A Taste of Death (Maggie Olenski Series) by Mary Ellen Hughes

to have someone on your side."
    "But I can't let Paul go to that expense. He needs every penny to keep Big Bear afloat."
    "Let him do it. Maybe you can pay him back later. We'll worry about money later." To herself, Maggie thought that if Paul was innocent himself, he would be doing it out of love and wouldn't mind the expense. If he was guilty and just playing Mr. Nice Guy, well, then the more it cost him the better. Maggie would check out the lawyer herself, to make sure he was competent.
    "Next," she continued, "think very hard and tell me if there is anyone who you think would set you up like this."
    Elizabeth looked down at the floor, and Maggie saw her pale face take on tinges of red. She looked back at Maggie.
    "I can't really imagine anyone doing that. But then I couldn't imagine anyone murdering Jack, and someone did. If I had to guess as to who would want to hurt me, it would have to be Leslie, Jack's wife."
    Elizabeth's eyes had filled with tears at this, and Maggie knew they were not tears of anger but sorrowful tears of regret. She could almost read what was going through Elizabeth's mind. Apparently Dyna could too, for she grabbed one of Elizabeth's hands.
    "Hey," Dyna said, "I know you probably feel rotten over the affair, but don't go thinking you deserve the chair for it. Someone else killed Jack, not you, and someone else is going to pay for it. Got that?"
    Elizabeth wiped her eyes. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. Then she smiled up at Dyna. "Got it."
     
    <><><>
     
    Back in the car Dyna looked over at Maggie. "Do you think she'll be all right?"
    "She's coming around. Tomorrow we can take over some groceries - her cupboard looked pretty bare. Then maybe we can talk her into reopening the book shop. She needs to stay busy." And I need to add a few more pages on my book, Maggie thought. She hoped she could squeeze in a couple of hours of work later on that night. But for the moment she would concentrate on the murder.
    "Where to now?" Dyna asked, as Maggie turned on the ignition.
    "Where else," Maggie said, "but to see the one person Elizabeth could bring herself to suspect. Mrs. Jack Warwick."

CHAPTER 8
     
    M aggie pulled up to the large, Federal style house.
    "Is this it?" she asked Dyna.
    "I'm pretty sure it is. I remember Annette telling me at the town meeting that the Warwick's had rented the old Kirby place, the best house in town that was available."
    Maggie stepped out of her car and looked at it thoughtfully, taking in the character and gentility the home exuded and wondering just how well Jack Warwick had fit into it. She climbed the few steps with Dyna to knock at the door.
    Leslie Warwick answered it herself, looking surprised but pleased to see them. She was dressed in form-fitting pants topped with a bright green silk shirt, which set off her tawny hair beautifully. Not exactly mourning clothes , Maggie thought, but then decided that any outfit Leslie wore would have a hard time looking funereal, especially with that amazing hair.
    "How wonderful to see y'all," Leslie said, stepping back to welcome them in. "Don't worry about your boots, just come on in. It seems like ages since I've been able to really talk to anyone. Mrs. Hanson!" Leslie shouted, causing Dyna, who stood closest to her, to jump.
    A grey-haired woman in a navy dress, who must have been Leslie's housekeeper, bustled into the foyer and took their things. Worry lines creased he r face, but she smiled pleasant y when Maggie handed her her jacket with thanks.
    "Come in, come in," Leslie sang cheerily, her voice lilting in the southern accent Maggie had forgotten about, and led them into a formal living room decorated mainly in white, with a touch of icy blue. "Let's get comfy. What can I get y'all to drink?"
    Maggie noticed for the first time that Leslie had a glass in her hand, partly filled with ice cubes and a dark amber liquid. Iced tea? Maggie hoped it was, considering the time of day, but Leslie's manner