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

by Leona Fox

  Oxford laughed. “No, it’s not. But I was afraid if I didn’t speak first and try to disarm you, you’d reduce me to a pile of quivering Jell-O.”

  “I think it would probably take more than just me to shake your confidence,” she said.

  Oxford laughed. His face suddenly didn’t look so pinched, and Sadie spotted an actual twinkle in his eye.

  “I couldn’t say so at the time,” he said. “But I had a lot of admiration for your spunk, Sadie. I’ve never had a witness that just refused to give an inch the way you did. You didn’t doubt yourself for one minute. It takes strong character to stand up to my interrogation methods. I’ve had extensive training. It’s a good thing you are on the right side of the law. I’d have hard time cracking you if you weren’t.”

  “What convinced you that I’m not?” Sadie asked.

  “If I’m that hard to crack, how do you know I’m not just hiding my penchant for mayhem?”

  “Because I talked to half the people in this town. Not all of them like you, but not one had any doubt about the nature of your character. There wasn’t even a whisper of a rumor of any kind of criminal activity.”

  “You must have talked to the wrong half,” Sadie said. “There are plenty of people in this town who’d delight in crucifying me.”

  “Nope,” Oxford said. “Like I said, they didn’t all like you, but not one had even a hint they could give me. And some of them wished they did. One woman in particular. She just about spit nails when she couldn’t come up with anything to incriminate you.”

  “Katherine Hart,” Sadie said.

  “She’s hated me since high school when the boy she wanted to go to prom with asked me. And when I said no, he went stag and didn’t even dance with her. Those kinds of wounds don’t heal easily.”

  “I can’t say who it was,” Oxford said, but Sadie could tell he was stifling the urge to laugh.

  “Here’s what I’m still unclear about,” she said. “Clearly Norman killed George, but did he also hire the kid to tag my window?”

  “Yes.” Oxford rolled over on that kid immediately. “We’ve got a name and address and it’s only a matter of time now before he’s picked up. Zack’s got a couple of teams out looking for him. Both Norman and the tagger will face charges of vandalism.”

  “As they should,” Zack said.

  He came through from the kitchen carrying a tray full of chopped vegetables and dip, which he set on the table between Sadie and Oxford before perching on the arm of Sadie’s chair.

  “So, is this a love fest I’m hearing in here? Because I don’t remember signing up for the mutual admiration society.”

  “Oxford was telling me that you know who the kid is that painted on my window,” Sadie said.

  “We have better than that,” Zack said. “I got a call twenty minutes ago. They apprehended Ashland Pickett at his residence. I have it on good authority that his parents are devising a cruel and unusual punishment for when we are done with him. I believe military school was mentioned.”

  “How old is he?” Sadie asked. “I thought he was at least eighteen.”

  “Sixteen,” Zack said. “And his parents are mightily displeased with having to pay the fines and cleanup. Although it seems that Norman had actually convinced him that you were getting away with murder. He thought he was doing some sort of community service by pointing out your guilt.”

  “It’s a good thing his parents are supporting us,” Oxford said. “The punishment they devise will likely have a more lasting effect on his character than anything we might do. As a minor with no priors he’ll probably get off with community service.”

  “Wait until his parents hear that Norman committed the murders. It may be years before that kid sees another spray can.” Zack popped a cauliflower floret in his mouth and crunched.

  “That would be too bad,” Sadie said. “He’s actually a talented artist. It’s too bad we can’t reclaim the old granary and turn it into an artist’s space for those taggers. Not that I mind artwork on underpasses, but it is technically illegal.”

  “I wonder who owns the building. They’ve got to be paying a good chunk of taxes to the town for the land.”

  “This is a project I could sink my teeth into,” Sadie said. “A safe space for kids to practice their art? I’m going to propose it at the next town council.”

  “Better you than me,” Zack said. “Our town council is pretty conservative.”

  “Yes, but even a conservative can see how refurbishing an abandoned building creates value for the town,” Sadie said. “Especially if they don’t have to pay for it.”

  “How do you propose paying for it?” Oxford asked.

  “Wait and see,” Sadie said. “I’ll expect you to come back for the opening.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Oxford said.

  Later, Sadie would be hard pressed to remember what else they talked about that evening. She engaged in conversation, but half her mind was working on the project that had blossomed in her mind.

  The next day she took Mr. Bradshaw to see Ashland Pickett’s parents. Sadie rang the bell and the door was answered by a woman who looked to be maybe ten years younger than Sadie. She was plump and pretty with a few grey hairs peppered amongst the brown.

  Sadie introduced Mr. B and herself and asked if she could speak to Mrs. Pickett and her husband for a few moments. The smile faded from Mrs. Pickett’s face and she looked as if she might cry.

  “We are so sorry,” she began.

  Sadie cut her off. “You don’t need to apologize for your son’s actions,” Sadie said. “I’ll wait to hear that from him.” She smiled. “Please don’t look like that, I just came to propose something to you. Is your husband here?”

  The husband was fetched and the couple introduced themselves as Sara and Patrick Pickett. They invited Sadie and Mr. Bradshaw into the living room where Sadie sat in a comfortable chair with Mr. B on her lap, and the Picketts hovered together on the edge of the couch. Sadie thought they looked like they might flee at any moment.

  “Listen,” she said. “I know this might sound like a crazy idea. But I want your approval before I go to the town council and the judge who will preside over your son’s case. If you don’t agree then I’ll let it go and let the normal path of justice do its job. But somehow I think that my plan would bring a more positive outcome for Ashland.”

  “Okay,” Patrick Pickett said. “Fire away. If it could benefit our son, I’m all for it.”

  Sadie outlined her plan, making up details as she went. In the end, she could tell they were more than a little confused, but they agreed. However, the looks on their faces told her that they weren’t quite sure of her sanity. That was okay, the first hurdle had been cleared.

  She and Mr. Bradshaw went home to do some research online. It took a while, but eventually she tracked down the owner of the abandoned granary where the taggers hung out. He was a Seagrove local, and Sadie decided to take the bull by the horns and drove out to his huge house on the cliff overlooking the ocean.

  She was ushered into a room with a wall of windows overlooking the ocean. Five minutes later an elderly man came into the room and introduced himself as Marston Shaftcroft.

  “Mr. Shaftcroft,” Sadie began, “I understand you own the old granary out on Bad Blood road.”

  “I do indeed,” Marston said. “Although, how you discovered that tidbit of information is a mystery.”

  “All it took was a little perseverance,” Sadie said. “And knowledge of how the town’s offices file things.”

  “And have you come to ask me to knock it down,” he asked, “like so many before you? Because if so I’ll tell you the same thing I told them.”

  “Oh, lord no,” Sadie said. “I don’t want it knocked down. I want you to give it to the town.”

  “And what does the town want to do with my old granary?” he asked.

  “The town? Nothing. But I want to convert it into an art space. A bunch of taggers already hang out the
re and I want to make official.”

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  Sadie outlined her plan and Marston paid close attention, nodding and occasionally adding a detail. When they were done they had a plan for the Marston Shaftcroft Fine Arts Co-op for Non-traditional Artists, or the MSFA complex for short. Mr. Bradshaw let Marston scratch his head to seal the deal.

  Sadie drove away, feeling extremely pleased. He’d fallen hook, line and sinker for the old ploy – putting Marston’s name on the project had made it irresistible to him. Now she had to make it fly with the town council. Turning the old granary into town property would reduce the taxes coming into the town. She would have to make it attractive in other ways to take the sting out of that.

  She decided to find out which judge was hearing Ashland’s case and see him next. Because judges tend to be a bit conservative, Sadie left Mr. Bradshaw at home and brought Betty and Lucy with her instead. She filled the women in on the car ride to the court house.

  Judge Tolstoy looked over her reading glasses at the women as they entered her office. Sadie introduced herself, Betty and Lucy, and they sat in shiny wooden chairs in a semi-circle across the desk from the judge.

  “It is highly unusual for a plaintiff to approach me about a case. We will record these proceedings and make the transcripts public. Do you agree?” Judge Tolstoy asked.

  “Yes,” Sadie said, “we do.”

  “Then you may proceed.” The judge folded her hands in front of her and focused all her attention on Sadie.

  Sadie’s heart did a little flip-flop, and she wondered if she was doing the right thing coming here. Then she remembered what Oxford had said about her, and she wound up her courage and plunged in.

  “As you know, Ashland Pickett is planning to accept the consequences for defacing my place of business,” she began.

  “I have heard he’s agreed to a guilty plea, yes,” the judge said.

  “I agree he should pay for having the paint removed from my windows,” Sadie said.

  “But I would like to propose something else as well. I’ve talked to the boy’s parents, and if you agree I’ll talk to the town to finalize the plan. Marston Shaftcroft will donate the old granary to the town, as long as the town agrees that it be developed into an art co-op for non-traditional artists. The proposal we’d like to put before the town is that the artists are given the space for free, but in return they need to develop a plan for fundraising in order to refurbish the inside and clean up the outside. The idea is that the artists manage the space, make it better, and turn it into an asset for the town rather than an eye sore. We’d like to put Ashton in charge of that project for the first two years, until he reaches the age of eighteen and is no longer his parents’ responsibility.”

  She took a breath and waited for the Judge to speak. Judge Tolstoy was tapping her finger on her desk, and Sadie wondered what was going through her mind.

  “What makes you think he will accept this huge responsibility?” the judge asked.

  “Because if he doesn’t his parents are sending him to military school,” Sadie said. “If he agrees to head the co-op, he gets to keep painting. He’s at that age where proving his ability is important to him.”

  “Okay, I’ll present it as an option. But I can’t make him do it. That will fall squarely on his shoulders.”

  Outside the office, Sadie, Betty and Lucy did a short and excited celebration dance until the judge’s secretary came around the corner.

  “You were so erudite,” Lucy said. “I was proud of you.”

  “I’m proud too,” Betty said. “Not everyone would look for an opportunity to help someone who’d committed a crime against her.”

  “That’s the truth,” Lucy said.

  “Ashland’s work is gorgeous. Wait until you see it, Lucy,” Sadie said. “Then you’ll understand. Getting paid to scrawl words on windows is a waste of his talent.”

  The Seagrove town council knew a good thing when they saw it, and Ashland took the bait, or at least he liked the option of the co-op more than the specter of military school. Six weeks later, Sadie, Lucy, Betty and Zack were present at the ribbon cutting ceremony at the old granary. Marston was cutting the ribbon and Oxford had driven down from the state house to attend.

  The granary looked exactly as it had the last time Sadie had been here, but now there was something positive in the air. The sun shined through the red and gold leaves of the maple trees and the potential of what could be brightened the day.

  Marston cut the ribbon; and Ashland, dressed in jeans and a button down shirt rather than his usual hoodie, accepted the ceremonial key to the complex. His parents looked proud and happy. He had already started the fundraising, and on a table in the space near his mural were a series of plans he’d been developing with his fellow artists and an architect who showed interested in the project.

  Sadie smiled up at Zack. “I did good,” she said, a grin plastered across her face.

  “Yes, you did,” Zack said and leaned down to kiss her. “I’m so impressed by you.”

  “What is it the kids call this?” Oxford’s voice came from behind them.

  “PDA? Yes, that’s it, Public Displays of Affection. Shame on you, Zack. The Chief of Police should know better.”

  “Nonsense,” Sadie said, shaking her finger at Oxford.

  “Who better to show them how a real man behaves with the woman he...” she broke off.

  She was about to say ‘loves,’ but Zack had never said that he loved her. It was a bit presumptuous for her to say it for him. She looked up at him, confused.

  He grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can say it. Who better to show them how a real man behaves with the woman he...”

  “Loves.” Sadie’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears.

  “Loves.” Zack said firmly, and kissed her again.

  ~~~

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