She’d find out soon enough if they were coming for her. For now, she was just going home.

  Chapter 17

  “How did I know it was you snooping around the hospital?” Gary asked as he took the large coffee from The Bookish Café that Maggie had brought to the police station.

  “Did I cause a lot of hoopla?”

  “Not really. The security guard and front desk receptionist both confirmed it. No one reported any trouble on the floors. They just chalked it up to some weirdo sneaking in. Happens all the time,” Gary said, prying off the lid and taking a careful sip. He let out a deep sigh. “Best coffee in town.”

  Maggie sat in the chair next to Gary’s desk, hunching slightly to keep her voice low.

  “Do you know who the officer was that responded to Lora’s house when Agnes was attacked?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” Gary whispered back, leaning in.

  “Who was it?”

  “Me.”

  “Really? You didn’t tell me that,” Maggie huffed, sitting up straight.

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Maggie crossed her arms and clicked her tongue. The way Gary snickered made her cheeks flush. He was exactly the same as in high school. She’d be in a whirlwind over something—an exam, a missing book, a forgotten appointment—and Gary would be the one sitting there with all the answers. He’d casually tell her the test was Wednesday, not Tuesday. That her book was in his locker. That she’d written her notes on a Post-it instead of in her planner. It was like he enjoyed watching her squirm.

  “Did you go into the house after Agnes was taken to the hospital?”

  “No. It was locked up tight. Real tight,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “We need to go inside.”

  “What for?”

  “The killer went back there. He was looking for something. I’ve seen the inside, and I might notice if something’s missing or out of place. That’s worth checking, don’t you think?”

  Gary leaned back and took another sip of coffee. “I hate to tell you this, Mags, but that’s a great idea.”

  Maggie smiled and blushed. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Oh, and since when do you know a couple of goons named Handy and Crush?”

  Maggie’s jaw dropped.

  “So, you do know them. They stopped by late last night, but I was already asleep in the empty holding cell.”

  “Yeah, I know... Wait. You slept in the holding cell? Oh, Gary. That’s pitiful. Why didn’t you just come to my house?”

  “First of all, you weren’t home. You were busy sneaking around the hospital like the Grim Reaper looking for a low pulse. Second, it was cheaper than the Motel 6 on 4th Street. And you don’t know what a good night’s sleep is until you’ve been run ragged and crash in a six-by-six cell you’ve got the keys to. I slept like a baby.”

  Maggie squinted at him and tilted her head like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise. “I don’t get you.”

  “You’re not supposed to, Mags. I’m a mystery. An enigma.” He smirked.

  “A horse’s aa⁠—”

  “That’s enough,” he cut her off, pointing a finger, which made her laugh.

  “Let’s saddle up, Roy. We’ve got some snooping to do.”

  Before long, Maggie and Gary were back at Lora Foretree’s house. Yellow police tape surrounded the property. Nothing looked disturbed. All the ugly gnomes were still in place, keeping watch.

  “Do you like those things?” Maggie asked as Gary parked the car.

  “What things?”

  “Garden gnomes.”

  “Haven’t given them much thought. I live in an apartment.”

  “If you had a house, would you put those creepy little guys in your yard?”

  “Probably not. Of course, now that I’ve said that, if I ever move into a house, I know what you’ll be buying me as a housewarming gift.” He chuckled.

  “They’re expensive. I’m not spending that kind of money on you,” Maggie said, surveying the property. “They give me the creeps. Just ugly little things. You know they’re watching us.”

  Gary shook his head and led the way to the back of the house. Police tape stretched across the entrance, along with a warning label stating that breaking it could lead to criminal trespass charges. Gary pulled out his pocketknife and sliced through the tape.

  “You aren’t going to get in trouble?” Maggie asked.

  “Since when does getting in trouble bother you?”

  “It’s one thing for me to get in trouble. It’s another to drag you into it.”

  “You aren’t dragging me anywhere. Besides, I’m investigating this crime. I’ve got a job to do. You, on the other hand, are just an interloper. So act accordingly. Don’t touch anything.”

  “I know,” Maggie snapped in a whisper, as if even her voice might disturb the silence. The house smelled stale and stuffy. Gary pulled a couple of rubber gloves from his pocket and handed a pair to Maggie. With a tug and a snap, she slipped them on but clasped her hands behind her back and followed Gary carefully.

  “Let’s start upstairs and work our way down,” Gary said.

  “You mean upstairs, to the bathroom?”

  “You were up there. You were the first one to see Lora dead.”

  “Second,” Maggie whispered. “The killer saw her first.”

  With a solemn nod, Gary waved her on to follow him up the stairs. It was warmer on the second floor. The utilities had been shut off, and the hot air from downstairs had risen and settled in the hallway and rooms. The bathroom looked the same, minus the body in the tub. Blood still clung in dark patches to the porcelain and tiles. The shower curtain hadn’t been removed.

  “What are forensics waiting for?” Maggie asked, still whispering.

  “They’ve already been here and took what they could. But the tub and curtain were wet. Nothing stuck. They’ll toss those things once we’re completely finished here. And why are you whispering?”

  Maggie cleared her throat. “I guess I just don’t want to disturb anything.”

  “I get it. So, do you see anything strange? Different? Out of place?”

  Maggie looked around. She hadn’t paid close attention to the bathroom on her first visit. Her focus had been entirely on the tub. Now, nothing looked different. Nothing had been rifled through. The spare room was untouched. The bedroom looked the same—until something caught her eye.

  “Look at this,” she said, pointing to the large mirror over the dresser. Pictures were tucked into the seam between the mirror and the frame. Maggie plucked one out. It showed a smiling Lora Foretree with a man’s arms wrapped around her. Judging by the man’s build, it wasn’t Dane McKenny. That might explain why his head had been torn from the photo.

  “Who do you think that is?” Gary asked.

  “No idea. Could be from years ago. Maybe she just liked how she looked in this one. She does look good. Wow, would you look at that ring on his finger? There ought to be a rule against men wearing giant, gawdy costume jewelry. That thing looks like something Dracula would wear.”

  “You know those hardcore bikers. They wear jewelry that matches their bikes. Only a Harley guy could pull off a ring like that.”

  “Do you think he wears it all the time? Like to the grocery store? Or church?”

  “I don’t know, Mags.” Gary chuckled.

  “Do you think the killer tore his own face out of the photo? Maybe that’s what he was doing when he came back.”

  “If that’s the killer, I think he would’ve taken the whole picture, don’t you?” Gary said, slipping the photo into a plastic baggie. It would be dusted for fingerprints.

  “You’re probably right. If he even knew it was here,” Maggie said. “Still, that ring is practically a felony. You should be able to write a ticket for something that tacky.”

  They carefully made their way downstairs. Gary took out his flashlight and shined it along the stairs as they descended, slowly scanning each step.

  “What are you looking for?” Maggie asked.

  “Anything left behind.”

  Maggie nodded. Her eyes drifted to the walls, still covered in photos of Lora with her Harley-Davidson. She stepped into the living room and took a deep breath. It was slightly cooler on the main floor, but the air remained stale. The furniture looked untouched. The kitchen was just as she’d left it.

  “How do you have an affair with someone with a family who lives close by? Do you expect no one to notice? I don’t get it,” Maggie muttered.

  “Unfortunately, it happens. I don’t get it either. If you love someone enough to marry them, why would you look anywhere else? Or just get a divorce.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” Gary echoed. He looked at Maggie. “Too bad people aren’t as smart as us. The world would be a better place.”

  Maggie wrinkled her nose and scanned the room before nodding. A few quiet minutes passed. Then, as if he’d been holding in the question, Gary cleared his throat.

  “Mags?”

  “Yeah?” she said, getting down on her hands and knees to peek under the sofa and armchairs. If Gary thought to check the stairs, snooping under the furniture wasn’t out of the question.

  “Do you ever think about getting married?”

  She took a breath. “Sometimes.”

  “Would you have a big wedding or a little one?”

  “You ask like you don’t know me. I’d have a small wedding. That way, if the guy doesn’t show, I won’t have too many people to explain it to.”

  Gary chuckled. “You’re not that pessimistic.”

  Maggie blushed. “No. But I’d still keep it small. How about you? If you can keep her hogtied long enough, would you get married and have a big wedding?”

  “You’re a real riot, you know that?” Gary said as he walked into the kitchen. “Yeah. I’d like to get married someday. I think I’d elope. Just her and me.”

  “To Vegas?”

  “No. Just to a quiet little Justice of the Peace. A honeymoon overnight in a No-Tell Motel, then back home to announce I’m off the market.”

  Maggie followed him into the kitchen and gave him a teasing look. “Yeah. Someone finally found you in the discount bin.”

  Gary chuckled.

  “I think that sounds nice.”

  “You do? I would’ve thought you’d say it was cheap or tacky,” Gary said, opening the refrigerator and peeking inside.

  Maggie stepped beside him to look as well. Inside were a few cans of Diet Coke, a tub of margarine, some questionable leftovers in Tupperware, and a lonely loaf of bread.

  “Well, I do think those things,” Maggie replied, “but I also think the right woman would find it perfect. It suits you. Besides, who else would protect Fair Haven in your absence? Crime doesn’t take a vacation.”

  Gary was still smiling when he noticed Maggie had gone very still. Her gaze had locked on the kitchen table, and her eyes narrowed to little slits.

  “What?” he asked.

  She pointed. “The card. From Dane. It’s gone. Did your guys take it?”

  “What card?” Gary looked confused.

  “There was a card sitting there. I saw it when... I snuck in,” Maggie said, folding her arms. “It was made out to Peppermint. That was Lora’s nickname from Dane. I told you, it was dated the same day I found her body. The killer must’ve come back to get it. I’ll bet he was in the middle of it when Agnes Krueger showed up. You need to question Dane again. If you put the squeeze on him, he’ll sing like a canary.”

  “Put the squeeze on him? What have you been reading?”

  “Nothing, unfortunately. I’ve been too wrapped up in this mess to crack the binding on any of the new books for the café. Except for Small Town Secrets. I’m going to be honest, Gary, if I never hear another secret again in my life, it’ll be too soon.”

  Gary ran a hand through his hair, then looked at the kitchen table, under it, around it, and finally let out a sigh.

  “You’re sure you saw it?”

  “Yup. Saw the date. Saw the nickname. It was right there,” Maggie said as she knelt to peek under the lower cabinets. Spotting the trash can, she daintily picked through it. “Nothing here that looks like anyone tossed it. Nope. If you go talk to Dane, I’m telling you. You’ll find out he came in and took it. Because he’s guilty.”

  “Maggie Bell, that’s circumstantial at best.”

  “It puts Dane in the house on the day Lora was murdered. He was having an affair with her, but now he claims he loves his wife. Otto blew it all up. The most dangerous animal is the one backed into a corner. And Dane is in a pretty tight corner. Go talk to him. He’ll crumble into a million little pieces.”

  “I don’t think going to his place is the best idea. I’ll tell him to come down to the station,” Gary said as they made their way to the back door.

  “Great. We can grill him there,” Maggie said, striding ahead into the fresh air. All the garden gnomes stared as they exited the house.

  “I love how you just invite yourself to things before anyone’s even invited you,” Gary said with a chuckle.

  Chapter 18

  It was quiet at the police station. It usually was in Fair Haven. People knew how to behave. They knew their neighbors. And now that someone who had written a book about their secrets had turned up dead, Maggie was sure most residents wanted to keep things peaceful.

  She took a seat at Gary’s desk and watched as he picked up the phone and cleared his throat.

  “Hello, Dane?” Gary asked Dane to come to the station at his earliest convenience. “No, there was no problem. Just a couple of follow-up questions. Well, it really would be best if you came in today, but first thing tomorrow morning would be fine too.”

  Maggie leaned back, and shook her head. A delay tactic. The guy was hiding something. Maybe he felt guilty or maybe he sensed the walls closing in. She wanted to urge Gary to insist he come in immediately. But all she heard Gary say was that he understood and yes, family came first.

  If he’d actually put his family first, none of this would be happening, Maggie thought as she pinched her lips and looked at Gary, who smirked as he hung up.

  “What’s that look for?” he asked.

  “He’s not coming in?”

  “Tomorrow morning. He’s got plans with his family tonight,” Gary said, waiting for Maggie’s reaction. She didn’t disappoint.

  “Plans with his family. Don’t make me laugh. If those plans fall through, what’s to stop him from catching the next flight out of town?”

  “Maggie, Dane McKenny isn’t going to skip town.”

  “He might.” She leaned forward. “Two people are dead. One was his mistress. The other exposed the affair. You’re right. Skipping town is crazy talk. What am I thinking?”

  “That sarcastic bone of yours is growing faster than the rest of you,” Gary muttered. “Would it help if I promised to keep an eye on the McKenny estate until tomorrow?”

  “I could do it for you,” Maggie offered, eyes wide like someone had just told her Christmas was coming early.

  “No. And if I see you within five blocks of that house, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

  “Gary, you wouldn’t do that to me. After all we’ve been through.”

  “High school doesn’t count.”

  Maggie pouted, but before she could reply, the front door of the station rattled open, and two familiar faces appeared.

  She stood and crossed her arms. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered.

  Handy and Crush paused, looking surprised to see her.

  “We were gonna come sooner, but my mom got sick,” Crush said, glancing at Maggie, then quickly looking away. “We came last night but it was too late.”

  “You didn’t tell me your mom was sick,” Handy mumbled, earning an elbow to the ribs.

  “Tell it to the judge,” Maggie said. She looked at Gary.

  “So what’s this all about about?” Gary asked, lowering his voice. He pulled over a chair and motioned for the guys to sit down.

  Maggie, who wanted more than anything to stay and listen, was quietly told to go home.

  “But I organized this. I found them. I’ve got questions too, like why it took them so long to show up,” she said, squinting at the two.

  “Stop giving them dirty looks and go home. I’ll call you tonight,” Gary said, gently turning her toward the door.

  “Promise?” she asked, her gaze still fixed on the two men, who were now looking anywhere but at her.

  “Yes, Mags.”

  “Bye, Maggie,” Handy said as she passed. His voice softened her expression. As much as she wanted to scold them for the delay, there was something harmless about their tough guy routine.

  When she stepped out of the station, the sky was a bright blue and the sun blinding. The scent of hot dogs from a nearby cart hit her like a dream.

  Just what she needed.

  She pulled a few dollars from her pocket, bought two dogs with mustard and a Coke, then found a bench to sit for a moment and enjoy her late lunch.

  A trip to the bookstore was in order. She was back at work the next day. Vacation over. Sort of. She still had a book signing to organize for Fifi, but that would be simple. A table, a chair, maybe some flowers. The Bookish Café already had copies of Fifi’s book, plus any she brought herself should be more than enough.

  She’d confirm the details once she got home, since Fifi was staying with Mrs. Peacock. Maggie wondered if Trent knew where Fifi was and whether he might be lurking nearby, hoping to corner her.

  After another sip of Coke, Maggie stood and headed toward the bookstore.

  What kept popping into her mind wasn’t all the information she and Gary had gathered.

  It was Gary. Her high school buddy. The one person she never felt awkward around. Lately, they’d been spending a lot of time together. And as she walked along the sidewalk in her usual quiet way, head lowered but eyes up, she realized something. She missed having him walk beside her.

  “Snap out of it, Mags. You’re just getting a little clingy. He’s like a cousin, and this isn’t the South,” she muttered.