Buried in Bargains (Good Buy Girls) (17 page)

Chapter 22

Maggie ducked into her office and used her landline to call Sam’s office. She was on the paranoid side, she knew, but she didn’t want to use cell phones for this conversation.

He answered on the second ring. “Sheriff Collins speaking.”

“Hi, Sam,” she said.

“Maggie, are you all right?”

“Fine,” she assured him. “Sam, have you hired anyone new lately?”

He was quiet for a moment and then let out a huff of breath that even through the phone Maggie could tell was exasperation.

“Let me guess: You think because Leann was afraid of going to the authorities, I must have hired her killer during the past two months?” he asked.

“You already had this thought, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “And no, I haven’t hired anyone. The last hire was under the former sheriff, and it was Stephen Rourke, and I believe he’s friends with Ginger’s oldest son, Aaron.”

Maggie remembered seeing the young man on one of her visits to the station.

“Well, it was just a thought,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “I thought you were going to steer clear.”

“I am,” she said. “That’s why I called you instead of coming over to the station to talk to the deputies myself. See? Big improvement.”

“I’m impressed,” he said, although he didn’t really sound it. “Look, I’ve gotten the records from the electrical company of everyone who has requested new service in St. Stanley over the past two months. If our killer is new to town, hopefully we’ll find him on this list.”

“Good idea,” Maggie said. “Of course, if it’s a man, you might want to get a listing of new cable subscribers.”

“Already done,” he said.

“Wow, now
I’m
impressed,” Maggie said.

“Don’t be,” he said. His frustration with the case was clear in his voice. “At least, not until we make an arrest.”

“You’ll find him,” Maggie said. “I know it, and since we’re offering up theories—”

“We are?” he interrupted.

“Do you know Britney Bergstrom?” Maggie forged ahead, ignoring his wry tone.

“No,” he said. “Is there a reason I should?”

“No. Well, maybe. She was in my shop the day before the ball, and she wanted the dress that I had already rented to Diane, but I refused to sell it to her. Britney was very verbally abusive about it and threatened Diane in the shop and then again at the ball.”

Sam was silent, and Maggie wondered if she had annoyed him. In the old days, back when they were enemies and even when they were trying to be friends, she would have been pleased to get under his skin, but this new relationship status was tricky. She found she didn’t like the thought that she had annoyed him, which in and of itself was alarming.

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Well, not at you at any rate. This case is just making me rip my hair out. No clues. No evidence. And every time I think I might have a hold on what happened, it slips through my fingers like smoke.”

Maggie could feel his frustration pulsing through the phone. She did not envy him his task.

“Maybe you could flush the killer out by having a memorial service for her,” Maggie said.

“Again, what part of
stop thinking about this case
do you not understand?” he asked.

“Just hear me out,” Maggie said. She began to pace around her tiny office, but it was too crowded, so she moved into her storage area. “I know it’s a very TV-sitcom idea, but isn’t there psychological evidence that shows killers are likely to show up at their victims’ funerals?”

“There is a theory that serial killers like to attend the funerals of their victims so they can relive the moment of their ultimate power, but we have no evidence that whoever killed Leann Winthrop was a serial killer, and if your suggestion that it was Britney Bergstrom over a dress is true, then I sincerely doubt she’ll be showing up at the funeral.”

“Even so, there should be a service for Leann,” Maggie said. She glanced out at her shop and noted the holiday decorations.

Leann wasn’t going to be celebrating this holiday or any others. It suddenly struck Maggie that even though she was new to St. Stanley, Leann deserved a decent memorial service.

“Just think about it,” she said.

“Why?” Sam asked. “You already have it half planned in your head.”

“I’ll keep it simple,” she said. “Do you think her aunt would like to come?”

“She’s elderly and lives in an assisted-care facility. She’s not capable of making such a long trip,” Sam said. “I think she’s planning to have a service when Leann’s remains are returned to her.”

Maggie felt her throat get tight. She didn’t know the aunt at all, and she had barely known Leann. Still, to lose a loved one in such a tragic and horrible way—it was a crushing blow.

“I’ll talk to Laura and see what she thinks of the idea,” Maggie said.

“And the Claramottas,” Sam said. “Joanne and Michael may have some strong feelings about this.”

“Of course,” Maggie agreed.

“Call me tonight,” Sam said. It wasn’t a question. Maggie understood that he was going to trust her to take this over and manage it.

“Thanks, Sam,” she said.

“We’ll talk more later,” he said.

As she hung up the phone, Maggie realized she liked the sound of that.

• • •

The service was held two days later in the small Congregational church just off the town green. Leann had attended the Sunday service there a couple of times during her time in St. Stanley, so Maggie felt that it was appropriate. Reverend White officiated the modest service, and Laura did a reading about the power of a friendship that had ended too soon.

Surprisingly, the little white church with the spire was packed to bursting. Maggie didn’t know if it was idle curiosity, empathy for the tragedy of a slain young woman just a few days before Christmas or Ginger Lancaster’s pound cakes and Alice Franklin’s pies that had brought in the hordes of mourners.

She and Sam sat behind Michael, Joanne and Doc Franklin. Although he was still weak, Michael had insisted upon attending. Dr. Graber had not been happy and had only agreed to let him leave the hospital if Doc Franklin was with him at all times.

The rest of the staff from the deli sat with him, and Maggie looked each of them over. She knew Sam had already checked them for alibis and to be certain that Michael hadn’t hired anyone new who might have followed Leann to St. Stanley. Leann had been his only recent hire over the past year.

A wreath of simple white roses and a framed picture of Leann from the Madison ball stood on a small table in front of the pulpit. To Maggie it felt as if so little had been left behind to mark the life of such a lovely young woman. A surge of anger rocketed through her and she squeezed Sam’s hand.

She heard him hiss in a breath, and asked, “Did you see someone?”

Maggie loosened her grip. “No, I just felt a surge of hot-damn mad. Sorry.”

Sam rubbed her thumb with his in a soothing gesture. “It’s okay. I get it.”

Maggie imagined that he did. How he’d spent his entire career working cases like this, she had no idea. How did one separate his emotions from watching innocent people suffer at the hands of others? She didn’t think she could do it.

“It isn’t easy,” Sam said. “You learn to compartmentalize, or the anger starts to eat at you.”

She wondered how he’d read her mind, but then she supposed it wasn’t that hard to imagine what she’d been thinking. She glanced past him toward the other side of the church. It would be so helpful if Leann’s murderer were wearing a sign around his neck that said he’d strangled her, but of course no one was.

From what she could see, the crowd was made up of St. Stanley regulars. People who worked hard to keep roofs over their families’ heads, paid their taxes, took annual summer trips to the shore and tried to do the right thing even when it was the hardest thing to do.

“I don’t see anyone here who could be the killer, do you?” Maggie asked.

“No,” Sam shook his head. He sounded as frustrated as she felt, and Maggie squeezed his hand again, but gently this time, to let him know that she understood.

It was impossible for her to imagine that one of these people had killed Leann. Her eyes flitted over Summer Phillips where she sat with Tyler Fawkes. Yes, even Summer seemed an unlikely candidate, as much as Maggie would have liked it to be otherwise.

There just wasn’t any point to it. None of these people were from the northeast, and what reason could they have had to harm Leann? Unless, of course, there was a psychopath living among them who had heard that Leann had a stalker and decided to reenact the whole scene by becoming her new stalker.

Maggie felt a chill rush over her skin. Was that possible? Could it be that someone had discovered that Leann was hiding out and, knowing that they had a victim in their midst, had killed her?

“What is it?” Sam asked. “Your entire body just went tense. Did you see someone?”

Maggie forced herself to relax. “No, I just had a crazy thought.”

“Do tell,” Sam said.

They were whispering, but Maggie didn’t want to take away from the service, which was wrapping up, nor did she want to bring any attention to herself or Sam.

“I’ll tell you after,” she said. She turned and glanced at him, and he gave her a nod of understanding.

There was a small reception after the service in the hall attached to the sanctuary. Maggie used the big urn for coffee while Ginger made another for water for tea. The December afternoon was brisk, and she knew the hot beverages would be welcome before everyone went back out into the cold. Together Maggie and Ginger worked the table, handing out cups and plates and exchanging words with the people they had known most of their lives.

Several people came up to Laura to compliment her eulogy. Maggie watched her daughter handle the kind words with humility and grace. She knew Leann’s murder had been a shock for Laura, and she was impressed that the little girl who had once spent an afternoon sobbing over a squashed ladybug had the poise to speak in front of a crowd about the horrifying loss of her new friend.

Maggie had gotten up the other night and found Laura sitting on the sunporch in her bathrobe and slippers. Silent tears had been streaming down her face, and Maggie had sat beside her and put her arm about her. They had sat like that for a long time.

They hadn’t spoken of what was wrong. They both knew, and there was no point, since words could not heal the pain Laura was feeling. But they’d taken comfort in each other’s nearness, and that had been enough.

Maggie hated that her daughter had to have another loss in her life. She’d already buried her father and his parents, and a few pets had come and gone, but this was the first time Laura had lost someone her own age, someone who shouldn’t be gone except for the fact that she’d somehow garnered the attention of a killer.

A shiver rippled through Maggie, and Ginger glanced up from the table where she was slicing up another cake.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I just had a ghost walk over my grave,” she said.

Ginger gave her a sharp look.

“Figure of speech,” Maggie said. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. This whole thing just has me as twitchy as a squirrel,” Ginger said. She glanced across the room, where her son Aaron was standing with Laura and Blake, Max and Bianca. “She wasn’t much older than them. She had her whole life ahead of her. It just breaks my heart.”

“So, are you going to tell me your theory now?” Sam asked as he joined them.

“Well, it’s probably stupid,” Maggie said. “But I was thinking that we’re looking for a stranger, someone from Rhode Island or somewhere in the northeast, who would stick out in St. Stanley, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It does appear that she was pursued down the coast by her original stalker.”

“What if she wasn’t?”

“I’m not following.”

Both Ginger and Sam gave Maggie perplexed looks while she paused to fill up a plate with cream-cheese cookies for Mrs. Shoemaker.

“Okay, I know this sounds crazy, but what if someone knew she was being harassed? What if they knew it and they used it to make it look like the killer had gotten her?”

“You mean the real stalker didn’t get her but a copycat did?” Ginger asked. “You’re right. That is nuts.”

“But why would he do that?” Sam asked. Maggie was heartened that he hadn’t dismissed her idea as whacko as fast as Ginger had.

“Maybe he’s a budding psychopath or he had a vendetta against Michael or he planned to rob the place and using a stalking situation worked for him,” Maggie said. “I don’t know. The point is, who exactly knew that Leann was hiding out here?”

Sam put a hand on the back of his neck. “It’s worth checking out, assuming that we can get a line on anyone who knew Leann’s backstory.”

“I still think it’s reaching,” Ginger said. “I mean, if that’s true, then what you’re saying is that it’s one of our own.”

Maggie didn’t like it, either, but when she studied the room, she noted that the two most likely suspects were still Michael and Joanne, and she knew it wasn’t either of them. So, it had to be someone else here. It just had to be.