The Tea Shoppe Mysteries

by Darlene Franklin

  After Odie died, it hurt too much to go on the walks anymore, although Sir Geoffrey invited me. Now I had lost both of them.

  Eventually Marshfield grew tired and sat beside me, whimpering as he put his head in my lap. “I miss them too,” I told him. Perhaps I should adopt a puppy as a companion for my new dog. I wasn’t sure I could give two dogs the time and attention they craved, but they could keep each other company.

  That decision could wait. Until Marshfield had switched his allegiance to me, he needed to know he was my number one dog.

  He sniffed around my car, perhaps smelling the bread I baked daily. I gave him one of my pet-friendly treats and made a note to bake more. Lots more. I wanted him to learn that if he was patient, he would get one of these delicious-and-good-for-him treats. I aimed to discourage him from jumping on the nearest tray of cookies and crumpets.

  Back at the tea shoppe, I attached the new leash to his collar. He strained toward the front entrance, but I kept him on a short leash and led him around to the back entrance, where we climbed the stairs to my apartment. I set out a bowl with water and a second one with his dry food. He sniffed and looked daggers at me. Why was I giving him such ordinary, bland food when I made such delicious treats?

  “Suit yourself.” He wouldn’t starve anytime soon. He’d come around when he was hungry. Because Georgina and I had settled on our spring menu, I didn’t have to try any new recipes for a few weeks. By then Marshfield’s behavior would have improved. If not, the kennel would be there.

  I fixed myself a simple lunch. Although Marshfield begged, I didn’t feed him anything. Nobody wants a dog bothering them while they eat.

  I heard footsteps coming up the outside stairs. Marshfield raised his head and growled. I put the leash on him and walked to the door.

  Daisy and Freddy Guilfoyle waited on the other side. Their smiles disappeared when Marshfield barked at them. Daisy’s face folded into a frown.

  “It’s okay,” I told the dog. “They won’t hurt you.” Not while I was there. With one hand holding tight to the leash, I opened the door to my unexpected guests. “I didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

  “We asked around at the tea shoppe,” Freddy said.

  They came in, and Freddy walked around the room as if I was under inspection.

  My apartment is a converted attic. My bedroom is in one corner, where I can look over the ocean. I have windows on every outer wall, including the alcoves under the eaves.

  After our daughters left home, my husband and I stayed in our house. But after his death, I didn’t want to rattle around the empty house. An apartment with a room overlooking the ocean sounded ideal, and I had the space remodeled. Not everyone would be comfortable with such tight spaces, but I love it.

  Neither Guilfoyle spoke, and I wondered about the reason for their visit. “Can I get you something?” No need to bring up the hot cross buns. “I have some maple nut scones, combining New World flavors with an English treat. Fresh coffee, to boot, or I can brew tea.”

  Daisy sat down primly on my loveseat. “That won’t be necessary. This isn’t a social call.”

  Well, la-di-da, although it didn’t surprise me. I settled in my armchair, and Freddy sat next to his mother. He spoke first. “We saw Dr. Stetson today. He told us about Uncle Geoff’s arrangements for the dog.”

  Marshfield snuffled as if he knew he was the topic of conversation. I fed him a doggy biscuit to keep him satisfied. “It came as a total shock to me. I had no idea.”

  Daisy sniffed as if she didn’t believe it. “That seems unnatural. Geoff was so protective of his dog.”

  “I’ve had experience.” I left it at that. I didn’t need to justify myself to her.

  Freddy laughed outright. “Then why did you get so upset when Marshfield ate the hot cross bun? Dogs do things like that all the time.”

  “Do you intend to punish him every time he sneaks something from your pantry?” Daisy persisted. “I understand you do a lot of baking.”

  “That won’t be a problem. I’ll train him to behave himself, sans physical punishment. When necessary, we’ll have a kennel.” I patted Marshfield’s head, and he groaned with pleasure. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  He laid his head on my feet on cue.

  “We should have brought the dog food with us,” Daisy said.

  I opened my mouth to remind them I had keys to the house but decided against mentioning it.

  Freddy chuckled. “Remember, Mother, Mrs. Holland can come and go as she pleases.”

  Both of them looked at me as if daring me to disagree.

  “I appreciate the offer. But since you mention it …” A better opportunity was unlikely to appear. “I would like to take an inventory of the house as soon as possible.”

  All traces of good humor fled Daisy’s face. “Isn’t there a law against profiting from the death of the victim?”

  Marshfield barked. I crossed the room and opened the door.

  CHAPTER 7

  When they didn’t move, Marshfield barked again. I hushed him. I didn’t want rumors floating around downstairs about an argument with the Guilfoyles.

  “Very well. If you insist, I’ll take my leave.” Daisy stood. “I came with an olive branch. I thought you might be interested in this.” She handed me a small padded envelope marked PET FOOD RESEARCH. “Geoff mentioned in passing that he was close to revealing the fishermen involved in the tainted pet food. I suspect this flash drive holds that information, although I haven’t looked at it.”

  I reached out but then pulled back. “As much as I want to see it, the police should have it.”

  “Oh, I’ve already given it to them. But I made two copies. One for us, and one for you.” She paused. “My brother-in-law obviously thought highly of you. He’d want you to know about this so you can take better care of his dog.”

  Those unexpected words put her past rudeness out of mind. Almost.

  At the door, she said, “I doubt we’ll ever be close, but Geoff trusted you. I decided to take a risk.”

  Freddy followed. “Thanks for the visit.” His handshake was as limp as an eel’s. It was like grasping a flopping fish.

  They went down the stairs as quietly as they had arrived.

  As much as I wanted to dive into the report, Marshfield needed some exercise. I decided to go for my usual walk that took me down Sea Side’s main street. Let people see that Marshfield and I were on excellent terms, that he was healthy, and that I intended him no harm. I packed a small bag of dog treats to give to Marshfield along the way. The snacks served a double purpose—training him and advertising the product to my neighbors.

  I started making dog biscuits for Odie years ago. I have a file full of pet-friendly recipes and created a few of my own. If there was a reality show where people had to create treats for their dogs on special occasions, I would sign up.

  People stopped us when we set foot in the parking lot. News spread ahead of us till somebody came out of nearly every house to say hello. The half mile to the town park took twice as long as usual, but I didn’t mind. Once I walked through the iron fence, I let Marshfield off the leash. Later I would take him for a nice walk along the beach. For right now, we’d be satisfied with open air and space to run.

  “It’s good to see Marshfield about again.” For the second time that day, I’d run into Leah Packer. This time she was with her spaniel.

  The dogs greeted each other in the usual fashion

  Leah seemed more relaxed than when I’d seen her at the store. “Have you received good news about the dog food investigation?” I blurted the question without thinking.

  A startled look passed across her face. “Not exactly. The police have indicated we should be able to restart production in time for the summer season.”

  Ah. That was highly suggestive. “Do you have any idea who they suspect?”

  She looked at me sideways. “I didn’t take you for a gossip.”

  “I’m not.” I sat back, ind
ignant, and fiddled with Marshfield’s leash. “But I can’t shake the feeling that the pet food contamination and Sir Geoffrey’s murder are connected somehow.” I wished I’d taken the time to look at the computer files Daisy had given me before having this conversation.

  “Of course.” Leah spoke under her breath. She put a hand to her face. “Is it too awful for me to say I hope they are connected somehow? I hope we don’t have both a poisoner and a murderer in our midst. I hope they’re one and the same.”

  The temperature in the air dropped about ten degrees with that statement, and I missed my sweater.

  “We’ve bought from the same locals for years. Whitaker, Black, Cabot.” She shook her head. “I hate to think one of our locals sold us bad food.” Her face creased into a frown.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I just remembered the last time I saw Sir Geoffrey.” Her voice had raised in timbre. “It was at the grocery store. I was stocking the shelves.” She looked me, fear in her eyes. “Sir Geoffrey and Roland were having an argument.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Do you remember what they were saying?”

  Tears shone in her eyes. “I heard quite a bit. They couldn’t see me from where they were standing.”

  I waited, hoping she could tell me more.

  “Sir Geoffrey said—I’m sure of it—’Stop doing what you’re doing, or I’ll have to go to the police.’” Her eyes held fright. “I should probably tell them what I heard.”

  She must know that Roland had discovered the body along with the Guilfoyle family and me.

  “It’s probably nothing,” I assured her. “The last time I saw Roland and Sir Geoffrey, they were on good terms.” But then I thought about the flash drive at my house. I needed to look at it as soon as possible.

  Marshfield trotted over in search of a snack. I offered one to Leah’s dog as well.

  When he scarfed it up, Leah asked, “Would you be interested in selling those wholesale? Perhaps it’s time we added new products to our line.” Her smile started to slip. “If we’re still in business, that is.”

  The invitation pleased me. Timidity had kept me from asking before. “I would be honored. Let me know how you wish to proceed, okay?”

  We said goodbye. I put Marshfield back on the leash and headed away from the center of town to avoid running into people. I was tired, my mind preoccupied by what I had learned from Leah.

  Once we were back at the apartment, Marshfield headed straight for his rug, curled up, and fell asleep. If I was smart, I would do the same thing. But I was determined to at least look at what was on the flash drive from Sir Geoffrey. I plugged the drive into the slot on my computer.

  When I tried to open the file, my computer asked for a password. Aggravating. Daisy must have encountered the same problem. Or maybe not. Maybe Sir Geoffrey had it set up to retain the password in the memory of his computer.

  I didn’t want to call her about it. Instead, I lay down for an hour. Maybe I would have a solution when I awoke.

  The password eluded me that day, and I went to bed without finding the key. I decided that the next day I would ask for Georgina’s help.

  Frantic knocking at my door woke me early the next morning. The sun was already shining, and I had overslept. I stumbled out of bed as Georgina walked in, talking a mile a minute. “Mr. Tuttle called. He said you haven’t answered your phone, and he wanted to warn you that the police are on their way. He said to refuse to speak to them until he arrives. Oh Gran!”

  I hugged her, because that was what I always did, but inside I trembled.

  Georgina took a long look at me. “Get dressed while I go get you something to eat. I don’t want you facing them on an empty stomach. You can eat a proper breakfast later.”

  I couldn’t argue with her. She brought back a pineapple muffin, one of my favorites. I added a bit of heart-healthy butter and a teaspoon of orange marmalade and ate it while drinking coffee. I told myself God was still in control and Paul Tuttle was a fine lawyer.

  I debated about getting Georgina involved. I wanted to protect my granddaughter. What grandmother wouldn’t? But the truth was I needed her. “I don’t have much time. But I could use your help.”

  “Anything.” That was my girl, jumping in ahead of danger.

  “There’s a flash drive in my computer. It may have information relevant to Sir Geoffrey’s murder, but I can’t figure out a way in. Please play with it while I’m gone—see what you can do.”

  Without another word, she walked over to the computer, reached for the drive, and tucked it into her pocket seconds before the police knocked at the door.

  The detective, Tom, stood on the small landing with Enos in his shadow. My phone beeped as I let them in. Relief rushed through me at the signal from my lawyer. The appearance of both officers together worried me, and the hour of the day was unsettling.

  Perhaps they had worked the night through. They both looked ragged.

  “Good morning.” I spoke through the screen door without opening it.

  “May we come in?” Tom pulled at the door, taking my acceptance for granted.

  I lingered on the hook while I debated what to do next. “You can come in, but I won’t answer any questions until my lawyer gets here.”

  Enos entered first with an apologetic smile. Marshfield ambled toward him and received a loving pat. Perhaps he remembered the officer’s kindness on the day of Sir Geoffrey’s death.

  “I heard you inherited the dog,” Tom said.

  My mouth opened, but I caught myself before I answered the question. “Let me feed him. He must be hungry.” I busied myself with adding fresh water to one bowl and pouring my second-favorite brand of doggie kibble in the other, since Sealife wasn’t available.

  I wondered how long the police would wait patiently. As I put away the food, Tom asked, “Is your lawyer on his way?” He looked at me pointedly. “We can always continue this discussion at the station.”

  Paul knocked on the door before I had to answer. I smiled in apology at the two officers, opened the door, and went outside. “They’re threatening to take me to the station.”

  I got the words out before Enos opened the door. He looked at me then at his father-in-law.

  “Nonsense.” Paul gently pushed Enos back inside and closed the screen door after him, leaving us on the landing. “Ms. Holland wants a moment’s privacy with her lawyer. That is her right.”

  “If she feels the need for an attorney—” Enos paused. “Of course that’s her right.”

  The fresh pot of coffee I had started finished brewing. Pouring everyone a cup gave me another two minutes of reprieve. I handed out the mugs, placed a plate of muffins on the table, and sat down next to Paul, across from the police.

  “Now I’m ready to talk.”

  Paul began shaking his head.

  “At the discretion of my attorney.”

  His lips lifted at one corner.

  “You watch too many cop shows,” Tom drawled. “We just have a few questions.”

  Enos began the questioning. “Tell us about the dog.”

  Paul gave a small nod.

  “Yes, he’s mine.” I knew better than to offer more information. Let them ask the questions.

  “We can see that, Ms. Holland,” Enos said quietly. “Please tell us, step-by-step, how he became yours.”

  Hmm, was this a variation of the good cop, bad cop routine?

  “It’s very simple,” Paul said. “She inherited the dog under the terms of Sir Geoffrey’s will.”

  A barebones answer. Silently I thanked him for the guidance.

  “When were you made aware of your inheritance?” Tom took up the line of questioning.

  “Last Friday.”

  “And yet you agreed to take care of the dog before you spoke with your lawyer.”

  I wasn’t sure where he got that information, and I fought to suppress a squirm.

  “Why did you take home a dog you called”—Tom glanced at
his notebook—“‘a danger to himself and the tea shoppe’?”

  “All Marshfield needs is a firm hand to teach him what’s acceptable behavior. I’d have a hard time turning away an injured fox, let alone this sweet fellow.”

  The dog bounded to my side at the mention of his name, and I petted his head and slipped him a treat.

  “Was it your belief that Sir Geoffrey was an inadequate pet owner?”

  “He loved Marshfield. But he didn’t teach the dog the difference between home and public behavior, and that was a problem for me.” I realized my voice had become louder.

  Tom smiled, and Paul shook his head.

  I had put my foot in my mouth in spite of my best intentions.

  CHAPTER 8

  I brought the volume under control and kept my mouth shut after that thoughtless remark, restricting myself to sentences of two or three words when “Yes” or “No” wouldn’t suffice by itself.

  After an hour, Paul spoke up. “Gentlemen, you have bothered my client long enough. Go about your business of finding the person who left Marshfield without a master and Mrs. Holland without a friend.”

  I could read the look in Tom’s eyes. He thought he’d found that person. But he satisfied himself with saying, “Please don’t leave town for the time being.”

  I didn’t have any plans to travel, but the familiar warning stirred up a desire to take a sudden trip to Boston. Or Perhaps Prince Edward Island, if I could get away after the tourist season started around Memorial Day. I might just plan a trip as a way of saying, “So there.”

  Marshfield was squirming, so I put him on his leash and took him out the door with Paul. After the dog relieved himself at the nearest tree, Paul said, “Do you mind taking a ride out to my house? We can walk along the shore without fear of seeing anyone, and Marshfield can have a good run.”

  Marshfield agreed to join us in the car when I bribed him with a treat, and we headed for Tuttle’s Point. Paul lives in one of the more remote spots in Sea Side. He says he likes to escape his clients from time to time.