Page 28 of The Summer We Made Promises (The Destin Diaries #3)

M aggie was just starting to truly relax when she heard a knock on the Summer House front door. She and Jo had been outside for hours, talking and reminiscing like the two old ladies they were.

But with every shared memory or bawdy laugh—much louder than Maggie really liked to laugh, but when Jo said “it bears repeating” for the fifteenth time, she lost it—guilt pressed a little harder.

Roger would be furious. And when the smile faded from Jo Ellen’s eyes, Maggie knew she was thinking the same thing about Artie.

“That’s Peter,” Vivien called, poking her head out to the deck. “He said he wanted to talk to you two, remember? Is this a good time?”

“Is anyone else home?” Maggie asked, immediately rising from the sofa and smoothing her linen trousers. “Because I’d like complete privacy for this conversation.”

“No one, Mom,” Vivien assured her. “Tessa and Lacey are running around town finishing whatever they need to do for the Bat Mitzvah, and I’m up in my room working on a client’s project. You are alone out here.”

“Good. We’ll see him now.”

When Vivien stepped away, Jo Ellen stood and came closer to Maggie. “Maybe now we’ll get some answers, Mags. We gave him that Cotton Ramsey name darn near a week ago.”

Vivien nodded, suspecting that’s why Peter wanted to talk. They’d told him everything that Frank had shared and he said he’d “look into it.”

She dreaded what he might find. Roger and the Mafia? The Dixie Mafia, whatever abhorrent thing that was.

It pained her to think about.

A moment later, Vivien and Peter stepped outside, and instantly, Maggie felt a prickle of warning. Peter’s expression was wary and worried, far more serious than the affable detective usually was. Just looking at him, she sensed a sudden shift in pressure before a storm.

“Hello, ladies,” he said in a fairly solemn greeting. “How are we today?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie replied, not interested in niceties. “You tell us.”

Vivien put her hand on his shoulder. “You want anything?” she asked. “Water? Soda? Straight gin?”

He didn’t laugh, which only worsened Maggie’s dread.

“I’m good. I’ll come up and get you when we’re done here. Then I’ll go help you pick up that rug and console table.”

“Thanks.” Vivien nodded and gave the other women a tight smile, then left them alone. Without a word, they moved to the seating area. In silent solidarity, Jo Ellen and Maggie sat next to each other on the rattan sofa while Peter positioned himself on the edge of a large chair across from them.

Suddenly, the sweet tropical air felt dense, and the sun slipped behind a cloud, stealing the warmth from the deck. Maggie just knew this wasn’t going to be good.

What could Roger have been involved with that could hurt her any more than what he’d already done? She didn’t know and was terrified to find out.

“So, Cotton Ramsey,” he started, glancing between the two women. “I was able to reach out to contacts up in Biloxi and did uncover, uh, quite a bit about this rather colorful character. His files are not sealed.”

Maggie’s throat tightened as she and Jo Ellen exchanged a glance.

“Just spell it out, Peter,” Maggie said, impatience rising. “How bad is it? What did my husband do? What mess do we have to clean up?”

His lips lifted in an amused smile. “Relax, Maggie,” he said. “Roger didn’t do anything.”

There was just enough emphasis on the name “Roger” for Maggie to let out a sigh of relief, but at the same moment, Jo Ellen sat straighter.

Then Peter pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, opening it with steady and—not that it mattered—quite strong hands with clean, clipped nails. Maggie always respected a man who kept his hands in good order. It usually meant his life was that way, too.

“Davis ‘Cotton’ Ramsey was arrested in early 1996 in a sting operation run jointly by the FBI and the Biloxi Police Department,” he started. “He was found guilty of a host of RICO crimes.”

Maggie shuttered her eyes. “What is that?”

“Racketeering,” he explained. “Conspiracy to commit fraud, loan sharking, wire fraud, mail fraud, obstruction of justice, to name a few.”

“In other words, they threw the book at him,” Jo Ellen said with a light laugh.

Maggie shot her a look. “You think this is funny?”

Her smile disappeared. “We didn’t marry Cotton Ramsey,” Jo Ellen fired back. “You don’t have to get your panties in a bunch, Mags.”

Yes, she did. Whoever and whatever this Cotton creature was, he’d breathed the same air as Roger and that horrified her.

“Anyway,” Peter continued, holding up a hand like a referee. “He was sentenced to twenty-five years but served fifteen before he was released on parole. He died about a year later.”

“Is there any connection to Roger Lawson?” Maggie asked, her voice taut.

Peter exhaled just slowly enough that her heart dropped with a thud.

“Not to Roger,” he said, the words somehow feeling unfinished as the two women stared at him.

“But…” He swallowed, appearing to brace himself before continuing.

“His arrest was a rather elaborate setup, assisted by an informant. An undercover agent, if you will, worked closely with the FBI to lure Cotton to the meeting location and lead him into the trap.” He lifted a brow as if… as if accusing someone.

“Roger was in prison then,” Maggie said. “So if you’re?—”

“It was Artie,” Peter said quietly. “Arthur Wylie was the informant.”

For a long, breathless moment, no one moved. Not until Maggie found the strength to turn her head and look at Jo Ellen, who was ghost white, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed.

“What?” she croaked the word. “No. That’s not…no. He would never…”

Maggie dropped back on the sofa cushion and crossed her arms. “Apparently, Artie made a second career out of tipping off the police.”

Jo Ellen glared at her. “At least he didn’t make a second career out of…fraud!”

Maggie bristled and closed her eyes, refusing to get hurt by the comment. Jo Ellen was in shock. Frankly, they all were. What on God’s green Earth were these men up to when they were supposed to be vacationing with their families? The Mafia? The Feds? It was preposterous!

“I’m sorry, Jo Ellen,” Peter said. “I checked it repeatedly. I don’t know what his involvement was with this group of mobsters, but for whatever reason, he opted to turn them in. They had to have trusted him enough?—”

“Stop.” She held up a trembling hand. “Just stop, please. I…I can’t…take this.”

“I understand this is upsetting,” Peter said gently. “But he didn’t break the law. His name’s not in any public record, but the internal files confirm it. He was cooperating with federal agents.”

“But…after Roger was already in prison?” Jo Ellen said on a rasp, still pale and stunned. “So he was involved with these men…”

Maggie’s heart shifted at the tone in her friend’s voice. “It’s okay,” she whispered, putting her hand on Jo Ellen’s arm. “You’ll be okay, Jo.”

“But…but…I didn’t know,” Jo Ellen whispered. “I had no idea. He never said a word.”

“Neither did Roger,” Maggie said hoarsely, remembering the pain of that betrayal and feeling it all over again. And people didn’t think she was empathetic! If not, what was this overwhelming need to comfort Jo Ellen?

Peter leaned closer, his face etched with compassion. “I know this is a lot. It doesn’t answer your questions as to why your husbands would demand your silence or that you don’t speak to each other, but it is surely part of the reason.”

Jo shuddered, fighting tears.

Maggie slid her hand down to Jo Ellen’s, clasping her fingers like they had when they were girls, when everything had felt safe and certain.

“Thank you, Peter,” Jo said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I appreciate you going the extra mile for us.”

Peter nodded, quiet for a second, then rose. “This might be it, though. I don’t know how much more information I can get you. Have you been able to get any of Artie’s files?”

“Kate shipped his fishing rods,” Jo Ellen said. “But she thought it would be safer to bring the file box in person when she comes down for the Celebration of Life.”

Maggie lifted a brow. Did Jo Ellen still want to celebrate Artie’s life? Which one—the one she knew about or the one he kept hidden?

“And, Maggie, you’re positive that Roger doesn’t have anything tucked away?”

She sighed, thinking of the old lockbox in Crista’s garage. “There was one box that I kept full of papers and old memories. I haven’t even looked in it since he died, but he told me to keep it no matter what, so I did.”

Peter gave her a look of disbelief. “You should get it,” he said. “There could be something in there.”

“It was pictures and…I don’t even remember. Nothing from his business or his…” She swallowed. “Criminal activities.”

“Eli’s coming down when Kate does,” Peter said. “Ask him to bring it. You should look at it again with fresh eyes.”

She nodded, knowing he was right.

He said goodbye and disappeared inside, and Maggie dropped back down on the sofa, even closer to Jo Ellen.

“Please don’t gloat,” Jo muttered, dropping her head. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, Jo.” Maggie put both arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze. “I’m not gloating. I’m as confused as you are and, believe it or not, I fully understand your pain. It’s okay to cry when you find out you didn’t know your husband at all.”

As if all she needed was permission, Jo Ellen gave in to a long, sad sob of profound disappointment, confusion, and loss.

“Artie,” Jo Ellen said at last, her voice thick. “My sweet Artie.”

“Just because he turned this Cotton character in to the FBI doesn’t mean he was involved with him,” Maggie said, trying to reassure her. “The man was practically a saint. Maybe he wanted retribution for Roger’s incarceration.”

“But he never told me!” she moaned. “That’s the worst part…not knowing any of this for all these years.”

Maggie nodded. “It’s a lie by omission and makes you question everything.”

“Yes!” Finally, she stood, but looked like her legs couldn’t even hold her as she walked to the railing to look out to the Gulf. “I thought I knew him better than anyone in the world. We were married for fifty years, for goodness sake. And he never breathed a word. Never once.”

Maggie sighed. “We married men who kept secrets from us.”

“And forced us to make promises not to talk to each other.” She whipped around. “What didn’t they want us to find out? Why separate us? I thought it was because Roger was…you know…”

“A criminal,” Maggie supplied. “Maybe they both were.”

Jo Ellen pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead. “Or Artie was an undercover agent? How is that even remotely possible?”

“Seriously,” Maggie said with a dry laugh. “The man was hardly James Bond.”

“But who was he? Why didn’t I know?” Tears threatened and she didn’t bother to blink them away. They spilled over, running down her cheeks.

Maggie’s heart rolled around in guilt, shame, and remorse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, standing up to step closer to Jo. “I’m sorry Roger was a bad influence on your highly moral and principled husband. Artie was a good man and he loved you.”

Suddenly, Jo Ellen pulled her into a hug so fierce it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Jo Ellen hissed fiercely. “Not for any of this. You had nothing to do with it, and you are my friend.”

“ Were ,” Maggie corrected softly.

“No, Mags. Are. You are my friend! Those two men can just…well, I’d say drop dead, but they did already.”

Maggie laughed and they finally pulled apart. Jo Ellen wiped her eyes with her hands.

“We can’t tell my girls,” she blurted out. “Please promise me that. Not now, not before the celebration. Tessa, especially, would be devastated. Kate, too.”

“I’ll honor what you ask of me,” Maggie replied. “But I won’t lie to my kids. And I won’t…” She swallowed, realizing how much salt it would throw in Jo Ellen’s wound if Maggie were to reiterate her refusal to attend Artie’s ash-throwing thing.

But she wasn’t going. Period, end of story. Not in a million years would she risk Roger’s wrath from the Great Beyond by celebrating the life of the man who put her husband in prison. And others.

“You won’t what?” Jo Ellen pressed.

“I won’t tell your girls,” she finished. “We’ll let them remember their father the way they need to.”

Jo Ellen nodded, but her shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. Maggie felt exactly the same.