But he was thinking of relationships now, wasn’t he? All because of seeing Maggie Sutter again, who should represent nothing beyond some fine old memories. Ten years ago he and Tim Sutter had been good friends, and often when Josh had dropped in on Tim, there would be Maggie, cute as any teenage girl could ever be, sassy, giggly and looking at him with her gorgeous violet-blue eyes.
She didn’t look at him in the same way now, Josh thought with a bit of a wince. In fact, if there was any expression at all in her eyes when she looked at him, it was cool disdain. Was that because he hadn’t shown recognition during the accidental meeting that she claimed had occurred between them? He’d been startled as hell to see her as a cop and on duty smack-dab in the middle of his arena, to be exact, and he still wasn’t sure he liked it, particularly since she was making him think some pretty off-the-wall thoughts. And her being Tim’s sister somehow made her seem to be off-limits.
Josh had lost track of Tim, but Tim had done the same with him. They lived different lives, Tim in California with his computers, his wife and kids, and he, Josh, sticking close to home, never even considering marriage or leaving Chicago, working hard and advancing in the police department. In truth, he and Tim couldn’t be more different from each other, they always had been, but still, during their twenties, they had hit it off.
Josh sighed quietly. If Tim had stayed in the Chicago area, they’d probably still be friends. In the next heartbeat another thought, a question, gave Josh a start. What about Tim and Maggie’s mother? Josh remembered Lottie Sutter almost as well as he did her kids. Was Lottie alive and thriving? He hoped she was. They used to have some really good discussions.
He sat there for another ten minutes thinking about the Sutter family, then, rather abruptly, the long day got the better of him and he realized that he was almost too tired to get out of his chair and go home. But if he didn’t do it soon he would probably fall asleep right where he sat.
He forced himself to his feet-for the last time that day, he hoped.
Maggie slept like the dead that night. Her alarm clock jarred her awake at 6:00 a.m., and she shoved aside the covers and walked to the shower with her eyes only half-open. The shower finished what the buzzing of the clock’s alarm had started-got her brain and body functioning on normal. She turned on the TV in her bedroom to catch the weather report and made a face when she heard it. “High today of thirty-five degrees and snow flurries by late afternoon. Current temperature is twenty-six degrees.”
“Great,” Maggie muttered, wishing her life away by wishing for spring and some decent weather. Almost every winter was the same. By March she was so ready for sunshine and warmth that she fantasized herself living in a southern state, where the sun shone brightly nearly every day of the year. She could always find a job in law enforcement, couldn’t she? With her education and training? Of course she could.
The television program went from the weather report to local news stories. Maggie only partially listened until she heard, “Franklin Gardner, international businessman and lifelong resident of Chicago, was found dead in his penthouse apartment early yesterday morning. Police are investigating his death as a possible homicide.”
The “possible homicide” comment surprised Maggie, because had Franklin Gardner’s entire family been notified already? Occasionally the cart got out before the horse in breaking newscasts, but surely Benton was controlling all information passed to the media.
Maggie told herself to stay out of that part of the investigation. Josh hadn’t gotten where he was in the department by talking out of turn. He knew the rules, probably better than she did.
This morning Maggie put on a little makeup and didn’t even try to kid herself that it wasn’t because of Josh Benton. Dressed in charcoal, almost-black wool slacks and turtleneck sweater, she bundled herself into her heavy outside jacket, scarf and gloves and left her apartment.
Entering the garage was like bucking a wave of Arctic air. Her breath fogged in front of her face and she thought about how great it would be if the garage were heated. Of course, when she found this apartment, she’d been thrilled it had a parking garage and she could still afford the rent!
Mumbling to herself that living through scorching Arizona summers was probably just as bad as freezing Illinois temperatures in March, Maggie hurried to her car, unlocked it and got in.
She inserted the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. Startled, she did it again and again. Nothing happened. Her car was dead. Groaning, she put her head on the steering wheel.
But it was too cold to sit there and feel sorry for herself for long. Raising her head, she got out her cell phone and the card Josh had given her yesterday. She dialed his cell number. He answered on the second ring with a gruff-sounding “Detective Benton.”
“This is Maggie. My car is dead. I’m going to call a mechanic, and there’s no telling how long that will take. Obviously I’m going to be coming in late. Thought you should know.”
“Where do you live?”
“Pardon?”
“Give me your address. Maybe it’s just your battery. If it is, I’ll give you a jump.”
“You’re going to fix my car?”
“Don’t sound so doubtful. I know a few things about cars, and I’ve got a set of jumper cables. Unless you’d rather call that expensive mechanic than let me take a look at it.”
“Um, no…no, of course not.” Maggie reluctantly recited her address. “But I hate imposing on your time.”
“If I felt it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have offered to help out.”
“Well…all right. It’s freezing in this garage so I’ll be waiting in my apartment. Just ring my bell.”
Josh cleared his throat and squelched an impulse to tell her that he’d love to ring her bell. In fact, she just might love having her bell rung by him.
“I should be there in twenty minutes,” he stated, without innuendo.
“Um…thank you.” Maggie hit the button to break the call and stuffed the phone back into her bag. She tried the ignition again, got no response at all from the wayward engine, then shook her head disgustedly and got out. She locked the car and headed for the elevator, cursing under her breath.
Damn it, why hadn’t he just let her call for a mechanic and be done with it? Or better still, when he’d made his intrusive offer of assistance, why hadn’t she thought fast, refused with thanks, and told him she had already called for a mechanic?
Inside her apartment she yanked off her gloves and jacket and then ran around like a wild woman, frantically picking up things, such as the slippers she’d left by the sofa several nights back, and the Sunday newspapers that were still strewn across her little kitchen table three days later. She grabbed a stack of junk mail that she’d been intending to toss for days and dropped it in the trash can, and put the dirty dishes stacked in the sink into the apartment-size dishwasher she’d been almost as glad to see as the garage when she’d rented the place.
She suddenly needed coffee, and she put on a pot to brew. Hurrying to her bedroom, she made the bed and then ran into the bathroom to straighten things up in there, just in case Josh should ask to use it. She was horribly nervous and couldn’t seem to calm her racing pulse, however many times she reminded herself that she had outgrown Josh Benton years and years ago.
Of course, if that was the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, would she be nervous at all?
Maggie was on her second cup of coffee when the building’s front door buzzer went off. She set her cup on the counter, went to her apartment’s front door and pushed a button. “Yes?”
“It’s me. Buzz me in.”
Maggie complied and then opened the door to watch for Josh to step out of the elevator down the hall. As usual, it seemed an eternity for the hydraulic lift to make its snail-like way from the first floor to the fourth, but finally Maggie heard it grind to a shuddering stop. The doors slowly opened and Josh began walking toward her.