Ian took charge of the murder site within minutes of arriving.
Once he had the area around the hedge secured, he headed over to where Maggie stood with Martin, his arm wrapped around her waist. She knew before Ian opened his mouth what he was going to say.
“Maggie—I hate to ask this, but can you come take a closer look at the victim? See if you recognize him?”
“He was in the play tonight, but with the makeup, and the way he kept wandering around the stage, I never got a good look at him.”
Ian held out his hand. “I will only keep you long enough to look at him.”
“Okay.” She looked up at Martin. “I’m okay.”
With a sigh, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Did you want me to tag along?”
“I’d like that.”
He let her go long enough to take her hand, and they followed Ian over to the hedge. All the photos had been taken, and the local doctor had checked the body, so they had turned him over on his side, to try and identify him.
The damp grass had melted most of his stage makeup, and Maggie swallowed as she recognized the white, splotchy face.
Ian rubbed her shoulder. “I didn’t check his identification at the time, but I want you to confirm that this is one of the men I chased away from the front of your shop.”
She nodded, feeling sick. “That’s him. He’s a new arrival to Holmestead. I didn’t recognize him until I saw him later. His name is—was Nick Reed.”
“He had identification in his wallet, with that name.” Ian studied her. “He must have been on his way to the gateway at the back of the grounds, as he had trousers on under his costume. He has a London address on his ID, but his business card is a local address.”
Ian showed her the card, which had one of the estate agencies listed at the top, with his name underneath.
“I didn’t know him.” She decided not to tell him about the incident at the pub. It was pointless now. “But I would recognize the man who was with him. The last time I saw them together was at The Tea Caddy, glaring at each other across one of the tables.”
Ian frowned. “Why didn’t you ring me?”
“They weren’t threatening.” She wished now that she had mentioned it to Ian. “Just angry. I’ve seen more than a few unhappy couples, with the crowds and long queues in the village.” An icy gust of wind had her huddling in her coat.
Martin tucked her into his side, his body shielding her from the next gust. “I would like to take Maggie home now, Ian.”
“Of course.” Behind him, the PCs were rushing to finish. “A storm is headed our way. Bad one, according to the report up from London. It’s already hit them—and they’ve had close to a foot of snow so far.”
“We’re leaving now, Maggie.” Martin pulled his mobile out of his tuxedo jacket, and tapped in a number. “Ashton—we have weather coming. Please meet us at the car.” He listened for a minute. “Thank you. Maggie and I enjoyed your performance.” Even from here, Maggie could hear Ashton’s enthusiastic response. “My pleasure. We will see you there.” He ended the call and held his hand out to Ian. “I appreciate you not dragging Maggie into this.”
“She does have a habit of stumbling across dead bodies.” He winked at Maggie, then sobered. “I won’t need anything, unless I find his arguing companion. Then I would need you to identify him.”
“Of course. Just let me know.”
He clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Stay safe, both of you.”
“Thank you, Ian,” Maggie said. She tightened her grip on Martin’s hand, still spooked by finding someone they had watched onstage less than an hour ago.
Just feet away from the edge of the crime site, Floyd Wilton pounced.
“What did you see?” He shoved his recorder at Maggie. “The village deserves to know what happened—”
Martin stepped between her and Floyd. “You will not speak to her, now, or tomorrow, or the next day. Are we clear?”
He grabbed the collar of Floyd’s coat and escorted him up the sloping sidewalk, surprising Maggie and Floyd.
“Maggie!”
She turned at the shout, surprised to find Terry Harmon sprinting toward her. One of the PCs stopped him, and he started arguing.
She headed over to the PC, who now had both hands on Terry, trying to keep him in place.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“You sure, Maggie?” She recognized the PC. Jackie, one of Ian’s new recruits. His Yorkshire accent always made her think of moody moors and fog shrouded fields. “I can be hustling him out.”
“I’m sure. Thanks for the protection, Jackie.”
He let go of Terry and headed for the next group of lookie loos trying to get too close to the crime scene.
Terry took her hand, concern on his face. “Are you all right? I heard a body had been found, but I had no idea until I saw you with the DI that you had been the unfortunate innocent to stumble over it.”
“I have a habit of doing that.” She smiled when he looked puzzled. “Not my first dead body, unfortunately.”
“I am so sorry you had to experience the trauma again.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “May I see you tomorrow, at your shop?”
“Terry. I’m so flattered, but I’m involved with someone.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, so quickly she wasn’t sure she even saw it. He smiled, patting her hand. “I wish to negotiate for a piece I saw yesterday. I wanted to make certain you were there, so I could enjoy the back and forth with you.”
“Oh—oh, I’m sorry.” She could feel the blush heat her cheeks. Hopefully, the shadows cast by the lamp behind them helped conceal her embarrassment. “I’ll be there tomorrow, and every day until Christmas.”
“Excellent.” Terry raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I look forward to our retail battle.” He looked past her, and his eyes widened. “Please, excuse me. I lost track of the time, and am late for an appointment.”
She watched him run down the hill, and turned to find Martin striding toward her.
“Who was that?”
“A tourist I keep running into. Why?”
Martin frowned after Terry’s departing figure. “I could have sworn—”
“You’ve seen him before?” Martin nodded. “I get the same feeling, but I don’t know where, or when. He’ll be gone by the time we figure it out.”
“So, I won’t have to fight him for your affection?”
“He’s not my type. Loves himself a little too much. I like your type.”
He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. “And what would that be?”
“Smart professor, obsessed archaeologist, fellow antique hoarder.”
“I can live with that label.” Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her. Maggie had to grip his arm when the kiss turned her knees to rubber. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, and took a few deep breaths. It helped clear her head. “I want to stay at the shop, in case the power goes out. I have a generator in the back room. If the house power goes, we’re doomed.”
He laughed, and kissed her forehead, then started heading down the hill, toward the car park behind the castle keep. “I can get behind that argument. What about Ashton?”
“I was thinking that he could sleep in the living room. He’ll have the fireplace upstairs, and I don’t want him trying to stay warm in the back room.”
“I believe I can sacrifice privacy until the storm passes.”
She smiled up at him. “So generous of you, Professor.”
“I like to think I am the epitome of generous.”
He sounded so pompous that Maggie burst out laughing. When he stopped and pulled her in for another kiss, she kept smiling against his lips. Heavens, she loved him.
And every day, she was more grateful that he was part of her life.
***
Ashton didn’t say a word, helping Maggie into the back seat of the car before he walked around to the driver’s side, leaving Martin to climb in and close the door. Ashton looked pale, shell shocked, and Maggie swore she saw fear in his eyes.
By the time they pulled up to the back door of Maggie’s shop, he had recovered enough to ask his first question.
“Who was it?”
Maggie leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “His name was Nick Reed. Is he the someone you saw at the B&B?”
Ashton shook his head. “That was—never mind. I knew Nick, in London. He followed me to Holmestead. I hardly expected him to stick. He is a city boy, through and through.” He swallowed. “Was a city boy. Who would do this?”
She glanced back at Martin, who shook his head. “Ian will find out. He’s a good man, and a fine detective.”
After a long minute, Ashton lifted his head. “I will leave you here, and head back to—”
“You’re staying with us.” Maggie raised her hand when he started to protest. “There’s a storm coming, and I don’t want you trapped in a house with no power. I won’t sleep, because I’ll be too busy worrying about you.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and color started to seep into his cheeks. “Since you are providing the warm space, I’ll provide the food.”
“Ashton, you don’t—”
“You’ve been beyond kind, Maggie, to a stranger. It will be my pleasure, and my honor, to repay that kindness.”
“Okay. Just hurry back—Ian didn’t know when the storm would hit us, and I don’t want you caught out in it.”
“I will be back before you can miss me.”
She smiled, glad that his humor was back. She had been so afraid that he wouldn’t snap out of the shock of hearing about his friend’s death.
“We’ll let you go, so you can get back quickly.” She grabbed Martin’s hand and opened the door. “Thank you again, for a lovely evening.”
“I’m sorry it ended so badly.”
She winked at him. “Not my first dead body.”
His jaw dropped open. Before he could close his mouth, Maggie climbed out of the car. She let out a gasp as wind whipped down the narrow alley. Fumbling for the keys in her coat pocket, not waiting for Martin, she hustled over to the door and unlocked it. Martin joined her as she stepped inside to punch in her alarm code. The normally cold back room felt warm in comparison.
She felt even warmer when Martin slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.
“Martin—”
“I want a bit of private time with you.”
“I need to close the—”
His lips cut her off, and she forgot about closing the door, or the keys dangling from her limp fingers, or the cold wind lapping at her. All she could do was hold on to Martin and remember to breathe.
“Maggie.” He traced the line of her cheek with one finger, and started to kiss her again. Headlights splashed over the opposite wall, and he sighed, lifting his head. “That would be Ashton.”
With a laugh, she kissed his cheek. He captured her lips one more time, his hot, fast kiss leaving her breathless.
“A promise,” he whispered against her lips. “For later.”
He gently leaned her against the wall before he stepped outside to help Ashton carry in their takeaway. Maggie locked her knees so she wouldn’t sink to the floor, and fought to compose herself.
No man had ever made her feel breathless, much less unable to stand on her own after just kissing her. There was only one solution to her dilemma.
She’d just have to marry him.