momentarily diverted by the thought of thrift.

“Nothing,” Maggie said. “I am just hoping that you are not going to tell me that you are looking into Bruce Cassidy’s murder in order to help Summer. Please tell me you’re not.”

“Okay, I’m not looking into Bruce Cassidy’s murder in order to help Summer,” Claire said.

“Thank goodness.”

“And now I’m a liar.”

Maggie slumped onto one of the two cushy armchairs she had for sale in the shoe area.

“Why are you checking out Bruce?” Maggie asked. “You don’t even like Summer. What do you care if she’s a person of interest in his murder or not?”

Claire sat on the chair next to Maggie’s. “Just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean she’s not one of us. She’s the enemy, you know? If she gets locked up, who will be our nemesis then? In great literature, the protagonist is frequently defined by the antagonist.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” Maggie said. Her tone was doubtful. “Listen, I promised Sam I would stay out of it.”

“Good thing I’m here to stick my nose in for you then,” Claire said. “I didn’t do much, but I did a little digging in the databases at work and online.”

“And?” Maggie asked.

“Well, I searched Bruce Cassidy’s background in San Diego, California, since that’s where he said he was from. I thought if there was a record of any court cases he was involved in, that could show if he left any enemies behind,” Claire said. “When I narrowed the search down by age, I discovered there was only one Bruce Cassidy who was a viable match. And that’s when it got weird.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. Damn it, now she was curious. “How weird?”

“He was listed as being married to a Sela Cassidy,” Claire said. “So, I checked the San Diego Superior Court files to see if there was a divorce on file. There was none.”

“Maybe they got divorced somewhere else,” Maggie said.

“Perhaps, but didn’t he say that he had only just left California and moved to New York when he met Blair?”

“He did,” Maggie confirmed.

“So then, why wouldn’t the divorce be on file?”

“Maybe she died,” Maggie said. “Maybe he’s a widower.”

“I had the same thought,” Claire said. “To prevent against identity theft, they require a notarized application to obtain a death certificate, so the best I could do was search for an obituary. There was none.”

Maggie leaned forward. She was intrigued, despite her promise to Sam to mind her own beeswax.

“Do you think he was still married when he married Blair?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said. “I mean, my databases are pretty limited and specialize in genealogy, and you can only go so far on an out-of-state website, but still, I thought it was pretty interesting that there is no indication of a divorce or a death. Usually those things are pretty easy to trace.”

“Sam probably knows this already,” Maggie said.

“I’m sure Blair must have told him,” Claire agreed.

“Unless she doesn’t know,” Maggie said.

“Do you think that’s possible?” Claire asked.

“From what Tyler described of their relationship, Bruce had all the power,” Maggie said. “He was very indulgent with Blair, but he definitely called the shots.”

“So he may not have told her about any previous relationships, regardless of how they ended,” Claire said. “And Blair doesn’t strike me as the type to dig much further than the depth of his pockets.”

“Ginger is checking into Bruce’s financials,” Maggie said.

Claire smiled. “I thought you were butting out.”

“For the record, I didn’t ask her to look; she called and told me that she was doing it,” Maggie said.

“Uh-huh,” Claire said.

“Just like I didn’t ask you to look into his history,” Maggie said.

“You’ve trained your Good Buy Girls well, sensei,” Claire said in a mock-serious voice as she lowered her head in a bow.

“Sam is going to be so mad at me,” Maggie said. “But in a town this size, is it really reasonable to think that I could stay completely out of a murder investigation?”

“He won’t be mad,” Claire said. “He’s a very reasonable man.”

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to put that theory to the test,” Maggie said. “Let’s head over to the police station and see if Sam is in. You can tell him what you found out, and maybe Summer can verify whether her stepfather had been married before.”

Claire glanced at her watch. “That works. I don’t have to be back at the library for forty-five minutes.”

Maggie grabbed her purse and flipped the store sign to
CLOSED
as she and Claire hurried down the sidewalk to the police station.

With each step, Maggie had the feeling she was one step closer to a showdown with Sam. It was not a pleasant thought. Of course, it would have helped if the high noon shoot-out music would stop playing in her head, but she couldn’t shake the sensation that if she and Sam did have a showdown, she was going to lose—him.

“Hi, Dot,” Maggie said as they entered the police
station and found Deputy Wilson manning the front counter.

“Hi, Maggie, Claire,” Dot said. She then hurried around the counter to stare at Claire’s shoes. “Where did you get those?”

Claire glanced down at her feet as if she’d forgotten what shoes she was wearing. They were a pair of deep purple suede pumps with gold buckles. “Oh, these old things?”

“Don’t you ‘these old things’ me,” Dot chastised her. “I know the latest in Prada when I see it.”

“Fine. I bartered for them,” Claire said.

“Do tell,” Dot encouraged her.

“Aren’t you on your lunch hour?” Maggie asked Claire.

“Oh, yeah,” Claire said. “Sorry, Dot, no time for shoe talk. I came over to see if Summer wanted any books or magazines while she is . . . er . . . visiting the jail.”

Dot looked at her. “Is that a new service the library is offering?”

Claire nodded. “Very new. The idea came to me while I was remembering how long the days were during my own unfortunate incarceration.”

Maggie had to glance at her feet lest she give away exactly how new the idea was by grinning.

“Well, that’s right nice of you,” Dot said.

“Librarians have layers,” Claire said.

“So long as one of those layers tells me exactly who and how you bartered for those shoes while we walk back to Summer’s cell, it’s all good,” Dot said.

She led the way to the back with Claire and Maggie following her. Dot noticed Maggie and abruptly stopped with one hand on her hip, “Now just where do you think you’re going?”

“To see Summer,” Maggie said.

“Why?” Dot asked. “So you can go all ‘neener neener neener’ on her? Don’t you think the girl is suffering enough? Really, Maggie, I thought better of you.”

“I wasn’t . . .” Maggie began, but Dot cut her off.

“No, you just go sit over by the window where you can’t get into any trouble,” Dot said. “And watch the phone for me.”

“Why?” Maggie pouted. “Is it going somewhere?”

Dot squinted one eye at her and Maggie spun on her heel and slouched over to the hard bench by the window. She huffed when she sat down, but Dot took no notice of her.

“Now, you were saying about bartering,” Dot said to Claire as they disappeared into the back.

Maggie kicked her feet out in front of her. She was pretty sure she had a sulk going on that could only be matched by a two-year-old in the throes of the terribles.

Really, just because she and Summer had scuffed it up before there was no reason to think that Maggie was going to enjoy seeing her locked in a cell. Okay, maybe in the darkest corner of her heart, she might derive a smidgeon of pleasure at seeing Summer suffer, but who could blame her?

The front door to the station opened and Maggie jerked upright. It would not do for Sam to find her there looking sullen. In fact, if it were him, she would be darn lucky she had stayed out front, as in
out of it
. It wasn’t Sam who entered, however; it was Blair Cassidy.

Dressed in thigh-high black leather boots, a plaid mini skirt and a puffy red jacket, Blair looked like a tomato with legs. Maggie shook the mean thought aside. The woman’s husband had just been murdered. Surely she could find it within herself to be nice.

Blair stopped at the front desk and looked around. Obviously, she was looking for someone to let her in to see Summer.

“Dot just went in back,” Maggie said.

Blair swiveled her head in Maggie’s direction. She tossed her black bob out of her face and looked down her nose at Maggie.

“What are you doing here?”

Maggie could tell by her tone that she was looking for a fight. Maggie refused to play.

“I’m waiting for a friend,” she said. At least it was the truth.

“So your boyfriend isn’t in his office?” Blair asked. “Maybe he is finally doing his job and tracking down my husband’s real killer. I registered a complaint with the mayor, you know. Maybe that lit a fire under his backside.”

Maggie popped out of her seat. She could feel her temper getting the better of her, and she knew she should keep her mouth shut, but that cow was out of the barn before she could shut the door.

“A murder like this can’t be solved in one day,” she said. “Oh, then again, it seems to me he has a suspect in custody already.”

“Summer did not do this,” Blair snapped. “She loved Bruce. She had no reason to harm him.”

“Well, someone did,” Maggie said. “Who had a beef with him? His last wife? A mistress? A surly relative?”

“No!” Blair stomped her foot. “Bruce didn’t have a wife before me, and definitely not a mistress. Why would he need one when he had me? And he had no family other than me and Summer.”

“Are you sure about that?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, I am,” Blair insisted. “You’re just a nasty, vile person trying to make me doubt my beloved Bruce.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Really? Think about it, Blair. How well did you know him? You were only married for two years. He was in his sixties. He clearly had a long life before you. What makes you think you know everything about him?”

“I just do,” she seethed. “Bruce and I didn’t have secrets. We had a love someone like you could never understand.”

“Actually,” a voice interrupted, “Maggie’s right. Your husband
was
married before—to a woman named Sela.”

Maggie and Blair both turned toward the door. Sam stood there, looking none too happy.

“That’s a lie!” Blair said. “You’re obviously listening to her vicious gossip instead of doing your job.”

Sam pushed his hat back on his head and studied Blair. “Mrs. Cassidy, I understand that you’re upset, but I can assure you the information I have comes directly from a standard law enforcement background search on your husband.”

“But that’s impossible,” she said. Her face went visibly pale and Maggie wondered if she was going to faint again. Sam must have thought so, too, because he moved forward so he could be in range if she toppled.

“I’m sorry. I know it must be a shock,” Sam said.

“But he told me he had never been married before. You have to be wrong. You have to be!”

“Come into my office, Mrs. Cassidy . . . er . . . Blair, and we can talk about it,” Sam said. His tone was gentle, and Maggie felt such admiration for his compassion.

Blair nodded and Sam opened the half door for her that led into the back.

“My office is the first door on the right,” he said. “Can I get you water or coffee?”

“Green tea with honey and just a dash of lemon would be lovely,” she said.

“Yeah, water or coffee is pretty much what we run on here,” Sam said.

“Oh.” She looked so distraught that Maggie almost offered to go out and get her tea. “Water will be fine.”

“I’ll be right in,” Sam said. He watched until she disappeared into his office. Then he turned on Maggie. She was pretty sure the look in his eyes was not “hey, I’m glad to see you” but more “oh, man, are you gonna get it.”

“Wow, would you look at the time,” Maggie said, gesturing at the clock on the wall. “I just popped in to say hi so, uh, hi, and I’d really better get back to the shop. See ya! Call me!”

She was almost home free, and she would have made it, too, if Dot and Claire hadn’t appeared right at that exact moment.

“Maggie, wait up,” Claire said. Then she noticed Sam standing there looking like a thunderhead about to rumble. “Oh, hi, Sam.”

“Hey, boss, what’s cooking?” Dot asked.

“My temper,” he said.

“Oh, that can’t be good,” Dot said.

“Deputy Wilson, do me a favor and bring Mrs. Cassidy, who is in my office, a bottle of water?”

Dot glanced at the three of them. “On it. And I will get an explanation later.”

She said it as a statement and not a question before she walked back the way she’d come to go to the break room.

“Sit!” Sam barked, pointing to the hard wooden bench by the window.

Both Maggie and Claire sat on the bench. Maggie was studying Sam’s face to see how much trouble they were in when Claire elbowed her and bent her head forward, whispering, “Go for repentance.”

Maggie mimicked her friend’s posture, bowing her head in shame. After a moment, Maggie glanced up to see if it was working. Judging by the tic in Sam’s right eye, she was guessing no.

“What were you two thinking?” he asked. His voice was calm, which in many ways was more alarming than if he’d been yelling at them.

Claire looked at Maggie, and Maggie knew she was silently asking how much she should say. Before she and Sam were together, Maggie would have gone with radio silence on what they’d found out about Bruce, but since she and Sam were now a couple, she really had no option but full disclosure.

“Go ahead and tell him what you told me,” she said.

Claire’s eyes went round behind her rectangular black frames. “Really?”

Maggie nodded. Then she braced herself for Sam’s reaction, which she knew was not going to be pleasant.

Claire cleared her throat and told Sam what she’d discovered about Bruce Cassidy being married before but finding no record of a divorce or death for Sela Cassidy.

Sam paced while she talked, and when she wound down, he stopped in front of them. He craned his head back as if searching the ceiling for patience. Maggie followed the line of his gaze, but unless the old pop-in tiles offered something of which she was unaware, there was no patience to be had overhead.

“This is all information that I uncovered using
proper
police protocol,” he said. There was heavy emphasis on the word proper.

“So you already knew Bruce was married before to a woman named Sela?” Claire asked.

“Yes,” Sam said. “And that there was no record of a divorce or death for Sela Cassidy.”

Claire nudged Maggie with her elbow again. “Wow, he really is good.”

“However, I was hoping to interview Blair myself about her husband’s past,” he said. He frowned at Maggie, who squirmed in her seat.

“Sorry,” she said. “She just made me so mad—”

“That excuse doesn’t work, Maggie,” Sam said.

“It’s not an excuse,” Maggie protested. If he thought she was going to stand there and listen to someone criticize him, he was seriously mistaken.

“Being chewed out comes with the job,” he said. “It’s not personal.”

“It was personal to me,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry, but I am not going to tolerate her insulting you like—”

“You have to,” Sam cut her off. “It’s going to happen, especially in cases like this, where a family has been ripped apart.”

Maggie knew he was right, but she hated to admit it.

“Now we have a bigger issue here,” Sam said. He gave her a dark look. “You promised me, just a few hours ago, no less, that you would steer clear of this investigation.”

“Oh, but it wasn’t Maggie’s fault,” Claire said. “She didn’t ask me to do any searching. I did it all on my own, and when I told her about it, she insisted that I come here and tell you.”

“And when I wasn’t here, you just decided to go and visit Summer and fish around about what she knew, is that right?” Sam asked.

“Originally, yes,” Claire said. Her cheeks blushed a faint pink with the acknowledgment. “But when I was back there, well, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask her about Bruce. She still seems so traumatized.”

“Which is why you never should have approached her,” Sam said. He turned to Maggie. “And you should have shut Claire down immediately, not come here with her. But did you? No.”

“Sam, I’m—” Maggie started, but he interrupted her.

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I’m trying to keep you safe and you’re doing your level best to put yourself in harm’s way.”

“I’m not,” Maggie protested. She felt the icky, sticky twist of guilt in her gut. She should have handled this differently. She knew that now.

“Look, I have to get back to Mrs. Cassidy,” Sam said. “I think you two should leave.”

To Maggie, it felt as if Sam had slammed a door in between them, and she couldn’t blame him. She had handled everything wrong. Tyler, Ginger, Claire, all of them. She had promised to butt out, and then she hadn’t.

Sam had every reason to be furious with her. When she glanced at him, she didn’t see anger, however. She saw cold, implacable resignation, and that scared her far more than any anger he might have shown. She feared this signaled the beginning of the end for her and Sam.