CHAPTER THREE
After her sunrise stroll through the State Park, roughly a three-mile roundtrip walk, Pastor hopped into her golf cart and headed down to the plaza to open her shop. She was thrilled the locals had won the right to use the carts on the main roads. It was the first step in getting everyone to slow down more around here. She alternated between taking the car or the cart. On days like this, when she didn’t anticipate running any last-minute errands, she knew the cart would be fine. She chuckled, thinking the store was about as far away as her halfway point on her walk that morning. However, being at the store with no transportation would just be silly, and it was much easier to walk the return miles in the morning, while she felt refreshed, than after a long day at work.
As she set out the baked goods and began brewing regular and decaf tea for the thermal carafes, Pastor wondered how busy they would be. Would the body have been discovered yet? Would William’s disappearance make him appear guiltier than if he had stayed? Were there two different Lois Bells? She had been pondering these questions and more on her walk. When she was out on the beach, the waves and wind were great distractions. That didn’t work so well in the shop.
The Hallelujahs of the chorus surprised Pastor and she glanced up, forgetting she had already unlocked the door. “Andy! Wow! Why are you here?” she exclaimed, rushing around the counter to catch her son in a big embrace. “Let me look at you! Have you gotten more handsome since the last time I saw you?”
“Whoa, Mom, calm down, it’s just me!” Andy said, immediately feeling like an awkward ten-year-old boy back in front of Mom. “I heard something happened down here yesterday, and thought you might want some company for a few days?”
“How could you know about that? How could you have had time to get here already?” Pastor realized that William’s question about Andy really being a police officer was making her more suspicious than normal, which was saying a lot.
“Remember Jason- we were friends when we were kids? He’s pretty high up on the local police force, and I’ve asked him to give me a buzz if something happens with the Oyster Creek folks,” he tried to explain.
“That doesn’t explain how you can be walking in my door at this hour. Did you drive all night? I know the morning flights have barely begun; you couldn’t have landed in Pensacola or Mobile yet. I’m not sure the residents even know what happened. I’d hoped you were one of the first customers, so I could listen to the gossip. Of course, I’m very happy it’s you! At least you aren’t the local police here to question me. Wait, are you?” Pastor glanced up suddenly, having subconsciously moved back to preparing the breakfast items.
“Of course not, Mom, and if it helps, I was in New Orleans when I heard. I drove over from there.” Andy answered, bracing himself for the question he knew would come next.
“You were in New Orleans and you weren’t going to mention it? How long have you been there? What were you doing? Were you working? Why would the Silver Spring police department send you to New Orleans?”
“Mo-om!” Andy drew out the name just as he’d done when he was a kid. He knew that he’d been caught but couldn’t handle any further questioning. It was almost like calling ‘Uncle’ in their house. “I’m here now and that’s what matters. What can I help you do to get ready?”
Of all her sons, Andy had always been the wild card. He was named after his father’s father. Steven Charles, their eldest, had been named after her husband Chuck, while Marshall Robert, the middle boy, had been named after her father. Steve had been serious and responsible from the moment he was born, and he was now in charge of their grandfather’s real estate holdings and investments. Marshall, who somewhere along the way began to go by Bob, ran the family construction company. Bob was always Steve’s shadow. They had been born just shy of a year apart, and she was constantly asked if they were twins, even when half a head separated them during growth spurts. Born when his brothers were six and five, Andy, née Andrew Paul, had always been the impulsive one. After completing a business degree at Wharton, he entered Cornell intending to earn his doctorate in Economics. However, one year into that program, he switched courses, and studied law for two years, before surprising everyone and moving to George Washington University for a master’s degree in criminology. Pastor had blamed one of his girlfriends for his multiple changes of heart, but Steve and Bob assured her Andy’s choices were his own. With both of her elder sons married and giving her grandchildren, Pastor had a hard time not worrying about her youngest. But she was overjoyed to see him and hoped he could help her make sense of the local mystery.
The rest of the morning and mid-day passed in a blur. By the time Pastor and Andy sat down to have their own cups of tea, it was nearly 2:30 in the afternoon. Pastor raised an eyebrow at Andy, “So, did you learn as much as you wanted to today?”
Her son chuckled, “If I filter out the conversations about denture storage and favorite black-and-white movies, then yes, I gathered some healthy information.”
Pastor looked at her son, as if seeing him for the first time as an adult, “What will you do with it? Are you planning to work with the locals? I find it funny that they haven’t been in here yet. Or are you just here to distract your mother during a tough time?”
Andy looked slightly pained, and somewhat sheepish, but answered her rapid-fire questions as quickly as she’d asked them. “I am trying to figure out what happened; you caught me. I thought this would be a good place to hear it first hand. The community sure is ready to put it all on this William Winthrop, aren’t they? All except that guy Joe. And don’t try to pretend I didn’t hear you defending William. What’s up with that, Mom?”
“‘What’s up with’? Is this how you talk these days?” she asked, trying to figure out how to answer him.
Andy waited for his mother to think. He knew all her stalling tactics. His job, after all, was to ferret out the truth. He had found a great apartment in Silver Spring, but as William had suspected and his brothers were well aware, Andy wasn’t a local police officer; he was an FBI special agent. He had been wrapping up some undercover work in New Orleans when Jason had called him about a murder near his mom on Perdido Key. He requested a few days off before his next assignment and headed to Florida. He was glad he had finished his assignment there before Jason called, because he would hate to have been tailed here. He’d had a rough couple of months undercover, waiting for things to break open. Let her stall. He could outlast her.
“Fine. Your poor grammar is no excuse for me to stop talking. I don’t know what William used to do, exactly, but I am fairly sure that he was, in fact, a spy. What would he have to gain by killing someone, especially her? So she could play tennis a bit better than the other ladies—that isn’t a reason to kill her. Last night he came and told me he needed to investigate this on his own. And before you ask, I believe him. He didn’t do whatever was done to her. But he did have a question about her background.”
“Really?” he asked, glad his mother had finally given up thinking and begun talking.
“The Lois Bell that he knew—the one married to his friend Jack—was deathly afraid of horses, and wasn’t athletic. The one here went riding three to four times a week and was a tennis and golf ace. It didn’t make any sense to him.” Pastor was glad to get it off her chest, even though she was usually the one leading others to talk.
“Seriously? What about her looks?” her son asked.
“I know I taught you to speak better than this, young man. SERIOUSLY?” Pastor shook her head. “I can’t even understand what seriously means. Do you mean, am I telling you the truth, am I telling you something that you find ridiculous? What do you mean?”
“Sorry Mom, it’s how I talk now.” Andy replied. “I mean, I can’t believe you spoke to him and found that out before he took off. What if he had been the one to kill her? I don’t like the idea of you on your own, Mom. When I asked about her looks, I meant, had she changed significantly, or did she still have the same height, statu
re, face, you know.”
Pastor looked at her son incredulously. It took all she had not to turn around and repeat “seriously” to him, but she held her tongue. Further defending William might surprise Andy, but she couldn’t just let it go. “I simply find it hard to believe he is a cold-blooded killer. And if he is, how come he never killed me any of the three hundred or so times he saw me in the past six months? I don’t think he ever mentioned her looks, she must have been close enough that he didn’t question her, but I do know it had been years since he had seen her. People do change.”
“So what you are telling me is we have a dead lady who isn’t who she says she is, and a retired spy searching for a way to save his skin? Because running away doesn’t look very good for him, although it is all circumstantial evidence right now.” Andy’s voice faded, as though he was talking to himself. The Kinks interrupted their conversation as another customer came through the door. “Dinner tonight, Mom?” Andy asked. “I need to run a few errands.”
“That sounds delightful, Fisherman’s Corner around 7:00? That will give me time to close up and do a quick yoga session.”
“Sounds great, Mom. See you then,” he said with a kiss on her cheek and a wave goodbye.
Pastor turned to greet her customer as she watched her son go out the door. She was surprised the customer wasn’t one of her regulars, but a stunning lady young enough to be her daughter with a big hat and eyes that looked like she had been crying extensively. “Can I help you find something? Would you like a cup of tea? It’s amazing what it will cure.”
“That’s what Ray Davies sang as I walked in,” the stranger replied quietly.
Pastor smiled, “Not a lot of people know the song, let alone the group or the singer. Are you a fan?”
“Not really, but my twin sister couldn’t get enough of them for awhile,” she replied. There was a small smile on her lips, making her even prettier.
“I always wondered what it would be like to have a twin,” Pastor reflected. “I’m serious about the tea. It will work miracles.”
“I could use one of those right now. But does your tea find people? Or bring others back from the dead?” The woman looked like she might cry again. “Maybe later. I’m just a little upset right now.” The young woman said as she hurried out the door.
“Well, that was bizarre,” Pastor thought. The woman had seemed so distraught. This was an island, often a holiday destination. People had issues from home affect them while they were traveling, but mostly, people were happy and relaxed here. Not only had she grown fond of the area, bringing her boys to vacation every year near their grandparents, but as she aged, she appreciated the retirement community and the families spending time together. Summer and winter were totally different on the island, and that woman was one she would have expected to see during the summer. Summer women like her were carefree—other than a toddler or two, they usually had a young husband in tow, either trying to relax while away from his office or being the life of the party. Pastor shrugged her shoulders, knowing it would be a while before she could forget the conversation with the strange woman.
CHAPTER FOUR
Not all police departments welcomed federal agents, but with Andy’s last name, and Jason’s role on the force, he was well received. In fact, he wasn’t sure how much his friend had done without him, once he looked over the case file.
“I am so glad you are here! Dude, this is out of my scope. We might get a couple of drownings a year, at most, and that’s usually kids being dumb. I know we all talk about wanting to solve murders but when you get them, if they aren’t cut and dry, with lots of eyewitnesses, it kinda sucks.” Jason sounded like he had swallowed something disgusting. “Sheila had just made a special breakfast for dinner, with eggs and bacon, for the kids. Then I had to go see the body. Talk about losing your toast. Man, I don’t know how you deal with it so much.”
Andy shook his head, “All cases are new cases. The worst ones to accept happen when there is still some life left, but they pass on anyhow. Those are the hardest ones. Those, and the ones that have been dead long enough to really stink.” He remembered throwing up years ago. It had been awhile. In fact, he wasn’t sure he knew when he had last. He was getting jaded. Part of going undercover and sometimes having to be the one doing the killing made finding the bodies easier. You began to admire technique, and look at the killings critically. He could tell William must have had similar training, or he wouldn’t have been so spooked about this one. One thing Jason was right about, it wasn’t an easy case to solve. Unless you believed it was William, since the body had been left right outside his door.
“So what do you think of the obvious perp? Is he standing up to scrutiny?” Andy asked Jason.
“Man, I wish he would. But I know William. Which is something they must not have known before trying to pin it on him. He comes in to do agility tests with us; set up scenarios, help us practice for the physicals. When homeland security was offering a bunch of funding, he came in and sat down with a grant writer to make sure we got extra manpower, boats, gadgets, all kinds of stuff that we wouldn’t have thought to ask for without him. This just isn’t his thing. He would never leave a body in front of his door. It does make me wonder if she was going to talk to him, and that was a good place to do her in, though,” Jason offered.
“I hadn’t thought of that. And it makes sense. He is a decent-looking guy, and she was new in town, right?” Andy asked.
“Decent? He looks about twenty years younger than the rest of them, and can run circles around most of the police force. Yeah, I would say he’s in good shape,” Jason replied.
“Funny that Mom never mentioned that,” Andy said with a laugh.
“Your mom might not even realize it, you know,” Jason joined in his laugh. “Everyone knows she is above reproach, and a lot of people think she is some Catholic nun or something. No one would think of trying to date her, even though she is beautiful, wealthy...”
“Hey! That’s my mom you’re talking about!” Andy said, sounding more upset than he was. “But seriously, you don’t have much here,” he said as he waved the file around. “Did you have them run a tox screen on her? I know this sounds weird, but could you order dental records to confirm ID? Does she have family making the trip to do it?”
“We tried to locate the eldest twin this morning, but her cellphone seems to be off, and her employer said she was on vacation, starting yesterday. Maybe she went overseas, and turned off the phone,” Jason answered.
“Or, maybe she has been here killing her stepmother, or fake stepmother, depending on what we find,” Andy said, knowing Jason was thinking the same thing. His friend may have been rattled by the body yesterday, but he was a fine cop who had just made the choice to stay local. It was hard to leave this place and go anywhere else, Andy knew, unless you were just born with the need for travel and adventure. To those that grew up loving it here, the rest of the world was too hot, too cold, too hilly, had too many laws, and not enough water. “You want to take me back to the scene or you want me to go alone?” he asked.
“Man, I have so much more to do here; do you mind going back on your own? Sheila isn’t used to my schedule varying too much, like a city cop would. She is rather set in her ways, you know,” Jason answered.
“No problem. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Call me if new info comes in, even if it seems like nothing, okay? Otherwise I’ll see you bright and early. Maybe that blood work will be back?”
“Maybe.” Jason said, with the resignation of one not used to speedy results.
“Hey man, before I go, I just want to let you know I really appreciate you calling me in. Anything this close to my mom needs to be dealt with by family,” Andy said, as he paused at the door.
“Get out of here, dude. Just help me solve it and look like a hero! And don’t mention that puke to anyone!” the officer added the last bit with a laugh.
CHAPTER FIVE
Among the privileges of having a
large amount of wealth in retirement, Pastor enjoyed the ability both to set her own schedule, and pay for her yoga sessions privately. Iris Potts had never been athletic as a youth, but she had become appreciative of sports while raising her three boys. When she finally realized, sometime in her forties, that simply dieting and walking every so often wasn’t enough anymore, she explored different fitness activities. At the time, restorative yoga was taught in her church on a donation basis, and Pastor thought it was wonderful. She also tried Zumba, ballet for adults, circuit training, and a few other fads. But when the instructor invited her to come to her studio and do a beginner yoga sequence, Pastor realized she had found the exercise that made the most sense to her.
Today there was an intermediate class in the community room at one of the condos still owned by her family, coincidentally beginning fifteen minutes after her shop closed. To her, this was almost better than private sessions. The class dynamics kept her motivated. If the group could do it, so could she. On the two nights a week the classes were offered, Pastor generally skipped her nightly beach walks to attend. The thought of skipping today and simply going home to relax before dinner was tempting, but she knew she would regret it if she did. Entering the class at least ten minutes early, she was surprised by how much talking was happening, and how quickly it stopped when people turned and saw her. She recognized Alice and Pam, two women that generally played doubles with Joe and William in the center of the room. She took her mat to the back of the room and laid it out, trying to ignore the silence, and the looks. She sat on her mat and crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and placed her hands gently on her knees. As she began to deepen her breath, she heard Pam say something to Alice. “How could she? I heard he hadn’t been dead very long? I thought those things took time.” The temptation to open her eyes was strong, but she was more interested in hearing what else they might say. She continued to allow her breathing to deepen, wishing herself to be invisible, as much as possible. Since her husband Chuck had died many years ago, she was relieved that they probably weren’t talking about her, which had been her first assumption in the quiet room.
One Cuppa Brew: Book 1 in The Thyme for Tea Series Page 2