Treacherous Tart (28 page)

“I didn't exactly. Someone came and put me in a car again. They dropped me off here. I tried to get the hood off fast enough to see the car, but they were gone by the time I was able to focus.”

“And you don't know who it was?”

“No. Can I have more soup?”

“You're not hurt?”

“No. Just hungry.”

There was something wrong with her story.
Maggie couldn't put her finger on it. She knew her aunt was lying, but she couldn't imagine why. She ran through her words in her mind as her aunt ate.

“What happened when Garrett was knocked down?”

“I panicked, of course. I couldn't see a thing. I turned around, and the hood went over my head.”

“And you didn't put up a fight? Just went along with someone you knew could hurt you? That doesn't sound like you.”

“May I have some crackers now?”

Maggie got the crackers for her aunt. “I have to call everyone. The whole neighborhood—not to mention the police—have been looking for you.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble.”

Maggie called Ryan first.

She called Frank too, not wanting any officers out on a raw night like this looking for her aunt. It didn't take long for him to knock at her door.

“Frank.”

“Maggie.” He took off his hat and gloves. “Where is she?”

“She's upstairs changing clothes and having a bath. She seems fine, just a little hungry and thirsty.”

“Any ideas on who did this?”

“Not that I could tell from what she said.” She tried to decide if she should tell him that she was
convinced her aunt was lying. But for now, she decided to keep quiet to protect her aunt, at least until she found out why she was hiding the truth. Aunt Clara could get into trouble if the police felt as though the kidnapping didn't really happen—or she knew who'd taken her.

That was it!

Aunt Clara
knew
who had taken her, and she didn't want to tell anyone.

Who could she be protecting?

Frank nodded, his narrow face serious. “Sounds like you two dodged a bullet. I'll have to talk to her myself. I'm glad she's okay.”

It was as good a time as any to talk to Frank about Debbie. Maybe she could throw him off the trail of whatever Aunt Clara was hiding until she could get to the bottom of it.

“I know you're invested in the idea that Debbie killed Donald,” Maggie said. “And I know if I can change your mind, we'll be right back to Aunt Clara being in the hot seat. But I don't think Debbie did anything wrong.”

Frank and Maggie sat down at the kitchen table. Fanny was asleep in her box with her kittens again. Maggie made Frank a cup of instant coffee.

“She's got plenty of motive, and no alibi for when Donald was killed,” Frank said. “She might even be involved in what happened to Clara. What have you got that could change my mind?”

“You said yourself that it looked as though someone was trying to set Aunt Clara up for Donald's murder—the flour, the gun at the back of the shop, and waiting until she wasn't in the kitchen. I don't think Debbie could have set that up as well as someone who really knows us and our routines.”

“I thought that made sense. But the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming against Ms. Black-welder. I can't ignore it.” He stared at her with canny eyes. “What aren't you telling me? Why do you want her off the hook?”

Maggie swallowed hard. “I don't think she did it. I think it was someone we know.”

“Like who? If you have a suspect in mind, please share.”

“I don't,” she admitted. “I wish I did. I have this gut feeling—”

“Gut feeling?” He shook his head. “You were talking to her at the pie shop today, weren't you? I thought it was odd that Ryan called in a tip on where to find Ms. Blackwelder. What's going on?”

“Nothing. I only want to make sure the right person goes to jail.”

“And you think I don't?” He sipped the last of his coffee. “Maggie, a good sob story about a murdered mother doesn't make someone innocent—it gives them the greatest motive in the world: revenge. Don't be so softhearted. And if you see Ms. Black-welder again, call the Durham Police.”

Frank would've said more, but Aunt Clara joined them. “Hi, Clara. I understand you've had an adventure.”

Maggie sat at the table and listened again as her aunt explained everything that had happened to her, and to Garrett. The slight hesitation was there in her aunt's voice again. She told the same tale she had earlier. There was still something off. Aunt Clara definitely knew who'd taken her, and was covering for her.

“And you're sure you can't remember anything else about the woman that kidnapped you?” Frank was finishing up with Aunt Clara.

“Only what I told you. At first it was all Shalimar, you know. Then something smelled like goulash, and I realized I was hungry. How odd is that?”

Shalimar?

Maggie knew at once who had kidnapped her aunt. Lenora had reeked of the strong, spicy perfume both times at the pie shop. Aunt Clara had kept her story amazingly straight, but she'd given Lenora away.

Why would Lenora kidnap her? It didn't make any sense. Once Frank was gone, she intended to get to the bottom of this.

Frank put away his little notebook and pen. “If anything else occurs to you, let me know. I'm glad you're back safely.”

“So am I. Thank you, Frank.” Aunt Clara hugged him and then went to check the cats' food bowl.

“Can I talk to you a minute, Maggie?” Frank muttered as he walked by her to the door.

She followed him, glancing back into the kitchen. “What's up?”

“She's been through an ordeal, especially at her age. You should think about getting her counseling. That's what it says in our public relations handbook. She's a tough old lady. I think she might be hiding something. She might be afraid of what will happen if she tells the truth, you know? The kidnapper might be someone she knows, someone who threatened to hurt her, or you, if she tells the truth.”

Maggie was stunned by his perception. “Thanks, Frank. I'll check into getting her some help, and I'll be sure to call if she remembers anything else.”

“Good night, Maggie. Let's celebrate this last week before Christmas peacefully, huh? No kidnappings, murders, muggings, or fires.”

She agreed, and said good night. She watched him get into his car and drive away before she closed and locked the door.

Frank had seen it too. Was he also right that Aunt Clara was afraid to say what had happened? Had Lenora threatened her? How was she going to reassure Aunt Clara that everything was going to be all right and that Lenora would never be able to hurt her again?

“I'm off to bed now.” Aunt Clara started up the
stairs. “Good night. Sleep well. I can't wait to get back to work tomorrow.”

Maggie didn't want to upset her aunt, but she knew she had to ask her again about what had happened to her. This time, she didn't mince her words.

“Lenora kidnapped you, didn't she? She hit Garrett in the head, and you were afraid she might hurt him again, so you left with her.”

Clara's head popped up like a small bird's as she turned to face Maggie. “I don't know what you mean, dear.”

“I know you too well. And you gave it away—Shalimar. The only person I can think that you'd protect this way is Lenora.”

Her aunt sank down on the stairs. Maggie sat beside her and put an arm around her.

“Yes. She hit Garrett in the head. I wasn't afraid for him, though I suppose I should have been. I was afraid for
her
. I was troubled by the look in her eyes, Maggie. I was afraid she might hurt herself. That's why I went with her.”

Maggie drew a deep breath. “So Lenora took you to her house, right? What happened?”

“Pretty much what I told you, except I wasn't tied to a chair. I sat in her kitchen while she ranted and raved about her whole life. I guess she wanted to feel safe in her own home going off that way. I can't think why she went to such an extreme. I felt so sorry for her. She has always been miserable, poor thing. I
didn't realize how much she loved Donald. She saw him as her last chance for happiness.”

“What happened then?”

“Alice finally came home. She argued with her mother and then brought me home. She was so apologetic. She knows her mother needs help now. I hope she gets it for her.”

Maggie hugged her aunt. “I knew it. Anyone else would have had to fight to get you to leave the house.”

“I guess you
do
know me well.” Aunt Clara sighed. “I feel so bad for her. I can't tell the police what really happened. I know Garrett will be angry and probably want to prosecute her. She doesn't need jail, though. She needs a doctor.”

Not knowing what else to say now that she knew the truth, Maggie walked with her aunt up to bed. “You should stay home tomorrow, you know. You've been through a lot.”

“Whatever!” Aunt Clara waved away her sympathy. “I've worked with a broken leg before. Your Uncle Fred came back to work three days after gall-bladder surgery. I want to see how the potpies turned out.”

“We'll see how you feel in the morning.” Maggie insisted on tucking her aunt into bed. She hugged and kissed her. “I love you. I was so scared I'd never see you again.”

Aunt Clara smiled and lightly touched her face.
“You can't get rid of me that easy. I'm not going anywhere until you and Ryan make me a happy grandmother. Not technically, I suppose, but the next best thing.”

“We'll talk about
that
later too. I love you. Next time, call, and tell me what's happening.”

“I do heartily swear to call you the very next time someone kidnaps me, Maggie. Good night, dear.”

M
aggie went to
her room, where she cried happy tears of relief that her aunt was finally home. She couldn't sleep thinking about Lenora, and what could have happened. She understood her aunt wanting to protect her old friend, but there was a place where a person had gone too far.

It occurred to Maggie at about 2:00 a.m. that it was distinctly possible that Lenora had killed Donald. Aunt Clara refused to believe Lenora could hurt anyone. This proved she was wrong.

Lenora knew their routines at the pie shop. She was desperately afraid of losing Donald to Clara. If Lenora could conceive of kidnapping her aunt, what else could she think of?

Maybe Frank was right that the same person who killed Donald had also kidnapped her aunt—he just had the wrong person.

Maggie wasted no time calling Ryan. He was awake. She knew he would be. She told him about Lenora. “What should we do?”

“Let me check and see if she has a nine-millimeter pistol registered to her. That could be the deciding factor. I'll call you when I know.”

Maggie fell asleep waiting for that call. It never came, but Aunt Clara was at her bedside, fully dressed, urging her to get up just before 5:00 a.m.

“What? What is it? Is everything okay?”

“Everything's fine, dear. The alarm will go off any minute. I'm so
excited
to go back to work. Let's go early.”

Maggie dragged herself out of bed. Of the two of them, maybe she was the one who should stay home. Aunt Clara seemed better than fine. She was ready to go.

When Maggie got downstairs, Aunt Clara shoved a slice of toast into her hand and gave her a sip of orange juice. “Sorry. We shared the last of the juice.
Someone
was supposed to pick some up yesterday. The
cats have already eaten. It looks like Fanny is staying home today. I think she's finally used to it here. Isn't that wonderful?”

Maggie grunted something. She wasn't sure if it was intelligible. She chewed and swallowed a single bite of toast and threw the rest away. “You know, I was a
little
preoccupied yesterday.”

Aunt Clara was pacing and impatiently standing at the door while Maggie put on her scarf and coat. She wasn't sure if she was going to survive Aunt Clara's kidnapping if it only made her more energetic.

When Maggie reached her side, she noticed a blotch of red lipstick on her aunt's coat. She thought about what Ryan had said about matching the lipstick to the brand found on Donald's lapel. “Just a minute. Let me wipe off that lipstick for you. Is that the kind Lenora wears?”

“I'm not sure.” Clara watched as she carefully wiped off as much of the lipstick as she could. “I want to forget that happened. Isn't it lovely outside this morning?”

Maggie ran back to the kitchen to get a plastic bag and sealed the lipstick-stained paper towel into it. Aunt Clara was going to have to have her coat cleaned. It wouldn't all come off. In the meantime, that evidence might be what Frank needed.

She knew her aunt was going to be angry if she helped prove Lenora had killed Donald, but it couldn't be helped. She wasn't willing to take a
chance that Lenora might not be such a
nice
kidnapper next time.