I sighed and stared out the window. We were on our way to see the mayor’s son, Sawyer. At this point, he was our last suspect. By process of elimination, if we believed Don Johnson, Robert Casey, and Phyllis Gates were all innocent, then we had to assume Sawyer Dalton was the culprit.
“Do you think we should tell someone where we’re going?”
Mathew didn’t answer right away. After a minute he asked, “Do you want to skip our visit to Sawyer?”
“Um, have you ever met him before?”
“No. He doesn’t attend church, well at least, not mine. However, he has been the subject of plenty of gossip.”
I pressed my fingers against my eyelids. “I guess we should go on. I mean, the sleuths in the books never give up.” I tried to laugh, but it sounded like a frog croak.
Mathew winked at me. “Come along, Watson!” he cried. “The game is afoot!”
I giggled. “Oh, so you think you’re the great Sherlock Holmes? I’m just your trusty sidekick?”
He sat up straighter, stuck his chest out, and murmured, “Indubitably.”
CHAPTER 9
Sawyer Dalton lived five miles farther out of town. His home, if you could call it that, was a rather run-down travel trailer set on a small lot. On both sides of his unkempt land were lovely farms, and I wondered how they felt about this eyesore. I was really surprised by the sight of his place. Because he was the mayor’s son, I expected him to live in a fancy house, but that wasn’t the case.
Mathew pulled up beside the trailer, his truck rocking from side to side as it dipped into deep ruts that made maneuvering the driveway almost impossible. I leaned forward, peered at the forlorn trailer, and felt a heavy sense of sadness.
“No one should live in a place like this.” I barely whispered the words.
Mathew shook his head. “Can’t really afford anything else. His father always paid his way in life. After they had a falling out, Sawyer apparently had trouble holding a job.”
I noticed a curtain flutter from inside. Someone was definitely home. We clambered out of the truck and walked slowly to the door. There was no sidewalk, only frozen, uneven ground. I was glad the snow from several days earlier had melted, or we could have easily twisted an ankle stepping in the wrong place.
Mathew knocked on the door. We waited, but no one answered.
“I saw the curtains move. Someone is in there!” I whispered urgently.
Mathew knocked harder, and we finally heard footsteps. A voice yelled out, “Okay, okay, hold on.”
A few seconds later, the door was flung open by a very angry-looking young man. He was short, blond, and dressed in a greasy white T-shirt. From the odor, we could tell he’d recently had a few drinks.
“What d’you want?” His words screeched out belligerently, and he glared at us. He was rather bleary-eyed, but he also looked as if he were ready to pounce violently on someone.
A frightened whimper slipped from between my lips. Mathew stepped in front of me, which allowed me to move back and take a deep, calming breath.
“Mr. Dalton, um, Sawyer, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Mathew used a steady tone.
“About what?” Sawyer shot back.
“Your father’s death,” Mathew answered bluntly. I was shocked. Mathew was usually so pleasant. I didn’t say anything. Mathew was more equipped at dealing with people like Sawyer than I was.
Mathew’s directness must have impacted the man, because Sawyer pulled back as if he’d been slapped and shouted, “My father was murdered. Someone poisoned him. What kind of questions could you have for me?” He lifted a hand to his forehead and swayed on his feet.
Mathew reached out and laid a steadying hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. At that, the man seemed to sag. He moved to the side, and we were able to slip into the trailer without any hindrance.
Once inside, I scanned the room. There weren’t many places to sit, and the couch looked too dirty to touch. I caught Mathew’s eye, but he put his hand on my elbow and steered me straight to the couch. We both sat, rather gingerly. I clasped my hands in my lap, afraid to touch anything.
Sawyer dropped onto a chair by the kitchen table. “So, what’s this all about?”
I opened my mouth to speak but found Mathew’s steadying hand on my arm. I assumed he wanted me to allow him to do the talking. On quick reflection, I decided this was best. I had little experience in dealing with people who’d had a death in the family.
“Sawyer, the police have been looking into Tea by the Sea and are keeping the shop closed. Obviously, that’s not good for business, so Georgina and I have been speaking with everyone who saw your father that day. Trying to make a timeline of sorts. We hope to help the detective or at least prove that no one at the tea shoppe had anything to do with your father’s death.”
Sawyer lifted his head and met Mathew’s eyes.
“The detective told me Dad was poisoned by something from the tea shoppe. I’m not sure why he hasn’t arrested anyone yet.” He turned and glared at me.
I swallowed, and my mouth felt dry. I knew I hadn’t poisoned the petit four, but seeing the look in Sawyer’s eyes, I realized he believed I killed his father.
I squeezed my hands together to keep from fidgeting. I wanted to appear confident. “Sawyer, I didn’t have any reason to poison your father. I’ve never even met him.”
Sawyer stood abruptly and ran his hand through his hair. “Then who did it? Who else had access to your pastries? When I saw him at the office, he hadn’t eaten anything from the tray. It was sitting on his desk. He actually asked me if I wanted to try the samples, but I was angry with him, so I left the office.”
“What were you angry about?” Mathew inserted.
“That he was running for mayor again. I’d just found out, and I hate to say, we argued about it. I said some pretty mean things to him. But when I left the office, he was alive.”
Mathew leaned forward. “Why didn’t you want him to run again?”
Sawyer swiped at his eyes, which had begun to brim with tears. He swung his arm around as if showing us something.
“Do you see this place? This isn’t my home, but I couldn’t stand the house my father bought once he became mayor. It’s just a house for show, not family. Before he was mayor, we used to go fishing together, hunting—you know, the things fathers and sons do together. He promised me he wasn’t going to run again, that things would go back to the way they were before, but I guess he decided he just loved the limelight too much.” Sawyer plopped himself onto the chair again, his head down on the table.
The room grew silent, except for an occasional hiccup from Sawyer as he tried to regain control. Mathew stood, walked over, and placed his hand on the young man’s back. “Sawyer, tomorrow is the funeral, and I know that will be difficult. I’ll be there for you. I’d like to pray with you right now.” He sat on the chair across from Sawyer. “Would that be okay?”
Sawyer lifted his head and nodded.
I took this as a cue, so I let myself out and walked to the truck. After I opened the truck door, I took a few gulps of the cool air. The trailer had been so hot and humid inside. Once I felt a bit refreshed, I grabbed the inside door handle, stepped onto the running board, and lifted myself into the truck. I flipped open our suspect notebook and jotted down my thoughts.
As I waited for Mathew to join me, I reviewed what I’d just learned from Sawyer. I found myself feeling even more confused.
Sawyer was obviously overwhelmed with grief. I could see how upsetting it was for him to find out that his father was going to run for office again instead of spending time with him, but he seemed more hurt than angry. I didn’t believe Sawyer killed his father. If Mathew agreed with me, we were back to square one. Robert Casey, Don Johnson, and Sawyer Dalton were all innocent, of that I was sure.
After about twenty minutes, I saw the trailer door open. Mathew stepped out onto the wobbly front stoop. Sawyer was standing inside the doorway. He no longer looked angry, but
his shoulders were slumped over. The two men shook hands, and then Mathew began to walk toward the truck. Sawyer remained in the open doorway for a minute then disappeared into the trailer.
When Mathew joined me, he didn’t open the conversation, so I just stayed quiet. He started the truck then backed away from the gloomy-looking trailer and began to drive. We went at least five miles before he spoke.
“Sawyer is very sad at the loss of his father, not only because he died, but because of the unfulfilled dreams of having his relationship with his father healed.” Mathew sighed. “I’m not sure what he’ll do now. His father probably left him a lot of money, which won’t help that poor young man at all.”
“I feel so sorry for him,” I choked out. I could feel the pressure of unshed tears on the back of my eyes.
Mathew turned his head and smiled. “Pray for him. That’s the best thing you can do. I’m hoping I can talk with him more and encourage him to go to college. He needs some new goals.”
I was amazed at Mathew’s words. He was right, of course. However, I would never have considered that. I assumed Sawyer was a sad, lost case, but Mathew was able to see a bright future for the young man. I wondered if having a deep relationship with God, the way Mathew did, gave him this outlook. If so, I needed to spend more time with God.
“Now, what about that Christmas tree?” Mathew seemed to have shaken off the sorrowful mood. “It’s time to get you into the holiday spirit.” His infectious laughter filled the truck cab.
I glanced out the side window at the clouds. The sky didn’t look too ominous, so I no longer worried about being snowbound. “If you feel up to it. But I’ll understand if you don’t. I’m sure your conversation with Sawyer wasn’t an easy one.”
“No, it wasn’t, but I think I convinced him to think about moving closer to town and attending church. I’ll encourage college soon enough. What he needs now is community and support.” Mathew stopped at a stop sign then continued driving.
“That’s true. When I first moved to Sea Side, I felt so alone, but becoming part of the tea shoppe community has helped.”
“Same with me. The church and the locals in town have welcomed me with open arms. I feel like I’m truly home. So I’m game for a trip to get a Christmas tree. I think the cool air and the smell of pine are just what we both need.”
I couldn’t help but agree, so Mathew turned at the next corner and headed toward the Christmas tree farm. I opened my purse, pulled out a small hairbrush I carried with me, and ran it through my hair. After being in Sawyer’s trailer, I knew I’d want to give it a good shampoo in the evening. For the time being, I just wanted to enjoy the rest of the day, selecting a Christmas tree with a handsome man by my side.
CHAPTER 10
Having never been to a Christmas tree farm in the north before, I was stunned by the site. The rows of lovely fir trees, many with freshly fallen snow still lingering and glittering on the branches, were beautiful.
“I hate to cut one down,” I stated, as Mathew pulled an ax from the back of the truck.
“Yes, I know what you mean, but they are careful here to preserve the beauty. The only trees that can be cut are marked with a red ribbon. If you look closely, that’s like every third tree. It thins the area around the younger trees and allows them room to grow. Plus, for every tree that’s cut down, they plant two more here. The owners are also part of a group that plants trees in other states, where the trees have been wiped out either by fire or by companies who strip the land.”
I was impressed to know this, so I began happily searching for the right tree. There were many bigger ones I would have loved to bring home, but they weren’t right for my small apartment.
“As soon as this murder investigation is over and we prove that Tea by the Sea had nothing to do with it, I want to get serious about finding a house to rent at a reasonable rate until I can afford to buy one. I’ve always loved the idea of setting up a Christmas tree in a room with a large front picture window so anyone walking or driving by can share in the pleasure of seeing it as well.”
Mathew cocked his head and beamed. “That’s exactly how I feel. One of my favorite memories as a child was running home in the evenings around Christmastime, seeing all the lit trees in the front windows. Nowadays people keep their curtains drawn tight. I want my house to be a place where my congregants feel welcomed. Right now I need to focus on becoming a good leader for the church, but once I get married, I’ll be searching for that type of home as well.”
I tried to concentrate on looking at trees, but after his words, images of Mathew and me together in a lovely Victorian house, welcoming guests to share our Christmas tree, kept flashing through my mind along with a question. Lord, is there any chance Mathew is the one for me? Am I the one for him?
“So, what do you think. Does that sound good to you?” Mathew’s words drew me from my reverie. I stared at him blankly. I wasn’t sure what he’d said.
He waved his hand in front of my face. “Hello, hello … anyone home? Georgina, I just asked if you’d like me to help you set up your tree once we get it to your place.”
I gulped. “Yes, that sounds great. But you have the funeral tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you out too late.”
He glanced at his watch. A smirk crossed his face. “I think I can handle staying out till about seven and still get up in the morning.”
I felt rather foolish then. His earlier comments had me so flustered, I wasn’t sure what I was saying. I clamped my lips closed, turned, and really began to search for the perfect tree. Within a few minutes, I found just the right one. I stepped back and allowed Mathew to wield the ax. Before long, we were carrying a five-foot-tall tree between us to his truck.
After placing it in the truck bed, we walked to the checkout area to pay. The woman behind the counter barely glanced at me, but she locked her eyes on Mathew. “Hello, Pastor,” she purred. “If I’d known you needed a tree, I would have happily brought you one.”
Mathew glanced up. I thought I saw him pull back slightly. He spoke in a careful tone. “Hello, Miss Margaret.”
A trill of laughter escaped her lips. “Please, I’ve asked you to call me Maggie. Everyone else does. I was speaking to Miss Savannah, and she mentioned you could use someone to clean your apartment. I’d love to help you out.”
Mathew cleared his throat. “She must have me confused with someone else. I do my own cleaning.”
Margaret didn’t flinch at his words but finally acknowledged my existence with a curt nod.
Mathew held out the money. She snatched the bill from his hand, turned in a huff, and stomped to the other end of the counter to put it in the cash register.
I pressed my lips together to hold in my laughter but kept my eyes averted from Mathew. I could see a blush on his neck, and I didn’t want to cause him any further embarrassment. This was obviously the work of the Bible Study Ladies’ matchmaking.
Once Margaret handed some change back to Mathew, he did an about-face and made a beeline for the door. I jumped in surprise and rushed out after him. We both scrambled into the truck. Before Mathew put the key in the ignition, he turned to face me, his mouth in a crooked grin.
“Well, that was embarrassing.”
I covered my mouth but couldn’t refrain from giggling.
“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Mathew gave me a stern look, but I could see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “I’m taking you home to set up this tree.” He pushed the key in, started the truck, and began to drive.
I didn’t say anything more. I knew he wasn’t angry with me, but I’m sure he felt uncomfortable after being put on the spot by Miss Margaret.
When we arrived at my apartment, Mathew backed into a space where we could get the tree straight from the truck into the apartment. He unstrapped it, and together we lifted the fir over the side of the truck and carried it through the walkway to my apartment door.
I was a little afraid of finding another threatening letter, but there
wasn’t anything on the door. With a sigh of relief, I got out my keys and opened the door. Mathew was able to carry the tree the last few feet and leaned it up against the small wall between the fireplace and the sliding glass door that led out onto my minuscule porch.
Mathew turned and scanned the apartment but didn’t speak.
I laughed out loud. “It’s not very nice, is it?”
He shrugged. “I was trying to find something to say, but believe me, it’s no better than mine. Hopefully the tree and a few decorations will brighten the place.”
“What about you? Do you have a tree?”
He nodded. “Yes, one smaller than yours. I’m not home very often, so I didn’t do much decorating.” He moved across the room and glanced out the window. I saw his brow furrow.
“Detective Rawls is walking up the sidewalk.”
I rushed over to the window to look out. The detective was headed toward my apartment.
When we heard knocking on the door, I felt frozen in one spot, so Mathew strode across the room and opened the door.
Detective Rawls stepped into the apartment. “Miss Quin, I want to know what this letter means.” He held up the note I’d found on my apartment door earlier.
The thought of running to my bedroom, slamming the door, and throwing myself on the bed crossed my mind, but I just stood still, staring at the man.
“Um, it’s a threat,” I stated.
“Yes, but why would anyone send you such a letter? What have you been doing?”
I gulped and opened my mouth to respond.
He moved forward. “Don’t even waste your breath. You’ve been questioning all the suspects.” He swung his head around and faced Mathew. “And you’ve been right alongside her, Pastor. Why would you both take such a risk? Don’t you realize someone murdered the mayor? Now that same someone isn’t happy with you sticking your noses where they don’t belong!”
The Tea Shoppe Mysteries Page 7
