Little Death by the Sea (18 page)

“What word? Show me the word.” Maggie jumped
up and stood over his shoulder. He pointed to the word.

“I think,
peut-etre
, it means, ohh,
exotique? n’est-ce pas
? Or, different?”

“She thought I was exotic?” Maggie looked out
onto Peachtree Street.

“But, she has the good heart and I am glad to
see her face, oh, she says ‘her dear face,’ I’m thinking,” Laurent
said. “...and I am glad to see her dear face again.” He stopped
reading and put the letter down. He touched her. “
C’est fini, ma
petite,”
he said.

Maggie picked up the letter carefully and
returned to her seat. She read the words in French, not
understanding them, and felt a tiny prism of awe at Elise’s obvious
comfort with them.

“Who is this woman? she asked suddenly,
looking up at Laurent. “Who is this Michelle...” She flipped the
envelope over and read, “...Zouk? That Elise would write her? Will
the police contact her, I wonder?”

Laurent shrugged and replaced his napkin in
his lap.

“Perhaps she is an old friend? The address is
for Paris, I think?”

Maggie nodded absentmindedly, still holding
the letter in front of her. Laurent resumed his meal alone.

All at once, she jumped up and then crouched
under the dining room table.

“Laurent!” she shouted. “Take a look at
this!”

Within seconds she was kneeling by his side
as he sat at the table, the wadded up remains of Elise’s gray
sweater clutched in her hands.

“Mageee, please—“

“No, look!” She thrust the filthy cardigan
into his lap and peeled back the label at the neck with her
fingers. In large silver script, the words Chez Zouk, shouted up at
them.

“This Michelle must have a boutique or
something,” she said. “Elise bought her clothes from her, don’t you
see?”

Laurent touched the label and then looked at
Maggie.

“
C’est important?”

“Well, I...” Maggie slumped back onto her
heels, pulling the sweater across her knees as she did so. “I think
so. I mean, it’s a connection, right?”

Laurent nodded, chewing his lamb slowly and
watching her.

“I’ve got an address,” Maggie said quietly,
thinking hard. “And I’ve got a name of a friend. Maybe even one
that’s not a drug addict or a total loser.” Maggie stroked the soft
sweater.

She looked up at Laurent.

“I need to go to Paris,” she said.

Chapter 11

1

“We hope you know that we’re all thinking of
you and that we’re so terribly, terribly sorry about your sister.”
Gerry spoke softly from the head of the conference room table
supported by muted murmurs from the rest of the office workers.

“Thank you,” Maggie said, letting her eyes
fill without embarrassment.

“We sent flowers to your parents,” Dierdre
said, clearly uncomfortable, looking down at her doodling as she
spoke. “Since we didn’t know when the funeral was going to be.”

Maggie cleared her throat and smiled shakily
at her co-workers. “It’s going to be a memorial service. Just
for...just for family. And thank you again for your caring.”

Dierdre handed Maggie a condolence card,
showing a seagull soaring over an ocean wave.

“We all signed it,” she said, still not
looking at Maggie.

Maggie felt sorry for Dierdre. It’s hard, she
thought, if you’ve never had anybody close to you die, you really
don’t have a clue as to how to act.

“Thanks, Dierdre, thanks all. That was
kind.”

“Right,” Gerry said, clearing his own throat.
“And now on to business.” He gestured to Dierdre to begin reading
the traffic sheet.

Relieved to be on safer ground, Dierdre’s
voice became perky and confident.

“The EMI brochure needs copy by the end of
the week.” She looked up at Maggie, as did Gerry. Maggie nodded her
head.

“I’m already started on it,” she said.

“And the layout...Gerry, I’ve got the layout
as due at the same time because of the tight deadline on this. We
can’t really wait for the copy to get done before we start on
it.”

“Pokey?” Gerry directed his attention to his
art director. “Will that be a problem?”

Pokey tossed the schedule down in front of
him.

“Not if I have any interest in enjoying my
weekend or having a life outside this office, I guess it won’t,” he
said stiffly.

“Good.” Gerry nodded back at Dierdre to
continue.

Pokey scowled into his hands, not eager to
push his complaints but not content with what he’d said either.

“I have a problem.” The voice, reedy yet
masculine, was Patti Stump’s. She sat to Gerry’s right, her outfit
an outlandish ensemble of blaring reds and oranges, looking as if
it had been deliberately designed to offend.

“Yes, Patti?” His voice was tight. He seemed
to be concentrating on correcting some typo on the schedule in
front of him.

“My problem is the new budget on the Calloway
Toys commercial—“

“I haven’t gotten to that yet,” Dierdre
started.

“Well, I’ve gotten to it right now,” Patti
hissed at her. “Gerry, the new budget cuts the frequency nearly in
half. Without the back-to-backs I’d set up—“

“Who’s the a.e. on this?” Gerry looked around
the table.

“Uh, that’s Linda,” Dierdre said. “She’s with
a client,”

“All right, we’ll discuss it when she’s back
in the office. Next, Dierdre?”

“That’s bullshit, Gerry!” Patti slammed her
fountain pen down onto the table. “My new budget is due in Linda’s
in-box at two o’clock today. I’ve got television stations I’m
having to renege on...I gave people my word! I’m having to lose
discounts that I’d already figured into the budget...discounts that
the client was counting on—“

“Patti, I’m afraid you’ll just have to redo
your schedule with the new moneys.” Gerry turned and stared at her,
his face reddening, showing that he wasn’t as comfortable as he
wanted to appear. “And bullshit though it may be, it is also the
nature of the business.” He looked at Dierdre who looked at Patti.
Patti gathered up her schedule and pens and stormed out of the
meeting.

“Shall we continue?” Gerry spoke wearily.

2

“She’s in love with you?” Maggie had to sit
down for this one.

“That’s what she said.”

“She told you this?”

“Yes, Maggie, she did. Loudly and without any
mistake, please, don’t sit on my desk, thank you.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”
Maggie removed herself to the armchair that faced Gerry’s desk.

“Do about it? Oh, you mean about returning
her affections?”

“Don’t be an ass, Gerry. Obviously you can’t
pretend she didn’t say it. Or...or is that exactly what you intend
to do?”

“Why can’t I pretend she didn’t say it?”

“Gerry, you’re her boss!”

“Will you just say what you mean? Am I
supposed to fire her? Put her in therapy? Set her up with one of my
friends? Sleep with her? Exactly how am I supposed to respond to
this crap?” He stood up, running his fingers through his hair.
“Darla was amused.”

“Well, with anyone else it might be funny,
but Stump? Let’s face it, Gerry, it’s like having a bad-tempered
Minnie Pearl with the hots for you.”

“Nice image, thanks, Maggie. What, precisely,
do you recommend I do?”

“I recommend you have a talk with her.” She
saw his look of distaste. “Gosh, Gerry, no one ever said owning
your own agency was going to be all skittles and beer, you
know?”

“I think it would be embarrassing to be
thrown out of someone’s office wearing a skirt as short as you’re
wearing so I’d watch the general level of condescension, okay?
Besides, I think it may be a moot point.”

“How so?”

“I think I may not be the owner of this
agency much longer.”

“Oh? Thinking about firing yourself, are
you?”

“I’m serious, Maggie. I think I want to
leave.”

“Leave? Leave for where? Another shop? Are
you kidding? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want this getting out to anyone,
okay? I’m talking to Darla about leaving everything. I mean
everything. The agency, the city, the state, the country. Just
dropping out. I’m about fed up with everything...everything.”

“Ger—“ Maggie stared at him.

“I mean it. What with murders and maniacs
roaming the streets, I’m worried half to death about Haley and
Darla and I don’t seem to have much of a handle on what’s going on
here and—“

“Gerry, listen.” Maggie stood up and moved
back over to his side of the desk. She leaned against it and
touched his shoulder. “Don’t you think things are just building up?
I mean, when they catch this guy...look, you’re just overwhelmed
right now, it’ll all sort itself out.” This was not the time to
spring Paris on him, Maggie thought.

“I don’t think so, Maggie. I really don’t. I
think I have to do something to get it sorted out. I’m just not
happy.”

“So you’re going to leave the country?”

Gerry scooped up some errant paper clips and
tossed them into one of his desk drawers. He smoothed down a legal
pad pushing out from a stack of folders.

“Where?” she asked.

Gerry shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about New
Zealand. It’s got clean air and no drugs and, like, one murder per
decade, and no guns...I think it would be good for Haley.”

“New Zealand?”

“It’s still in the just-talking stage, at
this point,” he said, not looking at her.

“Have you ever been to New Zealand?”

“Look, don’t patronize me, okay? You know
very well I’ve never been there.”

“Well, I’m just saying—“

“I know what you’re saying, Maggie, and I
appreciate it, okay? But I don’t want to talk this one out with
you, understand? I just don’t.”

Maggie sighed and moved back to the other
side of the desk.

“And the Stump Lady?”

Gerry covered his eyes and moaned.

“Can’t I just let it ride? What possible harm
can it do? She’ll lose interest after awhile and I just flat do not
want to deal with it.”

He looked up at her and she nodded.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “She’s so daft, she’ll
probably be hooked on Pokey by next week. I wouldn’t worry about
it, Ger. In fact,” she pushed herself out of the chair and walked
to the door of his office. “I wouldn’t worry about anything if you
can help it.” She smiled at him and then exited, closing the door
behind her.

As she walked to her office, she heard her
name being paged over the public address system. Hurrying back to
her desk, she snatched up the phone.

“This is Maggie,” she said.

“Don’t tell me, you were going to call as
soon the wedding invitations were printed.”

Brownie. Maggie felt a lead ball settle
neatly in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey, Brownie,” she said softly. “How’s it
going?”

“Going okay, how ‘bout you?”

“Oh, you know...” God, she’d dreaded this
phone call. “I’m working through the thing with Elise. You coming
to the service? It’s tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I talked with your mom.”

Oh dear.

“She told me about your boyfriend.”

“Brownie, I....”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He sounded so sweet and
normal. “I wished you’d have told me, though. I mean, hearing it
from your mom and all...”

“I know, Brownie, I’m sorry. I just didn’t
know how to handle it, I guess. I didn’t want to hurt your
feelings...”

“Hey, forget it, Maggie. Okay? Don’t worry
about it. I just wanted to make sure you were all right and to tell
you I’ll see you at the service tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Brownie,” she said.

“Take care of yourself, Newberry.”

“Yeah, you too,” she said, hanging up.

Maggie sat back in her chair and stared at
the wall. Between her conversation with Gerry and the one she’d
just finished with Brownie, she could begin to feel like crap very
quickly if she allowed it.

She took in a breath and let it out. She
wouldn’t allow it.

She checked the time to make sure she could
get her copy assignment finished and on Dierdre’s desk before the
end of day, then picked up the phone and punched in the number for
the Fulton County Police Department.

While she waited to be put through to Jack
Burton, she picked up the office condolence card and glanced at the
signatures inside. Pokey’s was practically unreadable. Funny, you’d
think an art director would be too visual to end up with a
turkey-scrawl for a signature, she thought. Patti’s was very
precise, almost begrudging, or did Maggie project that?

“Jack Burton.” The voice on the line was
strained.

“Yes, Detective Burton? This is Maggie
Newberry,” she said. “You’re investigating the death of my sister,
Elise Newberry?”

“Yes, Miss Newberry.”

“I...well, I’m calling to see if there’s any
more information on her, you know, her death. If you have anything
else you can tell me.”

“Not really, Miss Newberry, we always—“

“Is it possible I might have a copy of your
report?”

There was heavy sigh on the line.

“Look, it’s really a lot easier for everyone
involved if you just let the police handle this, okay? We’re doing
a thorough investigation—“

“I know you are and I appreciate it too, but
I was still hoping—”

“We have no suspects at this time. I’m sorry,
Miss Newberry. Really. I’d suggest you contact a support group or
therapist to help work through this. Relatives of victims of
violent crime have a tougher time than those people touched by
other kinds of deaths. I can connect you back with the switchboard
to be transferred to a department which can give you those numbers,
if you’d like.”

“Okay, good. Thanks.” Maggie pulled a
brochure with copy points on her current copy assignment out of her
desk drawer and set it next to her computer.