place or Sam’s?”
“Mine,” Maggie said. “At the front door with a kiss, as all first dates should.”
“Too many people in your house, huh?”
“You could say that,” Maggie agreed. “Listen, I’ve got some bad news.”
“What is it?” Ginger was instantly on high alert.
“Michael Claramotta is in emergency surgery for a head injury,” she said. She heard Ginger gasp, but she went on before the questions could start. “I stopped by the deli this morning, but it was locked up. I was worried about Joanne, so I called her and she came over to check it out, because Michael was to have opened by then. Anyway”—Maggie paused to blow out a breath—“we found Michael unconscious and in a pool of his own blood.”
“Oh no!” Ginger cried.
“It gets worse,” Maggie said. “Diane Jenkins was there, too, but she was dead. Ginger, it looks as if she was strangled with her apron strings.”
“Ah!” Ginger let out a gasp of horror.
“Sam’s over there now,” Maggie said. “I’m with Joanne at the hospital. I need to call Laura at the shop, but I don’t want to tell her about Diane over the phone. The two of them became friends over the past few days, and I know this is going to be a terrible shock.”
“I’ll go,” Ginger offered. “You know how fast the gossip moves in this town. I’ll go and tell her, and then we’ll come to the hospital and sit with you and Joanne. I’ll call Claire on my way.”
“Thanks, Ginger,” Maggie said. Ginger had been like a second mother to Laura. If Maggie couldn’t be the one to tell Laura about Diane, it was best that it was going to come from Ginger.
“How are you holding up?” Ginger asked. Her voice was soft with caring, and Maggie knew that Ginger was remembering that night almost twenty years ago when she had stood by Maggie when Charlie had been in critical condition in this very hospital.
“I’m all right,” Maggie said. “It helps to focus on Joanne and the baby.”
“Have they said anything about Michael yet?”
“No, but I know Doc Franklin,” Maggie said. “I could see on his face that it’s bad.”
She lowered her voice as if Joanne could hear her from down the hall.
“We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Ginger said. “Hang tough, sweetie.”
“Will do,” Maggie said.
She ended the call and made her way to the cafeteria. She fixed two coffees in to-go cups, high octane for her and decaf for Joanne. As she turned to leave the cafeteria, she heard her phone ring. She paused by a table to put the coffees down and dig her phone out of her pocket.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Maggie, it’s Sam. How are you?” he asked.
“Waiting,” Maggie said. “Michael is in surgery, so I’m doing the obligatory coffee run.”
“How’s Joanne?” he asked.
“Praying,” Maggie said. “Or meditating, it was hard to tell which, although I imagine it was probably a little bit of both.”
She glanced around the nearly empty cafeteria and realized that other than a few staff persons in scrubs and some in suits, the place was quiet. She figured the surge of visitors probably wouldn’t start until later, and she was grateful for the calm.
“I’ve got the medical examiner and the crime-scene investigators here now,” Sam said. “Once they’re about finished, I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Okay,” Maggie said. There was something in his tone that made her wary. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Sam let out a sigh. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I figured that much,” Maggie said. “So, let’s just get it out.”
“Diane was definitely strangled,” Sam said. “And unless we find some evidence that someone else was in here with them, Michael is going to be a prime suspect.”
Chapter 11
“But that’s ridiculous,” Maggie protested. “It could have been a robbery gone wrong or, well, something else.”
Sam didn’t say anything, and Maggie flashed onto the conversation she’d
“Mine,” Maggie said. “At the front door with a kiss, as all first dates should.”
“Too many people in your house, huh?”
“You could say that,” Maggie agreed. “Listen, I’ve got some bad news.”
“What is it?” Ginger was instantly on high alert.
“Michael Claramotta is in emergency surgery for a head injury,” she said. She heard Ginger gasp, but she went on before the questions could start. “I stopped by the deli this morning, but it was locked up. I was worried about Joanne, so I called her and she came over to check it out, because Michael was to have opened by then. Anyway”—Maggie paused to blow out a breath—“we found Michael unconscious and in a pool of his own blood.”
“Oh no!” Ginger cried.
“It gets worse,” Maggie said. “Diane Jenkins was there, too, but she was dead. Ginger, it looks as if she was strangled with her apron strings.”
“Ah!” Ginger let out a gasp of horror.
“Sam’s over there now,” Maggie said. “I’m with Joanne at the hospital. I need to call Laura at the shop, but I don’t want to tell her about Diane over the phone. The two of them became friends over the past few days, and I know this is going to be a terrible shock.”
“I’ll go,” Ginger offered. “You know how fast the gossip moves in this town. I’ll go and tell her, and then we’ll come to the hospital and sit with you and Joanne. I’ll call Claire on my way.”
“Thanks, Ginger,” Maggie said. Ginger had been like a second mother to Laura. If Maggie couldn’t be the one to tell Laura about Diane, it was best that it was going to come from Ginger.
“How are you holding up?” Ginger asked. Her voice was soft with caring, and Maggie knew that Ginger was remembering that night almost twenty years ago when she had stood by Maggie when Charlie had been in critical condition in this very hospital.
“I’m all right,” Maggie said. “It helps to focus on Joanne and the baby.”
“Have they said anything about Michael yet?”
“No, but I know Doc Franklin,” Maggie said. “I could see on his face that it’s bad.”
She lowered her voice as if Joanne could hear her from down the hall.
“We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Ginger said. “Hang tough, sweetie.”
“Will do,” Maggie said.
She ended the call and made her way to the cafeteria. She fixed two coffees in to-go cups, high octane for her and decaf for Joanne. As she turned to leave the cafeteria, she heard her phone ring. She paused by a table to put the coffees down and dig her phone out of her pocket.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Maggie, it’s Sam. How are you?” he asked.
“Waiting,” Maggie said. “Michael is in surgery, so I’m doing the obligatory coffee run.”
“How’s Joanne?” he asked.
“Praying,” Maggie said. “Or meditating, it was hard to tell which, although I imagine it was probably a little bit of both.”
She glanced around the nearly empty cafeteria and realized that other than a few staff persons in scrubs and some in suits, the place was quiet. She figured the surge of visitors probably wouldn’t start until later, and she was grateful for the calm.
“I’ve got the medical examiner and the crime-scene investigators here now,” Sam said. “Once they’re about finished, I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Okay,” Maggie said. There was something in his tone that made her wary. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Sam let out a sigh. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I figured that much,” Maggie said. “So, let’s just get it out.”
“Diane was definitely strangled,” Sam said. “And unless we find some evidence that someone else was in here with them, Michael is going to be a prime suspect.”
Chapter 11
“But that’s ridiculous,” Maggie protested. “It could have been a robbery gone wrong or, well, something else.”
Sam didn’t say anything, and Maggie flashed onto the conversation she’d
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