Maggie and the Hidden Homicide Read online

  Reese walked over to the edge of the driveway, where the hill dropped away in a sea of pines and brush.

  To their left was a two-story building of dark-stained redwood. The bottom floor was a garage, and an outside staircase led to what appeared to be living quarters.

  To their right was the house. This was low-slung and dark, with the same redwood siding making it blend into the shady woods all around.

  When she finished getting the dog settled, they headed that way.

  Bill opened the front door, a massive affair of heavy wood, stained deep burgundy and carved with a dragon in bas-relief.

  "How beautiful," Maggie said, and Reese nodded.

  Inside they sat on benches to remove their shoes. Then they entered the main living area of the house. The narrow entry hall opened into a massive room that took her breath away. Two walls were of glass, made of small panes designed to resemble shoji screens. The floor under their feet was of black-stained teak, and the shoji windows slid open to decks of the same wood, creating a seamless blend of inside and out.

  Outside were gardens. Gardens everywhere. Japanese maples in shades of rust and pale green sent weeping branches over raked pathways of the same gravel as the driveway. There were stone lanterns, and white azaleas bloomed among mounds of moss and sprawling dwarf juniper. At the far end of the garden a waterfall spilled enthusiastically over granite boulders, the creek it fed wandering through the garden, with little bridges arching over it here and there, until it came to an end at a pond that flickered with glistening koi darting beneath lily pads.

  Inside was as serene and beautiful as out. The kitchen was modern and had every convenience, but was designed with bamboo cabinets that almost disappeared into the wall, with no hardware to break up the smooth lines. The living area had a huge fireplace with a heavy mantle that could have come from an ancient temple, thick with carvings of pine-covered mountains where dragons perched.

  The house was larger than its low-slung appearance had made it look, with a lower level that held four huge bedroom suites, in addition to a master suite of majestic size and style on the main floor. The master bath had its own marble soaking tub nestled in a fern-filled grotto, as well as a massive shower that was big enough for two. When Bill said that, Maggie had to quickly turn to examine an orchid on the dressing table to avoid thinking about the possibility, though Reese just nodded seriously at the information without a hint of his typical flirtatious snark.

  They looked it all over and then went back out the front door. "And that's the guest quarters," Bill pointed out with a nod to the apartment above the garage.

  They finished looking at the house, and then Reese shook Bill's hand and told him he'd be in touch soon. They got back in their cars and left, Maggie taking the winding little road down the hill and back all the way to Carita Valley Road.

  "It's a beautiful home," Maggie said, breaking the silence.

  "It is," Reese agreed. "I'll have to replace all that gravel so Jasper doesn't hurt his feet, and then it'll be perfect."

  "I'm sure Patricia can get that done in a day," Maggie said. "Thanks for thinking of it. So it does seem perfect for what you need, doesn't it?"

  He nodded. "It's peaceful. A healing place. Just what I'm looking for." He rested his head against the passenger seat and watched the road go by as they headed back into Carita and home to Casablanca.

  Jasper lay down on the back seat with a grunt and went to sleep.

  And Maggie was happy for Reese. It was just what he needed. Somewhere away from the stress, with good vibes and a peace and quiet that would help him build a new life and start over.

  He was still ill, still recovering from the terrible fall from grace that had ruined his many years of sobriety and forced him to start all over. His body was still damaged from the drug that had nearly killed him. He still was a bit fragile, this big man who appeared so strong and healthy. And she was his friend. And so what he needed was all that mattered. Whatever it took to bring him back from the brink of death and set him on a path to healing and happiness was what she would support.

  So she didn't say a word about how there was no place to park her tiny house at the beautiful dragon house. About how this choice meant she would need to find her own place to make a fresh start, and soon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day was another slow one at the bead shop. She had one class scheduled for the afternoon, but no one came in all morning.

  She left work promptly at noon, flipping the sign on the door to LUNCH BREAK, then walking home to her tiny house to grab a sandwich and let Jasper out for a brief run.

  As she walked along the cobblestone sidewalk that fronted The Row, she made a phone call.

  Her dad picked up on the first ring.

  "Mija!" he said, the obvious pleasure in his voice making her heart happy.

  "Hi, Dad," she said.

  "What are you calling for?" he asked, turning worried. "Is something wrong? It's not Sunday."

  She always called him on Sunday, after he got home from Mass and before he settled in for his evening cooking session and caught up on a week's worth of Jeopardy.

  "Nothing's wrong, Dad," she quickly reassured him. "I was just thinking about you."

  She told him about Taiyari, and about how the girl's parents had dreamed of their child growing up to live a much better life than they had. And about how the girl's grandmother had given up everything, her status in her home village, her friends, her life, to travel to a strange country and do backbreaking work in the fields so her granddaughter could follow her dreams of going to college and becoming a lawyer.

  She told him how the girl's story made her think of her own, and about all those afternoons when she'd sat in his shabby little office on his used car lot, doing her homework, while her single dad worked as hard as he could to build a business. Not so he could have the gourmet kitchen and large house overlooking the Los Gatos hills he eventually earned, but so his child could get an education and go on to live a happy and successful life.

  "Thank you, Dad," she said, and he got very gruff, and dismissed it as nothing, but she could hear the pride in his voice when he did it, and she smiled.

  And then she stopped smiling, and told him the rest. How the grandmother had passed away, and now the girl she'd given up everything to save had a warrant out for her arrest and was presumed to be a cold-blooded killer.

  And how, once again, Maggie was going to have to find a way to figure out the truth.

  Because the girl mattered. Her grandmother mattered.

  And the truth mattered.

  "Hey," Reese said when she answered the knock on her tiny house's door and found him standing there. "You home for lunch?"

  She nodded, and finished chewing and swallowing the bite of cheese sandwich he'd interrupted.

  She opened the door wide.

  He noticed the sandwich in her hand and asked, "is this a bad time?"

  She shook her head. "Not at all." She waved him in and he bent down to greet Jasper, who licked his face and lunged playfully at him, begging for a game of chase. "Not now, buddy," he said, patting him on the head.

  He straightened up, then looked around the tiny house as if seeing it for the first time, though he'd been there a lot over the last few months. "This is a really nice place, isn't it?"

  She put the sandwich on the kitchen counter, and said, "yes, it is. I really like it a lot."

  "And I promised you a parking space at my new house, didn't I?"

  She motioned for him to sit on the daybed and he plopped down.

  "You keep asking me questions you know the answer to," she said.

  "Do I?" he asked with a wan smile, and she laughed.

  "It's okay, really it is," she said. "You need to find a house that fits your needs right now."

  "But I was thinking about the dragon house and just realized—"

  "—that there's no place to park a giant purple trailer in the little driveway at that beautif
ul home? Yup. But it doesn't matter."

  "What about the apartment over the garage? We didn't go look at it, but I'm sure it can be remodeled into something that suits you."

  She shook her head. "I really like my tiny house. It fits my life right now. I don't want to get an apartment." She crossed her arms. "But you need to do what fits your own life right now, not worry about me."

  "The Zen house has five bedrooms," he said tentatively, without a trace of his usual flirty grin.

  "It sure does," she said firmly. "But we're not at the living together stage of our relationship."

  "You sure about that?" He raised one eyebrow and winked at her.

  "You know, I miss that part of you," she said.

  "What part?"

  "The happy part. The silly, flirty, witty part."

  "Is it missing?" he asked.

  "It's… muted. That's understandable, Reese. You've had a rough time."

  He shrugged. "I don't mean to be a downer. And I don't mean to leave you hanging."

  "Don't worry about it," she said.

  "I am worrying," he said.

  "Don't. Don't worry at all."

  "Then come live with me in my zen house," he said seriously. "It will solve all our problems."

  "I don't want to be the solution to your problems," she said.

  "I didn't mean it that way."

  "Actually," she said, "I think you do. Whether you realize it or not. You're looking for something. Some focus. And I don't want to be that. I don't want to be a crutch for you. I'm your friend. I'm here for you whenever you need me. But you need to build a life for yourself. Make something. And I think you need to do it yourself. I don't think anyone can do it for you."

  She sighed. "I don't know exactly what you're searching for. I'm not sure you do, either. But you almost died only a month ago, Reese. You need to focus on your sobriety and getting well."

  "But what about you?" he asked.

  "I only got divorced a few months ago. I haven't had a chance to be a swinging single yet. The last thing I need is to get into some relationship with…." She trailed off.

  With what? The Sexiest Man on the Planet? A newly sober drug addict? A paparazzi-target movie star? Her best friend, Stanley Tibbets?

  "Swinging single, huh?" he mused. "I guess I missed that part of your post-divorce life."

  "That's because it hasn't happened yet. But it could." She looked around at her tiny house with its beadwork projects on the table, the big, messy dog stretched out on the floor, and the four-foot-high stack of books next to the daybed. "Theoretically, it could. You never know."

  "If you wanted, you could have men asking you out every night, Maggie."

  "You might be exaggerating a tiny bit," she said. "But I'm sure I could find a date if I searched for one. But I don't think I'm ready for romance."

  "You sure?" He sprawled back on the daybed, looking like he was posing for the cover of a magazine, and she laughed.

  She shook her head at him, and he pouted. Even that was sexy, and she laughed again. "Trying to make up for the lack of flirting?" and he nodded.

  Then she got serious. "Here's the deal, Stanley: you need to find some focus in your life. Stop drifting. Those are your words, not mine. So you buy that beautiful home, and if anyone ever takes this white elephant of a house off my hands, then I'll find a nice place to park my tiny house. And you promise to come to O'Riley's in the afternoon and play piano for me."

  "It's a deal," he said.

  He still looked doubtful, but sat up and rested his elbows on his knees and thought about it. "I guess," he finally said. "My therapist recommended I practice meditation. That house would be perfect for it. And when Shane comes home on vacations we can hang out there in peace." He slapped his knees with his palms and then stood up. "You're right. I should buy that house. Set down some roots. Thanks for being understanding about it. I have to focus on getting healthy and starting fresh."

  "That's right," she said, leading him to the door. "That's a great plan for you. You'll feel better when you make a fresh start."

  After he left she looked at the clock. She still had a bit of her lunch hour left. So she did a bit of work on her bead tapestry. She sat for a while in front of the loom, weaving rows of seed beads back and forth between the warp threads. The pattern slowly came into view as she worked, and she focused on that, and not on the lingering image of Reese wandering aimlessly through the vast rooms and gardens of the Zen dragon house, alone and purposeless as ever. Was the house what he was searching for, or something else?

  Jasper finally came over and bumped her, making her lose her place in the pattern. She scolded him, then when she tried to continue with her beadwork, he bumped her again.

  "Oh, Jasper!" she said in exasperation. He cocked his head to the side and grinned at her.

  She gave in to his demands. "I know. You need something to do. You're bored." Her eyes roamed the little room, searching for something. "Let's see. Jasper, Hairbrush."

  The dog looked around eagerly, then ran to the bathroom. She heard his claws click on the tiled bathroom floor, then came a grunt as he put his paws up on the counter to grab her brush. He came back with it in his mouth, and handed it to her, only a bit damp on the handle from his drool.

  "Thank you," she said. He seemed disappointed when she didn't ask him to fetch anything else, so she said, "Jasper, Ball," and he went for that object.

  Then it was, "Jasper, Towel," and "Jasper, Rope," and a dozen other things, and the dog ran from one end of the tiny house to the other, tail wagging the whole time.

  When he handed his favorite stuffed sheeple to her she finally said, "Okay, boy. I think that's enough. "Get your leash and you can come back to work with me for the afternoon." He ran to fetch it.

  When he brought it to her, he barked because she was too slow to snap it onto his collar and get going. He had hydrangeas to water and gopher holes to sniff on the way downtown, and she was taking too long.

  "I know, boy. You need a job," she muttered. "We all need a sense of purpose, don't we?"

  And then she thought about that for the rest of the day.

  That afternoon, Maggie was just finishing teaching her class in pearl stringing when Willow Norris came into the shop. Maggie waved to her and went back to showing the students how to finish their projects with a simple spring clasp.

  Jasper got up from his bed under the work table to go greet Willow, and the girl bent down to pet him. The teenager was dressed in the latest variation on her favorite goth clothing: a tattered dusty rose T-shirt with a weeping angel on it, black cargo pants, and clunky black boots that made every step she took on the old shop floor sound like an echo of distant thunder.

  Her hair had been dyed a rose shade that matched her shirt, and she sported three necklaces, five bracelets, and two pairs of earrings. She was one of Maggie's best customers, and Maggie always made sure there were some jet beads, as well as angels, skeletons, and faded roses among the charms next to the counter.

  When the class was over, her three students gathered up their projects (blue and aqua pearls knotted on silk cord). Before they left, two of them bought the Simple Seashore Pearl Necklace kits, which was just a fancy name she'd thought of for the same necklace design in a coral and cream colorway. The extra sales put her in a good mood.

  After Jasper had gotten enough attention from Willow to satisfy himself, he went back to his cushion under the work table, and the girl spent some time checking out all the newest bead offerings.

  Maggie finished putting away all the supplies from the class, then came to stand behind the counter. She rested her elbows on the countertop and watched as Willow's fingers (sporting burgundy nail polish with a top coat of black glitter) brushed across the charms.

  But something else seemed to be on the girl's mind, because she didn't make a choice among the beads, but just stood there, fingering an onyx pendant with a crystal lily embedded in it.

  "How's school?" Maggie finall
y asked to break the silence. "You're starting junior year, right?"

  Willow shrugged. "It's okay. I miss Grey, though." Grey was the boyfriend, an older boy who had started interning at his father's office a couple of weeks ago.

  "Are you two still together?" Maggie asked.

  "Of course," Willow replied. They had stuck together through thick and thin, so that was good to hear, and Maggie told her so.

  "He's a nice kid. I'm glad," Maggie said.

  That earned her one of Willow's rare smiles, and Maggie smiled back. Then the girl went back to fingering the charms, deep in thought.

  "Something's on your mind," Maggie observed.

  Willow stopped playing with the beads and faced her across the counter. She threw her narrow shoulders back and looked Maggie right in the eye. "I'm sixteen now," she announced, as if that were significant.

  "I know," Maggie replied. "I was at your birthday party last week."

  "Yeah," Willow said. "So that means—" There she faltered, unable to spit out whatever it was she wanted to say.

  But Maggie guessed it then. "Oh!"

  She went over to the window and grabbed the sign propped up there. She brought it back and set it on the counter between them: HELP WANTED. PART-TIME. INQUIRE WITHIN.

  "Yeah," Willow said, gracing her with another smile. "So what do you think?"

  Maggie could have said that a clerk who sulked around and had trouble talking to adults wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but she didn't. Willow was a good kid. She'd had a rough time, and probably could really use the job. And she genuinely loved beadwork, which was worth more than any traditional retail experience.

  And the bottom line was that Maggie hadn't had a single other applicant. A grumpy teenager with no work experience was better than no assistant at all.

  "I think we can work something out," Maggie said. "As long as you keep up your schoolwork."