Meeting Maggie

Reed’s Realm

Reed parked his car in a lot on the out skirts of Jackson Square. He glanced back down at the paper once more that featured the address of Drake Enterprises. He was very familiar with the block to which he was heading. It seemed every inch of downtown New Orleans had the ghost of some crime past. As Reed made his way down the street, he was hit with the familiar smells of coffee and pastries. There was a mixture of tourists shopping about at the different stores, some of who were taking pictures of the old churches, others were locals taking in an early brunch.

Reed made his last turn down the street where the address was located. He glanced at the numbers as he walked and finally matched a worn out, faded address written on the side of an entrance to the one on the paper. The buildings along this street weren’t necessarily run down, but like much of the city, they showed their age.

Reed looked back at the paper and again at the address to check and see if he was in the right place. He was expecting Drake Enterprises to be a company with a large number of offices in order to run its many affairs. Instead, Reed found a modest single store front with a sign above the door which read, Drake’s Carved Wood. If it wasn’t for the shared name of Drake, Reed would have thought there was some kind of mistake. However, he knew that there had to be a connection and he intended on finding out what it was.

Reed pulled the clear glass door open and entered. As the door opened, the top corner passed over a small silver bell that jingled to let the store owners know that a costumer was there. Once inside, Reed let the door behind him close, allowing the bell to strike the door once more.

“I’ll be with you in just a second, Sir,” a female voice yelled from the back of the store.

“No problem, take your time,” Reed returned seeing a woman sitting behind a desk at the back wall.

The industrial lighting overhead didn’t provide enough illumination for Reed to make out many details of the woman at first. He only saw long wavy dark brown hair surrounding the face of an early 30ish looking woman. All of her attention at the moment was focused on her computer screen.

Reed took a second to walk around the store as if he was there on pleasure, but the fact of the matter was that only business was on his mind. His years of experience told him that he did not want to charge into questioning in this situation. He knew that he needed to be a little smoother than that even though he wanted answers and he wanted them yesterday.

The shop was filled with all kinds of furniture. Even though the building was a business office that had no doubt held many different offices and shops over the years, it was now divided and set up to look like the inside of an old Victorian home complete with rooms. Each room had its own furnishings. Most of the furniture was suited bedroom sets along with a few mix and match pieces.

All the pieces of furniture for sale, no matter what rooms of the house they were intended, seemed to fit into two categories. First there were hand made pieces. They were beautiful items that had been carved like a piece of art to perfection. At least someone thought they were perfect judging from the prices that were being asked for them. The second category of furniture was hand made as well. Even though Reed didn’t consider himself to be a connoisseur of furniture, it was clear he didn’t need to be to know that these other pieces were at least one hundred years old. Again, the numbers on the tag were good indication.

Reed turned his attention to an antique bedroom suite that was unbelievably beautiful. Reed, who had purchased his furnishings at a discount box store, knew he didn’t really appreciate the beauty of the pieces, but instead was consumed with thoughts of just who in the hell would pay this kind of money to have these ancient artifacts in their bedroom.

“What can I do for you today?” the woman finally asked, after looking up from her computer.

“Yes, I wonder if I could speak with the owner?” Reed asked as he walked toward the woman, who was still sitting behind the desk.

“I’m Maggie Drake, the owner of the store. How can I help you?”

Reed reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his picture ID, opened it and held it out for the woman to see. “I am Detective Reed Hackman with the NOPD. I would like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind,” Reed said.

“Of Course,” she responded, not appearing the least bit surprised.

Reed could not help but take note of Miss Drake. At least he assumed it was Miss seeing that she was not wear a ring of any kind on her left hand. Reed would hold strong to the questions and business at hand, but deep down in his mind he could feel an unusual tickling. He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but he knew that there was something different about this woman. Something in her dark eyes, or the way she held herself, was mysterious and unique enough to catch his attention. She might have just told him that he was the owner of a furniture store, but she didn’t look the part at all.

“I wanted to ask you about a warehouse down at the Port of New Orleans. Warehouse number 22, to be exact, are you familiar with it?” Reed asked.

“I believe that is a warehouse owned by our real estate holding company,” she said.

”What is the warehouse used for?” Reed asked.

Miss Drake seemed to look inside herself for a moment. “I’m trying to remember which one 22 is. I don’t think it’s being used for anything right now.”

“Were you aware that there was an incident that occurred in that warehouse last night?”

Reed watched her facial expressions and body language for any telling signs that she might give away.

“No. What happened and do I need to call the insurance company?” she asked.

“A homicide happened there,” Reed replied.

“Oh, my goodness,” Maggie said, now showing surprise.

Reed reached inside his coat once more and pulled out a mug shot of Jo Jo and sat it on her desk facing away from him. “Do you recognize this man Miss Drake?” Reed asked. “His name is Jonathon Simmons.”

She looked at the photo and said, “No, he doesn’t look familiar.”

Reed could see that her facial expressions had somewhat changed in the last few minutes. He got no solid feeling, however, about what the change meant. He shuffled the pictures on the desk around to know show the picture that had been underneath that of Jo Jo. Reed watched Ms. Drake carefully as he showed her the next mug shot.

“What about this man?” Reed asked. “His name is Peter Kerigan.”

Maggie shook her head. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize him. Was one of these guys killed in our warehouse?”

“Mr. Simmons was found dead at your warehouse. Kerigan is another homicide case. I have some reason to believe that they could be related.” Reed picked up the pictures and placed them back into his coat. “You said earlier that you needed to think about which warehouse 22 was. How many warehouses does your company own if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I believe we have three and are in the process of acquiring another,” she answered.

“Wow, that is a lot of real estate. The furniture business must be doing well,” Reed said with a smile. “What does your company plan on doing with all these old warehouses?”

Maggie shifted forward, leaning her elbows on the desk. “We needed some space for this store. We’re getting more ships full of furniture all the time. The others are mainly for investment, though my Father is always thinking about expansion. He’s kind of the driving force behind the real estate business, so I can’t tell you for sure what he’s thinking,” she said.

Reed heard the familiar sound of the door latch followed by the jingle of the door bell once more. He turned around to see a young couple followed by an older lady walk into the store.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, detective?” Maggie asked, standing up and walking out from behind the desk. She never took her eyes off Reed as she made her way around and stepped up to him so close as to almost invade his personal space.

Reed paused, momentarily at a loss for words. “Oh no, I have taken up enough of your time Ms. Drake,” he said continuing to look into her dark brown eyes. “Do you have a card or a number that I could reach you at in case anything else comes up?” Reed asked.

“Yeah, let me get one,” Maggie said. She turned back to the desk, stretching over it to pull a business card out of a drawer on the far side. Reed guiltily averted his eyes and did not give himself the chance to have any stray thoughts about her derriere. “Here you go. And please call me Maggie. I hope you’re able to catch whoever killed that poor man. Let me know if there is anything else I can do to help,” she said.

Reed reached out and took Maggie’s business card.

“Thank you Miss—,” Reed paused. “Maggie, I'll be sure to keep you apprised on the situation if any new developments should unfold.

“Well, I better let you get to your customers. Thank you again for your time and help,” Reed said as he turned and started walking towards the front door of the store.

Maggie followed Reed until she reached the customers who were looking around. “How can I help you today?” Maggie asked them.

Reed made his way to the front door and opened it again calling out the jingle of the bell. Reed didn’t know why, but as we walked out, he turned and looked back at Maggie. Their eyes met once more, and he noted that even though she was with her new customers, her eyes had not left him.

Maggie’s World

Maggie Drake sat behind the counter of the showroom in the Drake’s Carved Wood store, working on the monthly balance sheet. The laptop in front of her contrasted with technology the medieval look of much of the furniture on display in the store. The showcases of furniture radiated around her in a circle, leaving an open space in the middle of the store. She chose to work at the sales desk rather than in the office in the back just in case a customer visited.

She might not often admit it to herself, but she also felt too closed in when working in the office. Part of that was physical, but mostly it was mental. The office served as the headquarters for Drake Enterprises for the rest of the world. Her father did most of the real estate investment that they did, not to mention the less legal aspects of their business. Being in the office meant being under his thumb.

The bell over the front door chimed and Maggie looked up. She was immediately transfixed by her visitor for a number of reasons. First, he was possibly the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He had short blondish brown hair and a five o’clock shadow. His angular jaw line gave him a stern countenance. Any rough edges, though, were softened by his sad, emerald green eyes.

Maggie wished she didn’t know he was a cop. His Ralph Lauren, baby blue button up shirt, dark blue slacks, and matching sports coat would have made him look like any random businessman from a near by office building. The badge flashing out from his belt unfortunately gave him away. Not that Maggie had a dating life, but the fact that he was a policeman made even the fantasy impossible practically before she could dream it.

“I’ll be with you in just a second, sir,” she said as the man crossed the floor toward her.

“No problem. Take your time,” he said. He glanced at her and began looking at the nearest furniture display.

Not wanting to seem too eager to please, Maggie finished her calculation and wrote it in the appropriate total box on the page. She then took a deep breath and looked up at the cop.

“What can I do for you today?”

The officer moved toward the desk. “Yes, I wonder if I could speak to the owner,” he said.

Maggie put down the pen she held and tried to remember all the pat answers her father had drilled into her for encounters like this. “I’m Maggie Drake, the owner of the store. How can I help you?”

“I am Detective Reed Hackman with the NOPD. I would like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind.”

She wondered what he would do if she said that she did mind. “Of course.”

“I wanted to ask you about a warehouse down at the Port of New Orleans. Warehouse number 22 to be exact, are you familiar with it?” the detective asked.

“I believe that is a warehouse owned by our real estate holding company,” she said, running the numbers through her head. The number of properties her father bought seemed to be multiplying by the day.

”What is the warehouse used for?” he asked. The Detective’s face stayed locked in one, unemotional expression.

Maggie took a moment to remember which unit they were discussing. “I’m trying to remember which one 22 is. I don’t think it’s being used for anything right now.”

“Were you aware that there was an incident that occurred in that warehouse last night?”

Maggie cringed internally, knowing now exactly which warehouse to which he was referring. Marco was such an idiot it boggled the mind. He knew that cleaning up his messes was part of the responsibility of being sent on missions by Drake. Apparently he hadn’t taken that charge seriously. “No. What happened and do I need to call the insurance company?”

“A homicide happened there,” the detective replied.

“Oh my goodness,” Maggie said, doing her best at acting surprised.

The officer reached inside his coat and pulled out a photo, slapping it on her desk facing away from him. “Do you recognize this man, Miss Drake?” Reed asked. “His name is Jonathan Simmons.”

Looking at the photo, Maggie recognized the mug shot of Jo Jo on one of his better days. He’d been arrested so many times, she was sure there were other pictures that made Nick Nolte on the Smoking Gun look sane. This particular image of the dearly departed former customer of the Family looked nothing like Jo Jo the last time she’d seem him, strung out and high in the dim light of a camp fire.

“No, he doesn’t look familiar,” she said. Maggie thought she was a good liar, and the blank face across from her gave her no reason to think that the policeman knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

The detective put a finger on the picture and moved it a few inches to reveal a picture that had been underneath that of Jo Jo. “What about this man?” he asked. “His name is Peter Kerigan.”

Maggie shook her head. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize him. Was one of these guys killed in our warehouse?” She hid her surprise at seeing a picture of Kerigan. She knew for a fact that there wasn’t anything at the scene of Kerigan’s death to link it to the Family.

An image began playing in Maggie’s head of her telling her father about this meeting. It was becoming clear that this detective was meddling into dangerous territory for the Drake Family. Warin Drake wouldn’t be pleased to hear of this at all. If he didn’t watch out, her father would be sending someone to deal with the detective very soon.

“Mr. Simmons was found dead at your warehouse,” Reed responded. “Kerigan is another homicide case. I have some reason to believe that they could be related.” He picked up the pictures and placed them back into his coat. “You said that you needed to think about which warehouse 22 was. How many warehouses does your company own, if you don’t mind me asking?” Reed asked.

“I believe we have three and are in the process of acquiring another,” she answered.

Maggie thought back to the night Kerigan died. She believed that the scene had been clean. She’d seen to that herself, as she always did. She’d been careful. No prints, no pictures, no witnesses. What could this cop think that the death of a well off New Orleans mob boss was linked to a homeless addict? Detective Hackman must have been watching too much CSI or reading too many serial killer novels. The only thing the two deaths should have had in common was the cause.

“Wow, that is a lot of real estate. The furniture business must be doing well,” the detective said his face breaking into an odd smile. “What does your company plan on doing with all these old warehouses?”

Maggie shifted forward, leaning her elbows on the desk. “We needed some space for this store. We’re getting more ships full of furniture all the time. The others are mainly for investment, though my father is always thinking about expansion. He’s kind of the driving force behind the real estate business, so I can’t tell you for sure what he’s thinking,” she said.

The ringing bell drew her eyes to the front door. The officer turned around to see the newcomers. It was a young couple followed by an older woman. Maggie wanted to fall on her knees to praise thanks.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Detective?” Maggie asked, standing up and walking out from behind the desk. She never took her eyes off the officer as she made her way around and stepped to him.

The detective paused momentarily, his gaze locking on hers. “Oh, no, I have taken up enough of your time, Miss Drake,” he said. “Do you have a card or a number that I could reach you at in case anything else comes up?” he asked.

“Yeah, let me get one,” Maggie said. She turned back to the desk, stretching over it to pull a business card out of a drawer on the far side. She didn’t have much opportunity to hand out Drake Enterprises business cards, but she supposed this was just the sort of occasion she’d made them for. Standing back up before him, she handed a card to the detective. “Here you go. And please call me Maggie. I hope you’re able to catch whoever killed that poor man. Let me know if there is anything else I can do to help,” she said.

He took the business card. “Thank you, Miss—” Reed paused and smiled— “Maggie. I’ll be sure to keep you apprised of the situation if any new developments should unfold.

“Well, I’d better let you get to your customers. Thank you again for your time and help.” With a nod, the officer turned towards the front door of the store.

She followed him to the middle of the store. “No problem, Detective. See you around,” Maggie said. Relieved, she stepped away from him to the group of new customers gathered in the bedroom section of the store. “How can I help you today?” Maggie asked them.

For some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Reed Hackman as he walked away. He turned back momentarily and their eyes met. She wanted to break their connection, to ignore him, but she couldn’t. He finally turned away and left. Maggie continued to stare at the door for a moment, knowing that the officer was going to mean serious trouble for her one way or another.