50% Off Murder (Good Buy Girls) (11 page)

The sound of two chairs scraping back on the tile floor broke through Maggie’s stunned silence.

“What?” she asked. “But why?”

“Claire’s fingerprints are on the cake knife,” he said.

“Well, yeah. It’s her knife,” Maggie said. “Of course her prints are on it.”

“But there are no others,” Max said. “It seems Claire is the only one to have touched that knife.”

“But that’s completely circumstantial,” Ginger protested. “Any fool knows that.”

“Either way, it warrants questioning,” Max said. Looking older than his years, he turned to Claire. “They will be here any minute. If there’s anything you need to do, get it done. I have no idea how long they plan to keep you.”

Max stepped all the way into the house and closed the door behind him. They migrated into the kitchen. Joanne
nibbled another piece of cheese while Ginger downed the last of her wine.

Claire looked stricken. Then she turned and looked at Maggie. “Will you take care of Mr. Tumnus?”

“Of course,” she said.

“His food is in the pantry. I give him a can in the morning and at night, and he likes to go out in the yard in the morning and watch the birds. I don’t let him out alone, however, because I’m afraid…”

As if sensing his person’s distress, Mr. Tumnus hopped down from the window and trotted into the kitchen and began to rub himself against Claire’s ankles. She scooped him up and snuggled him close.

“I’ll take him home with me. Josh will love him, and I’ll sit on the sun porch with him every morning,” Maggie said.

Claire gave her a watery smile, “He’ll like that.”

“Not that it’s going to come to that, because I’m sure you’ll be released before the night is through.”

Claire looked over Mr. Tumnus’s head with doubtful eyes, and again Maggie knew for sure that Claire hadn’t told them everything.

“You could run, you know,” Joanne said.

“What?” Max looked shocked. “I did not hear that. That’s completely and utterly…”

“Peru would be good,” Maggie interrupted Max’s tirade. “Laura has a pen pal in Peru. Do you have a passport?”

“Yes, but I can’t—” Claire began but Ginger cut her off.

“I can drive her to the airport,” Ginger volunteered. “The rest of you can stall the police until her flight has taken off.”

“No! You’re not acting rationally. You can’t just take off! How would it look?” Max asked, but they all ignored him.

“Go now!” Joanne ordered. “Don’t even pack, just go.”

“But…” Claire protested, but Maggie, Joanne and Ginger began to hustle her toward the door.

“Stop!” Max shouted. “If she runs, she’ll be a fugitive, and the police will hunt her down. If they focus on her, then they won’t be searching for the real killer. Is that what you want, Claire? To be on the run for the rest of your life?”

Claire blew out a breath and shook her head. “No.”

Maggie, Ginger and Joanne pulled her into a group hug. Given Claire’s resistance to hugs, it showed her frazzled state that she not only joined in the group hug, but clung to her friends as if trying to pull their collective strength into herself.

A car pulled up in the drive, and they all tensed. While the others went to the large front window to see who was there, Maggie clutched Claire by the shoulders and forced her to look her in the eye.

“You saw him that morning, before our Good Buy Girls meeting, didn’t you?” Maggie whispered.

“Yes,” Claire admitted. “But I didn’t kill him. I swear to you, Maggie, the last time I saw him, John Templeton was as mean as ever; in fact, I would have sworn he was too mean to die.”

“It’s Sheriff Collins,” Ginger called from the living room. “And he’s got a couple of deputies with him.”

“I believe you,” Maggie said. “And I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of this.”

Claire kissed her cat’s head and handed him over to Maggie. She took off her glasses and pulled off the oversized T-shirt that was her painting smock. She wore a black T-shirt
under it, which she smoothed out with her hands. She finger-combed her hair and put her glasses back on.

When she looked back at Maggie, she looked resigned. “Maybe this is just what I deserve.”

Before Maggie could ask any questions, Claire turned and left the kitchen.

A knock sounded on the door, and Claire reached it first.

She pulled it open and there stood Sheriff Collins with a sheaf of papers in his hands. “Claire Freemont, I have a search warrant for your home.”

Max held out a hand to examine the papers, and Sam shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe Max was an attorney, but he handed them over.

With so many people in the front room, the small house seemed even smaller. When Max gave a nod of approval and handed the papers back to Sam, the sheriff motioned for his deputies to come in making the house feel tiny.

“Do you want us to wait outside?” Claire asked.

“That won’t be necessary, since everyone will be leaving, including you, Ms. Freemont,” he said. His voice was stern. “The warrants aren’t just to search your home. I have one for your arrest as well.”

The Good Buy Girls gasped as one.

“Ms. Freemont, you are under arrest for the murder of John Templeton.”

Maggie had thought she could be cool. She’d known what was coming—after all, Max had prepared them—but she found herself swamped by a rage so fierce and so ferocious that she was storming across the room, handing Mr. Tumnus to Joanne en route and confronting Sam Collins before her good sense had a chance to kick in.

“Is this how you do your job?” she asked. “You go after the easiest target? I mean, heaven forbid you actually do some leg work and investigate.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest as if he were trying to contain his own temper by literally holding it back. His voice when he spoke was placating, which to Maggie’s ears was the same as patronizing, which did not soothe her ire in the least.

“I’m sure this is very difficult for you, Maggie, given that Ms. Freemont is your friend…”

“Huh!” Maggie broke in with a huff of outrage.

“But let me assure you,” he continued through gritted teeth, “that from what we have learned so far, Ms. Freemont is a very likely suspect, and we are following the proper protocol by taking her in.”

“Taking her in?” Maggie snapped. “What a nice way to say you’re putting her in prison. You big oaf, don’t try to candy-coat it for me.”

A hand wrapped around Maggie’s elbow and forcibly yanked her back. She swung around and saw Ginger looking at her as if she were afraid Maggie was about to have a grand mal seizure.

“What?” Maggie snapped.

“You need to calm down,” Ginger hissed. “This isn’t helping Claire at all.”

Ginger motioned to the door with her head as Claire was stepping through it, escorted by one of the deputies and Sam Collins to a waiting squad car.

“I’m going to follow them,” Max said.

“I’ll come with you,” Maggie offered.

“No, you won’t,” he said. For a twenty-year-old, he
suddenly sounded very assertive, making Maggie feel as if she were the equivalent of a tantrum-throwing toddler.

“I’ll go with Max,” Ginger offered. “You stay here with Joanne and lock up the house when they’re done and, for pity’s sake, don’t antagonize Sam anymore.”

Maggie blew out a breath. Ginger was right. She was letting her personal dislike of Sam get in the way of her good judgment. She needed to be here for Claire, not shooting off her mouth because she found Sam Collins to be an arrogant, insufferable…

He walked back into the house. Maggie was pleased to see that his blue eyes looked troubled, almost as if he regretted the current turn of events. She shook her head. She had to get a grip, truly. Sam was doing his job as sheriff, and Maggie was playing her role as the chief suspect’s best friend. It was not surprising, given their history, that they had ended up on opposite sides. In fact, it seemed to be their way.

Sam walked past Maggie without saying a word. The other deputy, the one who had stayed behind to help Sam, stepped up to her and Joanne, and said, “If you ladies wouldn’t mind waiting outside.”

Maggie was about to protest, but Joanne plopped Mr. Tumnus in her arms and gave her a shove.

“Certainly,” she said. “We’ll be on the front porch.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” the deputy said. He looked relieved when Maggie was led out the door, and she figured he had been dreading a tongue lashing from her. She could have reassured him that her beef was only with his boss, but she didn’t.

Once outside, Joanne retrieved the cat carrier from the stand-alone one-car garage that Claire used primarily as a
storage shed. When she returned, Maggie gently put Mr. Tumnus in through the hatch on the top. He yowled, but seeing that they weren’t letting him out, he turned his back on them and began to lick his front paw.

A shadow passed across the front window. Maggie turned and glared at what she assumed was Sam Collins going through all of Claire’s belongings.

“What do you suppose they’re looking for?” Joanne asked. She had pulled her long ponytail over her shoulder and was twining the ends around her finger. Maggie had noticed that Joanne always did this when she was nervous.

“At a guess, I would say something that links her to the murder,” Maggie said. “Probably proof that she’s been in contact with him.”

“Do you think she has?” Joanne asked.

Maggie didn’t answer, not wanting to voice out loud what she knew. When Joanne glanced at her, she gave a small nod. Joanne pursed her lips as if that confirmed what she thought, too.

Maggie sank into one of the two lounge chairs on Claire’s front porch. She wished she had her glass of wine or, even better, a fat slice of Ginger’s pound cake.

“What do we do now?” Joanne asked.

“Now we wait,” Maggie said.

For two hours they sat outside Claire’s small bungalow. After the first half hour, Maggie took the cat carrier back into the house and let Mr. Tumnus out.

When Sam gave her an inquiring look, she said, “I really don’t think he’ll bother your investigation.”

She shut the door before Sam could respond.

When they were finally allowed back in, it took all of Maggie’s self-control not to ask if they’d found anything. She knew Sam wouldn’t tell her, and it would just invite another uncomfortable scene between them.

She had to admit that, for all their searching, both Sam and his deputy had left the house looking surprisingly untouched. While she appreciated that, she was still so irritated by the entire situation that she couldn’t trust herself to do more than nod at them when they left. She left it to Joanne to finesse the situation, which she did admirably. Together
they packed up the remaining cake and cold cuts, storing them in the fridge for when Claire returned home. Then Maggie packed up Mr. Tumnus’s favorite toys and food and put him back in his carrier and headed for home.

“Auntie Maggie!” a small voice chirped at the side of Maggie’s bed the next morning. “Look what I found.”

She glanced over the side to see Josh in his train pajamas, holding a very put-upon gray tabby around the middle. She smiled at the cuteness of the new friends, even though the sight of the cat reminded her of Claire’s predicament. She pushed aside the bedclothes and slid her feet to the floor.

“You’ve met Mr. Tumnus,” she said. “We’d better get him some breakfast.”

She led the way out of her room to the kitchen. Josh helped her feed the cat, who cleaned his bowl and then stretched and headed toward the sun room at the back of the house.

“Is that coffee I smell?” Sandy asked as she joined Maggie in the kitchen.

“Sorry, did we wake you?” Maggie asked.

“No, Mr. Tumnus managed that with a well-placed pounce on my bed.”

Maggie smiled, taking in Sandy’s sleep-tossed hair and puffy eyes. “Were you up late studying again?”

“Let’s just say microbiology and I are not friends,” Sandy said, and poured herself a cup of coffee. “But that’s hardly news. Please, tell me what’s happening with Claire. The entire town is abuzz with her…situation.”

“She’s been arrested for the murder of John Templeton,” Maggie said.

“But that’s ridiculous,” Sandy protested. “Claire’s not a killer. She’s the nicest person I know. If it weren’t for her using her library contacts to track down used medical textbooks for me, I never would have been able to afford the books for nursing school.”