Kasey Michaels - Bowled Over

"Yeah, Dad's one of the good guys."

Carol smiled. "He didn't betray his vows, you know. Not with me. We were just friends. Very good friends, but no more than that. I think he thought he wanted more, should want more, when we first began seeing each other, but he didn't. I invited him up for coffee after we'd been out for dinner for the third time, and he didn't even know what that meant. Such a sweet man. He loves your mother very much, and she hurt him very badly."

"With Bodkin. Yeah, I know."

"Oh, good," Carol said, at last picking up her sandwich. "I'm so glad he's told you about that. Walter Bodkin was a bad man, a very bad man. I did my best to explain that to Evan, explain that your mother was a victim. The way ... the way I was a victim." Maggie put down her soda can with an audible thump.

"Holy cripes, was there a woman in this town the guy didn't boink—I mean ... well, you know what I mean. Sorry."

"Don't be. I was a grown woman, recently divorced, and horribly lonely. I thought I knew what I was doing. I doubt he lingered with any woman beyond a week or two, and then went on his merry way again. But few held that against him. As I told your father, Walter Bodkin had this, well, this way about him. By the time Walter was gone, I was also ready to move on with my life."

"Yeah, a way about him. I heard he was very ... talented."

Carol looked down at her sandwich, her cheeks coloring becomingly. "That I didn't tell Evan. Walter was charming, convincing, even caring. Always a sympathetic ear, you understand? And before you knew it, he was—well, he was very good at what he did. A lonely woman appreciates feeling so ... so, um, catered to. It wasn't until at least a year or so after Walter had moved on to greener pastures, and greener pastures after that, that I realized I had been used, and not the other way around. I had been looking for comfort, some sort of reassurance that I was still an attractive woman, and he gave me that gift. But Walter was also a predator. That was the whole truth. He was keeping score in his own sick, private game. Possibly the lonely women he romanced were as guilty as he was, and might not have blamed him too much. Because I can't honestly say he didn't provide ... provide a service."

Maggie looked at her half-eaten sandwich and decided she'd lost her appetite. If she stayed in this town another week or so, she'd have lost all of the weight she gained when she quit smoking. "Mom blames the hormone pills her doctor gave her," she said, then wondered why the hell she'd said it, why she was defending her mother for doing something so completely stupid.

"We all had our reasons, I'm sure. I understand there are some women who were actually grateful to Walter, even after he moved on."

"The W.B.B.s," Maggie said, reaching for her walker. "It's a club. But you didn't join, did you?"

Carol smiled sweetly. "No, I didn't. I'd like to think I still had some pride, when it was over. But maybe a club isn't so far-fetched. Isn't that why wives are so unhappy? Men have their clubs, their activities. They golf, they fish, they bowl. My ex-husband made a second career out of sports, card games and beer, all with his friends. What have we women got? Our homes, juggled careers, children if we're lucky? Oprah? And nobody plays bridge anymore. We live in a small town, Maggie, and it's even smaller in the winter months, with the tourists gone. Walter was excitement. And I believe I got your father to understand that, understand what happened to Alicia. So when he came here Christmas Eve, it was to exchange presents, and to say good-bye. I'm moving to Colorado next week to be with my grown daughter and her children. I'll come back, if there's a trial, of course, to testify in Evan's behalf."

Maggie pushed herself to her feet, feeling better, much better. "You're a good friend to my dad, Carol. Thank you."

Carol also got to her feet. "I gave him a tie," she said as she walked with Maggie to the door of the store. "You know, Christmas Eve, when we exchanged presents. He gave me a food chopper. I don't know how I'm going to pack that and get it through airport security." She leaned over to kiss Maggie's cheek. "You're a good daughter. He's very proud of you. He talked about you all the time. You, and all the children."

Maggie blinked furiously as tears stung at her eyes. "Do you have any idea who might have killed Walter? My ... my friend and I are trying to figure out who did it, to get Dad off the hook."

Carol sighed. "No, I'm afraid I don't. I wouldn't think your father had any enemies."

"Enemies? My father?" Maggie forgot her tears. "But it was Bodkin who was killed."

"Yes, dear, I know," Carol said, unlocking the door and holding it open for Maggie. "But out of the many men in this town, why was your father the one who was chosen, made to look guilty? Such a kind, gentle ... well, such an almost timid man. Not a murderer at all. It seemed an odd choice for a—is the term fall guy? Evan called me yesterday, to tell me that you and your English friend are hoping to uncover the real murderer, and that you've done this sort of thing before, and are quite good at it. Maybe, when you find the person who really killed Walter, he'll answer that question for you: Why Evan?"

"I gotta go," Maggie said, her heart pounding. "I've got to meet, um, meet my English friend. Carol, thank you so much. Thanks for being there for my dad when my mom tossed ... well, when he was vulnerable. Thanks for coming forward as his alibi, because I know that couldn't have been easy. I hope you're very happy in Colorado. But I've really gotta go ..."

She hopped off the curb with more success than she'd managed in her attempt to climb it, shoved the walker into the backseat and just about fell into the front seat, trying to aim the key at the ignition at the same time.

Why Dad?

Dad had an enemy?

Oh God, oh God, oh God ... why hadn't she and Alex thought of that possibility?

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, Maggie realized she'd only been with Carol for about fifteen minutes. Alex would have just been getting into Second Stage Charming with Lisa Butts in that amount of time, but she'd drive past Second and Wesley anyway, just to be sure.

He wasn't there. She knew he wouldn't be there. Damn it, she needed to talk to him!

So where to now? She had at least a half hour to kill. It would be stupid to go back to her father's place, because it would take ten minutes to bump up the stairs, and she'd get to the apartment just in time to bump herself back down again.

Sherlock Holmes never had this kind of problem ...

She was just about to turn around, go back to Second and Wesley, wait it out there, when she saw Henry Novack's van parked in front of the donut shop.

Seeing Henry hadn't been on the top of her To Do list, but the donut shop wasn't a bad idea.

Maggie parked out front, in the loading zone, and waited only a minute or so before Henry came waddling out with a huge box of donuts. She beeped her horn and motioned for him to come over, join her in the car.

"You got any crиme-filled?" she asked him as he wedged himself into the front seat, sucking in his breath until he could reach the lever that allowed him to push the seat back as far as it would go. "Not the custard cream, the white stuff. The sugary stuff?"

"I don't know, boss lady. How bad do you want one?" Henry asked, lifting the lid only slightly, then using it as a fan, to spread the smell of fresh donuts throughout the car.

"Don't toy with me, Novack. Do you or don't you?"

"If I did, and if my boss wanted one, that would mean I was on the job while I was in the donut shop, right? And then there's all my time getting to the donut shop, and my time now, of course. Hundred bucks? On top of what you already owe me for tracking down Mae Petersen and pumping her. Because I just came from seeing her."