The Tea Shoppe Mysteries

by Darlene Franklin

  After several seconds of silence, I blurted out, “He didn’t kill himself.”

  “Who said he did?” Officer Rogen folded his hands on the tabletop. “What makes you sure it wasn’t suicide?”

  “The blood spatter, and he’s left-handed.”

  “You’re observant.”

  “I’m taking classes at the college.”

  “Let’s assume you’re right. Did Mr. Miller have any enemies?”

  I shrugged. “Not that I know of. Sue said he had a meeting planned with some clients, but I don’t know who they were.”

  “We’ll get that information from her.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “The receptionist said someone locked her in the storage room, and that you were the one to let her out. Were you the only one here?” He narrowed his eyes.

  I frowned. “Are you insinuating I locked her up so I could kill Roy?” Seriously? Did I look like I could murder someone? “What would be my motive?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything.”

  It appeared the questions had stopped, and the officer was just fishing for information. He couldn’t really consider me a suspect, could he?

  After several tense minutes, he stood and handed me a business card. “If you think of anything that will help our investigation, please call me. Don’t leave town, Miss Lawrence.”

  I left the conference room. Sue was no longer at her desk, and crime scene tape fluttered in front of the building. It was then that I realized I’d left Brad almost two hours ago.

  I darted back to the shop.

  Brad met me at the door. “What happened? I started to go looking for you when I saw the police cars. Are you all right?”

  “No.” Tears poured down my cheeks. “Roy Miller has been murdered.” I stepped into his open arms and sobbed.

  “Come on. You need some tea.” He patted my back, wiped my tears, and led me inside the shop. “Sit. I’ll explain to your boss what’s happened.”

  “Thank you.” I folded my arms on top of the books and rested my head on them. Sadness over Roy’s death couldn’t quite mask the thought that the authorities listed me as a suspect.

  “They always do,” Brad said when I told him of the officer questioning me. “You found him, after all.”

  I turned my teacup around and around in my hands. Since I was now off the clock, I should focus on the professor’s assignment. Instead, I couldn’t stop thinking about blood spatter. Roy had been facing the back wall when I entered the room. The spatter had been on the wall he faced. “Someone turned him around. They didn’t want his death to be noticed immediately when someone entered the room.”

  “Maybe he wanted time to get away.” Brad shook his head and shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Forget these books.” I set down my cup. “Let’s make solving Roy’s murder our assignment.”

  “No way.” He frowned. “That would be interfering with a police investigation, which is against the law.”

  “We’ll just ask some questions, clear my name, that sort of thing.” I grinned. “It’ll be justice for Roy, and our assignment won’t be like anyone else’s.” If we found Roy’s killer, the professor would have to stop looking at me as if I were an empty-headed Barbie doll. “At least think about it.”

  “I don’t need to. I say no.”

  “Time to close up,” Georgina called. “Can you still work in the morning, Ashley? I’ll understand if you can’t.”

  “I’ll be here.” Asking questions and investigating on my own.

  “You’re going to do this anyway, aren’t you?” Brad asked once we stepped outside.

  “Yes.” I peered up at him. “I have to.”

  “Why? You’re going to get into trouble, or worse, end up like Roy Miller. I’m sure you aren’t the only suspect. What about the receptionist?”

  “Locked up, remember?” I arched a brow. “I need to find out who he was going to meet with and go from there.”

  “The building will be off-limits for a while.”

  “I’ll contact Sue at home.”

  He crossed his arms. “Do you know where she lives?”

  “No, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find out.” I headed for my car. “Let’s meet back here tomorrow when you get off work.”

  “See you at six.”

  I could feel his gaze on my back, boring holes into me, as I climbed into the driver’s seat of my car. While I really wanted him to work with me on finding out who killed Roy, I’d do it by myself if I had to. It would be double work, solving a real case and studying one from the past, plus my other classes and work. I sighed, seeing a lot of late nights in my future.

  On my way home, I drove slowly past Miller Inc. My cell phone seemed to burn through my pocket. I’d wanted to show the photos to Brad, but since he didn’t want to get involved, I’d held back. Besides, I needed to upload them onto my computer and print them out.

  Half an hour later, I had several eight-and-a-half-by-eleven-inch photos spread across my kitchen table and a cup of coffee close at hand. Time to become detached again and find some clues. I pulled a notepad from my schoolbag and took notes: “Staged suicide. Chair turned to face the wall.”

  I tapped the pencil against my teeth. If Roy had a meeting scheduled, where were the people he was supposed to meet with? They should have arrived shortly after I did. I jotted down my question.

  Then I searched for Sue’s phone number online. No luck, but I did find her social media profile and left a private message there. Hopefully she wouldn’t all of a sudden become close-lipped about today’s events.

  My computer dinged almost instantly.

  THE POLICE SAID YOU MIGHT HAVE LOCKED ME UP AND KILLED ROY.

  ARE YOU SERIOUS? HE WAS MY FRIEND. WHO WAS HE MEETING WITH?

  WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU?

  BECAUSE I WANT TO FIND OUT WHO KILLED HIM.

  OH.

  I stared at the blinking cursor for a few minutes.

  HELLO?

  I HAD TO LOOK IT UP IN MY BOOK.

  YOU TOOK THE APPOINTMENT BOOK? Good girl.

  OF COURSE. IT’S MINE. WHY WOULD THE POLICE WANT SOMETHING BRIGHT PINK WITH YELLOW FLOWERS? ROY WAS SUPPOSED TO MEET WITH A MR. LARRY JENKINS AND A MR. JOE OLSON FROM SEA SIDE CONSTRUCTION.

  THANKS!

  I clicked off, hoping she didn’t get in trouble once the authorities realized she’d removed something that could be potential evidence from the office.

  Brad said he worked construction. I found his phone number in the pages of my textbook and called.

  “Hello?” From the grogginess in his voice, I could tell I’d awakened him.

  I glanced at the clock. Midnight already? “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “I’m awake now. What’s up?”

  “Are you familiar with Sea Side Construction?”

  “Yes, I work for them. I’m supervisor of the day crew. Why?”

  “Because Roy was supposed to meet with a Mr. Jenkins and a Mr. Olson this afternoon, but they never showed.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they left this afternoon for an out-of-town meeting.”

  “Maybe they forgot they had one scheduled with Roy?” Or they locked Sue in the closet and killed her boss before leaving town. My unspoken thought hung in the air. I wanted to ask Brad to ask some questions around work, but his reluctance to help me put me in an uncomfortable position. I also couldn’t very well go to Sea Side Construction and start asking random questions on my own. “Who are they?”

  “Co-owners.” He sighed. “You’ve been up half the night on this case, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. I took photos of the crime scene, and I’ve been studying them.”

  “You took photos before the police arrived?”

  “I couldn’t do it after they got there, now could I?”

  “You’re going to end up in jail, Ashley.”

  “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t
happen. I’m a suspect, Brad. You have no idea how that feels.” I coughed to hide the fact that tears were gathering in my throat.

  “Maybe they’ll rule it a suicide.”

  “But it’s clear it was murder. You should see the photos.” I swiped my arm across my eyes. “I need your help, Brad. I’ll bring them to the tea shoppe tomorrow.”

  “You can’t flash them around in public.” He sighed. “I’ll come by your place instead. What’s your address?”

  I told him then hung up. Once he saw these pictures, he wouldn’t be able not to help me. Not a good man like Brad Overson.

  I left my notes and the photos on the table and carried my mug to the sink. Romeo, my tuxedo cat, decided to complain about the late hour by meowing at the top of his lungs. I scooped him up and carried him to the bedroom. “Sorry, buddy, Mama’s been a little busy this evening.” I’d be busy for many more to come.

  I set the cat on the bed, changed into my pajamas, then climbed under a thin sheet. Summer evenings in Maine were still sometimes cool enough for a light covering. I lay in bed, the curtains at my window fluttering in a slight breeze, and closed my eyes, only to snap them open a few seconds later.

  Sleep wasn’t going to come easy with visions of Roy floating through my brain. The coffee hadn’t helped either. Lord, help me sleep. Oh, I should have asked You before racing ahead with this case. Sorry about that. Could You please save me from myself?

  I continued to pray for guidance, my gaze focused on the butterfly-shaped nightlight on my nightstand, until sleep overtook me.

  CHAPTER 3

  Brad showed up at my apartment at exactly 6:00 p.m. I opened the door and grinned. “Punctual.”

  “Always.” He returned my smile. “The professor wasn’t happy when you didn’t answer roll call.”

  I shrugged. “He’ll change his mind when I solve Roy’s murder.” I stepped aside to let him in. “Are you hungry? I made spaghetti.”

  “Starving.” He glanced around my small apartment. “You’re still determined to get involved?”

  “Yes. Take a look at the photos on the table while I serve dinner.” Fully convinced he’d change his mind about helping me, I pulled two plates from the cupboard and removed the garlic bread from the oven. “Clear a spot.”

  He moved the printed sheets to one side, and I set his plate in front of him. “Iced tea okay?”

  “Perfect.” He straightened in his chair. “Okay, you win. I’ll help you if only to keep you from getting yourself hurt. These photos convince me. You’ve a good eye when taking photographs at a crime scene.”

  Answer to last night’s prayer. “Thank you.” I sat down across from him. “First step … find out about your bosses’ trip.”

  He nodded. “I’ll have to think of a subtle way to bring up the subject. I can’t blurt out that they didn’t show up to their appointment with Miller. They’d wonder how I knew that.”

  “I’m going to question Sue some more.” I sprinkled a liberal amount of parmesan cheese over my pasta. You can never have too much cheese.

  “Be careful, please. I’m still not crazy about us getting involved.”

  I wanted to clap. “We’ll ace this assignment.”

  “If we don’t get ourselves killed or arrested.”

  “Are you always gonna be a Debbie Downer?” Solving the crime would be way more fun if he got a little excited.

  Brad tilted his head then laughed. “I promise to be more upbeat if you promise that if things get too dangerous, we back off.”

  “Agreed.” I thrust my hand across the table.

  After we ate and did the dishes, we bent over the photographs again. Brad studied one after the other more thoroughly than he had before we ate. “I agree Roy was murdered. I also agree someone turned his chair around. Remorse?”

  “Maybe. Guilt could have taken over, and they didn’t want his lifeless eyes watching them leave.” I shuddered.

  “Did you touch anything in his office?” Brad raised his eyebrows.

  “I don’t think so. It’s been months since I worked there, so I doubt my fingerprints would still be on anything.”

  “Let’s check the dumpster in back of the shop. Maybe we’ll get lucky with a stupid killer. Garbage pickup isn’t until tomorrow. The police probably already looked, but they might have missed something. Do you have gloves?”

  I went to my linen closet and pulled out some rubber gloves I used for washing dishes and general cleaning. I handed him a pair. “These should fit you.”

  “Of course you’d have flowered gloves.” He frowned. “These look like something housewives wore in the fifties.”

  “If a person is cleaning, they might as well look good doing it.” I grabbed the yellow ones with ducks on them from the kitchen sink. “Fashion never goes out of style.”

  Brad drove and then parked half a block from where crime scene tape still hung in front of Miller Inc. The dumpster behind the building sat free of tape, which I thought strange. The setting sun cast the area in creepy shadows, and I shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Brad asked.

  “No, just spooked. Why isn’t there tape back here like there is in front?”

  “Maybe they actually did rule it a suicide.” He clicked on a flashlight and handed me one.

  If the police weren’t going to treat Roy’s death as a homicide, then that was one more reason for us to investigate. There wasn’t a lot of crime in Sea Side, was there? At least not enough for them to rush an investigation.

  I pressed the button on my flashlight and moved slowly around the alley. Asphalt didn’t retain footprints. If there was a clue, it would have to jump out at me. “I don’t see anything.”

  “You’ll have to go diving.”

  “What?” My eyes widened. “Eew. Why don’t you get in the dumpster?”

  “Can you lift me?”

  “Well, no. Can’t you climb?”

  “Why would I, when I can give you a boost? You probably don’t weigh more than a hundred and fifteen pounds.” His eyes twinkled in the light of the rising moon. “Scared?”

  “No.” I stepped into his cupped hands. “Don’t throw me.”

  He didn’t, but rather hefted and then tossed. I landed on a soft black bag, my hand in something squishy. The smell was enough to make me gag. “Hand me my light.” I swallowed back nausea and breathed through my mouth.

  “There’s something dripping from your fingers.”

  “No doubt.” I wrapped my gooey hand around the flashlight and aimed it around the inside of the full dumpster. If I wanted to find anything worth finding, I’d have to start digging, and I needed to use both hands. “You’ll have to shine your light in, Brad.”

  I turned my light off and slid it into my pocket as Brad’s light illuminated the dumpster. Thank goodness I wore gloves, because digging was gross. I tore through bags of soggy food, a couple of soiled diapers, and two bags containing papers. Those I tossed out of the dumpster to dig through later. “A couple of those have sheets with Miller Inc. on them.”

  “I’ll set them aside.”

  “I’m ready to get out now.” I held up my hands.

  Brad gripped my hands and dragged me over the lip of the dumpster. I fell into his arms, breathless. Whether from the drag, or being pressed against him, I wasn’t quite sure. I stared through the gloom into his eyes. “Uh, thanks for not dropping me,” I whispered.

  He chuckled. “My pleasure. Although you do emit a certain unpleasant odor, you feel good.” His arms tightened around me.

  I slapped his shoulder. Way for a guy to spoil the mood. But I could smell myself, and it definitely wasn’t pleasant. I stepped away. “Do you want to take these bags back to my apartment or go through them here?”

  A car stopped at the end of the alley and turned off its lights, its engine idling.

  Brad grabbed a bag. “Apartment. We’re too easily seen out here.”

  I grabbed the other bag and followed him between two buildings back to hi
s car. The other vehicle pulled from the alley as we drove away. “Is that car following us?”

  “Easy way to find out.” Brad pulled into a drive-thru restaurant. “Want something to drink?”

  “Yes, as long as I don’t have to get out and have anyone see me smeared with who knows what. Diet Coke, please.” I plucked my sticky shirt away from my body and desperately craved a shower.

  The other car drove past. So much for paranoia.

  Drinks in hand, we returned to my apartment. I made a beeline for the shower while Brad sorted through the garbage bags for anything of interest. A few minutes later, wet hair hanging down my back, I joined him feeling refreshed and odor-free.

  “Find anything?” I pulled a stack of papers toward myself.

  “Not yet, but I’ve been focusing on looking for something about Sea Side Construction. Maybe you could focus on something else.” He lifted his drink to his mouth.

  My gaze landed on his lips. What would it have felt like if he’d kissed me back there in the alley? I was an idiot for even considering such a thing when I’d stunk to high heaven, but I was a dreamer after all.

  Brad stared at me. “What?”

  “Nothing.” My face heated, and I turned my attention to the printed papers in front of me. As I found names and mentions of meetings, I wrote them on the notepad next to me. By the time my eyes grew gritty, I had quite the list.

  I straightened and blinked away the tiredness. “Find anything?”

  “Not a thing. Is the receptionist sure my bosses had a meeting with hers?” Brad rubbed both hands down his face. “I’m done for the night. See you at class in the morning?”

  I nodded. “Is Professor Lyons going to want to know which case our assignment is based on?”

  “Most likely. Just pick something. We’ll tell him we changed it once this is over. I don’t think we should tell him what we’re really working on. The fewer people who know, the better.”

  Professor Lyons glanced down at the day’s assignment then back at me. “At least you were working while you were missing class. This case has been unsolved for twenty years. Do you really think you can solve it?”

  I shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. You didn’t say we actually had to solve the case, just give our input on what could have been done differently. With today’s achievements in forensic science and DNA—”