by Leona Fox
Coffee, Pastry & Murder
A Seagrove Mystery Series
Book 4
Leona Fox
Copyright © 2015 Leona Fox
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher
Chapter One
Sadie Barnett stepped out of the bakery where she had her regular morning coffee and pastry. It was a hot September morning, which offended Sadie. September should be cool. She thought maybe she should switch to an ice frappe. It really was too hot to be drinking coffee, and an iced frappe would be just as tasty with her morning scone. She was just stepping in to her store when the crowd on the sidewalk one door down caught her eye.
She was momentarily appalled with herself for being so engrossed with coffee that she hadn’t noticed what was going on around her, but she forgave herself immediately and went to see what was going on. Her dog, Mr. Bradshaw, trotted along behind her heels. He gave a little inquisitive growl as though he was asking her what was going on.
“I don’t know, Mr. Bradshaw,” she replied.
“But it’s not normal for there to be a crowd of people on the sidewalk so early in the morning.” She thought a moment.
“In fact it’s not normal for there ever to be a crowd on the sidewalk. We are going to see what the commotion is.”
Sadie was short, and there was no way she was going to be able to see through the crowd of people. So she began elbowing her way into the gaps. Mr. Bradshaw, however, wound his way through the forest of legs and was waiting for her when she arrived at the front of the pack, huffing from the exertion.
Sadie couldn’t immediately see what was going on in the book store. The sun reflected off the windows and it was dim inside, so she pressed herself up against the glass and used her hands to block the light. She immediately wished she hadn’t, because what she saw was her neighbor, George Jackson, hanging from his book ladder, dead as a doorknob.
She immediately pulled out her cellphone and called Police Chief Zack Woodstone.
“Are you sure he’s dead, Sadie?” the chief asked.
“He’s hanging from his neck, Zack, I don’t think he could be alive,” she said.
“Okay. Don’t let anybody go in. We’ll be right there.”
Sadie turned her back on the store and stood in front of the door. “Chief Woodstone is on his way,” she told the crowd.
Mr. Bradshaw sat in front of her, practically on her feet, and when anyone got too close he growled softly in warning. It wasn’t long before the sirens approached, and a moment after that she could see the flashing lights behind the crowd. Then the sirens shut off and car doors slammed, and then finally the crowd parted to let the police through. Chief Woodstone had four officers with him and Sadie wondered what they were all for. There was only one dead man after all.
“Weston, Jones, stay out here and question the crowd. Jones and Arnold, you are with me. Barnett,” Sadie jumped.
“Please go keep an eye on your shop.” We wouldn’t want anyone absconding with a potential murder weapon.” He turned and winked at her.
Sadie knew what he was saying. This next part was going to be grisly and she didn’t need to see it. She and Mr. Bradshaw slid through the thinning crowd. People had started to disperse when they heard the word “question,” and made her way back to her shop. She felt kind of strange, knowing there was a man hanging in the next shop, so she locked the shop and went upstairs to watch the commotion from the balcony.
The crowd grew and dwindled as people drifted by to see the commotion and were turned away by the officers outside the bookstore. There was a lot of milling about and snatches of speculations reached her on her perch above the street. The coroner’s van came, and Sadie looked away until she heard the doors slam. The Memory of George swinging in his shop was enough to deal with.
She saw the chief come out of the bookstore and speak quietly to the officers on guard. Then he looked quickly up at her balcony and nodded when he saw her there. He disappeared into her doorway, and a moment later she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He reappeared at the French door and beckoned her inside.
“I’d rather we not talk where we could be overheard,” he said as they settled themselves on the couch.
Mr. Bradshaw settled himself in the space between them, and the Chief absentmindedly scratched the top of Mr. B’s tiny head. The chief looked grim.
“Suicide?” she asked.
“Definitely not,” the chief said.
Sadie was surprised. She’d assumed because he’d been hanging that he’d killed himself. But this must be murder. A little shiver of fear traveled up her spine. This was the fourth in as many months, in a town that hadn’t seen a murder in the ten years prior. What was happening to their safe little town?
“Tell me what you know about George Jackson,” the chief said.
“Was he a good neighbor?”
“No.” Sadie said.
“He was horrible. I don’t know how he was with the others, but he was awful to me and Norman Steel.”
“In what way was he awful?” The chief had his notebook out and his pen poised.
“When Roger was killed George blamed me. He said the garbage I sold in my shop attracted the wrong kind of people. And that was before we knew what killed Roger. Then he scratched some offensive words on my front window. The judge made him pay to replace the windows.”
She frowned. Somehow that punishment didn’t seem like enough considering the words he’d used to describe her.
“You mentioned Norman Steel,” the chief prompted her.
“Norman owns the stationary and nick knack store on the other side of the bookstore. George was spreading rumors that he was a pervert and costing him business. People believed him and started going to the big chain in Hyattsville instead.”
“Now there's a motive for murder. I want you to stay out of this one, Sadie. This one is too close to home.” He gave her a stern look to drive the point home.
“Okay,” she said.
“I’ll stay out of it. But you don’t seriously see me as a suspect, do you?”
“Of course I don’t see you as a suspect, but that doesn’t mean someone else won’t. I have to be transparent with all the evidence,” he said.
“Well, for one thing,” Sadie said, “I doubt I have the height or strength to hang George Jackson from his ladder.”
“You are preaching to the choir here, kiddo,” he said lightly.
“I have no doubts about this. But we can’t suppress the evidence or people will talk.”
"So Norman and I have a motive, but we can't be the only ones, can we? Anyone as unpleasant as George would surely have half the town hunting him down. Don't you think?"
"I don't know what to think, to tell you the truth, Sadie. The only thing I'm sure of is that you didn't do it. Beyond that we'll have to see what the investigation brings." He rubbed his face.
"I'm damned if I know what's gotten into this town. We've had more murders this year than in the past ten. What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know," Sadie said. "I noticed that too. I can't blame it all on outsiders, as much as I'd like to." She ran her hand over Mr. B to calm herself.
"Zack, what do I do when people come to tell me things?" she asked. "Should I tell them I can't talk about the case?"
"No, let them talk. As long as you don't go snooping I think it'll be okay. At least I hope so. I'd hate to miss the information that comes your way. You are the Seagrove clearinghouse." He rested his hand over hers. Mr. B squi
rmed around until he was tummy up. He wagged his tail and panted, hoping for a belly rub.
The chief was smiling at her, so she gave him her "what?" look.
"You called me Zack," he said. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me."
Sadie ignored the warm feeling in her chest. There was no point in both of them going soft. She slid her hand out from under Zack's and rubbed Mr. B's exposed chest with two fingers.
"I'm glad you are happy," she said slowly, "don't get me wrong. Just please don't be disappointed if chief slips out once in a while, okay?"
He laughed. "Nope," he said. "I won't be disappointed. I like it when you mix things up."
He stood up. "Now I've got to get out of here." He dropped a kiss on her head and headed down the stairs. He was uncommonly light on his feet for such a large man.
Sadie managed to get through the rest of the day without asking anyone anything about George's murder. She worked on her plan for Italy, took Mr. B for two long walks, and talked to her best friend Lucy on the phone. Granted, they talked about the murder, but it wasn't as if Lucy didn't already know about it. The news was all over town.
She went to bed, happy in the knowledge that she hadn't done anything to upset Zack and that she almost never thought of him as the chief anymore.
She woke up with her heart racing and the sound of banging on the shop door. She shot a quick look at the clock to see that it was eight o'clock in the morning, two hours before opening time. She threw on a robe and stepped out onto the balcony. The banging started again, which pissed her off. Severely.
"Oy," She called down to whoever was trying to put a dent in her door.
"You're going to break the glass."
The pounding went on.
"Oy!" She yelled louder. "Do you want to have to pay for that door?"
The pounding stopped and a tall thin man with a pointy beard stepped into view and looked up.
"Sadie Barnett?" he asked.
"You were expecting someone else?" She was too wound up to be polite. And besides, he sure wasn't being polite.
"And you are?" she asked.
"How do people get hold of you in an emergency?" he asked. "Why don't you have a bell?"
"I have a bell."
This was technically a true statement, except that it was on the inside of the door and only rang when it opened.
"People who come by when the shop is not open call my cell. The number is on the door, right under where you were slamming your fist."
She was fairly sure about this because she'd place the number there to discourage pounding. There was a line of text under it that said "Twenty-four Hour Access Number.” It was not her problem if he couldn't read.
"Oh," he said. "I see that now. May I come up? I need to talk to you." He sounded sheepish now.
"And you are?" she asked again.
"Oxford Ludlow, States Attorney's office."
"Go into the coffee shop next door, order something to drink and sit down at a table. I'll be there in a moment," she said and walked back inside.
She took her time dressing. She saw no reason to rush for a man who couldn't be bothered to read the door he was pounding on. She grabbed Mr. Bradshaw's leash and then thought the better of it. He'd never, ever, bitten anyone, but with her luck he'd take a disliking to the State's Attorney and bite him. They'd both end up in jail. She left Mr. B in his doggy bed with a chew.
Oxford Ludlow was standing at the window with a cup in his hand when Sadie made her entrance into the bakery. She ignored him and went to order her coffee and pastry before sitting down at a table. When he finally turned around he looked surprised to see her, although he must have seen her come through the door.
"I'd much prefer if we could talk in private," he said, his upper lip twitching as he looked around the bakery.
"Why don't we go back to your shop?"
"I'm not comfortable being questioned in my shop," she said. "Sorry."
"You would be perfectly safe, I am the with State's Attorney office after all." He looked affronted.
"Because no one has ever been hurt, killed, or wrongly accused by an office of the law?” She saw the shock on his face and relented.
“I'm not worried about you," she said. "I have a dog."
Again with the lying by omission. He did not need to know that Mr. B was smaller than a good number of the cats in the world.
"The police station then," he said, and she could tell he thought she'd balk.
Liza brought Sadie her order and stood with her back to Oxford with her eyebrows raised. Sadie mouthed 'I'm fine,' and smiled. Liza raised one eyebrow in a way that said 'are you sure?' Sadie nodded.
"The station house would be fine." She stood and gathered up her coffee and pastry.
“Shall we walk?”
“Let me drive you,” he said.
“That way you won’t have to juggle your coffee while you walk.”
“I’d be more likely to spill it and stain your car. I prefer to walk, and it’s not far.” She headed to the door and stopped.
“But you can drive if you like. I’ll wait for you there.”
She was halfway down the block before he caught up.
“Wait up,” he said. “I’ll walk with you.” He fell into step beside her.
“Take a good look around,” Sadie said. “I’ll bet you don’t get into a little town like this very often.”
Oxford looked around. “No, I can’t say that I do. How do you keep from getting bored?”
“Murdering people.”
Sadie shot him a look that she hoped conveyed her lack of appreciation for his comment.
“Isn’t that what they do in the city as well?”
“I’m making the assumption that you aren’t telling the truth right now. You are already in enough trouble.” His mouth was a thin line.
Sadie shrugged and kept moving, sipping her coffee between nods of hello to her fellow shop keepers. She was connected in this town, and he’d better figure that out. Not that she was above the law, but she hadn’t killed anyone and she wouldn’t get railroaded into confessing. She sure as hell hoped that someone would stand up for her if he tried.
Then she remembered why the police station was such a good idea. Zack was there and he’d stand beside her, no matter what. She stopped marching and let a little jaunt back into her step. She couldn’t believe she’d let the State’s attorney worry her.
When they reached the station, Sadie marched up the stairs, through the doors and behind the public counter. She kept on going with Oxford on her heels until she reached Zack's office where she knocked out of politeness. He glanced up and a look of complete surprise crossed his face.
“Sadie, why are you knocking?” Then he seemed to notice Oxford standing behind her.
“Who’s this?”
“Good morning, Chief Woodstone,” she said.
“This is Oxford Ludow, State’s Attorney. May we borrow an interrogation room? He would like to question me.”
“Certainly, but can I ask what you are being questioned about?” he asked.
He was giving Oxford Ludlow the eye and Sadie grinned inwardly. Oxford Ludlow did not know what he had gotten himself into.
“The murder of George Jackson,” Oxford said. “You must know she’s a person of interest.”
“What I know is that George Jackson is my case. The state has no jurisdiction here.”
Zack was standing now, although Sadie hadn’t seen him move. One minute he was sitting, the next he was on his feet. Impressive.
“Technically, yes. But in this case we believe state oversight is necessary.” Oxford was practically gloating.
“Really, and I suppose that is because you think Sadie is a suspect and you’ve discovered that I am romantically involved with her. Is that correct?” Zack asked.
Oxford’s gloat disappeared. He obviously thought that Zack would deny it.
“Yes. That is correct. And it’s more than enough reason for oversight.
”
“Fine,” Zack said, sitting back down.
“If you want to come along after me and re-interview every person of interest, feel free. You’ll be wasting your time, not mine. But let me also remind you that you will not interview any female citizens of this town without an officer in the room. Let me call officer Weston for you.”
Sadie knew Weston, and if Oxford put one toe over the line she would have his hide. This was getting more and more interesting with every passing moment. Zack caught her eye and shook his head with a movement so small that she wasn’t sure she’d even seen it. She wiped the smirk off her face.