Maggie's Story (Intergalactic Matchmaking Services) Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  MAGGIE’S STORY

  (Intergalactic Matchmaking Services)

  By Ava Louise

  Cover Art Done by Carey Abbott ebookcoverdesignsbycarey.com

  Editing done by Stephanie at www.SLCEditing.com

  Text copyright © 2014 Ava Louise

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  * * *

  CHAPTER 2

  * * *

  CHAPTER 3

  * * *

  CHAPTER 4

  * * *

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  CHAPTER 13

  * * *

  CHAPTER 14

  * * *

  CHAPTER 15

  * * *

  CHAPTER 16

  * * *

  CHAPTER 17

  * * *

  CHAPTER 18

  * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  * * *

  CHAPTER 20

  * * *

  CHAPTER 21

  * * *

  CHAPTER 22

  * * *

  CHAPTER 23

  * * *

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 1

  “Women Wanted: Must have a sense of adventure and be open to new experiences. Must also be willing to relocate. Please contact Claire O’Donnell at Intergalactic Matchmaking Services, (360) 555-4416, for more information.”

  Just a quick stop in to see if the detectives have any new leads, then home, Maggie promised herself. She didn’t like being back here at the police station but she had not heard from either of the detectives on the case in a week. Maggie climbed out of the truck, taking a deep breath to still her nerves. Her lungs filled with the smell of the nearby Puget Sound. She loved the smell of the ocean so close at hand. Gathering her purse and coat, she headed inside. The police officer behind the counter looked up as she got closer.

  “May I help you, ma’am?” he asked, getting up from his desk and coming to the counter.

  “I would like to see Detective Miles or Detective Romano, please. It’s regarding the Quickie Stop murder a few weeks ago. Can you tell them Maggie Cline is here?”

  “Let me see if one of ‘em is available.” The officer picked up the phone on the counter, made a quick call and then turned back to Maggie. “One of the detectives will be out shortly. You can have a seat until they come to get you.” He pointed to a row of orange plastic chairs. The chairs looked uncomfortable and proved to be just that. They probably didn’t want criminals getting too comfortable during their booking process, thought Maggie.

  As Maggie took a seat, her memories flashed back to three weeks ago. She had stopped at the Quickie Stop convenience store for gas and milk. After she pumped her gas, she walked into the store to get milk from the cooler. She waved at the handsome clerk behind the counter as she walked by him. Just as she opened the cooler door she heard the outside door chime ring. Not thinking anything of it, she didn’t look up from the cooler until suddenly a man’s voice could be heard, telling the clerk to open the register and hand over the cash. Maggie still broke out in nervous sweat when she recalled how terrified she was. All she could think to do was to hide, to stay out of sight. Maggie closed the cooler door as quietly as she could, then ducked down and crawled to the end of the aisle, trying to make herself as small as possible. If the gunman had looked up at the corner mirror, she was sure he would have seen her crouched on the floor at the end of the aisle.

  Maggie couldn’t resist peeking around the corner of the aisle, past the potato chips. She saw two young men, one of them holding a gun aimed at the trembling clerk. The gunman and the young man with him were both wearing yellow bandanas around their heads, with baggy jeans and dirty t-shirts. Only one of them had a gun that she could see. As she got a look at them, she heard the gun go off then saw the young men grab the bag of cash and turn to the door. She quickly ducked back behind the aisle. Luckily they didn’t search the rest of the store or they would have seen her.

  “Ms. Cline, it’s good to see ya again. What can I do for ya?” said the police detective, breaking the reverie Maggie had slipped into. Detective Miles wasn’t the most energetic person Maggie had ever seen, but she hoped that didn’t keep him from solving this case soon. Each time she saw him, it looked as though he had slept in his clothes.

  “I was just wanting an update on the investigation. When do you think you will have Juan Santiago in custody?” Maggie Cline was scared; and tired of being scared. Living each day with anxiety was beginning to take its toll on her. A person can’t witness the murder of someone and go on with their own life as if nothing was wrong, or at least she couldn’t.

  “Unfortunately, Ms. Cline, Mr. Santiago has gone into hiding and none of our informants have been able to get wind of where he is holed up.” Detective Miles hated to inform the young woman of these facts. Until Santiago was behind bars, her life was in danger from the drug dealer and his gang.

  “How can that be? I saw him pull the trigger! I identified his mug shot. How can he still be walking around free?” exclaimed Maggie. “It’s been three weeks.”

  “We understand, ma’am, but he is very good at hiding. We’ve been unable to locate him and his lawyer claims to have no idea how to contact him. I understand you don’t feel safe, but there’s nothing we can do until we find him. There is a warrant out for his arrest. As of right now we just need someone to turn him in, but with his gang connections, that ain’t likely to happen. We increased patrols in your neighborhood, but the department is spread mighty thin right now.”

  The young woman ran her fingers through her long, auburn hair. Maggie wasn’t sure if she could handle this stress for much longer. Anytime she left her house, she felt eyes on her, as though she was being watched constantly. She did not have a large circle of friends to help her through this; she just moved to the area at the beginning of the school year. As a teacher, most of her day-to-day interactions were with little children. She left everything behind her in Minnesota when she accepted this job in Washington.

  Making this move had seemed like such a good idea back then. Teaching children was her calling in life. For as long as she could remember, she wanted to teach. She always assumed her love of teaching came from not having any siblings growing up. Both of her parents had been only-children, and since she grew up in the military as an Army brat, there were not a lot of long term relationships in her life.

  Now, here she was, in a relatively new place, no close friends to count on, no relatives anywhere, and feeling more insecure and isolated than she ever had in her life.

  Rea
lizing she had spaced out the detective while worrying about her current situation, she turned back to him. “I’m sorry; I missed that last part, Detective.”

  “No problem, ma’am. I was just saying that we’ll continue to do our best to apprehend Mr. Santiago. In the meantime, please be careful. Try to stay indoors as much as possible and don’t hesitate to call us if you feel you are in danger.”

  “Thank you. I guess I should be going so I can get home before it gets dark.”

  Maggie gathered her purse and coat and rose to leave. It would be getting dark soon and she wanted to get inside the comfort of her apartment before the sun set. As she was walking down the final corridor to the front door, she saw Detective Romano coming in the door ahead of her.

  “Hello, Ms. Cline. How’re you doing this evening?” asked the detective. Maria Romano was a woman in her mid-forties. To Maggie’s knowledge, she was the only female detective in the Mount Vernon police department.

  “Evening, Detective Romano. I’m good, thanks. I was just speaking with your partner about the Santiago case.”

  “I’m sorry we can’t be more helpful at this time. This is a tough case. The gang’s closed ranks around him and no one’s talking.”

  “Well, that may be, but it doesn’t make me feel any safer,” sighed Maggie. The sad look on her face showed how trying the situation was for her.

  Detective Romano placed her hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “Please try to stay strong. We’re doing the best we can. We’ll call if there are any leads, okay?”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Maggie really was anxious now to get out the door and on her way. The sun was setting. She needed to get home and put herself behind locked doors before she could breathe easier.

  The detective continued on her way into the inner workings of the police building while Maggie headed to her truck. Mount Vernon wasn’t a huge city so she had been able to park in front of the police station.

  As she approached her maroon truck, she noticed a flyer under the driver’s side wiper blade. She reached up to remove the bright pink sheet of paper with one hand as she unlocked the truck door with her key fob. Maggie climbed inside, put the key in the ignition and started it up. As the vehicle began warming up, she looked at the flyer. It was just a half-sheet, with stars, moons, and planets around the border. Was that a flying saucer in the corner, she thought to herself with a smile.

  “Women Wanted: Must have a sense of adventure and be open to new experiences. Must also be willing to relocate. Please contact Claire O’Donnell at Intergalactic Matchmaking Services, (360) 555-4416, for more information.”

  “Huh. That’s what I’ll probably have to do, relocate,” muttered Maggie to herself. She was in the habit of talking to herself. When she was at home, she usually talked to Mamzell, her three-year-old Siamese cat. Maggie assumed the “Intergalactic” was a typo; someone obviously meant “International.” Right?

  Maggie backed the maroon truck out of the parking spot, took a right on Continental Place, and headed home. Her apartment was above an antique store several blocks south. She had been lucky to find such a cute place at a reasonable price so close to where she taught at Maddigon Elementary School.

  As she pulled into the alley behind the antique business on 6th Street, she noticed a group of three young men standing on the corner. They appeared to be just hanging around the light post, arms waving wildly while talking. They looked like ordinary young men, to be found in any small town with little to offer youths for after school activities, except for the yellow bandanas knotted around their heads or throats. Maggie knew from the shooting she witnessed three weeks ago that the yellow bandanas were worn by the Snakes, the gang operated by Juan Santiago, the shooter.

  She quickly pulled into her parking spot behind the antique store. After turning off the engine, Maggie gathered her purse, coat, and the messenger bag she used as a briefcase. One quick look around showed no one else behind the buildings with her, so she quickly hopped out of the truck, engaged the locks on the door and dashed up the rickety wooden stairs that led to the apartments above the business in this building.

  After opening the exterior door, she strode down the hallway to her apartment, number 1, in the northwest corner of the building. There were four apartments above this particular store. All of the tenants had asked the building’s owner to install a lock on the outside door, but so far, the owner was unwilling to do anything to upgrade security for his apartments. Mr. Dean, the elderly gentleman in apartment number 2, joked that as long as he had Ol’ Bessie, his Remington 870 12-guage shotgun, the tenants had nothing to worry about.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Mamzell, I’m home,” called Maggie as she was closing the apartment door. She engaged the thumb lock on the doorknob, then the deadbolt, and finally the chain.

  “Mrawr!” called Mamzell as she dashed out from the bedroom. She stretched and blinked her deep blue eyes as she come to the door. She was a petite cat that had more personality than most people Maggie dealt with. Mamzell ruled the roost, so to speak.

  Maggie proceeded to put up her belongings while talking to Mamzell. “Well, it looks like the police have no new information…or any real assistance…on our case.”

  “Mrawr,” came the expected reply.

  She managed to put away her bags and coat while telling Mamzell all about the pre-Halloween activities the kids at school performed today. Maggie then walked into the kitchen and picked up the cat’s food dishes. After refreshing Mamzell’s cat food and water, she made her way down the short hall toward her bedroom.

  It was time to get dressed in what she fondly referred to as her “grungies.” This consisted of sweat pants and a t-shirt, each of which had seen better days, but were soft and perfect to spend the evening in. She didn’t care that stylists would disapprove of such loose clothing on her curvy form; she dressed for comfort, not to please other folks. Maggie was a woman comfortable with the fact that she wasn’t built like the latest super models. She had curves where she felt they should be and starving herself for the interest of a man had never appealed to her either. While she wasn’t obese, she could never be considered svelte; and she was fine with that.

  After changing clothes, Maggie grabbed her messenger bag and retired to the sofa in her living room. The apartment had come furnished and Maggie had no choice in the flowered upholstery on the couch. It was something reminiscent of the ‘80s. Regardless of the less-than-attractive floral pattern, it was a comfortable sofa; it was great for unwinding while watching the news and movies. Maggie also sat here in the evenings while working on the schoolwork she brought home each day. If she wasn’t correcting student work she was usually working on lesson plans or wrestling with Mamzell over the yarn while she crocheted scarves. Since she couldn’t sit idle for long periods of time, she crocheted scarves and hats for the needy and homeless each year. They were pretty popular back in Minnesota, with the frigid winters; she hoped they were just as popular here in the damp Pacific Northwest.

  As Maggie was pulling out the papers she wanted to review tonight, a bright pink slip of paper fell out of the bag. It was the flyer she had found on her truck at the police station. She must have automatically stuffed it into her bag without thinking about it. She tossed the flyer onto her coffee table, planning to toss it into the recycling bin when she got up the next time.

  With the cat in her lap, she turned on the TV to watch the news. The news announcer was commenting on a body found.

  “A body was found today by the groundskeeper at the Mount Vernon Cemetery. The body is of a young woman who appears to be in her late teens. The only detail the police are releasing at this time is that a yellow bandana was also found by the body. The police are asking for help identifying the woman since she was not carrying identification. If you have any information, please call the Mount Vernon Police Department at the number posted on your screen.”

  There was a picture of a young woman’s face on the screen. It was easy to see she
was lying on a metal table. It was also easy to see she had a lot bruising on her face and neck.

  “Oh, God, Mamzell! The poor girl! It has to be a Snake’s bandana they found.”

  Maggie set the tiny cat aside, rose from the sofa, and walked to the living room window which faced out over the street in front of the building. The view afforded her beautiful views of the sunset over the Puget Sound and the nearby Fidalgo Island. She turned her head to the right to see the group of young men was still standing on the corner of her street. Just as she was about to return to her seat one of the men turned in her direction and looked up at her apartment window. He pointed his hand at her, holding his fingers in the universal sign of a gun, and jerked his arm back, just as you would when pulling the trigger on a gun. He smiled at her as he held his index finger to his mouth and blew on it. Just like they did in old western cowboy movies.

  She quickly dropped the curtain back over the window and returned to her seat. She picked up the cat and hugged her to her chest. “What are we going to do, Mamzell? They know where we live!”