Coffee Pastry & Murder (A Seagrove Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Leona Fox

  “Much better,” Sadie said. “Now sit down and eat another cookie.”

  He looked at her with confusion. “Is this a test?” he asked.

  “No, it’s not a test. If you don’t eat those cookies, I will. And I’ve already had four. I’m going to make myself sick.”

  “Oh, all right then.” Justin sat down and picked up another cookie. “I can help you out with that.”

  Later, when Zack called to see how she was doing, Sadie told him about what Justin told her.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from this?” he asked and she could tell he was concerned.

  “I didn’t go snooping,” she said. “He came looking for me. Ever since I told him to keep a chair cleaned off for guests in his office, whenever something goes wrong he comes looking for me. It’s like I’m the aunt he never had.”

  “I still don’t like it. I don’t want Oxford to have any reason to question you again.” He paused. “I don’t like the man.” Sadie could tell it cost him some to admit it.

  “I don’t like him either,” she said. “He’s a bully. But forget about him for a minute. Did you know Leda Jackson was back in town?”

  “Who is Leda Jackson?” he asked.

  “George’s Jackson’s ex-wife,” she said

  “Jackson had a wife?” He sounded confused. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  “Because they’ve been divorced for, I don’t know, twelve years or something. But listen to this, it was her store before they married and he got it in the divorce settlement. I don’t want to think she killed him, but man if you want to talk motive – she’s got it.”

  “Again, I asked you not to get involved.” He sounded resigned.

  “Again, I didn’t. I saw her crying on the sidewalk. I didn’t know who she was when I approached her. It’s not like I recognized her and went running up to her. She’s so changed,” Sadie said.

  “And yet when you found out who she was did you walk away? No. Sadie, you are killing me here.” He took a deep breath.

  “It’s not like I even left my dang house, Zack. Mr. B and I went across the street to the park and when we came back she was sobbing on the sidewalk. You know I couldn’t just leave her there crying. It would be inhumane.” She pushed all the passion she could muster through the phone.

  “Yeah, okay. You didn’t go looking for suspects, I’ll grant you that. But can you just admit that you like that I’m trying to look out for you? I’m shaking in my boots over here. Oxford Ludlow doesn’t seem to care who confesses, as long as someone does.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” she said.

  “Poor Justin. He was about to confess on the force of Oxford’s personality. I told him to pull himself together. But seriously, Zack. If we don’t figure out who killed George, do you really think Oxford will? Has he got what it takes to hear all the angles? Or will he just pin it in on the ex-wife because everyone knows it’s always the ex?”

  She thought of Oxford’s way of holding on to some little detail and never letting go and shuddered. Someone was going to get railroaded by that man, but it wasn’t going to be Sadie. She was going to keep her wits about her.

  “I don’t think she did it, Zack. Yes, she has the most compelling motive. The judge that passed her divorce settlement had to be out of his or her mind. I mean, who in their right mind takes a property that belonged to the wife before she was a wife – a business that she built up and made successful – and then gives it to the husband in the divorce. It doesn’t make any sense. And then, to top it off, there is a provision that says she gets it back if he dies. Who does that?”

  “It seems ass backwards to me, but you need to remember, we are not privy to all the details. We don’t know what he contributed to the marriage, or what he lost in the divorce. Try not to get too hung up on the details. There may be some little detail that we don’t know about that makes it unlikely that she’d ever kill her ex. You just never know.”

  “I guess you’re right. But would you hurry up and solve this case? It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “You forget. I’ve been removed from the case. I need to wait for him to conclude his investigations before doing what I think needs to be done. I’m not supposed to get anywhere near the details of this case,” he said.

  “But you’ve got your finger on the pulse of this town," she said. "Can't you solve it and feed him the information so he thinks he solved it?"

  "He's not that stupid. No, Sadie, you and I are to keep as far from this case as possible." He was using his stern voice and it made her want to laugh.

  "Considering he was murdered about twenty feet from where I'm sitting, as far as possible is not very far. Keep that in mind when you get the urge to lecture me." She paused a moment. "In fact, why did I not hear anything? I should have heard something from next door."

  "Maybe you were in the park with Mr. B," he said.

  Mr. B heard his name through the fiber optic line and pricked up his ears. Sadie scratched the top of his head with one finger.

  "Maybe," she said. "But it seems odd."

  "Don't look for trouble where none exists," He said. "You didn't hear anything. I think you should be grateful for that. If you'd heard something Ludlow would have questioned you for another five hours. That man certainly likes to be thorough."

  "He's just waiting for someone to break down and confess," Sadie said. "I don't think he cares if that person is innocent."

  "If he didn't care about finding the killer he wouldn't have come here. As far as I can see, his big concern is that you've been on a killing spree and I've been covering it up."

  "Because you are blinded by love?" she asked.

  "Something like that. He did mention something about vigilante law." His chair creaked and Sadie thought he'd propped his boots on his desk.

  "I'm offended for you," she said. "Of all the nerve."

  Mr. Bradshaw flopped over on the couch and rolled onto his back. She obediently rubbed his belly.

  "It's not worth getting your knickers in a twist over," Zack said. "I think it's kind of funny, Vigilante justice in Seagrove. You could make a spaghetti western out of it."

  "Only it wouldn't be a western, would it? It would be an eastern."

  "Sorry?" he sounded perplexed.

  "A western is about the wild west. We're in the cultivated east. It would be an eastern. Vigilante law in the civilized east. Spaghetti eastern.”

  “There is no such thing as spaghetti eastern, Sadie Barnett. You must know that. It would never sell,” He said.

  “With the right marketing anything will sell,” Sadie said, “Mr. Woodstone, you should know that by now. Murder at the Okay Corral becomes Homicide at the Seaside B&B.”

  She stopped rubbing Mr. B’s belly to scratch the tip of her own nose, and Mr. B, impatient for more, batted at her leg with his front paws and growled.

  “All right, Mr. B,” she said. “Keep your pants on.”

  “Did you just tell me to keep my pants on?” Zack asked. “You do know I’m in the office, right? I’m in the habit of keeping my pants on here.”

  “Not you, Mr. B. I stopped rubbing his tummy and he was expressing his displeasure.” She smoothed the hair on his spotted belly. “We’ve got it under control now.”

  “Thank goodness for that, I’d hate for Mr. B to be distressed. He’s one of my best deputies.”

  “I can’t think of a comeback for that,” Sadie said. “He is one of your best deputies. Although I’m not willing to rub any of your other deputy’s bellies.”

  Although, on second thought, one or two of his officers did have a six pack. She decided against mentioning that to Zack.

  “What about my belly?” Zack asked.

  “Chief Woodstone, are you propositioning me?” Sadie asked in mock horror.

  “Would you like it if I was?” he asked.

  “I cannot answer that question without incriminating myself,” she did her best impression of a damsel in distress. “And
forever ruining my reputation.”

  Chapter Four

  The next morning Sadie woke up thinking about how to have a chat with Leda Jackson. She thought about it while she ate her muffin out on the balcony. She thought about it while she rinsed her coffee cup in the sink. She thought about it while she strolled through the park with Mr. B. He chased ducks - something she didn’t approve of but hadn’t been able to break him of - and she thought about how she could possibly justify going to see Leda.

  Zack would kill her if he knew. He would draw and quarter her. He might even put her under house arrest. Then who would walk Mr. Bradshaw in the park?

  She could just hang out at the table in front of her shop waiting for Leda to come by again. She was bound to want to get into the bookshop as soon as possible. Zack couldn’t blame her for that, could he? Truthfully, he could blame her for anything he wanted, but he wouldn’t. If she discovered who killed George Jackson they could go back to their normal lives and he would be grateful. Wouldn’t he?

  Yes, she told herself, he would be grateful. He’d be grateful and thankful and he might even take her out to see a movie. So when Betty showed up for work, Sadie would go for a drive past the rundown motel and cabins that was the Sundowner. You never knew who you might see while you were driving around.

  When Betty came in she was disappointed that she couldn’t come too. “I want to cruise around the bad part of town with you,” she said. “You need a wing man to yell insults at the prostitutes.”

  “We don’t have prostitutes in Seagrove,” Sadie said, appalled. “Especially not out on the streets.”

  “Clearly you have never cruised the bad part of town on a Friday night,” Betty said. “Or you would know about the hookers.”

  “Clearly not,” Sadie said. “Fine. Put a sign on the door that says we’re closed for the day. You can come with us.”

  Sadie drove, Betty sat in the passenger seat, and Mr. B sat on Betty’s lap. Everyone was happy. Occasionally Mr. B would see something worth remarking on and he’d bark. Just once, to make sure everyone else noticed too.

  They didn't see any hookers along the strip of highway where the Sundowner was located, which was just as well, Sadie thought. She didn't want her image of Seagrove tainted. Not that she was a prude – far from it – but that kind of prostitution made her think of cheating men and dark and dirty rooms. Seagrove was a place of sunshine and seacoast – in her mind, if nowhere else. They cruised the parking lot of the Sundowner.

  "Do you know what her car looks like?" Betty asked.

  "Um, no," Sadie said. "I was just looking for out of town plates."

  "Then what? Knock on all the doors?" Betty asked.

  "Why don't I just go in and ask which room she's registered to," Sadie said and pulled into the portico in front of the office.

  Betty and Mr. B piled out of the car with her, which Sadie thought was unnecessary. Then again, there were limited opportunities for fun on this outing and nobody wanted to miss anything.

  The clerk behind the counter looked like she hadn't slept or showered in a month. Her hair hung lank and greasy around her head.

  "I'm looking for Leda Jackson," Sadie said. "Is she registered here?"

  The clerk shrugged and poked at the keyboard with two fingers.

  "Yeah," the clerk rasped, "She registered here, but we don't give out room numbers. I can call the room for you if you want."

  "Please," Sadie said.

  The clerk was looking at Betty oddly, and it took Sadie a minute to figure out that it was Mr. Bradshaw that was causing the confusion.

  "Are dogs not allowed?" Sadie asked.

  "Is that a dog? Oh. I thought maybe it was a rodent. Dogs are okay, rodents are not."

  The clerk picked up the phone and dialed 205 without even trying to hide the number. She waited a minute and Sadie could hear the ringing through the phone.

  "No answer, I can take a message if you want."

  "No thanks," Sadie said. "We're good."

  They needed to get out of there before Mr. Bradshaw caught on to the fact that the clerk thought he was a rat. He'd never bitten anybody, but being called a rodent seemed like sufficient provocation to Sadie. They climbed back in the car and Sadie drove away.

  "Too bad we didn't get the room number," Betty said. "We could have checked back later."

  "Oh, but we did," Sadie said.

  "Two-zero-five. The clerk didn't bother hiding it. In fact, we are going to check it out now, but first we need to park somewhere less conspicuous." She drove around the back of the building where there were more units and a larger parking lot.

  "Hey look," Betty said. "There's 205." She pointed to the second floor.

  Sadie pulled into a parking spot not far from a set of stairs to the second floor, and they piled back out of the car and up the stairs. Half way up Sadie realized that Mr. B could easily fall through the gaps in the metal banisters and picked him up.

  Betty knocked at the designated door but there was no answer. She banged again. Nothing.

  "Okay," she said, "time to cruise the hood."

  "The hood?" Sadie asked. "Really?"

  "Yeah, the hood. The environs, you know, the locale." Betty jutted an ample hip out and snapped her fingers.

  "Are you looking for me?"

  Sadie looked down into the parking lot to see Leda Jackson standing next to a red Ford Fiesta that wasn't there when they'd parked two minutes ago. Leda headed for the stairs and took them two at a time.

  The three women, plus small dog, entered the room. Sadie had never been in a Sundowner room and hoped to never step foot in one again. It wasn’t that the room was dirty; it was so worn that you couldn’t tell if it was dirty or not. She looked at Leda, but Leda must have been used to it because she plopped down on the bed like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Sadie sat in a vinyl covered chair with Mr. Bradshaw on her lap while Betty leaned against the window.

  “What can I help you with?” Leda asked.

  Now that they were there, all her carefully prepared questions escaped from Sadie’s mind. She sat for a moment with her mouth open before remembering her conversation with Zack. She closed her mouth.

  “You’re wondering if I killed my ex-husband,” Leda said.

  Sadie opened her mouth to protest but Leda waved her away.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Leda said.

  “I knew when I arrived back so soon after his death that people would think I killed him. But I didn’t. I actually have a solid alibi. I was on a trip in Scotland and had just gotten back when I found out. There’ll be flight manifests to confirm my story.”

  “I’m sorry, Leda,” Sadie said. “I wish it wasn’t so obvious that we were wondering if it was you who killed your husband. And I’m really glad it wasn’t.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Leda said. “If the shoe had been on the other foot I would’ve been wondering if it was you. And then I would have to think about whether I was going to keep your secret for life or turn you in for the reward.”

  “Lucky for you,” Betty said, “there is no reward.”

  “I know, right? If there was a reward it wouldn’t matter if I killed him or not; half the people in this town would be turning me in.”

  “It does beg the question, though,” Betty said.

  “Who did kill him?” Leda finished for her. “Yeah, I wonder too.”

  “We need to find out,” Sadie said, “or I’ll be going to jail for it.”

  “Wait, what?” Leda looked at Sadie confusion. “Why would you kill George?”

  “He painted some pretty nasty stuff on my window. Then he got fined and had to wash it all off. And for that Oxford Ludlow thinks I would murder him. He keeps trying to make me confess,” Sadie said.

  “And you didn’t kill him, right?” Leda asked.

  “Nope, not me. I didn’t even think of it.” Sadie raised her hands in the air palms up.

  “Is it just me,”
Leda said, “or had George gotten a little farther off his rocker recently?”

  “Oh, I think the rocker was long gone,” Sadie said. “He’d started yelling at people on the street for no apparent reason, as far as I could tell.”

  “I’m going to help you find the murderer,” Leda said. “The sooner this case is closed, the sooner I get into my shop. And you get into my future apartment. Which reminds me, I came back here to pack up my stuff. I rented a condo.”

  “Need any help?” Betty asked.