She outlasted Dallas by refusing to respond and by keeping her head down, studying phone records.
Evelyn came by around six and announced Dallas was done for the day. He started to protest. She said he was coming home, having dinner, and resting or she was calling the doctor. Immediately.
She gave Maggie a couple shots, too, about working herself to death doing no one any good.
Maggie outlasted her, too.
They left, Maggie remained.
Her eyes, though, might have the last word.
Studying the logs of Rick Wade’s calls over the past ten days, then comparing them to Laurel’s and the guesthouse’s, had her longing for a little light reading among legal precedents.
She rubbed her eyes. This was entirely too up close with phone records.
Rick Wade had called every number listed to and from Laurel’s phones in the days leading up to her murder.
At most, his calls to those numbers lasted a minute or two, many of them considerably less. Except his call to the main number of Zales’ firm. Presumably it took some conversation to set up a golf game.
But why?
She sighed. If there was anything to learn from Henry Zales, Gardner, the state guys working with him, and his counterparts in Rockbridge County, where Wade had died, were hard at it. No hope anyone else would get a crack at him any time soon.
But there was something else intriguing. Shortly after hanging up with the firm, Wade had called a number in Northern Virginia.
Could it be the woman Bel had tracked down?
As Maggie Googled the number, she was anticipating calling Bel, being told it was the woman’s number, closing one damned loop in a made up entirely of open loops and—
The number was an elementary school. Certainly closed over the weekend. She called it anyway. No answer.
With her finger still on the screen from ending her outgoing call, one came in.
She hit answer immediately, saw it was Jamie, and recognized she didn’t regret answering it.
“Hi, Jamie.”
There was a pause on the other end. Her cousin might have been as surprised as she was.
“Maggie. How is your case coming?”
“It’s not a case yet, and likely won’t be mine if it ever is one. I seem to be sort of investigating.”
“Oh? Is it going well?”
“It’s going shittily.”
A single syllable of amusement came from Jamie. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault the whole situation sucks.”
“Maggie, are you—?”
“Don’t say it, Jamie. Don’t say it. I’m so sick of people asking me if I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t. I get that. I’ll just — Will you be in town Monday? Lunchtime?”
“I better be or I won’t still have a job.”
“Oh. Well, will you come to lunch? Ally and I can come to the courthouse area so you don’t have to go far.”
“Chad’s aunt’s still in town?”
“Yeah, and Ally’s agreed to come. I really need to talk to you both.”
“Are you—?” She couldn’t ask what she wouldn’t answer. “I’ll be there. Set the time with Nancy. I—”
The bell chimed, announcing the office’s front door had opened.
“—gotta go now. Somebody’s here. See you then.”
Charlotte Blankenship Smith stood in the doorway of the office.
“Was that my husband on the phone?”
Maggie looked at the screen as if it might answer that odd demand. “Ed? No. Are you trying to get in touch with him?”
“No. I am here to tell you to not touch him.”
Maggie pulled in a long breath, hoping her calm would be contagious. Though Charlotte did not sound angry or agitated. Just delusional.
“Charlotte, Ed and I are colleagues. Friendly colleagues.”
“I know you talked to him this afternoon.”
Did she? How? Listening in on phone calls? Following him? How deep did this paranoia go?
“Yes, we did talk. About your sister’s murder and the progress of the investigation. He’s very concerned about the toll Laurel’s death has taken on you.”
Uninvited, Charlotte pulled out a chair. She put one hand down first and lowered herself to the seat with the weary care of the elderly.
“Laurel’s death has taken a toll? No, no, not her death. Her life. Do you know what she told me about why she fucked Edward before our wedding? To be sure he wasn’t worth taking away from me for good.”
Maggie had interviewed her share of witnesses with mental illness or addiction or the always popular daily double of both. But the combination of Charlotte’s pedantic tone and the hostile words chilled her.
“She thought I’d seen something in him she’d missed. Isn’t that laughable? What I’d seen was a man who might interest the judge. And she never had to worry about that. Just being was all she had to do. The judge always saw her — looked for her, wanted her there. But I—” Her voice shook for the first time. “I had to be his slave, marry a man he could talk to, and even then he hardly noticed me. And her — her — she didn’t have to do anything. So all she’d missed in Edward was what she’d never needed.”
“Then why were you worried she might try to take him away?”
Charlotte raised her eyes without moving her head. They said, You stupid woman, clear as day. “Because she could. That was reason enough for Laurel. As it is for other women. Like you.”