Lemon Tart Page 4
“You’re welcome,” he said. As soon as he shut his mouth Detective Madsen was talking again.
“You’ll be staying in town?”
Her heart sank again. That’s what the TV cops said to people who were considered “people of interest” in a case. Was she a person of interest? Could she really be a suspect?
“My friend’s daughter is getting married in Colorado Springs next weekend—I can still go to that, can’t I?”
“Hopefully we’ll have this all wrapped up by then,” Detective Cunningham said.
Detective Madsen stared at his partner before adding, “But you will need to check with us first.” He seemed to be trying to make Detective Cunningham understand it as much as Sadie.
“I didn’t kill Anne,” Sadie said, her voice shaking. How could they think such a thing?
“No one said you did,” Detective Madsen said, turning to face her, his expression blank. Detective Cunningham’s jaw flexed and he shook his head slightly while Detective Madsen continued. “Why are you jumping to that assumption on our part?”
Sadie looked at the floor and tried to think of an explanation that wouldn’t make her seem even more guilty. She was about to speak when the front door flew open. Both men were on their feet in mere moments.
Chapter 4
Sadie was hardly rattled—apparently her nerves were sufficiently numbed from the day’s events.
“Ron,” she said with a sigh, getting up from the chair and walking to him. He pulled her into a tight hug. It had never felt so good to be held. She hoped he’d never let go and everything would just disappear in his embrace. She was surprised, however, to feel how tense he was.
“I just heard,” Ron said into her hair. “Do you know what happened?”
“I thought you weren’t married,” Detective Madsen said, interrupting the moment.
Sadie pulled out of the embrace, but Ron kept a protective arm around her shoulders that, for some reason, made her feel uncomfortable, as if his reasons were not solely to comfort her. “Ron Bradley, this is Detective Madsen and Detective Cunningham. Ron and I have been dating for about a year and a half.”
“We’re engaged,” Ron said, pulling her a little closer.
Sadie’s cheeks reddened, embarrassed that she hadn’t said it first and yet not liking the way it made her sound like some silly girl. “Well, yes, we’re engaged.” She caught Detective Madsen’s eyes as they darted to her ring-free left hand and she felt the need to explain. “We haven’t gotten around to rings yet.”
“She’s not answering any more questions without a lawyer,” Ron announced bluntly.
Sadie snapped her head to look at him. “What?” she asked.
“Is that the case?” Detective Cunningham asked in his smooth voice. “Are you requesting legal representation?”
“No,” Sadie said, shaking her head. She didn’t want to give them any reason to feel suspicious of her; she had nothing to hide. What was Ron doing?
“Yes,” Ron said almost as quickly. “You can leave now.”
Sadie’s mouth hung open as she looked between Detective Madsen and Detective Cunningham not knowing what to say. Detective Madsen opened his notebook and wrote something down. When he looked up at her, his face was hard—more than it had been. Detective Cunningham didn’t write anything down, he simply looked at her, then at Ron and back to her again. She felt he held her eyes a little too long and it made her feel small somehow. Then the detectives nodded in tandem and headed toward the door.
“We’ll let ourselves out,” Detective Cunningham said, his voice tight and yet perfectly professional, contrasting the help he’d been with the applesauce. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “Please have your attorney contact us. I’m sure we’ll have a lot more questions for you.” As Detective Cunningham spoke, Detective Madsen fumbled in his pocket and quickly found a card of his own, shoving it into Sadie’s hands.
Sadie was in shock. Earlier, the detectives said they might have a few more questions for her, now they were sure they would have a lot?
She waited for the door to shut before she pulled away from Ron.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shrill. “Now they suspect me more than ever!”
“What did you tell them?” Ron replied, panic in his eyes. “What did you see?”
Sadie paused, confused. “What?” she asked slowly, trying to absorb what was happening.
Ron took a step toward her and grabbed her arms. His fingers pressed into her skin and she felt a whole new emotion—fear. Ron was taller than six feet, and she was forced to look up into his face as he seemed to glare down at her. “Tell me everything you told them. Everything.”
She swallowed, wishing she dared scream for help. How did he even know about Anne’s murder in the first place? He was supposed to be in Denver. His grip tightened and she hurried to get the words out. “I told them when Anne moved here, what I knew of her past, what I saw from the window.”
“What did you see?”
“I . . . I saw what I always see. Mr. Henry went to work, the Baileys went to school and work, and Carrie headed to the gym. Then I saw two police cars go by.” His hands on her arms relaxed and his face softened. His relief scared her more than his anxiety had. She pulled her arms out of his grip and stepped back, putting distance between them and watching him with trepidation. “Why are you asking me this?”
Ron took a deep breath and rubbed his left hand over his thinning hair, cut close to the scalp. He turned away from her and looked out the front window, staring at nothing. Ron was five years younger than Sadie, something that bothered her at first but she’d grown accustomed to. He had soft features, a stocky build, and a rounded middle, but they suited him just fine, as did the neatly trimmed beard and mustache he’d worn for as long as she’d known him. She wasn’t sure when the initial feelings of friendship had transitioned into their recent discussions about weddings and merging households. She wasn’t ready to set a date—she wanted to get used to the idea before they began making plans—but she’d looked forward to the prospect of sharing her life with him.
When Ron spoke again she could barely hear him. “She was alive when I left last night, I swear she was.”
Chapter 5
Sadie’s blood ran cold and she stared at this man, the only man she had really cared about since Neil’s death. He’d been at Anne’s house last night? Why?
Part of her wanted to run out of the room and never find out.
She took an instinctive step backward, and the movement caught Ron’s attention. He turned from the window to look at her, his eyes pleading. “I swear I didn’t hurt her, Sadie,” he said, his tone begging. “You know I couldn’t do anything like that.”
“Why would you even be there?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm.
“I went because . . . someone asked me to. I needed to settle something for him.”
“Who? Settle what?” she asked. This made no sense. It was as if she’d woken up to a whole different world this morning. She wanted her old, boring, rather predictable life back. She wanted to look forward to her kids coming home one weekend every month, pull some weeds, and make more applesauce—with ginger this time. She had a hair appointment on Friday and was planning on getting blonde highlights. She wanted to think about those things, not this. Not any of this.
Ron groaned out loud. “I can’t tell you that, at least not yet. I need to find out what happened after I left.” He shook his head. “She was so mad.”
“Mad about what?” Sadie said, her voice rising.
“I can’t tell you yet.”
Sadie blinked and felt anger raise her defenses. “You just told the police I wanted a lawyer, now you’re telling me you were with Anne last night and you won’t explain it to me? Do you really expect me to shrug this off?”
“I wasn’t with Anne,” he said as if just now realizing the obvious implication. “I was just talking to her, for a friend. I didn’t do anything ina
ppropriate.”
“Are you kidding me?” she said, taking another step backward, wanting—needing—distance from him right now. “She’s dead—you went to see her at night without telling me, you won’t even tell me your reasons now, and . . .” She paused, her mind clearing and allowing more thoughts inside. “You’re supposed to be in Denver.” Did she even know this man at all? Looking at him now, at the emotions playing across his face, was almost like looking at a stranger. She’d read things like this in books before, but she’d never lived it. She worried she was being overdramatic while at the same time wondering how else she could regard him after hearing what he’d said during the last few minutes.
Ron hurried toward her and though she tried to get out of his way, she was walking backward and wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed her arms again but surprised her by pulling her into another embrace, as if that would somehow change the way she was feeling.
She stood stiff and unmoving, her arms at her side as she stared at the window behind him. The warmth she usually felt when he held her had disappeared. Everything was different.
After a few seconds, he pulled back and looked at her with such sorrow and regret that she felt tears overflowing in her eyes as tears formed in his. “Give me an hour to get some answers,” he said in a quiet voice, his tone begging for her to understand. “Then I’ll come back and tell you everything I know.”
Sadie blinked at him. Was he serious? “You think you can come in here, drop these kinds of bombs on me, and expect me to do nothing about them? A woman is dead, Ron, a person, a mother—my friend. The police are considering me a suspect—me! You obviously know something. Do you really expect me to do nothing about that?”
“No,” he said sadly, shaking his head as if accepting a reality he’d hoped to avoid. “I don’t expect you to do nothing. I only ask that you wait an hour, so I can give you answers.”
“Give them to me now,” she demanded, wiping her eyes and wishing she could stop the tears completely.
“I don’t have them, or at least, not enough.” He looked at her a long time, and she held his gaze. She thought she loved this man and yet right now she was afraid of him and wondering how she could have misjudged him so badly. What friend would need Ron to act as some kind of go-between for Anne? Anne didn’t even know Ron’s friends—except Jack. Ron and Jack worked together, but if Jack needed to talk to Anne, he’d do it himself. And what would Jack need to talk to Anne for anyway? He’d moved out just weeks after Anne had moved in. To Sadie’s knowledge, they had never met other than the brief introduction she had given them one evening. There were so many missing pieces of this puzzle that Sadie didn’t even know where to start.
“Please give me an hour,” Ron asked again. “Please.”
Sadie just shook her head, as much to say no to his request as to communicate how unbelievable this all was.
“Can’t you trust me?” he asked. “Just a little.”
“Trust you?” Sadie repeated.
“I know it sounds crazy, but please. I love you, Sadie. I would never do anything to hurt you. I promise to tell you everything I know—just let me get a few answers first. Please.” He paused, looking at her, and she could feel her resolve crumbling. They had shared so much, been so important to each other. Didn’t that earn him an hour?
She nodded before realizing she’d made the decision. He pulled her into another embrace, and this time she found herself clinging tightly to him, pushing away the defenses that had risen a few minutes ago, and choosing to believe he meant what he said—that he wasn’t responsible for Anne’s death and that through him, she’d get some answers. He pulled back and she let him kiss her, but it was flat.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said as he hurried for the door.
The timer for the applesauce started beeping. She ignored it, shutting the door behind him and resting her back against the door. She looked at the clock—10:48. For little more than an hour she’d known that Anne was dead and Trevor was missing. She felt as if her entire world had been turned upside down.
Chapter 6
After removing the hot jars from the canner, Sadie put another batch of jars into the boiling water, wishing she’d been able to add ginger. Carrie’s car drove back out of the cul-de-sac ten minutes after Ron had left—reminding Sadie that she hadn’t talked to her sister-in-law yet. A year ago Carrie would have been one of the first people Sadie sought out. Jack’s leaving had changed everything. When he’d been here, they’d all felt like one big family—at least to Sadie.
After Neil died, having Jack close had been such a blessing. Neil had lost his own father when he was young, so he’d made sure that his family would be cared for, should something happen to him. Jack had not only helped manage and invest Neil’s insurance policy to ensure Sadie would have financial security for the rest of her life, but he’d also been a shoulder for her to cry on and strong arms to lift her children when she couldn’t do it herself. Though ten years younger than Sadie, Jack had come to her rescue better than any big brother ever could.
The ringing phone brought to mind how silent the house was. The caller ID read Garrison Hospital. She picked up the phone and said a breathless “Hello?”
“Sadie? It’s Mindy.”
Her neighbor, Mindy Bailey, worked part-time at a dermatologist’s office located in the medical complex connected to the hospital; Sadie would have assumed the doctor’s name would have come up on the caller ID, not the hospital.
“Mindy,” Sadie said, “how are you?”
“I’m just fine except for what I heard about Anne—is it true?” Mindy was one of those hyperactive women who talked and moved faster than everyone else around her. The fact that she had a horrible Dr. Pepper addiction didn’t help. In a word, the woman was exhausting. Before Sadie could answer the question, Mindy continued.
“I just got off the phone with Steve who said he heard about Anne on the police scanner they always have on in the back office. Can you believe it? Do you know what happened? Steve just left to go talk to the police, and I’m just sick about the news—and that poor boy! I sure hope the police find out who did it—that’s why I’m calling you. I told Dr. Paxton and he said he could call his wife to cover for me so that I could go home but I don’t want to go home with a psycho on the loose and his wife always makes such a mess of my files and then I remembered that the kids will be coming home from school and I don’t get off until five so I asked if I could leave at three and Dr. Paxton said I could. So I’m leaving at three and he won’t have to call his wife in—his nurse can cover for me, thank goodness—but I have a fifteen-minute drive and the kids will beat me home and so I wondered if I could call their schools and tell them to go to your house and then pick them up when I get off work so that they aren’t home alone. Would that be okay?”
Sadie couldn’t process what was being said as fast as Mindy could say it. It was one reason why she and Mindy weren’t particularly close—and why Sadie assumed Steve Bailey liked to work overtime. What did she ask me? Sadie repeated in her mind as she tried to pluck out the question from all the other stuff. Kids—my house—after school.
“Sure the kids can come over, I’ll be here. They get home about a quarter to three, right?”
She heard Mindy take a breath—ammunition for the next round. “Yes, the bus drops them off at 2:47. They’re the first drop—well, Caleb and Gina that is. Brandon, Sheri, and Chris are on the elementary bus and they don’t get home until 3:04. Oh, thank you, I can’t tell you what a relief it is to know you’re there. I hope they don’t hear about Anne at school. I know it will be so disturbing and it makes me wonder if Carrie doesn’t have the right idea—I heard she was going on vacation, you know. I wish Steve could get time off and we could all disappear for awhile until things get worked out. So do you know what happened? I mean, it’s just incredible that something like this could happen in Garrison, let alone in our neighborhood, ya know? Do the police know who might have done it? Have th
ey come and talked to you? I wonder if Carrie saw anything.”
Sadie had opened her mouth to answer Mindy’s questions a few different times, but finally just closed it and waited for her to finish. As soon as Mindy paused for air, Sadie broke in, talking as fast as Mindy had to ensure she got all the words out. “They’re still investigating; I’m not sure what direction they’re going.” She kept her own suspect status to herself. “I’ll look for the kids after school.”
“Thanks, that would be wonderful. Tell them I’ll be right there—but if they don’t know about Anne, don’t tell them, okay? I don’t want them to be scared or anything not having me there. Hopefully they haven’t heard already—would they tell the school? I don’t think so, since Anne didn’t have any kids there. Oh, I’m just sick about this. Maybe I should come home? But I’d hate to be alone too—I guess I could come to your place but—”
“No,” Sadie quickly interjected. She couldn’t imagine having Mindy at her ear all day. Things were bad enough already. “At a time like this it’s better to have something to keep you busy. I’ll watch for the kids.”
“Oh, thank you, Sadie. I knew I could count on you. I’ll call the schools and tell them to tell the kids to—”
“Okay,” Sadie broke in again, “that sounds great. I’ve got to go, Mindy.”
“All right, thanks again. I just don’t know what I’d have—”
Sadie hung up the phone. It was out of character for her to be so impatient, but she didn’t have the energy to keep up with Mindy today.
Sadie went back to her applesauce, arranging the cooling jars on the dish towel. Trevor’s painting kept catching her eye over and over, causing a pang in her gut each time she saw it. She walked to the fridge and turned it over, but after another minute, she flipped it back, the bright blues and reds crisscrossing the paper. Tears filled her eyes once again before she hurried to get out the vacuum. She had to stay busy! She thought of calling her kids, but they had class and work. Not to mention she didn’t know what to say or how much to tell them. She’d wait just a little while—until she had more answers.