Killer Summer by Lynda Curnyn (e book reading free .txt) 📗

dining area that opened on to a living room and a sliding glass door that led to the deck beyond. Except the house I stood in now had none of the warm, sunny beach appeal of Maggie’s Dream. In fact, I might have called the Havens’ home a bit cold. The skylights over the kitchen area were nice, but the walls were a hideous too-green turquoise, and the furniture was black lacquer, topped by a rather grotesquely modern-looking chandelier that overwhelmed the dining area. I looked at Amanda’s round, pleasant face and the checkered apron that covered her short, plump body, and realized she seemed misplaced in this house. Like a fifties housewife trapped in a tacky futuristic world.

Still, I said, “Nice place.”

She smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Actually I was looking for Donnie. Is he around?”

“No, he’s down at the dock, cleaning his boat. Maybe I can help?”

I held up my camera. “I’m doing a little Maggie tribute—-just something for Tom to have—and I thought Donnie might want to get one of those Maggie stories he told last week at dinner on film.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. Then a wounded look moved into her eyes. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind contributing a story myself. I mean, Maggie was my best friend.”

Oops. I knew I should have had a cup of coffee before I left the house. What the hell was I thinking? “Of course,” I said. “I meant the both of you. Well, separately. It would be nice to have a story from each of you.” Good, Zoe, real good.You’re batting a thousand this morning.

Fortunately, I only needed a curve ball to score with Amanda. “God, there’s so many great stories I could tell about Maggie.”

Oh, dear. I think I might have hit a home run. Except I didn’t feel like taking the time to run all the bases. “Well, you can take time to think about it and I can come back.”

She shook her head. “You know what, I don’t even need to think about it. There’s clearly only one story that would be appropriate. That would be the first time we took the car and went to the beach on our own. Without our parents, I mean. We were seventeen, and Maggie had just gotten her license. What a ball we had! I think it would be a perfect story—especially since Maggie and I spent practically our whole lives at the beach.”

“This beach?”

She shook her head. “No, we grew up in Mastic. We went out to Smith’s Point that day. Oh, this is going to be such fun! Let me just run and fix myself up a bit,” she said, whipping off the apron and darting out of the room before I could stop her.

Now what had I gotten myself into?

What I’d gotten myself into, I realized, once Amanda returned, her hair newly combed and fresh lipstick on her lips, was a shipwreck. Of the emotional variety. And as I turned the camera on Amanda and listened to her recount her day at the beach with Maggie, I was wondering if I might not become one of the casualties. Because as she spoke about how she and Maggie had gotten up early one Saturday morning, filling up a cooler with lunch and drinks and setting off on their first solo ride down the highway that took them to the beach, I couldn’t help but remember me and Sage doing pretty much the very same thing. At probably the very same age.

“Oh, Maggie,” Amanda continued, addressing the camera as if her dead friend might actually be viewing this tribute herself someday, “you remember those guys we met? I forget what their names were—Sam or Joe—whatever, it doesn’t matter now. One of them was so cute—you remember him? Dark hair? Lots of muscles. He was so into you. But you always got the pick of the litter, Maggie,” she said, laughing, her eyes bright with the memory.

So had Sage, I thought, as I watched Amanda through the viewfinder. She always got the cutest guy, too, I remembered with a smile. She wouldn’t have settled for less than the most beautiful man on the beach, whereas I went for the more introspective— okay, nerdy—type.

“Then they tried so hard to get a ride home with us, you remember, Maggie? But you stood strong. You were having none of that nonsense in your new car. Well, it wasn’t so new, but it was nice enough, right?“ She sniffed, blinking quickly. ”And then it was just me and you, riding home against the sunset, laughing at those silly boys. God, we had so much to laugh about in those days, didn’t we, Maggie? Didn’t we?“ she pleaded to the camera. ”We always had each other. That was all we ever needed,“ she finished, tears suddenly springing from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

And when I lowered the camera from my eyes, I realized she wasn’t the only one.

This had to be the worst scheme I’d ever come up with, I thought, swiping at my eyes and gaining control of myself once again. Enough control at least to ask the question I had planned to ask Donnie. I figured I had gone this far with Amanda—might as well get all the facts while I was here.

“Amanda, are you—” I began.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said waving a hand at me, then snatching a napkin from the counter to dab at her eyes. “It’s just hard sometimes, you know? Losing a friend like that.”

I could only imagine. Shaking off the thought, I said, “Can I just ask you one last question?”

“Sure,” she said, looking at me once more, a tremulous smile on her tear-stained face.

“Were you here that night at the beach? You know, the night Maggie—”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “I was out of town that weekend on business. At a promotional event for one of my clients. I’m in public relations,” she said.

How convenient for Donnie and Maggie.“Was