What We Trade Our Hearing For (a North and South Story)

23. How to Live

"The witness said the lady was very beautiful," he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "named Maggie, a friend of the Higgins, who he said frequented the Waffle House, which is where he works. You are Maggie and are friends with the Higgins, isn't that correct?"

She met his eyes with as blank of an expression as she could muster up. "Well, I..." she stumbled, trying to work out what to say. "As much as I'd love to be called 'very beautiful'," she saw the detective blush a bit at that, "I'm afraid there has been some mistake. I was not there."

Nodding, the detective put his notepad away. "Alright then," he paused, unsure where to go from there.

Maggie could tell that he didn't believe her. "Is there anything else you need to ask me, Detective?"

He shook his head, looking puzzled. "No, I suppose that's it." Turning to leave, he stopped again, "You are absolutely denying that you were the lady at the Greyhound station that night?" he asked one more time.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what happened to... this man. But again, I wasn't there. It wasn't me." She sounded firmer this time, hoping that it would be enough for the detective.

He stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "It's possible that the witness will insist that you were present at the scene of the incident. If that happens, I may need you to come down to the station, provide an alibi and all that."

A deep frown creased Maggie's forehead, but she nodded, not trusting herself to say anything further. Detective Mason walked towards the door, turning one more time before stepping out, as if in afterthought. "I'm sorry if I seem impertinent," he said. "But I do have to do my duty as an officer of the law." To Maggie, it sounded like both a warning and a threat.

John

He was finishing up work for the day when there was a knock on his office door. "Come in," he called out, expecting it to be one of his workers or maybe a delivery man. He was surprised to see Mason standing in the doorway. "Oh, hey. What's up?" he asked, setting aside the papers he had been looking over.

Standing awkwardly, Mason looked around the room. "Remember that body I was going to investigate?" he asked, never quite looking at John.

"Sure, his name was Leonard, wasn't it?" John said, motioning for his friend to sit down. "Word on the street is he was a terrible drunk, though that's no excuse for someone to kill him. My sister's personal trainer was dating him, unfortunately. She's been a mess all week. Lord knows why she has to be at my house to cry about it, she's better off without him either way." He was watching the way Mason sat on the edge of his chair, looking nervous the whole time.

Nodding, Mason finally met John's eyes. "The girl you were talking about the other night, her name is Maggie, isn't it? Maggie Hale?"

Hearing her name out of the blue sent waves of pain through John's heart, but he tried to keep his voice even. "Yes, why do you ask?"

Waiting for Mason to continue, John saw that he was hesitating. "It's just..." the detective said, after a pause that felt eternal, "it seems like your Maggie is connected to the death of this Leonard guy, somehow." He got no response from John, just a blank, unblinking stare. "There's a witness," Mason continued, "that says he saw Maggie with a man at the Greyhound station that night. He claims it's the same man who fought with Leonard at the Greyhound station and might have been the cause of his death. I've spoken with Maggie; she denies ever being there." He stopped, waiting to see John's reaction to this stream of information.

"Are you sure?" John asked quietly, wheels turning in his head as he tried to work out the timeline. "I mean, are you sure the man she was seen with is connected to the death? When was this again, what time?" He didn't like that puzzle pieces that were falling into place in his mind.