A Flair for Truffles (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 4)

by Deborah Garner

  Sadie smiled. “An excellent suggestion,” she said. And a good segue out of here. She stood and thanked Luke for his time. He walked her out to the lobby where they parted ways, Luke returning to his office and Sadie preparing to meet Froggy. As expected, the detective was waiting for her across from the elevator when she stepped out.

  “So, what did you find out?” Frogert said, getting right to the point.

  “Nothing,” Sadie said. “Well, that’s not true. I believe I did learn something.”

  The detective’s expression brightened slightly, at least as much as his low-key personality allowed. “So,” he repeated, “what did you find out?”

  “There’s a good investment possibility in the East Bay.”

  “What else,” Frogert said impatiently, the bright expression gone.

  “That you’ve got the wrong person.” Sadie adjusted her tote bag on her shoulder. “Luke Manning isn’t your killer. And now I really must get back to the shop. Good day, Detective.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Amber was in the process of closing up Flair when Sadie returned from the meeting with Luke Manning. The front door was locked, and some of the track lighting had been turned off already, but she could see Amber at the register inside.

  Sadie used her key to open the door. Stepping inside, she heard the familiar sound of change dropping into the cash drawer. Knowing it never helped to be interrupted when counting money, she waved at Amber, who nodded in return while counting out loud in order to not lose track. Passing through the shop, Sadie continued to the back office.

  “Here you go,” she said as she took Coco out of her tote bag and placed her on the floor. Coco extended her front legs and pulled into a long stretch. She then reversed the motion to stretch her back legs. Sadie smiled, watching her. The dramatic stretches reminded her of some type of doggy yoga. She wouldn’t put it past Coco to devise something clever like that. Perhaps Coco could even lead an outdoor class at the local bark park.

  As Coco trotted out to greet Amber, Sadie turned her attention to a giant pink box on her desk. The Cioccolato logo flowed across the top in scrolled lettering. Peeking inside, she found a generous batch of truffles, along with a tiny note that simply said “no” with a smiley face. Sadie laughed. Matteo knew full well that she’d be tempted to sneak one for herself. She closed the box, saving them all for the food bank.

  Proud of her self-discipline, she walked to the front, where Amber was just finishing the register cash-out. The pink turtleneck still hung on the hold rack, a denim vest beside it. Sadie smiled, approving of the combination. The vest would tone down the pink of the turtleneck while still keeping a feminine touch to the outfit. It was a perfect combination for Amber’s lunch date with Dylan.

  “So, did you try one of the truffles in that box on your desk?” Amber asked. A sly smile accompanied the question.

  “Of course not,” Sadie said with mock indignation. “Those are for the food bank.”

  “Ah, okay then.” Amber reached under the counter and pulled several papers from a printer.

  “You look disappointed that I didn’t try one,” Sadie said. She handed Amber the stapler on the counter so she could consolidate and staple the sales reports together.

  Amber smiled. “Of course I’m not. I just owe Matteo ten bucks now.”

  “Seriously?” Sadie laughed. “You two bet on whether or not I’d swipe one? And you bet against me?”

  Coco, hearing the laughter, trotted over and yipped to join in. Sadie lifted her up on the counter and set her on her usual pillow.

  “It wasn’t a bet against you,” Amber protested. “It was simply a guess based on your usual… er, lack of willpower around chocolate.”

  “Well, I’m not offended,” Sadie said. “You know me well. I’m actually surprised Matteo bet that I wouldn’t try one, though he did put that note inside to tweak my guilt if I did.”

  Amber stood up after signing the daily sales report. “What note?”

  “Just a note that said ‘no’ with a funny little smiley face,” Sadie said.

  “That rat!” Amber exclaimed. “That’s cheating. That nullifies the bet.”

  Sadie nodded. “That sounds fair to me. He swayed the odds in his favor.”

  “Exactly.” Amber handed Sadie the printed reports, as well as a bag for the cash drop. “So what was this little errand that came up so suddenly after the detective left? You hurried out of here pretty quickly.”

  “I just hurried so I could get it over with and get back here,” Sadie said as she headed to the office with the end-of-day paperwork and cash. “The errand wasn’t my idea. Froggy wanted me to meet with one of the guys who sent Sue Bennett the Valentine’s chocolates.”

  Amber lifted Coco from the pillow and followed Sadie. “I hope he didn’t send you back to Zany Z’s.” She set Coco down on the floor and peeked inside the chocolate box, shaking her head at the note Matteo had cleverly placed inside.

  “No,” Sadie said. “I’m not sure I would have gone along with that. This was a meeting with the guy in the financial district.”

  “Ah.” Amber nodded. “Hence the uptown attire you changed into. You weren’t planning this meeting. How did it come up so suddenly?”

  “Froggy took it upon himself to set it up as an investment consultation. Kind of him, don’t you think?” Sadie said in a polished tone of sarcasm that she’d spent decades perfecting.

  “Not especially,” Amber said. “But knowing the way you think, you figured you’d get some information out of it or you would have refused to go.”

  Sadie laughed. “You know me well.”

  “So did you find anything out?”

  “I think so,” Sadie said. “I’m fairly sure now that Luke Manning isn’t the killer. He seemed far too open when discussing fishing. Wait, not fishing, crabbing is more accurate.”

  Amber nodded. “Well, you lost me completely at ‘fishing’ but go on.”

  “Luke Manning had just returned from a fishing trip, according to Froggy.” Sadie patted her lap, and Coco jumped up, settling in comfortably. “So my assignment—if you could call it that—was to ask him about investment possibilities and question him about the fishing trip to see if he acted oddly.”

  “And I take it he didn’t,” Amber said.

  “Not at all,” Sadie said. “In fact, he was excited to talk about it, including a group he belongs to that goes out on crabbing excursions. He wouldn’t make those references if he were trying to hide something.”

  “Like the fact he might have killed someone.”

  “Yes,” Sadie said. “Or what he might have used, which I think I now know.”

  Amber sat down as if expecting to hear something shocking or disturbing.

  “I think poor Sue Bennett was strangled,” Sadie said. “Froggy practically admitted it. At least he didn’t deny it. He just gave me that ‘can’t comment on an ongoing investigation’ excuse when I suggested she was strangled with a fishing net of some sort. I mean, it seems obvious to me. Otherwise, he’d have no reason to suspect Luke Manning.”

  “But the other two men had access to fishing nets,” Amber said. “That guy at Fisherman’s Wharf must be around them every day.”

  “Yes, and Zany Z’s has them on the walls,” Sadie added. “But also…” Her voice trailed off as she thought back to the rest of the crazy bar’s décor. She turned to the office computer and typed a few words into the search engine. “Look at this.”

  Amber stepped around the desk and looked over Sadie’s shoulder at some images on the screen. “What are those?”

  “Crab nets,” Sadie said. “This is what Luke Manning was talking about. They use these for amateur crabbing.” She tilted her head sideways as a whimsical thought hit her. “Or I suppose you could flip it upside down and use it as a hat. Not much good in the rain with all those holes in the netting.”

  “Or for a planter,” Amber said. “That’s what it looks like to me. You know those hanging baske
ts that you see at the garden center—a wire basket hanging from a rope.”

  “Yes.” Sadie leaned closer to the screen as Coco yipped in protest at being squished. “A rope… that’s it.” She sat back and looked at Amber. Coco let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

  “That’s what?” Amber patted Coco on the head in sympathy.

  “The murder weapon wasn’t a net,” Sadie said. “Sue Bennett was strangled with a rope, the kind that holds a crab net.”

  “You’re positive?” Amber raised an eyebrow.

  “Almost positive,” Sadie said, tapping one finger against her chin. “It makes sense. All the suspects had access to that type of rope. They had the means to commit the crime.”

  “So you’re talking about the kind of rope that Luke Manning uses on his group’s crabbing excursions,” Amber said.

  “Also the kind Bruno has easy access to down at the wharf,” Sadie added.

  “And…” Amber waited for Sadie to finish the thought, which she quickly did.

  “Yes, the kind hanging from the ceiling at Zany Z’s place,” Sadie said.

  “But there are all sorts of ropes,” Amber pointed out. “How can you be sure it was the kind used for crabbing?”

  “I can’t without confirmation from Froggy,” Sadie said. “And he’s not going to give me that kind of detail. But...” She stood, holding Coco against her chest while she collected her tote bag and jacket. “I think I know how to find out for sure.”

  “I know that look,” Amber said as she watched Sadie gather her things. “Just go. I’ll lock up the shop.”

  “Thanks,” Sadie said, already heading for the front door with one arm in a jacket. “And that denim vest with the turtleneck is perfect,” she called back over her shoulder. Balancing Coco, her tote, and the box of truffles, she headed for her car.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The San Francisco Bay looked especially exquisite from Sadie’s penthouse windows. She admired the view as she sipped sparkling water with a slice of lime. The lights along the waterfront seemed like signals that she was on the right track.

  Moving to the sofa, she took a seat, glad to be sporting a comfy purple chenille bathrobe with turquoise piping around the edges. Upon her arrival home, she’d practically thrown the box of truffles on the kitchen counter in her eagerness to get out of the stuffy outfit she’d worn to Luke Manning’s office. Coco had landed on the floor more gently, where she now batted around her red lobster toy.

  Sadie set her sparkling water on a side table, the Waterford crystal glass reflecting light from a chandelier above. She picked up the phone, pausing only briefly to collect her thoughts before dialing Broussard’s number.

  “Ms. Kramer.”

  “Detective Broussard.”

  Sadie smiled. The formal greetings they exchanged never lost their flirtatious appeal.

  “How are you this fine evening?” Broussard said.

  “Quite entertained, actually,” Sadie said. “It’s been an interesting day.” She took a sip of sparkling water, not entirely sure how to fill Broussard in on the events of the day. He wasn’t likely to be thrilled with Froggy’s latest scheme.

  “In what way?” Broussard’s voice sounded hesitant, unsure he wanted to hear the answer. “You’re still chasing down those suspects in the Bennett murder case, aren’t you? Go ahead and fill me in. I’ve been following the case closely. I won’t get upset. I’d rather know what’s going on than not know.”

  We’ll see about that, Sadie thought. “I made a visit to Luke Manning’s office today.”

  “You what?” Broussard practically shouted into the phone.

  So much for not getting upset. “In my defense, it wasn’t my idea,” Sadie said. “Froggy set the appointment up.”

  This time Broussard was silent, which Sadie knew wasn’t a good sign. She could sense him fuming on the other end of the line. She was almost thankful for the miles between San Francisco and New Orleans. She’d bet Froggy would be even more thankful.

  “Detective Frogert sent you into a murder suspect’s office?” Broussard said when he was finally calm enough to speak.

  “Well, yes,” Sadie said. “But it was under very believable pretenses: to ask about investment opportunities. It’s something I do on occasion anyway. I handle my late husband’s portfolio, so I try to stay current on upcoming possibilities.”

  “I doubt that’s the reason he sent you in.”

  “Okay, not exactly,” Sadie admitted. “But it was a perfect cover.”

  “A ‘cover,’ you say?” To Sadie’s relief, Broussard laughed. “I must have missed the part where you went to the police academy and became an undercover cop.”

  Now Sadie smiled. She spoke fluent sarcasm and could appreciate a good jab. Besides, his lighter mood provided an opening for the trick she’d planned.

  “Did you know the murder weapon was a rope from a crabbing net?” Sadie waited for Broussard’s response, which came quickly.

  “How did you find that out?” Broussard said. “I can’t believe Frogert released that information to you.”

  Sadie smiled. Thank you, Detective Broussard.

  “It surprised me as well,” Sadie said. “Especially the part about the crab net.”

  “He went into that much detail? I’m surprised,” Broussard said.

  Coco brought the red lobster toy over to Sadie and dropped it at her feet. “No, I figured that out on my own,” Sadie said. “You might be surprised to know I’ve done a little detective work myself in the past, academy or no academy.” She smirked as she tossed Coco’s toy gently into the center of the room. Of course Broussard knew that already.

  “You don’t say,” Broussard quipped. “I never would have guessed it.” More sarcasm. She continued to admire the handsome New Orleans detective more and more.

  “Actually, I’m not sure Froggy connects the rope with crabbing,” Sadie said. “I’m sure they did tests on the rope and found salt water. I mean, that’s what they would have done, right?”

  “True,” Broussard said. “We always run forensic tests on articles found at the scene, anything that might be a clue. Obviously, suspected murder weapons are included in that.”

  “Well, there wouldn’t have been an actual crab net there, I don’t think…” Sadie’s voice trailed off as she contemplated that. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “There might have been, after all.” Luke Manning’s description of his crabbing group came back to her. When she’d flippantly referred to it as a boys’ club, he’d said that a few women went out on the crabbing excursions as well. Could that be where he’d met Sue Bennett? Where all the men had met her?

  “Sadie?” Broussard’s voice interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the discussion at hand. She’d nearly forgotten she was in the middle of a conversation.

  “A common interest!” Sadie said. “That’s it!” She picked up the red lobster toy, which had landed at her feet again, and waved it around in the air like a flag at a parade. Coco sat nearby, tapping her paw impatiently.

  “That’s what?” Broussard said. Sadie could tell he was puzzled just by his tone.

  “That’s where the men who sent the chocolate all knew her from,” Sadie said. “I’d bet on it.” Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Not the crabbing “club” in particular, if it could be called that, but the idea that there could be a common interest that led to Sue being wooed by the three men. The fact that the men were so different from one another had struck Sadie as odd before, but not important. As the saying went, each to his own—or, more appropriately at the moment, to her own. But in this case, the common interest was important after all. It was intricately tied to the method of the crime.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s going on in that inquisitive mind of yours right now? You’ve been quiet.”

  “Is quiet a bad thing?” Sadie said, stalling as she pulled her new theory together.

  “Exactly what I’m trying to figure out at the moment.” Again, Sadie
could tell Broussard was smiling.

  “I couldn’t come up with a connection between the three men and the victim before,” Sadie explained. “The men are so completely different from each other. I’m rather disappointed in myself that I didn’t consider a common hobby.”

  “Sometimes the link between victim and suspects can be unexpected,” Broussard said. “It’s one of the reasons we have to dig deeper into backgrounds rather than draw conclusions based on the scene itself. It’s actually a good thing those men all sent her chocolate.”

  Sadie laughed. “Well, of course, that’s always a good thing.”

  “You know what I mean,” Broussard said. “It provided some leads that, short of fingerprints—trustworthy—and reports from that nosy neighbor—not trustworthy—the police were able to follow and are still following, obviously.”

  “I think they’re still missing the boat.” Sadie couldn’t help herself; she burst out laughing at the accidental pun.

  “And just what boat would that be?” Broussard asked.

  “The figurative boat,” Sadie said.

  “You’ve lost me now.”

  “The women,” Sadie explained.

  “Ah, not the crabbing boat,” Broussard said. “What sort of boat do you mean?”

  “I’m still trying to figure it out, but there are quite a few possibilities.”

  “For example?”

  “Well, there’s the anger boat, the jealousy boat, the revenge boat…”

  “Okay, okay,” Broussard said. “I see your point. You could be right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

  “Painful?” Sadie teased. “Admitting I might be a step ahead of the SFPD? Maybe they just don’t understand women well enough.”

  Broussard chuckled. “I’m not sure anyone does.”

  “Ha,” Sadie said. “On that note, I think I’m going to relax with a good mystery book and get my mind off this for a while.” Or at least try to.