Marked Down for Murder (Good Buy Girls) (6 page)

Chapter 9

Maggie shook her head as if she had water in her
ears. Surely she must have heard wrong. Was Blair actually offering her money to break up with Sam?

“Are you out of your mind?” Maggie cried. She couldn’t help it. She’d had about all she could take of Blair Cassidy and her daughter.

Blair gave her a hard stare, the kind that said she was a woman who always got what she wanted and she wasn’t about to start taking no for an answer now. “Everyone has a price. What’s yours?”

“Let me be very clear,” Maggie said. “You don’t have enough money in your checking account to make me break up with Sam.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Blair said. She glanced around the shop as if she found it desperately in need of an infusion of cash. “I have an awful lot of money.”

Maggie stood and gaped at her. The woman actually thought she could buy Maggie off. She opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. She opened it again. She was utterly speechless, which was amazing, because that pretty much never happened.

“I can see you’re struggling with the mental math,” Blair said. “How about I get you started with the offer of five thousand dollars? Yes?”

She started to write the amount and Maggie was jolted out of her stupor. What the what? Blair actually thought they had a deal? No!

“No! Stop!” Maggie said. “Absolutely not!”

Blair paused and glanced up at Maggie with one eyebrow raised, as if reconsidering her.

“Summer said you were a savvy negotiator,” Blair said. “How about seventy-five hundred?” Maggie saw Mrs. Oliver and her friends approaching with their hats. She smiled at them, trying not to let her ire with Blair show. She didn’t want to scare away customers in her attempt to get rid of the crazy woman in front of her.

“No!” she said to Blair through her teeth.

“Fine.” Blair’s mouth tightened in a look of steely resolve. “Nine thousand dollars, but that’s my final offer.”

The trio of older ladies looked from Blair to Maggie with interest. Nine thousand dollars was not a number you heard tossed about in St. Stanley.

“No,” Maggie said. “And that’s my final answer.”

“No? To nine thousand dollars?” Mrs. Oliver asked as she glanced around the shop. “Are you quite sure, dear? What does she want to buy?”

“My boyfriend,” Maggie said. She gave Blair a dark, forbidding look.

“Oh, honey, you can have my Gerald for half that,” Mrs. Oliver said to Blair.

Blair gave her a disgruntled look. “Thanks, but no. I’m looking for someone a bit more spry.”

“He’s got a prescription,” Mrs. Oliver said with a wink. “It gives him plenty of spry, if you know what I mean.”

A snort burst out of Maggie before she could stop it. Mrs. Oliver’s friends were chuckling as well, but Blair just looked irritated.

“I can see that this is all just a big joke to you,” she said to Maggie. “We’ll just see who’s laughing when Sam throws you over for Summer.”

“Say what?” Mrs. Oliver’s friend Patty Trudeau asked. “That’s ridiculous. That boy has been following Maggie around for months. It’d take a crowbar and some serious elbow grease to get him off of her.”

Maggie smiled at the woman, who had just earned herself fifty percent off.

“Thank you, Mrs. Trudeau,” she said. Then she turned to Blair and said, “I think we’re done here. Now, good-bye, and I really do mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

Blair glanced at her jewel-encrusted watch and heaved a sigh. “Fine. It’s just as well. I have a hair appointment anyway. Think about what I’m offering.”

She gave Maggie a superior look, stuffed her checkbook back into her purse and sauntered out of the shop. Maggie had the feeling that she had not seen the last of the vile woman. Something had to be done. She simply could not keep dealing with this ridiculousness.

She rang up Mrs. Oliver and company. They had all found hats for their tea and were looking forward to their trip to Dumontville. She was happy for them, but she had a trip of her own in mind.

Grabbing her keys, Maggie retrieved her coat and locked up the shop. She waited for two cars to pass and then hurried across the street to Summer’s shop, Second Time Around.

Maggie had never been in Summer’s store before. The window display, a full-size cardboard cutout of Summer dressed up in a gaudy cupid outfit, was off-putting to begin with, and she really had less than no interest in seeing what Summer had done with her shop.

The bells jangled on the door as Maggie pulled it open. She stopped in her tracks to take in the scene before her. She felt her mouth slowly slide open, and her power of speech evaporated. Twice in one day—it was definitely her new personal best.

With the walls draped in silk hangings and the scent of incense on the air, Maggie felt as if she’d walked into a scene out of
Arabian Nights
.

“Holy wow,” she breathed.

“Can I help—oh, hi, Maggie,” Sheri Sokolowski greeted her as she stepped out of the back room.

Sheri was wearing a clingy red jersey dress that hugged her generous curves as if hanging on for dear life. Sheri kept tugging up the front of the dress, which seemed to want to reveal as much of her cleavage as was possible.

Sheri let out an impatient sigh and then grabbed a scarf off a rack nearby and draped it over her shoulders.

“There,” she said. Then she smiled at Maggie. “What can I do for you?”

“I was looking for Summer,” Maggie said.

“Oh, yeah, Scheherazade is out to lunch,” Sheri said drily.

Maggie smiled. “So, I take it you’re not loving this?”

“It’s a job when jobs are scarce.” Sheri sighed. “It would be a bit more bearable if Summer didn’t insist on my dressing like a ho, but as I said, jobs are scarce.”

“I hear you,” Maggie said. “You know, I think Doc Franklin might be looking for a bookkeeper.”

“Reaaaaally?” Sheri asked. “I thought Claudia Hughes had a lock on that job.”

“She took the secretary job at the high school,” Maggie said. “Same hours as her kids and summers off, which is pretty hard to beat.”

“Huh, you don’t say,” Sheri said.

“If Summer asks, no I didn’t,” Maggie said. “I doubt she’d appreciate my telling you about other opportunities, and I really need to talk to her about her mother.”

Sheri rolled her eyes. “Ah, yes, Blair. That woman has been riding me from the moment she arrived in town. I swear if she makes one more crack about my weight, I’m going to sit on her while eating a double scoop, triple brownie hot fudge sundae of which I will savor every bite.”

“She does inspire that sort of reaction,” Maggie agreed. “Do you know where Summer went to lunch?”

“She said she was stopping at home to grab some things she’d picked up for the shop,” Sheri said. “Good luck talking to her about her mother. She thinks that woman is perfect, and is trying to be exactly like her.”

Maggie frowned. That was not good news. She’d been hoping that Summer was tired of her mother, too. Oh, well, they still needed to have a conversation about Blair’s attempts to buy Sam, and Summer was going to listen whether she wanted to or not.

“Thanks, Sheri, and good luck with the job that I never mentioned,” Maggie said.

Sheri grinned and waved to her as she left. Maggie hurried back to her shop to grab her purse. She hated to close in the middle of the day, but honestly, she didn’t feel as if she had a choice.

She flipped the store sign to
CLOSED
and hurried to her car, which was parked down the street. Summer lived on the edge of the center of town in a small bungalow built back in the days when the wire factory was still in business and needed pop-up housing for its workers. The neighborhood had gone from a mid-century utopia for families to a blight on St. Stanley and was now on a surge into artsy housing for unmarried singles and couples who planned to stay that way.

Maggie practiced what she planned to say to Summer the entire ride over. She tried it in her calm and reasonable “let’s be adult about this” tone, then she tried it in her angry “I’m going to kick your butt” tone. She preferred the calm and reasonable tone, but she had a feeling angry and butt-kicking was the only thing that was going to get through to Summer.

She parked in front of Summer’s house and decided to call Sam. Given Summer’s usual histrionics, she didn’t want her calling Sam and lying about this visit, saying that Maggie had threatened her or stalked her or whatever.

Sam answered his office line on the second ring. “Sheriff Collins.”

“So official,” Maggie teased.

“Well, if I’d known it was the prettiest lady in town calling, I would have answered entirely differently,” he said.

Maggie felt the same thrill she always did when Sam’s voice dropped an octave and whispered in her ear.

“Would you now?” she asked.

“Yes, I would,” he said. His voice was almost a growl, and Maggie felt her heart rate kick up as memories of the night before made her blush.

She cleared her throat. “Well, I hate to divert your attention, but this is actually an official call.”

“It is? What’s up?” he asked. His voice was immediately that of a law enforcement professional.

“I’m at Summer’s house,” Maggie said. She got out of her car and walked up the path to Summer’s front door.

“Why are you there?” he asked. He sounded confused and concerned.

“Because Summer has to call her mother off,” Maggie said.

There was a pause and then Sam asked, “What happened?”

“Blair came into the shop today and tried to buy me off,” Maggie said. Her voice was sharp with outrage and she could feel her temper igniting again.

“Beg pardon?” Sam asked. “I think we have a bad connection. I thought you said . . .”

“Yes, you heard me correctly,” Maggie interrupted. “She offered me five thousand dollars to dump you so that Summer could have you.”

“What?!”

“When I said no, she upped it to seventy-five hundred.”

“You said no?” He laughed.

“Yes,” Maggie said. “Her final offer was nine thousand, and I said no to that as well.”

“I’m flattered,” Sam said.

“Because you’re worth nine thousand to Blair Cassidy or because I said no?” Maggie asked. She could hear him chuckling, and she supposed it was funny, but she just wasn’t there yet.

“Both,” he said. This time he laughed out loud.

Maggie sighed and pressed the doorbell. She heard it chime, and she waited.

“Yes, well, anyway,” she said. “I’ve had all I can take from Blair Cassidy, and I’m going to tell Summer that she needs to muzzle her.”

“Uh, do you think that’s a good idea, darling?” Sam asked.

“Do you have a better one?” she countered.

She glanced over and saw Summer’s car in the drive. She then glanced back at the door. Why wasn’t Summer answering? She rang the bell again.

“No, I don’t, but you and Summer are like fire and gas,” he said. “I’m not sure you should try to have this conversation with her without supervision.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” Maggie said. “We’re not in high school anymore.”

Summer still didn’t answer the door. Maggie frowned and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

“She’s not answering, but her car is here,” Maggie said into the phone.

“Maggie, I wouldn’t go in there,” Sam said. “If she thinks you’re an intruder—”

That was all Maggie heard before a scream sounded from the house, making her jump.

“Sam, someone just screamed. I’m going in,” she said.

Sam started to protest but Maggie wasn’t listening as she pushed open the door and hurried into the house.

“Summer! Summer, are you in here?” she cried.

A mewling sound was coming from the back of the house.

“Maggie! Wait! Maggie, I’m on my way!” Sam’s voice was yelling in her ear. Maggie lowered the phone so she could follow the sound of the cries.

She darted through the living room and dining room and turned the corner into the kitchen. She stopped short with a horrified cry.

Summer was standing over her stepfather’s supine body, clutching a bloody hammer in her hand.

Chapter 10

“Sam, you need to get here right away,” Maggie said
into her phone. “And call an ambulance.”

“Maggie, what’s going on?” Sam cried. He sounded out of breath, and Maggie knew he was probably running for his squad car. “Are you safe? Is there anyone in there with you?”

Maggie glanced around the room. “No, it’s just me and Summer and Bruce Cassidy. Sam, I think he’s dead.”

“What about Summer? Is she okay?” he asked.

Maggie forced herself to look up from Bruce’s body to where Summer was standing over him. She was shaking, and her hands had streaks of blood on them.

“Summer, are you hurt?” Maggie asked. “Summer, look at me!”

Summer’s blonde hair was hanging over her face. Small whimpering noises were coming out of her mouth. As if she had just registered Maggie’s presence, she glanced up and met her gaze.

“Dead,” she said. “He’s dead.”

Summer dropped the hammer onto the floor with a sharp thump and burst into tears. Maggie crossed quickly to her side and checked her over. There were no signs of injury. She put her arm around Summer’s shoulder and led her to a stool at the kitchen island.

“As far as I can tell, Summer is shaky but unharmed,” Maggie said into the phone. At this, Summer threw her arms around Maggie’s neck and began to sob on her shoulder. Maggie patted her back and said, “Hurry, Sam, please hurry.”

“On my way,” Sam said. “Stay on the line.”

Maggie could hear the siren on his car echoing through the phone. From this side of the island, she could only see Bruce’s sneakers on the floor. She really needed to check on him, but Summer had her in a stranglehold. Her mind flashed to the pool of blood beneath his head. She really didn’t think there was much chance that Bruce Cassidy was still alive.

“Summer, are you sure he’s dead?” she asked.

Summer nodded against Maggie’s shoulder. Heaving sobs wracked her body, and Maggie patted her back with one hand while keeping the phone to her ear with the other.

Maggie felt as if she were holding her daughter, Laura, after one of her childhood nightmares. She started to make soothing noises while she rubbed Summer’s back.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Summer shivered against her and Maggie kept up the soothing talk. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what must have happened here, but she knew that whatever had happened had shaken Summer to the core.

“Should I get her out of the house?” Maggie asked Sam.

“Does that seem possible?” he asked.

Maggie took that to mean he could hear Summer’s sobbing even on his end.

“No,” she said. “Not very.”

“Look, I’m just down the street, so long as the house seems secure, stay put and stay on the line with me,” he said.

“Got it,” Maggie said.

She turned her attention back to Summer. Never in a million years would she have thought that she and Summer would be in a situation like this. Still, Summer was hysterical, and Maggie couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. It had to have been a shock to come home and find her stepfather like this.

Maggie thought about rounding the corner. Hold on. Summer had been holding the bloody hammer. Had she . . . ?

“Summer,” she asked, “was Bruce like this when you got here?”

“Maggie, don’t go there,” Sam ordered.

Maggie put the phone down. She grabbed Summer by the shoulders and hauled her away from her. A glance down at her jacket and she could see the wet spots from Summer’s tears.

“Summer, look at me,” she said. “Was Bruce like this when you got here?”

Summer sniffed. Her long blonde hair hung in her face, but Maggie could see through it. Summer’s makeup had run down her face, her skin was blotchy and the end of her nose was red, but she met Maggie’s gaze with a tear-filled one of her own.

“Y . . . y . . . yes,” she said on a staggered breath. “I came in and he was lying there. I called his name but he didn’t answer, so I knelt beside him and he was cold and . . . dead.”

Summer paled, then swallowed hard and forced herself to continue, “I kneeled on the hammer, so I picked it up, and that’s when you walked in.”

Maggie nodded.

“My mo . . . mo . . . mother. I need to call her,” Summer said.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Maggie said. She picked the phone back up. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Sam said. He didn’t sound happy. “I’m parking out front right now.”

“Sam’s here,” Maggie said to Summer. She patted her back. “He’ll take care of things.”

Sure enough, in moments, Sam rounded the corner into the kitchen.

“Hey—” was all he got out before Summer launched herself across the room and into his arms.

“Oh, Sam, I’m so glad you’re here,” she cried. “I knew you’d come.”

Maggie ended the call on her cell phone and tucked it back into her purse. She turned to see Sam hugging Summer. When Summer tried to cling to him, he pulled her off and gently pushed her back.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Were you harmed?”

“No, not harmed, just—” Summer gestured behind her at Bruce Cassidy’s body. “Who would have done this?”

“I don’t know . . . yet,” Sam said. He pulled a pair of blue rubber gloves out of his pocket and then went to check Bruce out.

Maggie and Summer stayed on their side of the kitchen island. Maggie glanced over, trying to see what he was doing while Summer studied the tips of her high-heeled boots.

Maggie heard Sam call for backup and a medical examiner while they waited. When he came around the granite-topped island, his face was grim. Maggie saw the steely resolve in his eyes and she imagined this was exactly what he had looked like during all those years spent as a detective on the Richmond force.

“I’m going to check the house,” Sam said. “I need you to stay right here. Don’t touch anything, and don’t move.”

“Oh no, Sam, don’t leave me,” Summer cried as she grabbed his arm.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He looked at Maggie. “Can you take her?”

Maggie stepped forward and took Summer’s arm. “The sooner he can check the house the sooner he’ll be back.”

Summer slumped against the counter. They were mostly out of sight of Bruce’s body, but to Maggie it loomed like a black cloud on a sunny day. There was no ignoring it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Summer said.

Maggie turned and looked at her. “What would that be?”

“That I did it; that I killed him,” she said.

“Now why would I think that?” Maggie asked.

“Because you hate me and you think I’m evil,” Summer said.

“I don’t think you’re evil,” Maggie lied.

“But you do hate me,” Summer persisted.

“Only sometimes,” Maggie said. “When you’re being, you know, you.”

Summer looked as if she was about to start crying all over again, which made Maggie feel like a heel for being honest. Her mother had raised her better than that.

She grabbed a paper towel off the holder by the sink and handed it to Summer.

“Sorry,” she said grudgingly. “I didn’t mean it. Old habits die hard.”

“Apparently,” Summer said. “Sorry I threw myself at Sam. Like you said, old habits . . .”

Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Summer shrugged. They stared at each other and then they glanced away. Things felt abruptly awkward between them. Summer blew her nose while Maggie glanced at the doorway, willing Sam to return.

The ticking of the kitchen clock seemed inordinately loud and Maggie looked around for a distraction.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Summer asked.

“Oh, I, uh, came to talk to you, actually,” Maggie said. “I stopped by your shop, but Sheri said you’d just left to come home and have lunch.”

“I was planning to have a salad,” Summer said. “I’m trying to lose weight.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Normally, she would tell the person they looked fine, but she and Summer didn’t have that sort of relationship. If she said Summer looked fine, it would probably damage the woman’s self-esteem beyond repair.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Summer asked. Her voice was strained, as if she was trying very hard to have a normal conversation but it was taking a lot out of her.

Maggie paused. Her original plan had been to rip Summer a new one for sending her mother over to buy Maggie off, but now it just didn’t seem important. Bruce was dead. Summer was a wreck. She glanced at the doorway. What could be taking Sam so long? Because there was no way she was engaging in this discussion now.

As if in answer to her silent pleading, a uniformed police officer walked into the kitchen. A petite, sturdy black woman, who more than made up for her lack of height with a feisty attitude, Deputy Dot Wilson glanced from Maggie to Summer to Maggie to Summer again, with her dark brown eyes getting bigger with each twist of her head.

“Sheriff Collins left you two alone?” she asked. “What was he thinking?”

“We’re not that bad,” Maggie said. Then she glanced at Summer. “Well, I’m not.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Summer asked. “It’s not my fault you have such a hot temper.”

Maggie was prevented from answering by Sam reentering the room.

“Everything all right in here?” he asked.

“Fine,” Summer and Maggie answered as one. Dot rolled her eyes and added, “Barely.”

“Deputy,” Sam said as he turned to Dot, “I need you to coordinate a canvass of the neighbors to see if they saw or heard anything. The medical examiner is on his way. Summer, I want you to walk me through everything exactly as you remember it. Maggie, do you mind waiting outside? I want to talk to you next.”

“No problem,” Maggie said. She was relieved to get out of the house and put some distance between herself and the body.

“You’ll be okay waiting here by yourself?” Dot asked as she let Maggie out the front door.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Maggie said. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and leaned against the wooden porch rail while she waited.

A part of her was curious to hear what Summer was telling Sam, but then, another part of her didn’t want to know. She had no doubt that Summer was wailing and crying all over Sam at this very minute. On the one hand, she felt sorry for her, but on the other, she knew Summer well enough to know she was playing the pity card.

It had to have been horrible to find her stepfather like that, but then, if she had just found him, why was she holding the hammer? Maggie felt her heart pound hard in her chest. Could Summer be lying? She wasn’t exactly known for having an exclusive relationship with the truth.

But when Maggie thought about it, it had to have been wrenching to find Bruce dead in her home, and Summer had certainly looked to be in a state of shock when Maggie arrived. But was it because Summer had just walked in and discovered the body? Or was it an adrenaline fallout after slamming a hammer into her stepfather’s head?

Maggie couldn’t imagine why Summer would bludgeon Bruce, but then she wasn’t really privy to the inner workings of Summer’s life, now was she?

The medical examiner’s van pulled up and Maggie opened the front door to let Sam know. “Sam, the ME is here.”

“Got it!” he yelled back. In a few minutes, he and Summer appeared.

The blotches on Summer’s face had receded. It didn’t look as if she’d been crying while talking to Sam. She was still wearing her coat, and Maggie realized they’d both had their coats on the entire time they were inside.

Sam squeezed her arm as he passed by. He stopped by the ME’s van and Maggie knew he was apprising him of the situation. The porch was narrow, but Maggie followed Summer to the side where two wrought iron chairs and a short table resided under the overhanging roof.

Summer collapsed into one chair and Maggie sank onto the other. The cold winter air made the cushion crisp and Maggie felt the chill seep through her clothes to her skin.

“Can I get you anything?” Maggie asked.

Summer glanced at her. “No . . . thanks.”

With a sigh, she patted her pockets and then frowned.

“Damn it, I must have left my phone inside. I have to call my mother,” she said, her tone full of dread.

Maggie didn’t blame her a bit.

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