“Yes, Detective?” I couldn’t keep my lips from trembling, and my voice sounded strained.
“I’m sorry to tell you that we have to close down the tea shoppe for a few days. The autopsy has come in, and the mayor was definitely poisoned by your petit four. I’ll need to have my team come in and search the entire building, take fingerprints, and …”
I stood up while he was speaking and let go of Mathew’s hand. “That’s fine, Detective, but could you keep your voice down? I hate to have you upset our customers.” My eyes swept the room, and I realized it was too late. Everyone was watching the scene.
My shoulders slumped. I started to walk from table to table and quietly ask the customers to come back another day. Each of them left quickly, except the Bible Study Ladies. They assured me several times they wanted to stay for moral support, but Mathew finally marched over and had a word with them, after which they got up as a group and swept out of the shop without even a wave goodbye.
I wondered what he said to them, but there was no time even to consider it. The detective had followed them out to invite his team to come in and begin their job.
I could feel tears in my eyes, burning. I pressed them closed for a moment.
Mathew whispered in my ear, “We should get all the baskets out before they tape off the whole shop. The detective may not allow us to have them for the festival if this investigation takes several days.”
I felt my chest tighten with anger. I couldn’t believe his main concern was for the festival, but I agreed to help take the baskets out the back door. I’m not sure if that was considered tampering with evidence, but I felt the tea shoppe would need the positive advertisement the baskets would bring to hopefully overcome some of the negativity an investigation would cause.
We strolled quickly to the kitchen, opened the back door, and began hauling the baskets out to his truck. The ground was frozen, and we had to be careful not to slip. We were each able to carry about five baskets at a time, so both of us had to take ten trips, but we worked quickly and quietly.
Once all the baskets were loaded and we were back in the kitchen trying to get warm, Mathew suggested we go somewhere else for lunch. I was feeling exhausted and worried. I needed to tell Gran what was going on. Mathew must have noticed my hesitation.
“Perhaps we should reschedule. We can do some more investigating tomorrow?”
I felt a wave of relief. Mathew was a pleasant man, and in other circumstances I would have enjoyed spending the day with him. But the events of the day had overwhelmed me, and I just wanted to go home and climb into bed.
“You do want to continue our sleuthing?” Mathew asked.
“Yes, of course. I want to find out who did this. I’m just tired now.”
Mathew took my hand and squeezed it. “I understand. It’s been a long day. I’ll take the baskets to my office at the church. I’ll be there if you need me. I need to spend some time preparing for the mayor’s funeral.”
I felt a bit guilty. Here this man who was needed by a grieving family had been spending the day helping me instead.
Just then the investigation team entered the kitchen. Mathew and I slipped out the back door. He got into his truck and drove away. I slowly made my way back to my apartment. The other businesses along Main Street were decorated with lights and wreaths. The general Christmas aura gave me a sense of peace, even though I was worried about the tea shoppe. I knew the phone call to Gran would be difficult, but it had to be done.
When I was settled at my kitchen table later that evening, eating a ham sandwich, I pressed Gran’s number on my phone and took a deep breath.
CHAPTER 7
As I’d feared, Gran was very upset. In her own words, “Nothing like this has ever happened to the tea shoppe before.”
I wanted to choke on the guilt I felt; however, I knew it wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t poisoned that petit four, but after her reaction, I was even more determined to help find the true culprit. After an hour of trying to soothe Gran, I hung up the phone and spent some time in prayer, asking the Lord to help find the murderer, and quickly.
The rest of the evening, I tried to relax. On a sheet of paper, I wrote out as much information as I could think of about who may have had access to the petit four. By the time I was ready for bed though, I was no closer to solving the mystery than before. The list of suspects so far was Phyllis Gates, Robert Casey, Don Johnson, and the mayor’s son. I wasn’t sure what his name was, but I thought someone had mentioned him once in the tea shoppe. The name Sawyer came to mind, so I jotted it on the paper with a question mark.
I tried to imagine why any of them would want to kill the mayor, but I knew very little about them and even less about the mayor himself.
When I finally crawled into bed, I pulled my blanket up to my neck and fell into a deep sleep right away.
I awoke on Wednesday not sure what to do for the day, since I wasn’t going into the shop. Detective Rawls had informed me he would have us shut down at least a day or two. I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and yawned. Just then my cell phone rang. I reached out and answered it.
“Good morning, Miss Quin.”
A smile spread across my face when I heard Mathew’s soothing voice, but I immediately clamped my lips together. I had to remind myself, he was a pastor, not my boyfriend. Was he even a friend? We had only agreed to be partners in crime solving.
“Good morning, Pastor.”
“Hello, Georgina. Remember, you can call me Mathew. I hope I’m not calling too early. I wanted to let you know the mayor’s funeral is to be held on Friday morning. His secretary seems to be the one in charge and has made all the arrangements. Right now, there isn’t much I can do since I haven’t been able to contact his son. So, if you want to continue investigating, today would work. We could visit Robert Casey, the mayor’s pro tem.”
I had originally planned to do some decorating today. My eyes scanned my apartment. It was nearly Christmas, and I didn’t even have a tree yet. My box of ornaments was sitting against a wall waiting, but there was little point in trying to enjoy the holidays with the mayor’s death and the accusation of murder hanging over the tea shoppe.
“Sure, that’s a great idea. But somewhere along the way I have to buy a pair of winter boots.” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. I was cold. The apartment didn’t have a very good heating system.
I could hear Mathew laugh. “Sounds like a plan. There’s a winter apparel shop in town. We could stop there after we visit Robert Casey.”
When we ended the conversation, I finally felt motivated to get out of bed. I searched my wardrobe for the warmest pants and sweater I owned. I wasn’t used to Maine’s damp, cold weather, and I was going to have to make some adjustments to my clothes. When I was finally clad in a slouchy gray turtleneck sweater, thick sweat pants, and a coat, I was able to face the outdoors.
Mathew offered to pick me up since I didn’t own a car, so I was waiting outside when he drove up to the building in his Ford truck. When he stopped in front of my apartment, he slid across the seat and pushed the passenger door open. There was a running board for me to step on. With my hands grasping the door, I was able to pull myself onto the front seat.
“Thanks for picking me up,” I gushed. Then I felt my face turn red. I couldn’t believe I was acting like a high school girl every time the man was around. If Mathew noticed, he didn’t react.
“It’s probably easier for us sleuths to stick together.” He tossed his head back, laughing at his own words. I enjoyed the way his skin crinkled around his eyes when he laughed.
“Sorry about the truck,” he said. “It’s great when moving things for the church but not so great for passengers.” He patted the seat, which I had to admit was not very comfortable. The floor was littered with miscellaneous tools.
“Not a problem. Remember, I grew up in Texas. Everyone there owns a truck.”
“Okay then.” Mathew revved the motor and pulled the truck out i
nto traffic.
We didn’t have to drive very far, but I kept my eyes peeled out the window as we drove down the different streets. I couldn’t get my fill of seeing the lovely architecture of the unique homes. Each house was a bit different, and sidewalks ran in front of them all. A few pine trees were sprinkled up and down the street but also many barren trees waiting for their new buds to appear. I couldn’t wait to see them all bloom in the spring.
Thinking of trees, my lack of a pine came to mind. “I need to get a Christmas tree.”
Mathew turned and gave me a grin. “There’s a great tree farm farther outside Sea Side. It’s where everyone gets Christmas trees.”
I was glad to hear that. Since I was so new to town, I didn’t even know where to begin looking.
When we finally stopped in front of a lovely blue Victorian house on Cove Street, I sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Mathew asked. He turned the engine off and slipped out of his seat belt.
I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just the apartment I live in isn’t even close to what I want. A house like this would be ideal. I’ve been too busy training at the tea shoppe to start looking around, and now with this murder hanging over me, I can’t even think about moving.”
“When it comes time, I’d love to help you. I’m also looking for a house, but taking over the church has kept me busy this year. I’m lucky I grew up a few miles away from Sea Side, so it wasn’t too much change for me, but I’m still working on getting completely settled.”
We got out of the truck and walked side by side up to the lovely wraparound porch, and Mathew knocked on the front door. We waited a few minutes. I was glad to see the door finally being opened, but it only moved an inch. Through the crack, I could see a tall, lanky man. His eyes were swollen, and his clothing looked unkempt.
“Yes?” He blinked several times as if the light hurt his eyes.
“Robert Casey?” Mathew asked.
“Yes.” The man looked beyond us, befuddled.
“I’m Pastor Mathew, and this is Georgina Quin. We’d like to talk to you.”
Robert didn’t answer. He stepped back and allowed us to push open the door. We hesitated, but when he didn’t invite us in, we went ahead and stepped into the front hall. Robert drifted into the living room and dropped lethargically onto the couch.
Mathew and I looked at each other. I could see the questions in his eyes and knew he saw the same questions in mine. The room was festively decorated, but the mood in the room felt dull and heavy. I sat on a wingback chair, facing Robert. Mathew tried to get comfortable on a straight chair. The man didn’t even ask what we wanted. He just sat with his head slumped down.
Mathew cleared his throat. “Robert … Um, may I call you Robert?”
Robert nodded.
“Georgina and her grandmother own Tea by the Sea.”
Robert lifted his head. His eyes opened wide. He stuck a shaky hand out and pointed at me. “You … you … You’re the one who killed the mayor.”
I felt like I’d been slapped across the face. I shook my head and opened my mouth to deny the charge.
Mathew interrupted. “Now, Robert. Let’s not throw accusations around. The police are looking into the mayor’s death, but no one has accused Georgina or the tea shoppe.”
Robert looked up at Mathew. “Why are you here? Are you here to give me comfort, or are you blaming me for the mayor’s death?”
I sat up straighter, uncomfortable with his question. He was right to be suspicious. We didn’t actually think he was the murderer, for sure, but we were here to consider it.
Robert spoke rapidly. “Why would you think that? Why would I want to murder the mayor? Without him, I’m nothing.”
With a hand on my hip and a sarcastic tone, I tossed out, “I thought if something happened to the mayor, you as pro tem would take his place.”
He turned to me, and I watched his countenance shrink. Then he actually began to cry. Through his sobs, he said, “That’s not what I want. I can’t be mayor, even if only until a new one is picked. I love being pro tem. It gives me a bit of prestige in the community, but the idea of actually having to take over for the mayor, well … I just can’t do it.”
“I was told you were always hoping the mayor would get sick so you could clean things up,” I pressed but immediately regretted the words. It was obvious this wasn’t true.
The man leaned his head into his hands and moaned. “That was just a bunch of bluster to make me look good. I didn’t like him as a person, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin taking over for him. He was gifted at his job. I mean, just the apartment project he was working on would be way too much for me to handle, even if I could get my hands on the files.”
Robert started gulping. For a moment I thought he might pass out. Mathew rushed over to him and patted his shoulders until he quit crying. Then Mathew handed him a card with the name of his church on it and told him they’d love to have him join the congregation. “We have grief support groups in the church as well. I think the mayor’s secretary is quite efficient and will be able to guide you into filling in for the mayor until the next one can be appointed. The city needs you.”
Robert looked up, a smile of gratitude on his face. He thanked Mathew and wiped his eyes, but he didn’t stand up to follow us to the door. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and allowed his head to drop down again.
We slipped out the front door and made our way to the truck. We didn’t speak until we were driving away from Robert’s house.
“That wasn’t very pleasant.” Mathew broke the silence.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek. My voice trembled. “I feel so sorry for him. I expected to meet a happy man, ready to step in and take over city hall, but I believe he’s truly distraught.” I swiped at my tears. I was angry at myself for the way I’d snapped at the man.
“I agree. At least until we find some other evidence, we should consider him innocent. It would be pretty hard to act as disturbed as he was. I’ll have our grief team visit him. He needs some kind of intervention.”
I nodded. I was afraid if I tried to say anything, I would break down. We still needed to speak to the mayor’s son and Don Johnson because, from what we knew, they were the only other people who had seen the mayor that day. After visiting with Robert Casey, however, I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow up with the others.
“Why don’t we go get you those boots and grab a cup of coffee?” Mathew offered. I noticed he didn’t mention tea.
“All right, but we need to talk to Don Johnson and the mayor’s son. The funeral is Friday morning, and the festival begins on Friday night, which is only two days from now. There won’t be much time for investigating once that all begins. I haven’t even seen the festival site. Maybe we should skip coffee and stop by the park.”
Mathew agreed. He cricked his neck and glanced at the sky. “I’m sure it’s going to start snowing in a day or so. We’d better hurry on all accounts. Sawyer Dalton, the mayor’s son, lives out in the country. So does Don Johnson. We don’t want to get stuck on some of those back roads in a snowstorm. Why don’t we try to see them both tomorrow?”
I blinked. I still wasn’t used to the heavy snows in Maine, but I wrung my hands, worried, now that Mathew had broached the possibility of getting stuck on the roads in the country. I didn’t answer his question.
He must have noticed my reaction, because he once more patted my hand. “Don’t worry, Georgina. I’ve lived in Maine my whole life. I can handle the snow. I only mentioned it because I don’t want to miss the festival. If we got stuck in the country, there would be plenty of people to take us in for a day or so, but then we’d have to forfeit the festival. I’m going to be praying nothing like that happens. By the way, the tree farm is out by Don Johnson’s home as well. We could get your tree tomorrow.”
His words sounded cheerful, so I sat back, my right hand grasping the door handle as I tried to relax. Since I knew little about snow, I was going to put m
yself in Mathew’s hands, and he was putting us both in God’s hands. That was all that was necessary.
CHAPTER 8
Mathew steered down Main Street and drove by the tea shoppe. I could see several people peeking in the front window. What do they think they can see? It’s not like there’s a dead body in there or anything.
A police car was still parked nearby, but the officers must have been in the shop with the detective. I felt tears pressing the back of my eyelids. The move to Maine had filled me with such hope for a new future. Now, with this murder hanging over the shop, I wasn’t sure how it would affect my life. When it was proven that we didn’t poison the petit four, would the town forgive and forget, or would the damage have been done?
Mathew interrupted my thoughts. “Do you want to stop and talk to the detective? See if they’ve made any progress?”
I shook my head. “No, he makes me nervous.” I found myself clasping my hands at the thought of the man. “I’d rather wait until we’ve been proven innocent in this whole thing.”
“Good idea. Well, let’s get you those winter boots. I’m not taking you to cut down a Christmas tree wearing those flimsy things.” Mathew pointed at my not-very-warm boots.
I nodded, almost wishing I could ask him just to take me home, but I did need better boots, especially if we were going out to the tree farm the next day.
The Hunter’s Boutique was filled with Sea Side memorabilia and a variety of winter clothing. I assumed they replaced the coats, boots, and gloves with bathing suits and beach towels in the summer. Since I knew little to nothing about winter boots, I allowed the salesgirl to show me what she thought I needed. I cringed at the look of most of them but finally settled on a pair that was practical and useful but still had some style. I was happy with the fringe of fur around the top.
After deciding on a pair for myself, I glanced around to find some for Helen Cranz. I doubted she would want the same style, so I bought her a useful pair that would fit pretty much any woman’s foot.
The Tea Shoppe Mysteries Page 5