Chapter Thirty-nine
Maggie pushed open the glass door to Dr. Comstock’s dental office. Antiseptic and mint lingered in the air, clashing unpleasantly with the memory of the warm blueberry muffin she’d eaten earlier.
At the front desk, Melanie looked about as miserable as a woman could get while still being conscious. She barely glanced up from her computer, sighing heavily as she tapped at the keyboard.
“Mrs. Holbrook,” she said dully, not bothering to feign enthusiasm. “You’re early for your root canal.”
Maggie arched a brow, setting her purse on the counter. “I’m not here for that.”
Melanie double-checked her desktop screen and finally looked at her. “You’re … not? But it says right here—”
“I happened to be running some errands here in town when I got your text confirming the appointment, so I decided to just drop by in person and cancel it.”
“But what about your tooth?”
“Feels fine to me. And if any problems do come up, I’d rather get dentures.”
Melanie still appeared confused. “I-I really don’t understand why—”
Maggie leaned in slightly. “There was never any reason for me to write that appointment down in my calendar because I never had any intention of allowing myself in that man’s chair with him hovering over me with a drill.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Never going to happen.”
Melanie’s shoulders sagged, looking relieved to have one less thing to deal with today. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll—”
Before she could finish, Bradley emerged from his office, walking side by side with Fred Grindle, the developer’s ever-present smirk firmly in place.
Fred was all smiles, clearly pleased with whatever business they had just concluded.
Maggie turned, giving Fred a once-over. “Well, Mr. Grindle, I didn’t know dental offices doubled as investment hubs. Did you get your teeth polished while you were here?”
Fred flashed her a grin so white it was nearly blinding. “My teeth are already perfect,” he said, tapping one with his index finger.
Maggie tilted her head. “Sharp white teeth. Like a shark.”
Fred chuckled. “I do have a taste for seafood.”
“Careful.” Maggie smirked. “You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew.”
Fred winked, clearly enjoying the banter, then turned back to Bradley. “I’ll catch up with you later.” With that, he strolled out the door.
Bradley turned to Maggie, eyes narrowing slightly. “Mrs. Holbrook. Ready for your root canal?”
Melanie, still at the desk, quickly interjected. “She, uh, she just canceled.”
Bradley’s jaw ticked. “May I ask why?”
Maggie gave him a slow smile. “You’re too young to remember a movie called Marathon Man, aren’t you?”
Bradley’s expression remained blank.
Maggie sighed, feigning disappointment. “Sir Laurence Olivier? Dustin Hoffman? The scene with the drill?”
Still nothing.
She gave him a pitying look. “I’ll leave you to look it up. Enjoy your day, Dr. Comstock.”
And with that, she turned and sauntered out, leaving Bradley stewing.
The late-morning sun hit her face as she crossed town, her thoughts still circling the conversation.
By the time she pushed open the door of The Chowder House, the warm, familiar space was buzzing—Audrey, Isabella, and Ethel bustled about in the thick of the lunch rush.
The aroma of clam chowder and freshly baked bread made her stomach growl.
So much nicer than Dr. Comstock’s antiseptic-smelling office.
In the corner booth, Fred Grindle sat hunched over a steaming bowl of chowder, spooning it into his mouth with obvious pleasure.
Maggie watched him for a moment before turning to Audrey, who was wiping down the counter.
“Tell Isabella to ask Mason out,” Maggie said, eyeing the younger woman across the room.
Audrey sighed. “I already did. She’s hesitant because of how I reacted when she asked me about it.”
Maggie smirked. “Then tell her again that you’re not interested in Mason.”
Audrey didn’t respond right away, instead watching Isabella as she worked. “Yeah, I know. I don’t want a potential relationship to ever come between us.”
“You’re not interested, are you?”
Audrey hesitated again. “No, Nana, I’m not.”
“Then tell her. She won’t wait forever, you know,” Maggie said.
Audrey sighed, then gave a nod. “Okay. I’ll talk to her again.”
Maggie patted her granddaughter’s hand. “Good girl.”
She turned toward Fred’s booth, grabbing a napkin from the counter before sliding into the seat across from him.
Fred, clearly not expecting company, jumped slightly, spilling a dribble of chowder down his chin and onto his tie.
Maggie handed him the napkin. “Careful, Fred. Can’t have you ruining that fancy tie.”
Fred dabbed at himself, frowning. “Mrs. Holbrook. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Maggie folded her hands on the table, smiling sweetly. “I just thought we could have a chat. I know my daughter Jill’s been giving you a hard time, but that’s her job. Me, on the other hand?” She leaned in. “I’m just a friendly investor looking for the next big thing.”
Fred hesitated, but curiosity won out. “Go on.”
Maggie launched into a quick history of the Holbrooks, their success in real estate, fishing, even canned chowder. “And I have a rather large sum of money I’d like to put into something worthwhile.”
Fred’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Well, I might have a few opportunities in mind.”
Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not interested in just anything. I want in on your deal with Dr. Comstock.”
Fred’s posture stiffened. “That’s not really—”
“Come on, Fred.” Maggie smiled. “You’re an opportunist. You wouldn’t turn away someone with deeper pockets than Bradley, would you?”
Fred considered this, then sighed. “Look, it’s not what you think. Bradley had some property in New Hampshire he needed help selling. That’s it.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you—someone of your stature and reputation, although I’m not suggesting it’s a good reputation—to be so willing to slum it as a simple real estate agent. Too small potatoes.”
“Maybe I like doing nice things for people?”
“So you just happened to be doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”
Fred chuckled. “Let’s just say I was close with Bradley’s father once upon a time. I wanted to help the kid out.”
Maggie studied him. “So Chips Hogan and Griffin Mead had nothing to do with this deal?”
Fred blinked. “Who?”
Maggie leaned back, watching him closely. “You must have heard of them.”
“Come to think of it, yes. Your daughter, the Chief, mentioned those names to me.” Fred shook his head. “I’ll tell you what I told her, I never heard those names before I came to town.”
Maggie’s mind raced.
She believed him.
Then what was Bradley’s real angle?
Fred cleared his throat. “So, how much are you looking to invest?”
Maggie smiled, grabbed her purse, and slid out of the booth.
“Oh, zero.”
Fred frowned. “Excuse me?”
Maggie patted his shoulder. “I don’t do business with crooked investors.” She leaned down, whispering in his ear. “Enjoy your chowder.”
Fred watched her walk away, his face twisting in frustration.
She’d just outplayed him.
Got the information she needed at no cost.
Maggie strolled over to the register, where Audrey was ringing up a customer.
Audrey arched a brow. “That looked like fun.”
“Oh, it was.” Maggie smirked.
Audrey handed the customer their change, then turned back to her grandmother. “So?”
Maggie sighed, crossing her arms. “Fred’s not tied to Chips or Griffin. So getting ahold of his property was definitely not the motive. Where does that leave us?”
Audrey frowned. “The only thing Bradley had in common with the victims was the failed deal with Ed Comstock. Both Chips and Griffin, and if Grandpa was still alive, I’m sure he would be the next target. It’s been right in front of us since the beginning.”
Maggie nodded. “It’s the reason he moved here in the first place and set up his practice.”
Audrey exhaled. “So it was revenge all along.”
Maggie tapped her fingers against the counter. “But he was out of town when Chips was poisoned.”
“And Mom says Melanie’s still sticking to her alibi,” Audrey said.
Maggie’s eyes darkened. “Then who the hell helped him?”
They exchanged a glance, the pieces of the puzzle coming together, but one crucial question still unanswered.
Who else wanted these men dead?