“Nice to meet you, Emma.” Sadie pushed a small ceramic bowl filled with packets of powdered cream and sugar substitute toward the center of the table and returned to the counter. She picked up the phone and dialed. After a few seconds she spoke softly. “Lance, this is Sadie. I need your help. A woman is here looking for Goldie. It's her sister. Can you come down to the café and talk to her?” After a long pause she thanked him and hung up. For once in her life, she was without words.
When Lance arrived at the café, he noticed a red Ford Explorer sitting nearby and remembered the chief's comment about a red SUV being observed near Goldie's house on the morning of the murder. He sat for a moment contemplating the possibility of a killer returning to within blocks of the crime scene and parking in full sight. Although he had seen a lot of stupid criminals in his years of law enforcement, his sixth sense told him chances were slim to none that this was the same vehicle Stump had reported someone seeing. Nonetheless, he would check it out.
He returned his attention to the restaurant in front of him. This was the part of the job he never liked. As a police officer in Sycamore Springs, he had on more than one occasion had to deliver bad news to folks. It was just part of the job. Over the years he had managed to arm himself with the appearance of cold indifference. In reality he loathed delivering a death notice to a family member.
Sadie saw him coming, unlocked the door, and welcomed him in. Lance walked into the café and looked around. He could see an older woman sitting alone at one of the small tables.
“Lance,” said Sadie, “this is Emma Singer, Goldie Ray's sister.”
Lance stepped forward, removed his straw Stetson and faced Emma. “Hello,” he said.
Emma rose from her chair with a sense of alarm. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?” she asked and then gasped. “Is it Goldie?” She looked scared as she walked toward the police officer.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“She's not coming, is she?”
“No, ma'am, I'm afraid not.”
“Where is she? Where is my sister?” Emma's voice began to strain. “Something awful has happened, hasn't it?” A distressed look came over her face as if she had already heard his unspoken words. “Oh, no. You're trying to tell me she's never coming, aren't you?”
Lance nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”
“I don't believe you. What happened?” Her mouth tightened and her intense eyes began to blink.
“She was discovered at her home yesterday morning.” Lance hesitated for a moment before continuing. “She was the victim of a gunshot wound.”
“You mean someone murdered her?” Her mouth flew open, she grabbed her head, stood for a moment, then teetered on her feet. Both Lance and Sadie reached for her just before she started to fall. Lance held her easily with one hand while he pulled over a nearby chair. Sadie quickly dipped a napkin in a glass of water and dabbed at Emma's forehead. After a few moments, Emma opened her green eyes, now dulled. She sat up straight and looked around, then buried her face in her hands and began to moan.
Lance had no stomach for this part of the job. He could untangle wrecked vehicles, clean up murder scenes or move dead bodies, but emotional women unnerved him. He backed away from Emma, hoping Sadie's caretaker instincts would take over. To his relief, they did.
After several minutes, Emma wiped at her eyes and started asking questions, all of which Lance preferred to postpone answering.
“Who could have done this? Where was she?” asked Emma. “I want to see her.”
Lance leaned over and patted Emma's shoulder. “The coroner will release her body later today. There's only one funeral home in town. Is that the one you'd like to use?”
Emma nodded.
“Is there someone we can call for you, ma'am?” he asked. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
Emma spoke in a decisive voice. “I will stay at my sister's place.”
“No ma'am, I'm afraid that's not possible,” said Lance. “It's still considered a crime scene.” He wanted to give himself a chance to go through the house one more time. Especially in light of the new evidence: Red's shell casing.
Emma stared blankly at Lance.
“You can stay with me, Emma,” said Sadie, “until you get everything sorted out. That is, if you don't mind the ride to Eucha and back every day. Or if you want you can stay here at the café in the room above the kitchen. It's kind of a mess right now, but we can make do. It looks like it may have served as an apartment or an office at one time.”
“Oh, my,” said Emma. “I don't know.”
“You can also stay in Tahlequah,” offered Lance. “It's only twelve miles south of here.”
“Oh, my,” Emma repeated. “I guess I could take Goldie's car, but I don't really like to drive on these curvy roads around here.”
“I don't mind taking you into Tahlequah,” said Sadie. “I need to make a trip to Wal-Mart anyway.”
Emma chewed on her lower lip. “You're sure it won't put you out any?”
“I'm sure.”
Emma reluctantly accepted Sadie's offer with a nod.
Relieved that this part of the episode was about to end, Lance prepared to leave. He turned to Sadie and asked, “Uh, Sadie, could I speak with you for a moment?”
Sadie followed Lance out onto the sidewalk.
“Sadie, whose vehicle is this?” He nodded toward the red Explorer.
“It's mine. Why?”
“Oh.” He smiled. “My mistake.”
The door of the café opened and Emma emerged. “I just realized all my things are still at the bus stop,” she said and took off walking in that direction.
“Whoa,” said Lance.
“Wait, Emma.”
Emma stopped walking when they both spoke.
“I'll get them for you,” said Sadie. “Then we'll go to Tahlequah.”
Emma looked at Lance. “When can I get into my sister's house?”
“I'll have it ready by tomorrow,” he said.
She looked at Sadie. “Yes, that'll be fine.”
Sadie hurried back into the café and reappeared a few seconds later with Sonny close behind. Pulling a set of keys out of her purse, she locked the door behind her. “We'll stop at Cronley's on the way and pick up your things,” she said as she pointed the keyless remote at the Explorer and clicked it twice.
Lance helped Emma climb into the passenger's side of Sadie's vehicle, then walked to his cruiser. “You'll let me know if you need me, won't you?” he asked.
Sadie nodded as she opened the back door for Sonny to jump in. Then she climbed behind the wheel and waved as they drove off.
After collecting Emma's bags at Cronley's Service station, two women and one wolf-dog headed toward Highway 82, which would take them south to Tahlequah. Emma stared out the side window while Sadie made small talk.
“Where is home, Emma?”
“Carthage, Missouri.” Emma returned her attention to Sadie. “I grew up around here when my folks ran the café, but I haven't been back in years. After our parents passed on, Goldie and I didn't keep in touch like we should have. Too busy. Or just didn't take the time. She had the café and I was working. We talked more in the last few weeks than we had in years. I couldn't believe she was selling the café. If she needed help she could've asked me. I know how to cook as well as she did.” She looked at Sadie as if some new revelation had just occurred to her. “Do you think she knew something was going to happen to her?”
“Oh, no. I don't think so.” Sadie maneuvered the Explorer through another set of hilly curves. “Goldie was incredibly happy last time I saw her. If she thought she was in danger, I think she would have said something.”
“I'm the oldest.” Emma looked down at her hands, then turned her face away. “I should have been here to take over,” she murmured.
“You can't hold yourself responsible for what happened to Goldie.”
“She never would let anyone take care of her.” Emma's voice quickly turned angry. She pull
ed a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “She was so blasted independent.”
“I didn't know her very well. Did she have any other family? Kids?”
“Oh, no. It was just the two of us kids, and she never did get married. Her high school sweetheart ran off and joined the army. He was an Indian, you know.” Sadie frowned at her passenger's condescending tone, but Emma didn't seem to notice. “And she never heard from him again. She kept saying he was MIA in the war, missing in action. I personally think he just took off. I don't think she ever knew what really happened to him.” Emma stuffed the tissue back into her purse and gazed out the window again. “But after that,” she said, “no one was ever good enough for Goldie.”
Sadie turned off the highway into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn Express. “Is this okay?” she asked. “If not, there's a couple more south of town.”
“This is fine.”
Sadie pulled under the canopy in front of the door and turned off the engine. “I'll come back and get you any time you want.”
“Could you have that police officer call so I can make arrangements for Goldie?”
“Yes, ma'am. Or I'll call you myself. Hold on and I'll help you with your bags.” As Sonny watched from the backseat, Sadie jumped out of the car, pulled Emma's bags out of the back, and dragged them into the lobby. They approached the front desk where Sadie helped Emma check in, then helped carry the bags to her room, which was not far from the lobby. After Emma appeared satisfied with everything, Sadie picked up a notepad from the nightstand, scribbled her phone number on the front page, and handed it to Emma. “Call me if you need anything.”
10
The next morning, Sadie sat with her arms resting on top of the steering wheel, watching Emma stare at her sister's house. Goldie's car, a station wagon that had lost its luster decades ago, rested under the carport.
Sadie had driven from Eucha to Tahlequah in record time, picked up Emma and returned north to Liberty—and it was only 8:30 a.m. Emma had been so anxious to get into Goldie's house and now she sat frozen, gripping the Explorer's armrest. “The last time I talked to Goldie,” she said, “we got into a terrible argument. I shouldn't have said the things I did. I feel awful.” She looked at Sadie with sad eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”
A feeling of helplessness grew in the pit of Sadie's stomach. “I don't know, Emma. But if you want to go back to the hotel, I'll take you.”
Silence fell between the two women again before Emma finally spoke. “You've got more things to do than chauffeur me all over the county. Where were you going from here?”
“To the café,” she said. “The man is coming to replace the broken glass today, and I've got to get things ready so I can open. You're welcome to come along.”
“You wouldn't mind?” asked Emma. “I'm not sure I'm ready to be alone in that house yet.” She raised her glasses and rubbed her eyes.
“I'd be glad to have your company, Emma, and besides, I'd love to have your input on some things at the café. I'll take you back to Tahlequah later today, and you can stay there as long as you want…until you decide what to do.”
Emma's face brightened as Sadie gave the Explorer some gas and the two traveled down the street en route to the café. When they turned the last corner, Sadie grew concerned. She could see several vehicles parked near the restaurant. The plywood had already been replaced with a new plate-glass window, and lights shown from inside the café. People walked in and out of the front door.
“What the—?” Sadie made a u-turn in front of the café and stuck the nose of her vehicle into the last open space.
“Oh, dear me,” exclaimed Emma. “This must be the people Goldie told me about. She called them—”
Emma's words hung in the air as Sadie jumped out of the car and swept through the front door of her new business. “Hey, what's going on in here?” she yelled.
Just as the door closed behind her, one of the sawmill workers emptied the last of a pot of coffee into Virgil Wilson's cup, then held the pot in midair as if toasting the new arrival. “Morning, Miss Sadie,” he said. “Come on in. I'll have another pot ready in no time. Don't worry about a thing.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
The door behind her opened and Emma firmly moved Sadie out of the way. “Come on over here and sit down, honey. I think I can explain.”
Sadie marched behind the counter and surveyed the area to see if anything was missing. At Emma's continued urging, she finally climbed onto one of the red vinyl-covered stools next to her at the counter. The men had gathered around two small tables they had pushed together to create one long surface. Sadie thought they looked like charter members of the local overalls-and-white-tee-shirts club. Other than the sawmill workers, she didn't recognize anyone until she noticed Red sitting in his normal place at the end of the counter sipping coffee from a saucer.
Sadie felt as if she had entered a fourth dimension. Everyone around her seemed to be going about their business completely unaware of her presence until one of the men pushed coffee cups in front of her and Emma and started pouring coffee. A drop or two accidentally sloshed onto Sadie's hand and the reality of the hot liquid brought her mind back to the present.
“Ouch,” she said as she wiped her hand on her jeans, then repeated, “What are you doing?”
The man had already slid around the end of the counter, delivering more steaming brew to the other men at the long table. He replaced the coffeepot on its burner and took his place next to Virgil. Sadie turned toward Emma, as if looking for something stable for her mind to latch onto.
“…and that's why they all have keys. Goldie called them her ‘regulars.’”
“Regulars?” asked Sadie. “I'm sorry, Emma, I didn't hear you. Could you say that again?”
About that time, the entire group of men at the table got up, placed their dirty cups on an empty tray on the counter and headed for the door. But before they left, each man laid a couple of dollars in the middle of the table.
“See y'all tomorrow,” exclaimed Virgil as he wiped the tables and counter. Then he scooped up the money the men had left and deposited it into a red can next to the coffeepot. Before Sadie knew it they were gone and she was left sitting at the counter next to Emma with a cup of coffee in her hand.
She turned toward Emma and asked again, “What were you saying? Who are those people, and how did they get into my café before it was open? And does the health department know about this?”
Red chuckled as he added his coffee cup to the tray and then carried the whole lot of them to the kitchen. Sadie could hear water running and assumed he was washing cups. She realized Emma had been talking and she still hadn't heard a word of it.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Sadie got up from her seat, retrieved Red from the kitchen, and led him to the seat where she had been sitting. Then she walked behind the counter and looked at both of them. “Okay, now, one at a time. Explain this. Since both of you act like this is a normal happening here. And we'll start with you, mister. Out with it. How did you get into this restaurant?”
“I have a key.”
“What do you mean you have a key? How did you get a key?”
“The same way everyone else did. Goldie gave it to me. There's a bunch more in that drawer over there.”
Sadie slid open the drawer and found a key ring with six keys attached. “And why did Goldie give out keys to all these people?”
“To get in,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Okay, I guess that means I'm going to have to find a locksmith to change the locks. How many people do you suppose can get into my café now without me knowing it?”
“I told you a while ago,” said Emma. “They're the regulars.” She emphasized the word “regulars” like it was the name of an important group of individuals.
“Regulars,” Sadie repeated. “Okay, I'll bite. Who are all of the regulars?”
“They are the people who come here every day,” said E
mma. “Goldie told me all about it on the phone the other day. She gave them all keys so whoever arrives first can start the coffee.”
“Why bother locking the café at all?” Sadie raised her voice.
Red grinned. “To keep out the riffraff.”
Emma lowered her chin and shook her head. “It's the craziest thing I ever heard of, but that's Goldie for you. She'd trust anybody. She said sometimes they'd start showing up at 4:00 a.m. Goldie never got here until after six. But she liked the way it all worked out because she could make her pies, bread and what-have-you and not be bothered with the guys that just wanted to meet, drink coffee, and talk. You know, it's kind of a social thing.”
Sadie looked at her watch. “It's almost nine o'clock. What are they doing here now?”
Red took over. “Everything's been all out of whack ever since Goldie closed down this darned place a couple of weeks ago. I guess that's when you bought it, right? They are just trying to get back to some semblance of order.”
Sadie pushed her hair out of her face and looked out the freshly in-stalled plate-glass window. “Why me?” She threw her hands into the air. “I can't have people just coming and going all the time. Especially when I'm not here.”
“Why not?” asked Red.
“Because.” She stamped her foot. Okay, there must be something I'm supposed to be learning from this experience. I can hear my grandmother laughing at me right now. Sadie looked up as if she could see her grandmother's spirit reaching down from heaven. Patience is what she'd be saying. Turning her attention back to Red and Emma, she declared, “I don't know what I was thinking when I bought this stupid café.”
Emma was already standing. “It'll be fine, my dear,” she said as she moved toward the kitchen and passed through the swinging doors that appeared to have been fashioned out of two used window shutters. “Come on,” yelled Emma over the sound of clattering pans. “Let's get our hands dirty. Idle hands are the devil's workshop.”
Red waved as he left through the front door.
When Sadie joined her new friend in the cramped kitchen, Emma had already slipped on a white apron and started pulling items off the shelf.
The American Café Page 7
