by Leona Fox
Weston appeared. “You wanted me Chief?”
“Please show Sadie and Mr. Ludlow to interview room one, and stay with them while he questions her, please,” Zack said, his face serious.
“Yes, sir,” Weston said.
Sadie went in and sat on the side of the table where she always sat when having lunch with Zack and his office was in use. Oxford looked put-out but sat on the other side of the table. Weston stood with her back to the door.
“I understand you found George Jackson,” Oxford said, pulling out a notebook, “Is that true?”
“No,” Sadie said.
She was still miffed at him for waking her up out of a sound sleep by pounding on her door, and she was not all that interested in cooperating.
“You didn’t find George?” he looked down at his notes, puzzled.
“No,” Sadie said.
“But you called his death into the police? Is that correct?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then who found him?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“You called it in but you don’t know who found him?” he asked.
“That is correct.”
She leaned back in her chair. He was going to have to work for this. She noticed that Weston had a smirk on her face.
“How is it that you came to call it in if you weren’t the one to discover the body?” He scowled at her.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Are you being deliberately obstructionist? Because I can have you thrown in jail, young lady.” He turned a kind of reddish purple that Sadie found interesting.
Weston cleared her throat and shook her head at him. “We don’t threaten witnesses in this precinct,” she said.
“I’m not threatening, it’s the truth,” he said.
“Ms. Barnett needs to understand the seriousness of the situation.”
“I understand the seriousness,” Sadie said.
“And I was perfectly willing to tell you the details at the bakery. But you tried to bully me into letting you into my shop. As far as I’m concerned you are a hostile examiner. If you had read that file you keep waving around you would have seen that I have neither the height nor strength to hang George from that ladder. And he was certainly stronger than me. I couldn’t have made him hang himself.” Well poop. She meant to keep her answers to three words.
“But you found him,” he started.
“I. Did. Not. Find. Him.” She looked at him like he was an idiot. Which, as far as she was concerned, he was.
“I walked out of the bakery where I have my first coffee of the day, and usually a pastry. I was nearly in my door when I noticed a group of people on the sidewalk outside George’s shop. I elbowed my way through the crowd, saw that he was dead and realized no one had called the police. So I did.”
“How did you know no one had called?” The sarcasm fairly dripped from him.
“Two reasons: One, because I asked, and two, because I couldn’t hear any sirens. If they had been called there would have been sirens.”
She was really starting think Oxford Ludlow was an idiot, but she also knew that was probably because he was one. She stood up. She needed to get out of this room before she totally lost her cool and did something he could arrest her for.
“If I’m not under arrest, I’d like to go now.”
Chapter Two
Weston stepped aside and opened the door for her. As Sadie stepped into the hallway, Zack stepped out of the room where you could watch interrogations behind a one-way mirror. He fell in beside her and took her hand.
“Come back to my office,” he said.
Sadie walked with him to his office and sat while he closed the door. He sat in his chair and put his feet up, but on the section of desk that wasn’t in front of Sadie.
“So what did this guy do that pissed you off?” he asked.
“What makes you think I was angry with him?” she rebutted.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it was the steam coming out of your ears,” he said.
“Oh, very well,” she said.
“I woke up this morning to pounding on my shop door. He didn’t even bother to read my sign. He upset Mr. Bradshaw, and he was rude to me. And that was before I even knew who he was.” She took a swig of her now cold coffee.
“So I met him at the bakery because I didn’t want him in my space, but he wouldn’t talk to me in the bakery. So we came down here, and on the way he insulted small town life. As far as I’m concerned, he’s rude and small minded, and he couldn’t even be bothered to familiarize himself with the facts of the case. He’d already made his mind up about me, and you by association. That makes him a total ass.”
“Wow, he really did get under your skin.” He raised his hands in surrender when he saw her expression.
“Not that he didn’t deserve what he got. Big city manners got in his way.” He dropped his feet to the floor and got up.
“Let me walk you home.”
He held out a hand to her. She took it and let him pull her to her feet.
“And you probably need a fresh coffee when we get there,” he said.
“Yes, I do. Most definitely,” she said.
After saying goodbye to Zack outside the bakery, Sadie went in to find Betty, her shop assistant, staring at several big boxes in the back room.
“These were just delivered,” Betty said, “are they from Spain?” Sadie glanced at the labels.
“Yes. This is the stuff Lucy and I bought in Spain last month. I was beginning to think it was never going to get here.” Sadie grabbed for the phone.
“Can we open them?” Betty asked.
Sadie waved the phone. “Let me see if Lucy can come over. I think she’d want to be here.”
Lucy did want to be there, so Betty and Sadie did busy work while they waited. Sadie noticed that Betty did more looking at the boxes than actual work, but she couldn’t blame her. A shipment was always exciting.
When Lucy finally showed up, poor Betty was almost vibrating with anticipation. The women started on the first carton. They spent some time exclaiming over the contents before Betty asked where Sadie had gone so early in the morning.
“The State’s attorney showed up on my doorstep, banging until he woke me and annoyed me beyond civility. I ended up being questioned at the Police Station. He thinks I killed George Jackson,” Sadie said.
“He can’t possibly,” Lucy said, putting a lovely vase on the shelf where it would live until it was priced.
“Oh, but he does,” Sadie said. “And he made it perfectly clear he doesn’t think Zack can do his job because I called in the dead body.”
Lucy and Betty exchanged a smirk.
“Stop it you two,” Sadie said. “His name is Zack, get used to it.”
“I thought you were only calling him Zack when you were out on a date,” Lucy said.
“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” Betty said.
“Things changed,” Sadie said.
“Deal with it.”
She slid a big oak half barrel from its wrappings and moved it to a clear spot on the floor.
“What’s that?” Betty asked.
“A barrel used to stomp grapes into wine,” Sadie said. “It’s mostly done by machine now. See, you can see the inside is stained purple from the grapes.”
“Their legs must have been purple too,” Betty said.
“They were,” Lucy said. “I’m sure some of those old women were dyed purple for life.”
“Look at these candlesticks.” Betty pulled a set of brightly colored cat shaped candlesticks from a smaller box. “These can’t be old.”
“No, those are by a contemporary artist I found in an old town marketplace. There were some great things there.” Sadie held up a small, delicately carved wooden box. “This came from there, too.”
Sadie was unpacking a pair of exquisitely woven cane-backed chairs when Zack came in.
“Oh, it’s all fun and
games here today,” he said.
“I swear this is the reason Sadie has this shop, so she can unwrap packages from all over the world.”
“You’d better believe it,” Sadie said. “If it wasn’t fun I wouldn’t do it.”
Betty and Lucy were exchanging glances again and Sadie pulled Zack into the front of the shop.
“The two of them can’t get over the fact that I’m calling you Zack,” Sadie said. “Expect giggles and rude remarks until they get over it.”
“I can handle it,” Zack said. “But I’ve got something to tell you. Oxford Ludlow has taken over my case. I’m off it until further notice.”
“Is that because of me?” Sadie asked. “Because I could tell them.”
“No, it’s not you. They are concerned about the increase in murders in this area of the state and are worried about corruption.”
“Corruption! How dare they?”
Sadie almost burst into tears. She was so angry she could have spit.
“The State’s Attorney’s office is clearly staffed by idiots. You would never.”
“Don’t worry about me, just be careful around Ludlow. He’s itching to arrest you. He didn’t like you showing him up in front of one of my officers this morning.”
“If he hadn’t been such an idiot I wouldn’t have needed to,” Sadie said. “But I get your point. I’ll behave myself.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I’ll try, anyway.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed his cheek with her lips. “He hasn’t taken over your office has he?”
“No. We set him up in interview room one. I still have plenty of other work to do. Let him wallow in the decision to take over this case. The locals may not cooperate with him the way they would with me.”
“They better not,” Sadie said. “Or they’ll answer to me.”
Zack smiled at that, which made Sadie feel a little better. She joined the other two in the back room where they were clearing up some of the packing paper.
“Why would a person kill George Jackson,” she asked. “I mean besides me and the curio shop owner. Who else?”
“Do you remember the woman who owned the bookstore before George?” Lucy asked.
“Vaguely, why?” Sadie said.
“George married her, and when they broke up he got the shop in the divorce settlement. Find the ex-wife and find the motive,” Lucy said.
“Why isn’t anyone looking for her?” Betty asked. “She seems like a person of interest to me. She definitely has more reason to kill him than you do, Sadie.”
“Except she’d have to be a pretty big woman to pull it off,” Sadie said.
“Or have a big accomplice,” Lucy said. “We can’t assume it was just one person.”
“With that line of reasoning, Sadie could be guilty,” Betty said.
“But we know Sadie isn’t guilty,” Lucy said, “so we should focus our efforts on finding who is.”
“Except Oxford Ludlow doesn’t know I’m innocent. So he could be looking for an accomplice for me.” Sadie looked at the two women. “One of you might do. If we worked together.”
“Don’t’ mention that to the State attorney guy,” Betty said. “You’ll have us all in jail.”
“We don’t put innocent people in jail in this town,” Sadie said. “Even with old Oxford in town.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Sadie, we could end up in the state pen if we’re not careful. You said yourself he wasn’t looking at the evidence.” Lucy ran her hands through her hair, making it stand up like a blond Mohawk.
“So here’s the deal,” Sadie said.
“Stay away from the State attorney, and keep your ears out for any news of who may have killed our George. We may need to prove our innocence eventually, but at least you two aren’t on his radar at this point. Let’s keep it that way.”
At that moment the bells above the shop door went off and Sadie went to see who was there. Oxford Ludlow was looking at a wooden statue of a jockey at the front of the shop. Sadie turned, put a finger to her lips and closed the door to the back room.
“Are you thinking of buying a statue, Mr. Ludlow?” Sadie asked, trying to ignore the urge to antagonize him. She had developed a loathing for the man.
He turned sharply and glared at her. “No, Ms. Barnett, I am not. I have a few more questions I would like to ask.”
“Let me call my assistant to mind the shop,” Sadie said, “And we can go back to the station.” She headed for the phone.
“Is that really necessary? It’s just a few questions.”
He almost snapped the words and Sadie wondered what his objection to the station house was. Of course it might just have been that he wanted to get her alone for the questioning.
“I have a table outside on the sidewalk. If you are willing to talk there I think I can answer your questions here.”
At that moment, Mr. Bradshaw came wandering sleepily out of the office. He looked at Mr. Ludlow for a couple of seconds and Sadie could have sworn he looked confused. Then he shook it off and bounded into action. He came at Oxford with his teeth bared and his hackles up, growling.
Sadie did the only thing she could and scooped up Mr. Bradshaw with one hand before he could do any damage to Oxford Ludlow. Mr. Bradshaw was appalled. He hated being picked up like that. He didn’t mind being picked up on occasion, when he had asked to be picked up, but being plucked from the floor was an effrontery. He gave Sadie an injured look.
“Sorry Mr. B, but this is not somebody you want to tangle with,” she said, and shot him in the office.
“Shall we go outside?” She gestured for Oxford to lead the way.
“That dog is going to get you into trouble someday,” he said once he had seated himself at the little metal table.
“He has excellent instincts,” Sadie said. “I wouldn’t want to be without him.”
“A dog with excellent instincts, that’s interesting,” he said. “Has he ever bitten anyone?”
“I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about my dog,” Sadie said. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Certainly. Let’s move on to my questions.” He pulled out the legal pad covered in angular writing.
“I understand that George Jackson did some damage to your shop recently, is that true?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“And what was the nature of the damage?” He asked.
“He painted on my windows,” she said.
“What exactly did he paint on your windows?” He asked.
“Surely Chief Woodstone would make the file available to you,” she said. “You could look at the pictures and read it for yourself.”
“I’ve seen the file,” he said, “I want to hear it in your words.”
“He accused me of selling items made for witchcraft, which I may well be,” she said.
“I don’t always know exactly what the item I’m purchasing was made for. I certainly don’t know what my customers are going to use them for. He painted a statement accusing me of attracting the wrong people to the neighborhood. He didn’t spell it out, but the impression I got was that he was a homophobe.”
“Anything else?” He asked.
“He used a Sharpie to write a note to the chief on my front door telling him he should stay away from me because I am a slut. Which is laughable really.”
“Why is that laughable?” He asked.
“Because the Chief is the first man I’ve dated in three years, and we haven’t slept together. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Sadie caught a glimpse of someone down the block that looked remarkably like Lucy. She was coming their way. She turned her focus back to Mr. Ludlow.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“Did you take offense at being called a slut?” he asked.
“I’ve been called far worse than that,” she said.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Do I find it offensive when men try t
o slut-shame women? Yes. I do. But am I offended at being called a slut? No, I am not. Slut is a word that is used to try and control women’s sexuality. It says much about the person using it, but nothing about me.”