They entered the kennel, and Sarah immediately felt despair. It was in the air around them. Hopelessness. This is what I felt in the nursing home, she realized. For a moment, Sarah reflected on the similarity between the kennel and the nursing home. The outcast and the unwanted. How great it would be if the two could get together and comfort one another.
Sarah had no idea what kind of dog she was looking for. When they had asked her earlier, she had said she wanted a dog for protection and companionship. Bill said, “Well, we should be able to find you a dog that can do that. In fact, that’s what dogs do best.”
The first few dogs she passed by were very large. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to handle such a big dog,” she said, mostly to herself.
Then they came to an adorable little poodle cavorting around in his cage. He stood on his hind legs and hopped in circles appearing to be saying, “Look at me. Look at me!” But Sarah immediately knew she didn’t want to add that level of energy to her quiet home.
Several dogs looked at her with what she felt were pleading eyes. It broke her heart to break eye contact with them and continue walking. She wished she could save them all. As she approached the last row, she hadn’t seen a dog that she felt was right for her. But she saw many dogs, and she wondered who their owners had been and how they could have abandoned them.
“What kind of person is able to turn their back on these dear creatures?” she asked.
Nancy spoke up and explained that there were many reasons for people to give up their dogs. “People move away and feel they can’t take their dogs. People get sick and can’t care for them. Some of these dogs were taken away from their owners because they were abused or neglected. Some were simply born on the street and never had a home. We try our best to find homes for them,” she explained. “Also, there are some rescue organizations that take them from us and put them in foster homes until they can be adopted.”
“What happens to the ones that don’t get adopted?” was on the tip of her tongue, but she decided not to ask. She didn’t want to hear the answer, and she didn’t want Bill and Nancy to have to say it. They clearly loved every animal in the shelter. Nancy had a treat in her pocket for each and every one of them as they walked through. Bill went inside one cage where the dog hadn’t come to the door to greet them, and he stroked the dog gently. “Depression,” he said sadly as he exited the cage, “It’s common here.”
Just like in the nursing home.
Sarah left almost as depressed as the animals. Bill and Nancy encouraged her to come back. They took her name and number in case a dog came in that they thought would be right for her.
On her way home, she decided to stop by Stitches. Playing with fabric would certainly improve her mood. It was fascinating to her that she was so quickly getting caught up in the world of quilting. She loved looking at and touching fabric, especially in Ruth’s shop. Ruth had her fabric organized by color so that, when you entered the shop, you were dazzled by a beautiful rainbow of colors that ran from the left side of the shop to the right. She even had a large, gold-toned flowerpot at the far right, and her customers jokingly called it the “pot of gold at the end of her rainbow.”
Ruth only carried cotton of the very best quality. And, of course, she carried all the accessories a quilter might need. The accessories hung on a large pegboard just beyond the fabric section: rulers of all shapes and sizes, rotary cutters and blades, needles, pins, and even some items Sarah hadn’t learned how to use yet. Beyond that was a large rack that held every possible shade of thread. Marjory had encouraged Sarah to start with black, white, gray, and beige, explaining that these colors would cover most of her needs unless she was doing top stitching or quilting.
Ruth didn’t carry sewing machines. She had the large back room where she could display them, but she preferred to keep that room for classes. Ruth loved teaching classes and watching novices become expert quilters before her eyes.
Sarah took out her pattern and read the fabric requirements. She remembered that Katie had said to choose her focus fabric first. After much searching and piling bolts side by side to see the effect, she decided on a fabric with a crocus design in blues and purples with a soft green background. With Ruth’s help, she chose coordinating fabrics and thread for the rest of the project.
Ecstatic, Sarah left the shop and headed for the center. First she stopped by the Resource Room to show Marjory her purchases. She then stopped at the Volunteer Office to talk with Vicky about the person she would be visiting. Their visits would be starting in a couple of weeks, and Sarah was beginning to get nervous about it. She wondered if she could find things to talk about.
Vicky had told her he was a retired policeman, and Sarah feared the two of them wouldn’t have much to talk about. She had hoped she would be visiting a woman so they could talk about kids and cooking and all the things they might have in common. But then she remembered that perhaps he could give her some ideas about Andy’s case.
Sarah’s phone was ringing as she was unlocking the front door, but the call had already gone to the machine by the time she got in. I’ll pick it up later, she told herself as she hung up her jacket.
Chapter 17
Early the next morning, Sarah remembered she hadn’t picked up the message from the day before. She made coffee and toast with peanut butter and sat down at the kitchen table to check the machine. In fact, there were two calls she had missed. The first was from Detective Shields, and she remembered that she had intended to stop in and see him yesterday. Now he wanted to see her. She wondered why but made a note to call him after nine. It was still very early.
The second call was from Sophie, who said she had heard from Detective Shields. She was upset by the call and wanted to talk to Sarah about it. Sarah called Sophie and told her to come on over for coffee.
“... and?” Sophie asked.
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked confused.
“Come by for coffee and what?” Sophie responded impatiently.
“Well, I’m having toast and peanut butter. You’re welcome to join me.”
“Peanut butter,” exclaimed Sophie. “I outgrew peanut butter sixty years ago. I’ll bring donuts.”
After bursting into Sarah’s kitchen in her usual loud, chaotic manner, Sophie sat down with several jelly-filled donuts and poured herself a cup of coffee. Sarah freshened up her own coffee and said, “Okay, Sophie. What’s going on now?”
“Well,” she began, with jelly on her face and another donut in her hand, “our favorite civil servant, Detective Mark Shields, called yesterday and essentially ordered us to meet with him downtown today at 10:00 sharp.”
“What in the world for?” asked Sarah, looking somewhat irritated.
“He said he has two things to discuss with us, and that’s all he would say. He hung up without even a goodbye.”
“Are you going?” Sarah asked.
“Of course I’m going. Do you want to be arrested for disobeying a police officer?”
“Sophie, I don’t think that’s a crime. We aren’t suspects. At least, I don’t think we are.” They finished their coffee and Sarah, feeling somewhat unsettled, told Sophie to go home and get ready, and she would drive them into town. “Let’s just get this over with.” She decided not to call Shields back and just hear what he wanted to say in person.
* * * * *
“Good morning, ladies,” Detective Shields greeted them without a smile as they were escorted into his office on the second floor. “Thank you for coming,” he added without looking at them.
“We had a choice?” Sophie asked sardonically. Sarah made a mental note to talk to Sophie about that tone of hers. She was going to get them both into trouble one day.
Detective Shields ignored the comment and began, “I wanted to speak with both of you about two things that concern me.”
Sarah shifted in her chair a bit and rearranged her purse on her lap. Sophie stared him in the eye and asked in an icy tone, “Oh? And what woul
d those two things be?”
“I want to talk to you about interviewing suspects on your own and about withholding vital information about this investigation.” Detective Shields was frowning but looking down at his desk blotter.
“Interviewing suspects. Withholding information.” Sophie demanded, “What are you talking about?”
Sarah was speechless. When she finally pulled herself together enough to speak, she said, “Can you please start with your second accusation? What information have we withheld?”
“Okay, we’ll start there. You were quick to tell me that Millie Lake wanted to share some information with me. And it turned out to be some inconsequential information, to say the least. What you didn’t tell me was that Millie was having an affair with Andy prior to his death.”
Sophie couldn’t resist. “Well, of course it was prior to his death. Who has affairs once they’re dead?”
Sarah, hoping to take attention off Sophie’s sarcasm, spoke up saying, “Affair? I don’t believe that. Where did you hear such a thing?”
Shields ignored her question and remained silent, apparently waiting for the two women to respond. Sarah hesitated a moment to get her bearings and added, “Hold on. I knew Andy well. I counted him among my closest friends. I don’t believe he was having an affair—particularly not with a married woman.”
Shields turned to Sophie, “And you, Mrs. Ward, you didn’t know about this either?” Sarah had never heard Sophie called “Mrs. Ward” and was a bit taken aback. She was also surprised when Sophie did not respond immediately. “Well, Mrs. Ward, did you know?”
“Okay. I didn’t actually know in the sense that you mean. What I mean is he never told me. Millie never told me. But you know ...” she stumbled a bit with her words. “Maybe I wondered ...”
“And what made you wonder?” he asked in his accusatory tone.
“Well, little stuff, I guess. They talked to each other a lot. They sat together in the coffee shop. That kind of stuff, I suppose. I don’t think I would have thought of it on my own, but there was talk, you know—gossip. But that’s sure not something to go to the police with.” Sophie drew herself up in her chair indignantly. “Anyway, I’m sure it wasn’t true.”
“Okay, let’s set that aside for the time being. Why are you two running around interviewing suspects?”
“Interviewing suspects?” Sophie bellowed, jumping up out of her chair. “When did Millie become a suspect?” she demanded.
Shields ignored the question. “So why were you talking to her?” he asked. Everyone remained silent.
Finally, Sarah spoke up, saying, “Millie called me the other night and told me she wanted to know if she should tell you about Andy getting a phone call the day before he was killed. She said he was upset by it, and she wondered if that was something you should know about. I told her to call you and let you know.”
“Later that day, we got worried that she might not call, and we went over to talk with her,” Sarah continued. “And sure enough, she hadn’t called. That’s when I dialed your number and put her on the phone.” Sarah hesitated long enough to look at Shields and attempt to determine how he was reacting to what they were saying. As usual, he was a blank slate. She continued, “We stayed while she talked to you just to make sure she followed through.” Sarah was now the one to sit very straight and look indignant.
Sophie had sat back down but was clearly outraged. “I don’t like the direction this whole conversation is taking,” she said, as she again stood. “It’s time for us to leave,” and she confidently headed for the door.
Trying to smooth things over as they left the office, Sarah turned and smiled, saying, “Would you please let us know if you find out anything?”
This was clearly not the right choice of words. Shields got red in the face and appeared barely able to contain his anger. “I will not be reporting to either of you about the Department’s progress, but if I need any additional information, I will certainly contact you.”
As they walked down the wall toward the elevator, Sophie whispered, “Did he just tell us to mind our own business?”
“Yes, I believe the whole meeting boils down to that,” Sarah responded.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Sophie responded, “but Andy’s death is my business, and I intend to follow wherever the clues lead me. Are you with me?”
“Of course I am.”
As they approached the elevator, the doors opened and two officers exited, one on each side of Ralph Lake, Millie’s husband. “Good Lord,” Sarah exclaimed when they were out of earshot. “I hadn’t taken this new evidence to its logical next step.”
“Are you thinking Ralph could kill Andy? They’ve been friends for years.”
“Friendships are often lost over money and love,” Sarah philosophized. “In fact, lives are often lost over money and love.”
They were headed home, but they decided to stop at the café across the street from Running Stitches. It was close to lunchtime, and the café was beginning to fill up. They found a booth toward the back and ordered the daily special. For the next hour, the two women put their heads together and tried to make sense of it all.
Chapter 18
Detective Shields sighed deeply as the women left his office. He slid his bottom drawer open and pulled out the flask. He toyed with it, thinking about the promise he had made himself yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. He shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but it seemed like every little problem attached itself to his desire. He looked around at the empty office as if he were expecting to see someone. No one was there, of course. He opened the flask and quickly topped off his half-full coffee cup. The leftover coffee was cold, but the whiskey warmed his throat and eased his craving.
He thought about the case. The body was bruised as if the victim had been severely beaten, and the hands were bruised as if he had been attempting to defend himself. Petite, demure Millie Lake couldn’t have done it. But the husband? Did he find out about the affair? And since it looked like an inside job, inside Cunningham Village, he appeared to be the most likely suspect.
About that time, Detective Gabriel tapped on the door and walked in with a burly and apparently very angry man. A second officer did not enter but stood near the door. The door was left open. Detective Gabriel introduced the man as Ralph Lake and asked him to sit down. When Lake started to argue, Gabriel suggested they move to a formal interview room.
“I’d like to talk to Mr. Lake here in my office if he’ll cooperate. Otherwise, we can move to an interrogation room,” Detective Shields said to his partner. “We’re just looking for some information,” he added, directing this comment to Lake. “Let’s keep it informal. Please sit down, Mr. Lake. You, too, Detective Gabriel.”
They both sat, Gabriel to Shield’s left and Lake on a chair farthest from Shield’s desk and against the wall. Ralph Lake looked the detective directly in the eye. Neither flinched. Finally, Ralph looked down momentarily, adjusted his pant leg, and said, “Okay, so why am I here?”
“You are here because your name came up during the investigation of Andy Burgess’s death. What can you tell us about your relationship with Mr. Burgess?”
“Relationship.” Lake spat the word as if it left a bad taste behind. “Relationship,” he repeated in a quieter tone as he lowered his head. With his head still down, he continued, “I had no relationship with that guy. I hardly knew him. Well ... at one time I thought I knew him ... but I didn’t.”
A long period of silence followed. “And when did you discover you didn’t know him the way you thought you did?” More silence.
Finally, Ralph Lake spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I met Andy maybe ten years ago. Him and me, we used to work in the lumberyard outside of town. We helped build that dang place where we live now, Cunningham Village.” More silence.
After a while, Shields said, “Go ahead.”
“Well, at first we hung out together. He was drinking a lot. So was I, for that
matter.” Detective Shields thought about the flask and his half-empty coffee cup. He took a large swallow and felt the warmth again. He waited for Lake to continue.
“I was seeing this broad, you know. Cute chick, but a flirt. She came on to Andy, and I didn’t think nothin’ of it. She flirted with everybody. Next thing I know, they went away for the weekend together. Old Andy and I had it out and never had much to do with each other after that. Then we ended up both living in the Village. I wasn’t glad about that at first, but we started hanging out together again. I decided that broad was in the past. We became friends again ... at least for a while,” he added.
“When did you last see Burgess?”
“It’s been a while. I dunno, maybe a few weeks. I don’t remember.”
“Where did you see him last?”
“Didn’t I just say I don’t remember?” Lake shouted, jumping up from his chair. Within seconds, Gabriel was by Lake’s side, and the officer in the hall was at his other side. Lake sat. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I got this temper here. Sorry.”
“Well, I can see you have a temper, Mr. Lake. Where were you the night Mr. Burgess was killed?”
“I dunno. Prob’ly out drinkin’. That’s where I usually am.”
“So, back to this temper of yours. I’m wondering just how you took it when you learned that your wife was seeing Mr. Burgess.” Shields stared directly at Lake while the other two officers closed in, ready to respond to any sudden movement Lake might make. But to the surprise of all three men, Lake just dropped his head and muttered a response.
“Sorry, Mr. Lake. I didn’t hear that. Tell me what happened when you learned about the affair.”
“There was no affair. Andy and I worked it out.” Lake’s head still hung low, and he looked defeated.
“Exactly how did you work it out, Mr. Lake? By killing him, perhaps?”
Gabriel knew Shields couldn’t keep taunting Lake without causing him to lose his temper. He wondered if he was doing it intentionally. Suddenly, and to Detective Gabriel’s surprise, Shields said, “That will be all for today. We will be talking to you again. Stay in town.” Detective Shields walked out of the room. Gabriel and the officer looked at each other, both clearly puzzled, but they tried not to let it show.
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