Map Skills Murder Page 11

  I could understand the feeling.

  Since I didn't get what I needed from the king vulture, I called the next best thing. No, it wasn't Kelly. Kelly knew both men well and would've lent an ear, but in the end I needed someone impartial.

  Susan was waiting for me in her office. I was lucky I got an appointment with her so quickly, but she insisted she'd had a cancellation and it was fine.

  "Hi, Merry!" the counselor said as she waved me over and pointed to a chair in front of her desk.

  I'd started seeing the woman a month or so ago. Remember that anxiety insomnia I told you I'd had? Well, Kelly had hooked me up with Susan, and I'd had a rather disastrous sleep study. I thought that I was doing better. Apparently, I wasn't.

  "How's the insomnia?" Susan asked.

  "Much better. This is kind of a different problem with similar elements."

  The therapist laughed out loud. "That's quite an explanation. What's going on?"

  She knew about Rex and the wedding. What she didn't know was about Riley. It took twenty minutes to fill her in on the whole story. Frankly, I thought it would take an hour. Susan listened carefully, making a note here and there as I went.

  As a spy, no matter which side I was on, I had to look at any situation from both sides. That didn't mean my actions were impartial, but at least I had a base to start from. Sadly, I wasn't being impartial at all in what I told Susan.

  I let fly with my feelings toward both men, surprising even myself at my candor. But counselors couldn't repeat the things you said to them, so why not? Maybe if I said everything I really thought, I'd start figuring out things myself.

  Trouble was, my own feelings surprised me.

  "You have unresolved feelings for Riley," Susan summed up. "You love Rex, but Riley is there in the back of your mind."

  I thought about this. Susan was great at waiting for me to respond.

  "Are you saying I can't build a life with Rex with Riley in the background?"

  She answered, "I think that's what you are saying."

  "I think I could move on if Riley didn't keep popping into my life."

  "Isn't that just postponing dealing with this?"

  I shrugged. "It's the easiest way out. If I never had to see Riley again, everything would work out."

  Susan shifted in her seat. "Is that how Rex would see it, if he knew what was going on?"

  The diamond ring on my finger suddenly felt very heavy. "Are you saying I should talk to Rex?" That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  "Not necessarily," the therapist said. "There are three of you in this relationship, and you're leaving one of the major players in the dark."

  She had a way of making me feel she wasn't judging me, which I liked. But was she really thinking I was an idiot? Because I was really thinking I was an idiot.

  "You're not an idiot," Susan said.

  "You can read minds?" I gasped.

  The therapist shook her head. "Only on weekends." After she saw the look on my face, she laughed. "Sorry. That was a joke."

  "Argh! What do I do?"

  "Take a deep breath," Susan instructed. "Riley may never even move here. He could've been saying that to get a rise out of you."

  I relaxed a little. "That's true."

  "You don't know that he will, and you don't know that he's pursuing you."

  "And I have Rex. I love Rex—more than I loved Riley," I offered.

  She nodded.

  "Maybe I got a little hysterical," I said.

  "Completely natural. Getting married is a huge step. It's a rare person who doesn't have doubts or questions." She opened her planner. "When do you want to talk again?"

  As I walked out to my car, I felt a little foolish. Who blew their stack when an old boyfriend dropped in out of the blue?

  Back at home I poured myself a glass of wine and felt sorry for myself. I do not recommend it. Philby seemed to know I was wallowing in self-pity, because after staring at me for five minutes, she walked along the back of the couch and smacked me across the face. Then, her work done, she curled up on my lap and went to sleep.

  Why didn't I get a dog? Or a nonjudgmental guinea pig? A goldfish would've been an improvement over this overbearing, know-it-all fur ball who looked like Hitler.

  By my second glass of wine, I was feeling a little stupid. Riley turned up out of the blue, and I ran to the therapist. How did that make me look? Like a weak little girl who didn't know what to do with an ex-boyfriend.

  Why was he coming here? I'd never once told him that I was interested. But then, Riley loved a challenge. Any woman who didn't fall victim to his charms would find themselves worn down by the handsome and relentless cad.

  I knew this. I didn't want this. I hoped Rex understood it. Damn. I had to talk to my fiancé about this. I didn't want him thinking I was the kind of skank who strung two grown men along. That wasn't my thing.

  Hell, relationships weren't really my thing before I moved here. Riley and I lasted a whole New York minute. Or rather, a Bogotá minute, which was about thirty-three seconds.

  Since I was trying to be honest about this—was I ready to get married? Not because of Riley, but because of me?

  On the plus side, Rex and I had been together for two years. Our relationship was on course for moving in together or getting married. And Rex wasn't really the type who wanted to just live together. He wanted to make it official. He was mature and decisive. And when he was ready to make the commitment, he was totally ready. Rex was a grown-up. Riley was the spoiled child.

  On the negative side, I'd always been a late bloomer. Whether it was puberty or discovering my independence—it took me twice as long as normal people. I was wary, unsure of what I really wanted out of life.

  Up until two years ago, I knew exactly what I wanted—to work for the CIA. But now that I thought of it, I wasn't really independent. I lived wherever the agency told me to. I followed their plan, and everything I ate, every place I slept reflected that.

  You have no idea what it's like to go from a situation where all decisions are made for you, to having to suddenly buy a house, shop for groceries, and decide what to do with your day. Or maybe you do. I shouldn't judge.

  In fact, I was a bit jealous of Rex's ability to behave like an adult. In my last job I pretended to be an adult, or a man, or once…a transgendered person who was into infantilism (but only that once). It had taken me a year to take down the Dora the Explorer sheets I used as living room drapes and buy real curtains.

  Kelly knew this about me. But she was the penultimate grown-up too. Right out of college with her nursing degree, she got married, got a job, and started a family. I ate ravioli out of the can, my favorite food was sugar, and I could barely manage two strange cats. I didn't even get the cats myself—they were thrust upon me during a murder investigation.

  No…my not being ready for marriage had nothing to do with Riley. It had everything to do with me. I was the one who needed work.

  Whew! Either Susan triggered this introspection, or this $6 wine was better than I thought. I opened a can of ravioli, poured another glass. I had to get my mind off Riley Andrews, and I was pretty sure what would help.

  The case had been in suspended animation while I had my pity party. I needed to find out if Margaret really was Peggy. Peggy McMurtry, so I took my glass of wine to my room where I curled up in bed with the diary.

  I found it on page fifty-two.

  July 26

  Dearest Friend, Margaret came over to help me with Tinkles' bath. Since Eustace has moved on, it is nice to have a friendly face to talk to. Margaret is my second cousin—the granddaughter of my grandfather's sister. She has only recently moved here, staying in a boarding house. I did not even know I had a cousin. Grandfather has never mentioned any family. He welcomed her when she arrived with a note from his sister and set her up in a nice boarding house down the street.

  There was a mention, but it was Margaret, not Peggy. That was what threw me. Peggy was a common nickn
ame for Margaret, so this must be her. I kept reading.

  July 30

  Dearest Friend, Margaret has been a godsend. We spend every moment we can together. She loves Tinkles, and we take him for long walks through the country. This poor girl told me her sad story. It would appear that her mother was ill for some time, and her father had left. Margaret was her mother's caretaker until she had to enter an asylum. That is what brought my cousin to me.

  . We have become fast friends, as she loves butter too.

  August 2

  Dearest Friend, I nearly died today. My cousin and I were walking in the woods, and I lost my footing, nearly falling down into a ravine. My ankle was badly injured, and Margaret ran off for help. Eustace found me and carried me home. He seemed confused when I thanked her for fetching my brother. She was sitting on the porch, drinking lemonade when we arrived at the house, and flew into action, making me comfortable on the settee and waiting on my needs for the rest of the evening. I am fortunate to have such a considerate friend.

  My spy-dy senses tingled. Had Margaret/Peggy sought help? Or had she left Mimi in the woods to die?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next few months of diary entries followed a similar formula. Peggy running out on an errand, leaving Mehitable in a house that mysteriously caught fire. Peggy accidentally putting arsenic in Mimi's tea instead of sugar. Peggy tripping into Mehitable when the girls were standing on the edge of a cliff.

  And in each of these scenarios, Mehitable remained innocent of her cousin's attempts to kill her. But had Peggy killed her cousin with an axe? She'd tried to make all these other incidents look like accidents. Did she just lose it one day and kill her flat out? Did she tell the marshal that it was an accident?

  Or was Peggy an innocent walking calamity? With no desire to kill her cousin? What would her motive have been? Money? Revenge against her great uncle? Madness? Did she think that she might replace Mimi in the family?

  Was she really a relative? Was the letter forged? Was she a con artist? Was she a murderer?

  I put the diary down and rubbed my eyes. It was eight in the morning. I'd been reading and rereading these passages all night. I needed some sleep. One thing I'd learned from years of espionage—your mind plays tricks on you when you are sleep deprived. Maybe I could have Rex read the diary and see what he thought.

  Setting the book aside, I pulled up the covers and passed out.

  My phone was buzzing on the nightstand, forcing me to wake up. It was Kelly.

  "Yes?" I asked groggily as I stared at the time. I'd been asleep for four hours.

  "I have an idea. Meet me at the park in twenty minutes." My best friend then hung up.

  After feeding the cats and a quick shower, I arrived at the park to see my whole troop waiting for me. What was this?

  "Did we have a meeting scheduled?" I rubbed my face.

  Kelly shook her head. "No. But I was thinking we could use this opportunity to earn our Map Skills patch."

  I stared at her. "You woke me up and called twelve sets of parents for this?"

  Was I about to murder a woman who beat up a bully for me in third grade?

  She rolled her eyes. "It's a good idea."

  "Why the Map Skills patch?" I looked at the girls, who were decked out in adventure gear. Lauren was even wearing a pith helmet, and Emily had a walking stick.

  "Because of the map we found in your yard," Kelly grinned. "It's a perfect tie-in!"

  That was when I knew I was outgunned. And that Kelly must've known about this in advance because she provided each girl with a map of the town and a list of items for a scavenger hunt.

  "I thought you said you just came up with this?" I groaned.

  "I did." Kelly sniffed. "But I've had these scavenger hunt lists for months."

  I stood by as Kelly organized the girls into three groups of four, reviewed the rules, and sent them out of the park and into town.

  "You didn't even need me here." I yawned.

  "Of course I need you here."

  Something was off.

  "What's really going on? A surprise playdate? You'll have to do better than that."

  Kelly put her hands on her hips. "This isn't that unusual. Last summer you came up with that survival retreat at camp at the last moment. It wasn't easy finding water-purifying pills and camo face makeup at the last minute."

  "That was different. That was a course on sudden survival. Like if we all woke up to a zombie apocalypse."

  She narrowed her eyes at me. "Well, that explains why you had them make a fence out of pointed sticks."

  "Those are practical life skills," I protested.

  "And then you had a surprise trip to the army surplus store in the city. You bought them all ghillie suits and knives."

  I shrugged. "What's wrong with knives? Boy Scouts have knife skills! Girl Scouts have knives!"

  She tapped her foot. "Not the size of machetes. Do you know how hard those were to return?"

  "Killjoy," I grumbled.

  "Okay," she relented. "I needed something to occupy my time today."

  That got my attention. "Why?"

  "Because Robert wanted to go golfing for the fifth time this month, leaving me to babysit Finn. I wanted some time off. So I invented this."

  My jaw dropped. "That's diabolical."

  "I had to get out of the house. I love my daughter, but I need some space now and then."

  "Okay."

  Kelly's right eyebrow went up. "Okay?"

  I nodded. "Okay. Let's make this really fun."

  "It is really fun." She shoved the list under my nose. "I've been working on this list for a while, thinking we might do this."

  I took it from her. There were ten items ranging from a pinecone to a purple barrette. I'd at least have added something like "make a weapon using things found in nature" or "set up a booby trap using dental floss and four toothpicks." Of course then it wouldn't be a scavenger hunt, but it would be more interesting.

  I could use a little fun to blow off some steam. Get my mind off of dead heiresses, llamas, and Ike's axe murder. If we were going to do this…we were going to do this right.

  Spy style.

  Moments later, hiding in a prickly shrub, Kelly asked, "Why are we following them?"

  "To make sure they aren't cheating. And to see how they're going to pull off scoring a piece of twine from somebody."

  Kelly glared at me as she picked a bit of greenery out of my hair. "Why do you think that would be difficult?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Because no one has twine anymore."

  "And this is fun because?" she added.

  "Because we never see what they're like on their own," I explained. "Don't you wonder how the girls act when not around us?"

  I did. Maybe it was my suspicious spy training or maybe it was because I didn't think these outrageous little girls could possibly be so precocious outside of troop time. Or maybe I was completely mental. I wouldn't rule that out.

  "That's why you chose Betty's group," Kelly said in an aha tone.

  Betty, Lauren, Inez, and Ava were walking from door to door, not too far from my house, asking for twine. Once again, they were turned down.

  "What, did you get that list from a magazine from the 1950s?" I whispered. "What would people use twine for these days?"

  Kelly grumbled, "I have twine."

  I looked at her. "And what do you use it for?"

  "Stuff," she said grudgingly.

  "What stuff?" I pressed.

  Betty was arguing with a little old lady who was insisting that she hadn't had a ball of twine in years, but offered up some fluffy pink yarn. I pointed this out to Kelly, who grumbled. As she folded her arms over her chest, a twig snapped. We froze.

  Lauren's head spun about, studying the shrubs we were hiding in from across the street. For a moment I thought she'd spotted us, but she went back to following Betty's argument. The old woman slammed the door, leaving the four girls to retreat to the sidewalk.


  "That's going to be the toughest thing on our list," Ava said.

  "Maybe we could make our own twine?" Lauren asked.

  "Okay." Betty led the girls across the street to where they stopped in front of us. "How do we make twine?"

  The four girls studied their cell phones for a minute. Frankly, I was impressed with the idea. I didn't know how twine was made either, but there'd been many a time in the field when I'd had to improvise.

  Once, in rural Romania, I'd had to make a gun holster using a piece of tarp and a twist tie. Another time, in Bogotá, I'd had to make a speaker for my cell phone, using a toilet paper tube. And in Marrakech, in order to make a prisoner believe we'd taken him to Siberia, I'd had to make fake snow using a large package of tube socks and a tray of ice cubes.

  "I don't think we have time for this," Inez said. "We'll just have to go back without it."

  "We can't go back without it!" Betty screamed.

  I knew it. I knew she talked in italics.

  Lauren shrugged. "Why not? If we can't find it, how will the other teams?"

  "Maybe Mrs. Albers and Mrs. Wrath don't know what twine looks like?" Ava suggested. "We could substitute it with something else?"

  "I've got a pair of handcuffs," Betty said, pulling the manacles out of the back pocket of her shorts.

  "I think twine is like rope." Inez shook her head. "Let's find some rope."

  The girls took off down the sidewalk, and after a moment we followed them. Following someone was easy. People rarely suspected that they were being watched. Especially if they weren't spies.

  Following Girl Scouts, on the other hand, was hard. Every thirty feet or so, Lauren would turn around and look in our direction. Kelly and I became masters of hugging fences and trees at just the right moment.

  "Why does Betty have handcuffs?" Kelly hissed during a particularly long hiding session behind a bush.

  "I'd be more surprised if she didn't have handcuffs," I responded.

  We maintained a half-block distance from the girls as we crossed over into familiar territory—my neighborhood. We were two blocks from my house.

  I know this might come as a bit of a surprise, but I don't really know much about my neighborhood. Yes, I used to be a spy, and of course spies have to know the area better than they know their own house. But I didn't.