A Sip of Murder (Japanese Tea Garden Mysteries Book 1)

by Blythe Baker

  My hand reached out to grab the thief’s shirt. They screamed as I jerked them backwards. The person tumbled to the ground, where they lay, looking up at me.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Agatha Jenkins cried out in terror. She tried to scramble to her feet.

  She held up her hands in a defensive gesture. Wet blades of grass clung to her palms. Her eyes darted around, looking for help. The canvas photo had spun out of her hand when she fell. It lay discarded to the side. Agatha huffed and puffed, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes flitted between my face and the barrel of the gun I held.

  Although the weapon wasn’t really pointed at her I took advantage of her fear. “You’d better start talking,” I demanded.

  “I saw you at the pharmacy earlier getting that picture blown up.” The words seemed to spill out of Agatha. “I knew I had to get it away from you before you looked at it too hard. I knew it would raise suspicions.” She reached for the picture, pulled the canvas onto her lap and traced her finger over the detail in the background that I had only registered a few minutes ago. “This is the last picture that was taken of Angela before she died. If we hadn’t concocted that plan to keep the garden closed, she would still be alive. It was harmless when we decided to do it.”

  “Harmless? You knew someone would get hurt. You just didn’t think it would be your sister. Admit it. You wanted to hurt me.”

  “No! We only wanted to scare you. We thought that if we scared you, then you would give up on the garden idea, and we could continue our happy lives uninterrupted.”

  “What was the plan then? What was your idea to scare me away?”

  “I’m not telling you anything.” Agatha snarled at me.

  I gripped the unloaded gun in a threatening gesture. “Yes. You are.”

  A fresh bolt of fear shot through her eyes. Her mouth trembled before she lost her nerve and started to speak. “We decided to sneak into a secluded part of the garden and deface the stones with a death threat: You will die. But Angela slipped. I heard the sick, wet crunch as her head hit a rock. She was dead immediately. I watched my sister die, and then I ran away like a coward. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. A lifetime together. Gone in an instant. Nothing can prepare you for something like that. Nothing.”

  “Why did you lie? Why would you try to convince the police that I did it when it was just an accident?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around her logic, but maybe that was the problem. She wasn’t using logic. She had been caught up in shock and grief and needed someone to blame.

  Sobs started to choke the words in her throat. “The last thing we ever did together was try to shut this awful place down. I-I thought that if I could get you put away for the murder, then Angela wouldn’t have died in vain. The garden would still close.”

  I felt a pang in my heart. Agatha was willing to do anything to hang on to her sister. Even if that meant framing me for murder. “Agatha, I’m sorry about your sister, but you can’t go around ruining other people’s lives just because you experienced a loss.”

  A dry laugh escaped her throat. “You think you’re innocent in all of this? Her death is on your hands. I didn’t lie when I said it was your fault! You’re the reason she died. You and this horrible place! If you had just listened to our warning and kept the garden closed, Angela would still be alive. I wish I had killed you when I had the chance. The police weren’t doing anything, even after I filed the complaint against you for stalking me. I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. I saw you walking alone in the garden. I thought that if I could just kill you, then it would all be over. The garden would close down, and Angela could finally rest in peace. But that stupid rock didn’t fall in the right place, and you got away.”

  “You were the one that pushed the rock down?” I couldn’t say I was too surprised.

  “Yes, and I would gladly do it again.”

  I glared down at her trying to stop the anger that I was feeling from blowing up. “How did you know where the picture was?”

  “I followed you from the pharmacy and saw it when you were putting it up. I knew if the police saw it they would know that I had lied. It shows me with Angela in the garden on the day she fell, instead of at home where I told the police I was. If they got ahold of that picture, there would be no way to pin this on you. After I grabbed it, I heard you come back. I set the place on fire hoping you would get trapped inside, or that you would at least be distracted enough so I could get away.” Her eyes hardened into pure hate and anger. “Maybe it’s not too late.”

  Before I could take warning from her suddenly tensed posture, Agatha leapt to her feet and knocked the gun out of my hand. The discarded weapon sailed through the air and landed several feet from us.

  I had no time to react before Agatha lunged at me. The wind was knocked out of me as she tackled me to the ground. Tiny rocks bit into my shoulder blades. I tried to push her off of me, but she was stouter than I was. My hands reached for her hair, clothes, anything I could get a grip on to try and force her off balance. My feet kicked wildly at empty air.

  Somehow, I managed to grab a fistful of dirt and throw it into her eyes. Agatha screamed in dismay. It was enough. I rolled onto my stomach and tried to crawl away. Just when I thought I might manage to escape, her vicelike grip clenched around my ankle. She pulled me back. My palms were shredded on rocks and twigs. I felt the dirt grind into my chin and nose.

  Agatha put all of her weight on my back. I could feel myself being crushed. My lungs wouldn’t fill up with air. There was too much pressure. I gasped and tried to buck her off of me, but she wouldn’t budge. Her knees squeezed me tightly. I felt her grab a fistful of my red hair and jerk it back. I couldn’t stop my head from rearing back with the force of her pull.

  Suddenly, something cold and sharp slid up next to my exposed throat. I could smell the sharp tang of the metal blade she was holding. She must have been concealing the weapon this whole time. If I struggled now, the knife would cut me. I couldn’t see a way out. Silently, I prayed for my life not to end this way. I didn’t want to be another stain on the garden. I wasn’t ready to die. I frantically tried to think of something—anything—that might buy me more time, but my mind was fogged with fear.

  “Can I say some last words?” It was the only thing that surfaced in my panicked mind. I knew the attempt was feeble, but it was all I had.

  “Angela didn’t get any last words. You don’t either.” The pressure on the edge of the blade increased. I closed my eyes as if to block out the situation.

  Just as the blade started to scrape along my neck, I felt something knock Agatha off of me. A rush of fresh air entered my lungs. I could breathe again. Rolling onto my back to see what was going on, I scampered away from Agatha. Detective Sullivan had charged at her while she was on top of me. The two of them were now scuffling around in the dirt and wet grass. I saw the glint of Agatha’s knife in the silver moonlight.

  Detective Sullivan grabbed her wrist and smacked her hand into the ground until she let go of the weapon. “Agatha Jenkins, you’re under arrest.”

  “No! No! You can’t do this. It was—it was self-defense. I-I-I didn’t do anything wrong!” Agatha tried to plead with him, but he wasn’t listening.

  “Save it for the judge.” Michael pulled a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and looped them around her wrists. No matter how hard she struggled, the metal cuffs held her arms behind her back.

  “You got my message.” I looked at him in awe. Relief washed over me.

  “Are you okay?” His dark eyes skimmed across me.

  “Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. I’m really glad you got here when you did. Thank you.” I was a little lightheaded from all of the excitement. I wavered on my feet.

  Detective Sullivan reached out to steady me. “You’re bleeding.”

  “What?” The world was getting darker. His voice sounded like I was listening to him from underwater.

  “You’ve been cut.” He produced a handkerchief an
d pressed it to my neck. I felt the pressure, but it was distant. “Maddie, stay with me. You’ve got to try to stay conscious.”

  “They’re over here!” I could hear a man’s voice echoing across the garden. Flashlights swung wildly across the grass. In my weakened state, I thought they resembled some of the spirits my grandmother had told me about when I was young.

  “I need to get her to the hospital. Take Agatha Jenkins to the station.” Detective Sullivan was talking to someone I couldn’t see. I tried to move my head, but I was too dizzy.

  I managed to get out one word. “Picture.”

  “What?” Michael leaned in closer to hear what I was saying.

  “Picture.”

  “Picture? What picture?” He looked around and saw the canvas still lying on the grass. “Hey, someone grab that and bring it back to the precinct.” To me, he added, “It’s okay. We got it. Just stay awake, okay?”

  I felt his arms scoop me up. I wanted to resist, but I was too weak. The world was spinning, and being jostled around while he carried me didn’t help. Warm blood was trickling down my throat. How bad had Agatha cut me? The stars above winked in and out of existence. I could hear the sounds of police radios. Blue and red lights painted the parking lot.

  “Just hang on, Maddie. I’m going to get you to the hospital, okay?”

  Detective Sullivan put me in the back of his cruiser. His sirens wailed in the night, clearing a path for us. I could hear snippets of a conversation. He was telling someone we were almost there. I lifted my hand to my neck. The salt on my skin stung the cut. My fingers came away red and sticky.

  I didn’t know how much time had passed by the time the car stopped. Michael opened the car door, and some men and women in scrubs lifted me onto a stretcher. The sheets were cold. I just kept thinking how cold everything was. My body shivered. A thin blanket was draped over me. A flurry of questions peppered me, but I couldn’t find my words.

  The smell of antiseptic stung my nose. Fluorescent lights flew past overhead. Machines beeped and whirled. I thought I heard my name, but I couldn’t turn my head to see who was calling out to me. Something pricked my hand. My veins ran cold for a moment as something was pushed into me through an IV. Even with the lights overhead, the edges of my vision were black. It was as if I were looking out through a long tunnel. A blood pressure cuff constricted around my arm. It hurt more than the cut on my neck. The release of the pressure couldn’t come fast enough. I whimpered, and a hand smoothed some hair away from my face.

  Muffled voices conversed in low tones. I strained to understand them, but my brain wouldn’t process the words. A warm hand slipped into mine and squeezed it. It felt familiar, but I couldn’t place the touch with a face.

  As I lay there, I started to feel sleepiness overwhelm me. My limbs were heavy. The breath entering and leaving my lungs slowed down. Each heartbeat was punctuated by a slight pause. I felt something wet wipe along the cut on my neck. It stung slightly, but my body was becoming numb, almost euphoric. The doctors must have given me some pain medicine. My shivering was fading away, too. I didn’t think about it before, but some of that must have been from shock.

  The medicine was kicking in. My muscles relaxed, and some of the chill I had been feeling faded. The sounds of the room faded in and out. The hand in mine gave me another squeeze. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I was being pulled into a velvety sleep. The darkness promised me there would be no more Angela or Agatha Jenkins. No more murder or attacks. No more worries.

  I felt myself give in to the sweet embrace of sleep. My senses turned off. The beeping of the machines filtered into silence. My mind was calm for the first time since I could remember. I fell into the blissful abyss of dreamless sleep that I so desperately needed.

  Chapter 18

  When I woke up, Mamma Jackie was sitting in a chair beside my hospital bed. Her snores were probably the reason I woke. I pushed myself up further in the bed until I was sitting. My stirring disrupted her sleep. Her eyes immediately opened, and she reached out for my hand.

  “Maddie! You’re awake! You had me worried sick.” For once, there was no trace of criticism or sarcasm.

  “How did you know I was here? What happened?”

  “That handsome man who had your card sent an officer to come get me. They wouldn’t let him come back with you. Only family was allowed.”

  My hand reached up to touch my neck. Soft gauze snagged on my rough fingertips. “How bad is it?”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad. The doctors said most of it was just shock. They stitched you up. I’m sure they’ll send you home now that you’re awake again.”

  A light knock on the door made us turn our heads. Detective Sullivan opened the door and stepped inside. “Miss Morgan?”

  “Yes?” Mamma Jackie and I both answered at the same time.

  Michael cleared his throat. “Maddie, I’m glad you’re awake. The doctor cleared you to leave when you woke up. I know this isn’t the best time for you, but I need you to come down to the station.”

  “Whatever for?” Mamma Jackie bowed up her chest protectively. “Maddie’s done nothing wrong.”

  “I didn’t say she had, ma’am. I just need to ask her a few questions about last night. I want to get her statement on record as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more likely it is for her to forget the details.”

  “Let me just grab my purse then.” Mamma Jackie started to gather her things.

  “Actually, I would prefer to talk to her alone.”

  “Alone?” I shifted uneasily.

  “It’s just a precaution. The fewer people who are involved in the interview the better. It makes it less likely for your recollection of events to be influenced by external stimuli.” Detective Sullivan flashed me a smile. “Are you ready to go? I can drive you.”

  “Well, then how is she going to get home? Honestly.” Mamma Jackie scoffed.

  “I can bring her home, too. That won’t be a problem.”

  I could feel the tension between the two of them. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I started to get up, before it occurred to me that I was wearing nothing but a hospital gown. I said, “If you two don’t mind, I’d like to find out where they’ve put my things, so I can get dressed.”

  A few minutes later, heavy footsteps followed me down the hall. “Are you okay?” There was a note of concern in the detective’s voice.

  I didn’t answer. I just kept walking, my denim skirt whisking with each step. It was a lucky thing Mamma Jackie had brought me some clothes from home, because the hospital staff had thrown away the dirty, blood-stained outfit I had arrived in.

  “Maddie. Hey, Maddie!” the detective called after me.

  We were in the parking lot when I finally turned on him. His hand encircled my elbow.

  “No, okay?” I answered his question from earlier. “I’m not okay. I’ve had a pretty stressful time and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be over anytime soon.”

  “Just take a deep breath.”

  I sighed in frustration, but took a breath. It wasn’t much, but I could feel the anxiety in my chest ease up a few degrees. After another breath, I looked up at him apologetically. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

  “It’s going to be alright. The worst of it is over. Right now, we just need to get your side of the story.” He smiled reassuringly and gave my elbow a squeeze. As if suddenly realizing he was still touching me, Michael’s eyes widened. He released his grip and smoothed his hair back. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.”

  An awkward tension filled his car as he drove me towards the police station. We rode in silence. From the corner of my eye, I could see him sneaking glances in my direction. I turned to look at him, and he quickly faced the front again. Was he still concerned that I was involved in everything? He couldn’t be. Not after seeing Agatha with a knife to my throat.

  At the police station, he quickly got out and ran around to open my
door while I unbuckled. “Thanks.” I knitted my eyebrows.

  “You’re welcome.” Detective Sullivan slammed the door shut and walked beside me into the precinct.

  The building was eerily quiet. Only a few officers were present. I could smell old coffee simmering on a warmer somewhere. Detective Sullivan led me to the room where he had interrogated me last time. The simple wooden table in the bare room was still as cold as I remembered it. The tape recorder didn’t look like it had been touched since the last time I was here. I sat in the hard chair and waited for his questioning to begin.

  “Are you ready, Miss Morgan?”

  With a slow nod, I bit my lip. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Okay.” He clicked record on the tape player. “Why don’t we start with what you were doing at the tea garden tonight?”

  “I just had some things to put away.”

  “Can you tell me what happened while you were there?”

  I squinted. Suddenly, I was having difficulty focusing. It was like my brain didn’t want to acknowledge the events that I had been through. “I…I…”

  Detective Sullivan leaned over the table a little bit. “Maddie, I want you to try something for me. I know this is difficult, but why don’t you close your eyes for a second.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a technique we use. Just trust me.”

  My eyelids closed slowly. “Now what?”

  “Now, I want you to try to picture where you were before everything started happening. Is there anything you can see? Smell?”

  “Smoke. I smelled smoke. Someone had set the office on fire.”

  “Okay, good. Then what happened?”

  “I tried to put out the flames. The window was open. I grabbed the gun from the safe and went after the person.”

  Detective Sullivan leaned on the table. “Did you know who it was when you were following them?”