by Laura Childs
“Suzanne?” Toni leaned in the doorway of the Book Nook. “A little help, please?”
Suzanne looked up. “Pardon?”
“The café is filling up and I’ve already taken a dozen orders.”
“Right. Okay,” Suzanne said as Toni disappeared. “I’m on it.”
At the exact moment Suzanne hustled back into the café, Mayor Mobley walked through the front door.
Mobley cocked a mournful eye at her and said, “Suzanne,” in a voice that sounded as if he was about to make a major proclamation.
“Mayor Mobley,” Suzanne said. “How was your emergency meeting this morning?”
Mobley’s florid face pulled into a frown. “How’d you know about that?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, this is a café,” Suzanne said. “Everybody talks. They gobble donuts and sticky buns, choke down enough coffee to kill a horse, get their sugar buzz going, and gossip to their hearts’ content. It’s like a relentless twenty-four-hour cycle of fake TV news.”
“I don’t like to hear that,” Mayor Mobley said. He was overweight and sneaky as a weasel and had a pugnacious nature that was reflected on his pudgy face. This was Mobley’s third term as mayor and probably the third time he’d stuffed the ballot box. The citizenry not only didn’t like Mobley; they didn’t particularly trust him. Then again, that’s what happened when you had a reputation for sticking your fat fingers into all sorts of shady deals. Mayor Mobley and Allan Sharp were the deal brokers in town. Now, with Sharp dead and gone, it would be up to Mobley to carry on their nefarious tradition.
Suzanne seated Mobley at a small table by the window. Mobley, who was perpetually cranky and a genuine snake in the grass, got right down to business.
“If you know about our meeting, then I guess you’ve heard about Allan Sharp.”
“Are you kidding?” Suzanne said. “I was there last night, working in the wings. I watched all of you guys come trooping offstage; then I saw Sharp get stabbed!” What was wrong with Mobley? Had he left his brains in his sock drawer this morning?
“Oh yeah, I guess I did see you there,” Mobley muttered. He wasn’t one bit flustered by his mistake. Then again, he never was. He seemed to perpetually exist in his own self-important world. He’d also managed to cobble together a web of informants who kept him apprised of everything.
“Allan was a good man,” Mobley said in carefully measured tones.
“Yet you didn’t ask him to run your last campaign,” Suzanne said. Mobley and Sharp had always been thick as thieves. But not lately. Something major had happened in the last couple of months. Some sort of disagreement had driven a huge wedge between them.
“No, I hired someone else.” Mobley’s eyes were a pair of hard gray marbles as he stared at Suzanne. “Pretty much had to. Allan went out and got himself elected to the city council. I had to cut him loose because I didn’t want anybody screaming foul play or accusing us of having an old boys’ network.”
Even though you really are an old boy with a network, Suzanne thought. Then she decided to have a little fun. It wasn’t often that she got a chance to needle Mobley and maybe do some investigating at the same time.
“But right after the election you did have a major falling-out with Allan Sharp, isn’t that right?”
“Not really,” Mobley said. “We both had what you’d call . . . um, other interests.” Then Mobley’s face creased in a knowing crocodile smile. “But getting back to the murder, I guess you don’t know everything, Suzanne.”
“What don’t I know?”
“That Sheriff Doogie already has a prime suspect.”
Suzanne was shocked. Was this really true? Was Doogie hot on the trail of someone but had purposely played it cool with her? Or had this suspect just popped up in the last thirty minutes?
“Who is it?” Suzanne asked.
Mobley lifted a pudgy hand and made a childish zipping motion across his mouth. “You’ll have to wait and see, Suzanne, just like every other law-abiding citizen in Kindred. Much as you have a reputation for meddling, you’re not gonna get involved in this investigation.” Mobley favored her with a knowing, smarmy smile. He was doing his level best to be intimidating, but Suzanne wasn’t buying what he was selling.
Suzanne whipped out her order pad. “What can I get for you, Mayor?” She wasn’t about to play Mobley’s silly games. She’d worm the suspect’s name out of Doogie later. The sheriff might talk tough but he was terrible at keeping secrets.
Mobley squinted at the chalkboard. “I’ll have your ham and cheese sandwich with extra cheddar.”
“On whole wheat toast?”
“Sourdough. And have Petra grill it in butter.”
“Any sides?”
“Large order of French fries. Make sure they’re nice and hot.”
Suzanne decided that much grease would definitely make him a cardiac patient–in–waiting. One EKG special coming right up.
“Was that fat tub of lard giving you a hard time?” Toni asked. She was standing behind the counter, packing up a to-go order. Wrapping the pickles in plastic so the juice wouldn’t leak everywhere, snapping lids on small containers that held potato salad.
“Mobley’s just being Mobley,” Suzanne said. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Are you sure? Because I’d be happy to mosey over there and spill something on him. I just brewed a fresh pot of Sumatran blend that’s hotter’n blue blazes. I could dribble some down the front of Mobley’s shirt or I could even try for a crotch shot.”
“You’re a good friend, Toni, but he’s not worth the effort.”
Suzanne and Toni went back to work, taking orders and serving luncheon entrees, doing a choreographed dance that was worthy of Martha Graham. Petra kept things churning in the kitchen, sending out orders and beaming whenever one of their customers ordered a nice slice of her fresh-baked pecan pie for dessert.
At two o’clock, Petra pulled a pan of scones from the oven and turned her attention to making dainty tea sandwiches. By two-thirty a few customers had wandered in for afternoon tea.
When the Cackleberry Club first opened, customers had come in looking for mid-afternoon pie and coffee. But with a little coaxing and a lot of charm, Suzanne had turned those confirmed pie and coffee lovers into fans of afternoon tea. Of course, Petra’s chocolate chip scones, chicken and chutney tea sandwiches, and pink and yellow macarons had helped turn the tide as well.
As Toni poured steaming cups of Darjeeling into their treasured Shelley Primrose Chintz teacups, a young woman in a navy blue puffer coat stepped through the front door. But instead of sitting down at one of the empty tables, she stood there, looking nervous and a little timid.
Toni hurried over to the young woman. “Help you, honey?” she said. “We just started serving our afternoon three-course tea if you’re interested.”
“I . . . I’m looking for Suzanne Dietz,” the young woman said. “Is she here?”
“She’s working in the Book Nook,” Toni said, gesturing across the café. “You head in there and when you encounter a fine-looking blond lady who looks like she could serve high tea while whipping an ornery bronc into shape . . . you’ll have found our boss lady. That’ll be Suzanne.”
* * *
• • •
SUZANNE was sitting behind the front counter, writing up book orders and sipping a cup of tea, when the young woman approached her.`
“May I help you?” Suzanne asked without looking up. She was just tallying her order amount. And it came to . . . a lot.
“I hope so.”
Now Suzanne glanced up with a friendly smile. “We just received the new Lee Child thriller, and Carmen Copeland’s newest romance is . . .” She stopped mid-sentence, a little startled because she was pretty sure she recognized this young woman. “Wait. I know you.”
The woman touched a han
d to her chest. “Amber. Amber Payson.” She was in her late twenties, very pretty, even though she wore a somber expression. A cherubic flow of auburn hair enhanced her lovely peaches-and-cream complexion. She looked, Suzanne thought, as if her portrait should be done in stained glass in some medieval cathedral.
“You used to work at the Westvale Clinic with Sam,” Suzanne said. “At the front desk. You sat right behind Esther.” She noted that Amber, though dressed in a navy blue puffer coat, still managed to look fashionable and just this side of sexy.
“I wish I still worked there,” Amber said.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Suzanne said. “And I didn’t mean to push our new bestsellers at you.”
“That’s okay.” Amber shifted from one foot to the other. She seemed to be working up to something.
“If you’re not in the market for a book, maybe I could interest you in a pot of Darjeeling or Assam tea?” Suzanne said. “Or Japanese green tea if you’re in the mood to stretch your taste buds.”
Amber shook her head. “Thank you, but I . . . I don’t want any tea.” She leaned forward, placed her hands on the counter, and dropped her voice. “I came here hoping you could help me.”
“Help you?” Suzanne cocked her head to one side. “I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re getting at.”
“You and I have a mutual friend.”
“Okay.” Suzanne waited patiently for Amber to make her point.
“Missy Langston.”
“Yes, Missy is a dear friend. But what does that . . . I mean, how may I help you?”
“There’s a rather difficult situation that’s come up,” Amber stammered. “And Missy told me that you were really, really smart and . . . that, um, maybe you could give me some assistance.”
“If you’re asking for advice, perhaps you’d better tell me what this situation is all about,” Suzanne said. She was starting to get a weird, jangling vibe from this girl.
“The thing is . . . I just came from the Law Enforcement Center,” Amber said. “Where they asked me all sorts of questions about Allan Sharp.”
“You mean Sheriff Doogie asked you questions?” Suzanne said. “Or one of his deputies did?”
“It was the sheriff.”
“You must be one of the actors from last night,” Suzanne said, though she didn’t remember seeing Amber at the theater.
Amber shook her head. “No.”
“Then why on earth would they ask you questions about Sharp?”
Amber drew a deep breath and said, “Because they think I killed him.”
CHAPTER 5
“MAYBE you should start from the very beginning,” Suzanne said. “Tell me the whole story.” She’d immediately hustled Amber into her small office adjacent to the Book Nook. Now she sat in her leather swivel chair while Amber faced her across a desk cluttered with invoices, orders, vendor product sheets, and recipes. “You’re an honest-to-goodness suspect in Allan Sharp’s murder?”
Amber gave a sorrowful nod. “According to Sheriff Doogie I am.”
Suzanne shook her head. “I find that hard to believe since you weren’t even at the theater.”
“No, I wasn’t. I didn’t even know about the play until this morning.”
“Then why is Doogie questioning you? What’s the connection?”
“After I left the clinic I went to work for Mr. Sharp at his law firm.”
“Oh,” Suzanne said. “You mean at Sharp Shinder and Young.”
“I thought it was going to be my dream job. I’d have lots more responsibility, practically be on par with a paralegal. It was going to be a fabulous opportunity for me to learn about the law.” Amber drew a quick, shaky breath. “Unfortunately, things didn’t turn out the way I hoped, so I resigned.”
“How long ago was that?”
Amber thought for a few moments. “It’s been two months. And my departure didn’t exactly happen on friendly terms.”
“In other words you quit,” Suzanne said. “Why?” She knew there was more to this story. That the other shoe was about to drop with a loud clunk.
Amber could barely meet Suzanne’s eyes. “I quit because of Mr. Sharp.”
“Did Allan force you out because the two of you didn’t get along? Did he overburden you with extra work so you’d have to quit?”
“No, the workload was nothing I couldn’t handle. In fact, I enjoyed the legal aspect and I’m a pretty hard worker. It was . . . all the other stuff.”
Suzanne’s blood ran a little cold. “The other stuff,” she said. “Go on.”
Amber looked pained. “I’d been there maybe a month before Mr. Sharp began to harass me unmercifully. He was constantly making comments about how I looked, how pretty I was, and how I dressed. Then he started finding excuses to brush up against me or whisper in my ear. He even drove by my house a couple of times—a duplex over on Mason Street.”
Right about then, Suzanne started thinking that Sharp’s death might not have been such a bad thing after all. “What else?” she asked.
Amber couldn’t meet Suzanne’s eyes. “He asked me out to lunch as well as on a couple of dates. When I continued to say, ‘No, thank you,’ he started bringing me cornball gifts. Teddy bears, candy, funny trinkets for my desk. Then one day . . . he brought me a present of black frilly lingerie.”
Suzanne grimaced. There were no words. She’d always known Sharp was a sleazeball; she just hadn’t realized the full extent of his sleaziness.
“I always tried my best to keep our relationship strictly professional,” Amber said. “That’s what I was taught to do at business school.” She glanced sideways at Suzanne. “I don’t know, maybe things have changed?”
“No,” Suzanne said in a firm voice. “Nothing’s changed. If anything, women are standing up to this kind of crappy, rude behavior. They’re fighting back.”
Amber nodded. “That’s what I figured. But it’s difficult to stand up for yourself when your boss refuses to take no for an answer. When you’re terrified that he’ll badmouth you all over town.”
“Did Sharp do that? Try to damage your reputation?”
“Some.”
“Oh Lord.” Suzanne leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “You don’t need me, honey, you need an attorney.”
Amber curled a lip. “You mean like Allan Sharp’s partner?”
“No. Definitely not him. Someone who specializes in workplace harassment. Wait, don’t tell me you had a problem with Don Shinder, too?”
“No, I never did.”
“Did Don Shinder know that Sharp was sexually harassing you?”
“I don’t think so,” Amber said. “Mr. Shinder was out of the office an awful lot and I didn’t feel it was my place to bring it up to him. For one thing, I didn’t know if I could trust him.”
Suzanne sat there thinking.
“Was Missy right?” Amber asked. “Can you help me?”
“Maybe I could talk to Sheriff Doogie,” Suzanne said slowly. “He’s a good friend and might listen to me.” She tapped a finger against her desk. “Did you tell Sheriff Doogie about Sharp harassing you?”
Amber hung her head. “No, because it’s too embarrassing.”
Suzanne thought some more. “But somebody out there put a bug in Doogie’s ear that you were angry at Allan Sharp.”
“I have no idea who that would be,” Amber said.
“Someone said something to Doogie. And it carried enough weight for him to bring you in for questioning. Unfortunately, it looks as if you have an enemy, someone who wants to bring serious trouble down upon your head.”
“It’s terrifying to think someone would hate me that much.”
“Is there anyone else who’s been causing problems for you? Old employer, old boyfriend, jealous girlfriend, roommate?”
“I’m not employ
ed right now and I don’t have a roommate.”
“Boyfriend, then?” Suzanne asked.
“Even if it was an old boyfriend, I don’t think Curt would be that nasty.”
“You never know,” Suzanne said. “Did you ever tell this guy, Curt, about Sharp’s bad behavior?”
“Some.”
“Hmm.”
Amber sat bolt upright in her chair and turned mournful eyes on Suzanne. “So, was Missy right? Can you help me?”
“Amber, I’m going to try. Believe me, nobody wants to figure this out as much as I do.”
* * *
• • •
AN hour and a half later, Suzanne, Toni, and Petra were gathered in the deserted Cackleberry Club for what Toni liked to call an executive board meeting. Which meant Petra had brought her knitting and Toni was fussing with a new set of purple press-on nails.
“What are you working on?” Toni asked Petra.
“Just something I want to show my knitting class,” Petra said. “It’s a sweater made with a blend of arctic fox yarn.”
“Are you serious?” Toni asked.
“Well, it’s thirty percent arctic fox and seventy percent merino wool,” Petra said.
“You mean this wool was once alive?” Toni asked.
Petra chuckled. “Most types of wool were. Or are.”
Suzanne sat down at the table with Toni and Petra. “Are you ready?” she asked. She’d tossed around the idea of telling them about Amber’s problem but had decided to hold off until she talked the whole thing over with Sam. So, instead, Suzanne just told Toni and Petra that she wanted to go over their plans for the coming week.
“We’re gonna be super busy,” Toni said immediately. “Day after tomorrow is our Christmas Tea, which is sold out, by the way. And then we kick off our toy drive on Friday.”
