Page 22 of Crash and Burn

At least Maggie’s clients seemed to be Sabbie’s old friends. They would hopefully say “What a nice boy. Helping the new girl out.”

Sebastian headed back downstairs, his hair still dark and wet. He hoped it would dry before her clients showed up, but there hadn’t been a hair dryer and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d used one anyway. So he hadn't done anything with it.

At the bottom of the steps, he turned the corner and saw Maggie curled into the corner of the sofa. She couldn’t be asleep, the position looked as uncomfortable as the furniture did. It seemed she was trying to catch a few minutes of rest without messing up her suit.

Stepping forward softly, he tried to stay quiet, but hit one of the many squeaky floorboards. There was no sneaking around here. Maggie popped up, startled, but she settled when she realized it was just him. Something about the way her gaze traveled over him made him think maybe his hair was getting a little shaggy.

“Let me show you where she kept her records.” Maggie stood, heels tapping on the hardwood floor as her hands smoothed the fabric of her slim fitting pants as though there was maybe a wrinkle to be found. His thoughts traveled but he reminded himself that wasn’t why he’d been invited here.

“I'll help look for now, but my clients tend to show up early. They tend to be older.”

He knew. He knew this town.

Sebastian also knew the population was finally skewing younger. He’d been in many people’s homes and he knew who was a hoarder and who had OCD. He knew who was struggling to pay rent with seven kids and who was secretly rolling in it. Firefighters didn’t see everything, but they saw a lot. And they fielded medical calls at four am for many of the crowd who were making up the bulk of Maggie’s new clientele.

He wasn't surprised that nine felt late for them.

He also wasn't surprised that Maggie handed him a piece of printer paper she’d drawn on. A basic layout of the house clearly showed the ground floor as well as the upper floor. He fought a grin, art was apparently not one of Maggie’s skills. Neither was architecture.

Firefighters read blueprints. They needed to go into businesses and homes, knowing where the load bearing walls were could save a life. So could understanding where a closet was likely to be, because children hid in them. Maggie’s sketch was missing a few key elements, but he could see where she'd made notes.

“All the rooms with the checkmarks are rooms that seemed to have, at least at one time, belonged to one of her boarders. She had three when she died.”

“I thought she had five bedrooms? Six including hers.”

Maggie shook her head. “Six for the boarders, though only five occupied them.”

He looked down the hallway, there were only five doors not including the communal bathroom.

“There’s another in the shed out back … it’s converted. Plus the two upstairs.”

“One of those was hers—now yours.” He pointed to the drawing.

“This one was hers. Where you showered.” Maggie pointed. “I’m staying across the hallway.”

Both of the rooms were large and had their own bathrooms attached. Maybe she just hadn’t brought herself to take over her aunt’s room yet.

He looked back at the drawings. The other portion of the upstairs was a game room / sunroom / library. Maggie didn't seem to have touched it yet either.

“Here's where I've looked already.” She motioned to the spots of pink highlighter she’d made on some of the rooms. Art might not be Maggie’s strong suit, but organization was. He fought a smile as she kept talking. “And here.”

She was pointing to a third, smaller room. “This is the upstairs office.”

He tried to ignore the feeling of her standing so close, and the change in his own reaction now that she was single. That didn’t mean she wanted him, though it meant he could ask. Forcing himself to pay attention to the diagram was harder than it should be. “She had an upstairs office?”

Maggie tipped her head and gave him an odd look. “I think it was designed as an office … Abbie used it to …” the words trailed off and she waved her hand as if to conjure the correct word. “Officeis far too organized a term for anything she might have done.”

That meshed with the Sabbie he'd known—head on straight, always practical, but always scattered.

“You're welcome to go through anything there. I'm assuming there's more than what I found. No,” Maggie corrected herself. “IknowI haven't been through all the papers yet. I'm assuming there is more information on her boarders.”

“Did she register any of her paperwork with the city?”

Maggie raised her palms and offered a full-sized shrug.

She looked better than she had when he’d arrived and his chest squeezed. Maybe it was because he was here. Sometimes all you needed was to know that you had backup.

“I'll look into it,” he told her.

---