Murder On The Mind

CHAPTER 17

  A secretary gave me directions to Maggie’s office. She greeted me with a sunny smile that almost made me forget how crappy I felt. She had on a navy suit with a powder blue blouse, and the same gold chain around her neck. It made her look like a high-powered executive. Despite my own office attire, I felt like someone you might avoid on the street.

  “Hey, I thought we were going to meet downstairs.”

  “I’m a few minutes early. I can wait.”

  “Thanks. Be right with you.”

  I took one of the chairs in front of her desk and she turned back to her computer. She made a call, switching back and forth between two databases as she spoke. The fact that she was busy gave me the opportunity to think up various topics we might discuss over lunch. Only, with my head about to explode, I didn’t feel like talking. I didn’t feel like eating or even thinking. At that moment the whole lunch idea seemed like a big mistake.

  “Sorry about that,” Maggie said at last. “I’m in the middle of organizing a conference and it’s turning out to be a bitch.”

  She grabbed her coat and we headed for the elevator. A minute later, we were waiting for the light to change at the corner outside the bank. A ripple of pleasure shot through me when she grabbed my hand as we crossed the street. Her gloved fingers curled around mine and held on tight.

  We ended up at a pizza joint around the corner. I wasn’t interested in food, but Maggie ordered us a small pepperoni and mushroom pizza and a couple of Cokes. My broken left arm rested on the table as I rubbed my forehead with my right hand.

  She touched my sleeve. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

  “Since the mugging, I get these miserable migraines.” I braved a smile. “I have to admit you’re the bright spot in my day.”

  She smiled. “How’s your case going?”

  “I have a few more people to talk to.”

  “You’re really treating this like a job. Have you thought about doing it for a living?”

  “I did. I was an insurance investigator, remember?”

  “No, I mean being a cop. Or a detective. It’s never too late to start over.”

  “‘Fraid not. In fact, I thought about being a bartender. Just until I figure out what I want to do. My brother’s been on my back. Says I shouldn’t even think about work for another few weeks.”

  “He’s a doctor. He should know.”

  “He’s my big brother and he still thinks of me as a fourteen-year-old kid.” That came out sounding a whole lot angrier than I’d meant. “Don’t listen to me. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  She changed the subject. “Have you had a really good fish fry since you got back to Buffalo?”

  I shook my head. A mistake.

  “You’ve got to have one on Good Friday and I know the perfect spot.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at your house about six.”

  “Good. You can meet Rich and Brenda, too.”

  Her expression darkened, but amusement flashed in her blue eyes. “Uh-oh. Meeting the family already?”

  “Hell, you’ve met Rich before.”

  “As a client, not a person.”

  I had to smile. “And you have to call him Richard. He hates being called Rich.”

  “You call him that.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you sure you’re not still fourteen?”

  I shrugged, and she grinned.

  “Hey, you’ve got to go to the Broadway Market, too.”

  “My mother and I used to do that every year when I was a kid.” I managed a smile at the pleasant memory. It was one of the few traditions we’d observed.

  “I’m taking my mother-in-law on Friday.”

  “Mother-in-law? I thought you were divorced.”

  “Yes. I got the house, but Gary’s mother, Lily, lives in the downstairs apartment. She takes care of my dog when I’m at work. It’s a great arrangement.”

  Our pizza arrived and Maggie doled out pieces for each of us. The aroma made me feel sick. Maggie dug in with gusto. She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Mmm. This is great. Aren’t you having any?”

  “I’d like to . . . but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now. Don’t let me stop you. Enjoy.” I took a tentative sip of my Coke. Much as I wanted to be with her, I was counting the minutes until I could get out of there and go home to my bed. I took out my prescription bottle. The last tablet. I downed it with a swallow of Coke.

  She ate slowly and in silence, watching me, looking more and more worried as time went on.

  “Sorry I’m not better company.”

  “Hey, if you don’t feel well, you don’t feel well. I wish there was something I could do. Want me to call your brother?”

  “He’ll pick me up at one o’clock.” I took another sip of my drink. Coke is supposed to help settle your stomach, but its sweetness sickened me. I pushed the glass aside.

  The waitress came by. “Everything okay?”

  “Can you wrap this?” Maggie asked.

  “Sure thing.” She took the leftover pizza away.

  “You want to take it home for later?”

  I shook my head and winced. The waitress returned with a brown paper bag and the check. I fumbled with my wallet, pulled out a ten-dollar bill. My vision doubled; I couldn’t even see the amount on the slip of paper. “Is this enough?”

  Maggie took the money and the check from me. “It’s fine.”

  “No doubt about it. I make a great impression. Broke, sick . . . a real winner.”

  “It’s refreshing to find a man with vulnerabilities. I can’t tell you how many macho jerks I’ve met in the past five years. Come on.”

  She grabbed my arm, pulled me up, and helped me on with my coat. Then she paid the check and, with her arm wrapped around mine, guided me back across the street. She parked me in one of the chairs in the bank’s overheated lobby, then made a quick call to her office from the receptionist’s desk. Moments later she took the chair next to me. “I’ll wait with you until your brother gets here.” She took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

  Embarrassment doesn’t begin to cover what I was feeling . . . except at that moment I felt so awful I would’ve accepted help from the devil himself.

  When Richard’s silver Lincoln pulled up in front of the bank at three minutes past one, Maggie helped me to my feet and steered me toward the door. “Want me to go out with you?”

  “No, please. Gotta have some dignity.”

  “Okay.” She squeezed my hand again. “See you Friday night, right?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  The cold air hit me like a left hook, making the ten or so feet from the door to the car seem more like a mile. I practically crawled onto the back seat.

  “How’d your lunch go?” Brenda asked as the car took off into traffic.

  I sank back into the seat. “Fine.”

  My voice must have sounded strained, for she turned to look at me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  I could see Richard’s eyes glance at me in the rear-view mirror. “I got us an appointment with my lawyer in twenty-five minutes. You up to it?”

  No, I was tempted to wail, but he wouldn’t need to consult an attorney if it hadn’t been for me. “Sure.” I closed my eyes and sank back against the leather upholstery, hoping I could survive another hour.