Lemon Tart

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Sadie nodded at Detective Cunningham, indicating she was ready to leave. He kept his expression blank but his eyes danced. He’d liked her little game with Detective Madsen. They didn’t say anything until they reached the sidewalk. Two police cars were parked by the entrance to the cul-de-sac, presumably to monitor the people driving in.

  “Can you tell me about your neighbors as we walk?” Detective Cunningham asked. He started walking, and Sadie fell in step next to him. Instead of cutting across the cul-de-sac like she usually did, he seemed intent on taking the sidewalk.

  “Sure,” Sadie said with a chipper smile. She loved that she could help him, and without a doubt she was the right woman for the job of talking about her neighbors. She indicated Mr. Henry’s house as they crossed his driveway. “Mr. Henry is in his early sixties. He’s from Canada, with two ex-wives and four children, but I’ve never met any of them. He’s an engineer and works at the GM plant. He works a lot, likes to travel when he can, but keeps to himself.” She leaned in to the detective a little bit. “He’s got a girlfriend,” she whispered. “And he goes to her house every Friday for dinner. A woman in my yoga class lives just down the road from her. She and I both think it would be a good match. He’s lonely.”

  Cunningham smiled, though she couldn’t tell if it was polite or sincere, but no matter. She really did hope Mr. Henry married again. It would be wonderful to have another woman in the neighborhood. She paused until they passed Mr. Henry’s property and entered the stretch of sidewalk in front of the Baileys’ house. “The Baileys have five children ages seven to sixteen. Steve manages a sporting goods store and Mindy’s a medical assistant in a dermatologist’s office. Steve’s from California, but Mindy is from here. They met in college and lived in Sacramento for a few years before she demanded he find a job where she could be closer to her family. The irony is that her parents moved to Scottsdale a few years back.” She shrugged. “But they seem happy here anyway. She has three sisters who live within an hour or so.”

  Detective Cunningham removed his notebook from his back pocket and finally began taking notes. They crossed in front of Jack and Carrie’s driveway. “This is Jack and Carrie Wright’s house,” she began, hesitant this time. “Jack’s my brother.”

  “He is?” Detective Cunningham asked, looking up. “You didn’t mention that before.”

  “Is it important?”

  Cunningham shrugged. “You said before that he left his wife some time ago.”

  “Yeah,” Sadie said sadly. “They’d been married twenty-seven years and he left about eight months ago—in March.”

  “Why?”

  Sadie looked at the house and let out a breath. “I honestly don’t know. Jack and I have always been close, but our relationship has changed the last year or so—especially after Dad died last December. When Jack left, he sort of pulled away from everyone. We’ve talked a few times but I’m afraid we have one of those proverbial elephants in the room whenever we do. He wants to believe it’s not any of my business and I want to pretend nothing has changed.” She smiled at how silly that sounded and shook her head.

  “What would be your guess as to why he left? Surely you have your suspicions.”

  That she did, and she wrestled with the definition of gossip for a moment. Was it gossip if she told it to a police officer? She decided it wasn’t. “Carrie’s always taken her mothering very seriously and she had a hard time when her girls started leaving home.” It was something Sadie had never understood about her sister-in-law. On the one hand, she and Neil had tried to have children for several years before adopting Breanna and then Shawn—those empty years had been so hard and Sadie had had to fight the temptation to completely lose herself in her children once she had them in her arms. And yet, she and Neil were a team and she’d have given anything to have had Neil by her side to help raise their children. That he’d died when they had only just begun to realize the joy of their family was a horrible twist of fate.

  Sadie sighed and looked at the house. “In some ways, Carrie and Jack stopped being a couple the day they became parents. She’s a doting, if not overly-protective mother, and her girls have always come first. Their youngest, Trina, graduated from high school the same year as my son Shawn. Jack wanted her to go to college, like their other girls had, but Carrie and Trina were best friends—they did everything together and Trina wouldn’t leave. Jack put up with it for two years, and then one day he kinda snapped. Last winter, he enrolled Trina at Colorado State, got her an apartment in Fort Collins, drove her there one day, dropped her off, and came home—didn’t even let her take her car for fear she’d just drive back. Carrie nearly lost her mind.” Sadie paused and pushed her hands into her pockets. “Jack told Carrie if she went and got her, he’d leave. Apparently the fear of truly being on her own was greater than her fear of losing her last hold on motherhood. But she was so mad. Then Dad died. I think once Jack knew he wouldn’t disappoint Dad, he tried for a few more months and then left anyway, even though Trina was doing pretty well at college, thanks to his insistence. It’s been really hard.”

  They stopped walking when they reached the black walnut tree. Sadie scanned Jack and Carrie’s yard, noticing that none of the perennials had been cut back and the roses needed pruning. She shook her head. Jack had always taken such pride in their yard. Its lack of care seemed a kind of mourning for his absence.

  “It seems odd he never gave any reason,” Detective Cunningham said, looking over the yard as well.

  “I’m a widow, Detective,” Sadie said, an air of authority in her voice this time. “I’ve mourned Neil for twenty years. I think Jack’s embarrassed to admit he couldn’t make his marriage work—whereas I’d have given anything for the chance to have mine back.”

  Detective Cunningham said nothing, just nodded his understanding and smiled sympathetically, holding her eyes a long time before looking down at his notebook again.

  “You mentioned Carrie does temp work?”

  Sadie nodded, and her sympathy for her sister-in-law returned. “I think she’s pretty intimidated to be back in the workforce after so many years of being at home. So far it seems to be working out pretty well. I think Jack’s still paying all the bills. He’s that kind of man.”

  “And what does Jack do for a living?”

  Sadie wondered why he wanted so much information on Jack and Carrie. He hadn’t asked this many questions about Mr. Henry or the Baileys, but then she’d offered all these same facts without being prodded. “He’s jumped between several careers, but has been an agent for Riggs and Barker for the last nine years—you know the real estate company?” She decided not to tell him that’s where Ron worked; she preferred not to say anything about Ron at all, even though that’s the reason she’d come outside earlier.

  “Were the two of you raised here?” Detective Cunningham asked. Sadie shook her head and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Having thought of Ron, she felt guilty for not telling the detective that Ron had been at Anne’s house. She also wondered if he’d called since she’d been out. She should have brought her cell phone, but then imagined getting a call from him while she was standing with the detective. That would be uncomfortable. She remembered that Cunningham had asked her a question.

  “We grew up in Boulder and have one more sister between us—she lives in New Hampshire. Neil and I moved here about twenty-seven years ago—Neil got a vice principal position at the high school—and Jack and Carrie moved out here a few years later because we raved about it so much.”

  “And what do you do for a living?” Detective Cunningham asked, moving on.

  Sadie nodded. “I’m a teacher—well, I was a teacher. I taught for several years before I met Neil, quit when we adopted our children, then went back to work after he died and the kids were in school all day. I took early retirement so I could care for my dad when he got sick. I substitute now; the flexibility is nice and I’ve always been a homebody at heart.”

  “You do a lot of
volunteer work,” he said rather than asked. “I seem to remember your name popping up in the community section a fair amount.”

  Sadie blushed. “I was thirty-seven years old when my husband died—my kids became my life. I volunteered for anything they were involved in, and things spiraled from there.”

  “If only everyone was so generous with their time,” he said, smiling at her. This time she knew he meant it and his sincerity made her strangely uncomfortable.

  Detective Cunningham finished writing and closed his notebook. “I really appreciate all the information you’ve given me; it’s helpful for us to get the background. I might need to talk with you again,” he said. “Will that be okay?”

  “Sure,” she said. She turned and let herself back into her house, disappointed that she hadn’t told him about Ron, but unable to find the words. She looked at the clock. It was 12:35. Ron was now an hour late. The empty house made her stir-crazy and she wondered what on earth she was going to do until the Bailey kids got home from school. She needed a few groceries, but the idea of doing something so ordinary on a day like this seemed horribly wrong—not to mention she’d already judged Carrie for doing the same thing. The ringing phone saved her from having to make a decision.

  “Sadie?”

  “Carrie,” Sadie replied, recognizing her sister-in-law’s voice. “Are you okay?” Sadie asked. “This is just so awful.”

  “Yeah, quite the shock to wake up to. I noticed they let you in her house,” Carrie continued. “What did they tell you?”

  Grateful to have someone to talk to, Sadie told her what they’d found. After a few minutes of Carrie listening, she concluded. “So I think she was strangled, but I don’t know for sure and they wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Wow,” Carrie said, her voice soft and obviously overwhelmed. “I guess it just goes to show you can’t run away from your past.”

  Sadie thought about that. “We don’t know that it was her past,” she said. “We don’t know anything, really.” Except that Anne was dead. The thought caused another pang of regret and Sadie wondered what could have been done differently to prevent this. Could it have been prevented?

  “Right,” Carrie said. “But she was certainly no shiny penny—no one can run away from their mistakes forever.”

  “I suppose not,” Sadie said, but she didn’t like the tone of Carrie’s observations—as if Anne somehow deserved what had happened to her. “But you’d hope for a chance at a better life once you changed your choices.”

  “I guess that depends on how many people get hurt before you change those choices. Or if you really change at all.”

  Was everyone determined to think the worst of Anne? Even with Ron’s shocking admission of being with Anne last night, Sadie felt sorry for the girl. She didn’t deserve this, no matter what she might have done.

  The doorbell rang and spared Sadie from having to explain her perspective or lecture her sister-in-law on being compassionate. “I’ve got to get the door, Carrie. I’ll talk to you later.”

  A few moments later she opened the door. “Officer Malloy.”

  He nodded in greeting and stretched out a hand holding all three of the library books she’d seen at Anne’s house earlier. Sadie looked at them without making any move to take them from him, forcing Malloy to explain himself. “CSI cleared them and the detective asked me to bring them over and ask if you’d return them.”

  “Oh,” Sadie said in surprise. “Really?” She met his eyes and he shrugged. She pictured Cunningham giving the books to Malloy to give to her. She’d have to make him cookies when all this was over. Was he an oatmeal-raisin or a chocolate-chip man? She took the books from Malloy and smiled. “Tell him thank you.”

  Malloy nodded again and headed down the steps.

  She shut the door and spent five minutes eagerly poring over the books before determining there was nothing of significance in their pages other than a blank Post-it note that seemed to have been used as a bookmark. With a sigh, she stacked them on the table and wondered what she’d thought she would discover. But at least she had something to do.

  She changed into her favorite pair of Gap jeans and white Skechers. After considering the sweaters in her closet, she decided to stay in the CSU hoodie. She spent a few minutes on her hair, trying to coax some style out of it without having to do it completely. Then she rubbed some moisturizer over her face and applied her makeup, hoping she wouldn’t cry it all off before the end of the day. She hadn’t showered and hated the grimy feel of her skin, but she wasn’t going to take time to clean up now. Later.

  Chapter 9

  “Yes, hi,” Sadie whispered when it was her turn in line to check books in at the library. The young librarian with green-rimmed glasses smiled and took the books. She had only worked at the library for a few months and Sadie didn’t know her. “Can you tell me if there are any fines on these books?” Sadie asked, even though she knew they were being returned early. She just wanted . . . something.

  “Sure,” the woman said, running each bar code under her scanner. Once she’d finished, she looked at the screen and then at Sadie. “No fines—they’re all early in fact.”

  “Any other fees on the account?” Sadie asked, hopeful that perhaps there would be so she could prolong the conversation.

  “Nope,” the woman said, though her expression seemed to have fallen a little bit. The woman behind Sadie made a grunt and the librarian’s eyes looked past Sadie and gave the woman a sympathetic smile.

  “Oh,” Sadie said, having run out of questions. She stepped out of line and looked around the aisles and aisles of books. Anne was a faithful library patron, preferring romance novels over anything else, whereas Sadie was a more eclectic reader, enjoying nearly every genre—except horror and Harlequin. But as she looked at the rows of books, Sadie found herself wandering to the racks full of gaudy covers in the romance section. The images of half-naked women and action-figure men draped over one another made her roll her eyes.

  She turned a rack, smirking at titles like Gloria’s Awakening and The Devil in Blue Dress Boots. There had been a time in Sadie’s life when she’d read these same books, but she liked to think that was before she matured into a real woman. These days she couldn’t imagine reading them anywhere but in a closet with a flashlight, just so no one would know. It wasn’t that Sadie was a prude, it was just tacky.

  Obviously the books didn’t embarrass Anne, though. Sadie looked up at the other women in the section and tried to imagine Anne among them. She recognized a woman who worked at the high school and instinctively tried to hide behind one of the racks before realizing that only made her look guilty of something.

  “Excuse me.”

  Sadie jumped, and turned to see a library worker with a cart full of books waiting to move past her.

  “So sorry,” Sadie stammered, then looked up and recognized the face behind the cart.

  “Oh, hi, Sadie,” the young woman whispered with a smile.

  “How are you, Jean?” Sadie whispered back. Jean’s mother was on the Red Cross committee and Sadie always helped with the biannual blood drive at the Presbyterian church on Oak Street.

  “I’m good,” Jean said with a smile as she slid a paperback into a space on the rack. They chatted for a minute about Jean’s mother, and Jean’s recent college graduation with her English literature degree. She had a job lined up as an editor for a publishing house in Los Angeles come January, but she was still working at the library until the end of the year. They ran out of small talk about the same time a large woman scowled at them nearby. Sadie hadn’t noticed that their voices were louder than they should be.

  “Tell your mom hi from me,” Sadie whispered as Jean pushed the cart away.

  “I will,” Jean replied with a smile. Sadie watched her push the cart to the next rack, then she looked at the newly replaced book. It was the title Sadie had just returned—the last romance novel Anne had ever read. Once Jean had moved on, Sadie pulled it out of the rack and
looked at it. The cover was like all the others—tawdry and certainly trite. And yet . . . Anne had seen something of merit in it.

  Chalking it up to nostalgia she couldn’t even begin to understand, Sadie walked up to the check-out counter. The counter was actually a big circle of countertops in the middle of the room with several check-out stations to keep people from having to stand in line. The new library had been built just a few years ago—Sadie had helped with the fund-raising—and it might very well be the most modern building in all of Garrison.

  “Didn’t you just return this?” the librarian in green-rimmed glasses asked as she took the book. Apparently she wore many hats—checking in and checking out.

  “Oh, yes, I did,” Sadie said as she handed over her library card. “I was returning it for a friend.”

  “And now it’s your turn,” the librarian said with a smile, running the bar code on the book under the scanner. “Next time we can check it in and check it right back out to you if you want.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll keep that in mind,” Sadie said with a nod. “My friend died this morning,” she heard herself say. Then she looked up and felt her cheeks flush. The librarian froze, her mouth slightly open.

  “I—I guess I’m looking for a connection,” Sadie added, now anxious to get the book back and run away.

  A few moments of silence hung between them while Sadie wiped her eyes and scolded herself. What was she doing?

  “I’m so sorry,” the librarian said as she tore off a receipt and put it inside the book. Sadie put her library card back in her wallet before taking the book and removing the white slip of paper. It had the title of the book she’d just checked out—Enrapture at Sea—and today’s date along with the date it was due back. It also had her name, library card number, and a list of the other books she’d checked out last week and hadn’t returned yet. She should have brought them with her.