by Leona Fox
“And yet you’re offended by me insinuating you could be a murder. How is that different?” He asked.
“Being a murderer is illegal, being a slut is not.”
Lucy was in front of the bakery now, and Sadie could tell she was trying to eavesdrop. Which made her wonder if Betty was sitting on the floor inside the window trying to hear what they were saying. Sadie dragged her thoughts back to Oxford’s questions.
“I believe taking another person’s life is reprehensible and immoral. It also is punishable by death. Two people having consensual sex is nobody’s business but their own. It’s only immoral if there is a lie involved. And it’s not punishable by anything.”
“And does Chief Woodstone know you are not a slut?”
“As Chief Woodstone seems to like hanging around me, I assume either he doesn’t care if I am or he knows that I’m not. The topic has never come up. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I did,” Oxford said.
He had a look of discomfort on his face, and Sadie wondered if he was the type of man who liked to control women’s sexuality.
“I’m curious,” she said, “What did he say?”
“He didn’t answer the question.” Oxford shuffled through his papers for a moment.
“How long have you known George Jackson?” He asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, fifteen or twenty years? He moved in with Leda. She used to own the shop. Then they got married and when did they divorced he got the shop in the settlement. That never seemed right to me.”
“And when did he start casting aspersions on your character?” Oxford asked.
“He’s never been overly friendly. He always seemed a bit judgmental to me. It made me wonder what she saw in him,” she said.
“Judgmental in what way?”
Oxford was busily taking notes now, so Sadie assumed they were getting into uncharted territory.
“I don’t know. He was a bigot, he’d make comments about anyone he thought might be homosexual or mixed race. He never had any problem telling me if he didn’t approve of what I was doing. Like I cared what he thought,” she said.
Lucy had inched nearer and was clearly listening now.
“And did he recently become more vocal in his disapproval?” Oxford asked.
“Yes,” Sadie said. “In the past year or so he’d begun coming out of his shop and yelling at me.”
“What kinds of things did he say?” he asked.
“Oh, sometimes he would say I was attracting the wrong people, or he would tell me I needed to get rid of a specific item. Sometimes he would attack Mr. Bradshaw’s character.”
“Who’s Mr. Bradshaw?” Oxford asked.
“My dog,” Sadie said.
Oxford scribbled on his pad. “Anything else?””
“He blamed the first two murders on me. He was quite vocal about it.”
“He said you committed them?” He looked up at her sharply.
“No. He said that they wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t bring the objects that were used as murder weapons back from the devil-controlled foreign lands with me.” Oxford looked disappointed.
“Finally,” he said, “I’d like a list of people who you associate with and their contact information. Your shop assistant, any friends, clubs or associations you belong to.”
He flipped the legal pad to a blank page and pushed it over to me with his pen.
Chapter Three
Just when Sadie thought she was going to have to either rat out her friends or go to jail, Lucy swooped in.
“Sadie Barnett!” she gushed as she flung her arm around Sadie’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I didn’t know you were back from Spain. You must show me what you bought there.”
Lucy turned to Oxford. “You don’t mind, do you? Only I really must see what Sadie brought back from Spain. She always buys the most interesting items.”
She pulled Sadie from her chair, not giving Oxford a chance to object.
“I’ll be right back,” Sadie called as Lucy dragged her in the door.
They went to the back of the shop where they could see Ludlow through the window, but he most likely could not see them. Then they waited to see how long it would take for him to leave. It only took five minutes for him to stand and peer into the window, then he picked up his blank notepad and left.
They let out a sigh of relief and Betty crawled out from under the display table next to the window.
“I thought he’d never leave,” she said, standing up to brush off her clothes.
“My butt is much too big to be shoved under a table like that.” She patted her hip fondly.
“I like my curves, but every once in a while it would be handy to have a boyish figure instead.”
“Tell me about it,” Sadie said. “Like in any bathroom stall in America.”
“Chief Woodstone would be very disappointed if you developed a boyish figure,” Lucy said. “He likes his women round.”
“Easy for you to say,” Sadie said. “You have the closest thing to a boyish figure of any of us. I bet you never get stuck in bathroom stalls.”
“I do on airplanes,” Lucy said.
“Everyone gets stuck in airplane bathrooms,” Betty said. “They’re built for aliens.”
Mr. Bradshaw barked and Sadie went to let him out of the office.
“Sorry Mr. B,” she said. “But that was not a man you want to mess with. He could get us both in a lot of trouble.”
Mr. B ran to the door and sniffed along the bottom, growling softly. He put his front paws on the glass door and looked out. Then he looked back at Sadie and made a gesture with his head that clearly said “let’s got out.”
“Okay, buddy,” Sadie said. “I’ll be right back ladies.”
Sadie spent thirty minutes in the park with Mr. Bradshaw, where he had a good run and chased some geese into the water. She scolded him for chasing the geese, but as they each weighed three times as much as he did she couldn’t get too upset.
On the way back across the street Sadie noticed a tall woman standing on the sidewalk outside the bookstore. As she got closer it became clear the woman was crying. Sadie hesitated outside her shop door. She was going to seem like a nosy parker, but she just couldn’t leave a woman crying out there all alone.
“Can I help you?” she asked, and as the woman turned she realized who it was.
“Leda!” She threw her arms around the woman and was immediately reminded how tall she was.
“I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing here? Is it George’s death?”
“No,” Leda sniffed and wiped her hand across her eyes.
“Whoever killed that bastard did me a favor. It’s my shop.” She gestured toward the door of the bookstore.
“The police won’t let me in, and he’s ruined it. It was a wonderful funky store with great books and fun books and awful books. He’s turned it into a literary nightmare. A snob’s bookstore.”
“I don’t understand. It’s your bookstore? Were you still married?” Sadie asked.
“Oh god no. But part of the divorce settlement was that if he died before me, ownership reverted to me,” Leda said.
“That’s a unique arrangement,” Sadie said.
“It was a terrible arrangement,” Leda said. “But I wanted out of that marriage and I would have chewed my own arm off to make it happen.”
“So you gave him your bookstore for your freedom,” Sadie said.
“I did. And now I get it back. Although I think I’m going to have to burn half of everything in there.” Leda looked as though she’d discovered dog poop at her feet.
“When they let me in.” Tears started leaking from her eyes again.
“Why don’t you come into my shop? I’ll go next store and get coffee.” Sadie led Leda into Timeless Treasures by her hand.
“Betty, Lucy,” she called, “This is Leda... Is it still Jackson?”
“Yes, I never bothered to change it,” Leda said. She shoo
k hands with Lucy, but Betty left to fetch a box of tissues.
“Here you go, sweetie.” Betty held the box of tissues out to Leda. “Have a good blow.”
Sadie left Lucy and Betty to take care of Leda and went next door for coffee. She was back in ten minutes with four coffees and a bag of cookies fresh from the oven. They sat at the table in the back of the shop, and Sadie put the cookies on a plate from one of the shelves after wiping the dust off with her sleeve.
“Sadie!” Betty said. “That’s not hygienic.”
“Oh Please!” Sadie said. “A little dust won’t hurt you.”
“A little dirt is good for your immune system,” Lucy said.
“It’s not like it was dirty,” Sadie said. “Not dirty, dirty. Betty dusts in here almost every day.”
Leda picked up a cookie and bit into it. “Mmm,” she said mouth full. “Still warm. You could dust them with dirt and I wouldn’t care.”
Sadie made an I-told-you-so face at Betty. Betty stuck out her tongue and Leda laughed.
“I’d forgotten how much fun you can be, Sadie,” Leda said. “I’m happy to be coming back.”
“Good,” Sadie said. “Are you going to live over the shop again?” Leda shook her head and finished chewing her cookie.
“Not until I get the smell of him out of there,” she said.
“I think I’m going to have to pull everything out of there, repaint, redo the floors and then start fresh. I don’t want to be reminded of how hard living with him was.”
“You aren’t thinking of doing the work yourself, are you?” Betty asked.
“Oh God, no. I’m going to hire someone to gut the place, and when that’s done I’ll go in and decide what needs to happen. I’m considering not even looking in there until it’s done.”
“You should have someone else go through it, then,” Lucy said. “Just in case there is something valuable up there.”
“That’s an idea,” Leda said. “Do you want to do it?”
“I do,” Sadie said. “I’ve been dying to see what’s been going on up there. I hear the strangest things.”
“I’ll go with you,” Betty said. “I want to see too.”
“Oh, hell,” Lucy said. “If you two are going I’d better come along to keep you out of trouble.”
Leda looked pensive.
“You don’t have to have us look if you don’t want to,” Sadie said. “It’s your place do what you want. We won’t be offended.”
“It’s not that. You made it sound like fun.” She bit her lip. “Now I’m wondering if I could come too.”
“Like Sadie said,” Lucy chimed in. “It’s your place, do what makes you happy.”
“It’s not like I have to make a decision right away.” Leda said. “God knows when the investigation is going to be over.”
“How did you find out about it?” Lucy asked. “He’s only been dead a day or two, hasn’t he?”
“I’ve got a friend here in town,” Leda said. “She called me when she found out. I’ve been waiting twelve years for this day.”
Lucy caught Sadie’s eye across the table.
“Well,” Leda stood up and pushed in her chair. “I’d better get going. I need to find a place to live. The Sundowner Motel is too depressing for words.”
Sadie walked Leda to the door, and when she came back Lucy had her eyebrows raised.
“So, did she kill him?” Lucy asked.
“I wouldn’t blame her if she had,” Sadie said. “George was horrible to her.”
“Maybe if you told that Ludlow guy about her he’d get off your back,” Betty said.
“I’m not throwing her under the bus,” Sadie said. “I can handle Oxford Ludlow. I’ll see if I can find out from Zack if they know she’s in town. She talked like they did.”
“But you never know,” Betty said. “It could be a smokescreen.”
“That’s why I’m going to ask Zack.” Sadie smiled at Betty. “If he hasn’t heard she’s in town then we can worry about Leda.”
“What will you do?” Lucy asked. “If he hasn’t heard she’s in town, I mean.”
“I have no idea,” Sadie said. “I don’t think she could have killed him by herself. I mean if I couldn’t do it then she couldn’t. She’s probably stronger, and she’s taller, but you’d have to have some serious upper body strength to hang somebody like that.”
The three women shivered.
That evening, Sadie was just back from taking Mr. B for his evening constitutional in the park when he started barking at the door that led down to the shop. She opened the door and Mr. Bradshaw went flying down the stairs, his ears forward. Sadie followed him down at a much slower speed. Clearly there was someone at the door downstairs, but that was no reason to break her neck getting there.
Justin Ives, a young professor from Seagrove Community College was standing on the sidewalk outside her door. She turned the bolt and let him in. He was shaking as he stepped through the door, and Sadie thought he might fall over.
“Professor Ives,” she used his formal name in hopes it would steady him. “What is wrong?”
“They are going to arrest me for murdering George Jackson,” he said. “And I swear I’m innocent. We had a disagreement. That’s all. I didn’t kill him, I didn’t.”
“Come sit down,” Sadie said and led him back to the table.
He perched on the edge his chair as though he might take flight at any minute. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy.
“Start from the beginning,” Sadie said. “What did you argue with George about?”
“I bought some books from him,” Justin said.
“And I paid for them then and there. But George kept saying that I hadn’t paid. I showed him the receipt, but he claimed those weren’t the books he was talking about. He was calling me every day, badgering me to pay for books I never bought from him. I finally went to Chief Woodstone to see if he could get Mr. Jackson to stop hounding me.”
“And could he?” Sadie asked.
She had a high opinion of Zack Woodstone, but George Jackson had gotten pretty bad.
“Sort of. He told Jackson that he could be arrested for harassing me and he stopped calling. But I’d see him around. Watching me. It was creepy.” Justin shook.
“And what happened today, why are you shaking like that?” Sadie asked.
“This guy, Oxford Ludder or something, he came to the college to question me. From the state department of lawyers.”
“Oxford Ludlow, the State Attorney. I’ve met him,” Sadie said.
She understood why Justin was shaking. It took a strong person to face Oxford and not give in to his intimidation.
“I swear he thinks I did it,” Justin said. “He went on and on how I had the opportunity. How George pushed me to the brink and I snapped. What will happen to my mother if he sends me to jail?”
“He did the same thing to me,” Sadie said.
“I was convinced he thought I did it. But think, Justin, if he had any solid evidence he would have arrested you. He’s pushing you to see if you’ll break and confess. But you didn’t do it, so you won’t confess. Do you hear me? Don’t confess just to stop him berating you. If you did not kill George Jackson then you are innocent. No matter what Oxford says.”
“He almost had me believing it,” Justin said. “I was wondering how I could murder someone and not know I’d done it.” He took a deep breath.
“You need to develop some confidence. You let people push you around.” Sadie pushed the plate of cookies in front of him and he picked one up.
“I know,” he said taking a bite of cookie and the talking threw the crumbs. “But this guy, he could make a vegetarian crave beef. I swear he could.”
“I’m sure he could,” Sadie agreed. “However, the next time he asks you if you murdered George, what are you going to say?”
“I didn’t murder George?” Justin looked confused.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Sadie
said. “Say it again.”
“I didn’t murder George.” He was marginally better this time.
“Again, this time with conviction.” Sadie wondered if this is what it felt like to be an instructor at boot camp.
Justin stood up and slammed his fist down on the table. “I did not murder George Jackson,” he yelled.