by Leona Fox
“Oh well, I suppose I could find something else to use. Maybe the craft store has a wood burning tool I could buy.” Olivia looked around the shop blankly. “I’m trying to encourage more people to buy their veggies straight from us, rather than the grocery shops. We could use the extra profit.”
“Would you like a soda?” Sadie asked. “I can’t offer you coffee because I always used to get it from next door. Never needed a coffee maker. But we could sit outside in the sun and drink soda if you like.”
“I would like that,” Olivia said. “I’m so worn out with trying to get that land to yield.”
They dragged another chair outside and Sadie ran upstairs to grab a couple of orange sodas from her fridge. Then she shooed Mr. B from her chair so she and Olivia could sit in the sun. Olivia took the soda gratefully and sipped, closing her eyes.
“I’ve been working too hard,” she said. “From sun up to sun down every day since the beginning of spring. I am so doggone bone weary that I could sleep for a week. But I can’t because every moment of every day is taken up with weeding and harvesting and selling. Damn hard work, being a farmer.”
“Can’t you hire more help?” Sadie asked. “Someone to do the grunt work?”
“I can barely pay the help I have.” Olivia shook her head. “I owe the bank a lot of money, there isn’t any to spare for help.”
“That’s a pity,” Sadie said. “Sounds like you are having a tough time of it.”
“Yeah. Organic farming.” Olivia shook her head. “I thought it was going to be a noble profession -bringing chemical-free food to the people of my town. But between the regulations and the bugs and the too much rain or too little rain. And the mold. God, you name it, I’ve dealt with it this year.” Olivia got up. “Thanks for the soda,” she said. “I’d better get back.”
Sadie watched Olivia walk away down the sidewalk, her shoulders slumped forward and her head low. She looked defeated, and Sadie thought the world had trampled right over Olivia Brown. Sadie normally would feel sorry for someone so downhearted. But before she wasted any pity on Olivia Brown she was going to be very sure Olivia hadn’t murdered Roger Roberts and in doing so had deprived Sadie of her morning coffee.
She went inside for paper and pencil and brought them to her table. Mr. B was sitting in Olivia’s vacated chair watching the world. He especially liked to keep an eye on the birds. A number of them had settled in a nearby tree and she could swear Mr. B was counting them. He looked away to focus on a dog crossing the park for a moment, and then he was back to counting birds.
Sadie smiled and focused on her own work. She needed to write down what she knew. First she wrote down the people who annoyed Roger: Everyone in town. She crossed that out as unhelpful, and ended up with only three people:
Professor Justin Ives, Rosie Tricare and Olivia Brown.
Motives: Possible loss of employment, being called the B word is hard on an older woman, possible loss of livelihood.
Sadie found it interesting that her two main suspects both had the same motive. She wondered how many other people in town had been threatened in this way by Roger. She was unlikely to ever find out, but the possibility remained. Someone in Seagrove could have lost their job because of Roger, and that was motive for murder.
Sadie sat watching the people in the park and tapping her pencil against her temple. And when her temple started to protest she tapped the table. How was she going to find out who else got on Roger’s bad side? Maybe she should look up some of Roger’s regulars. She knew a few – and they would know others. She started scribbling the names of people she used to see going into the bakery every day.
Where were these people getting coffee now? She could just call and ask them. And then she could start asking questions. Because one thing was for sure, Roger did not keep quiet about his complaints. He was loud and proud and if he felt slighted by you, he had no problem saying it to your face in front of whoever happened to be in the room at the time.
Chapter Four
The next day, after Sadie and Mr. B walked down to the Pancake House to pick up coffee and muffins, Lucy said she’d come over to help catalog the ‘junk’ Sadie had brought home from Ireland. Sadie wasn’t sure why anyone would volunteer for paperwork and unpacking, but Lucy was her best friend and if she wanted to help Sadie wasn’t going to turn her down.
She pulled the boxes out of the storeroom and stacked them near her work table. Then she pulled her old laptop out of the drawer where she kept it and set it up on the table. She could have used the newer desktop computer, but it was just easier to do everything in one place. Sadie wasn’t about to try to unhook and move that behemoth of a tower with a million cords and wires.
She fired the laptop up and while she waited for it to boot she took Mr. B for a walk in the park. Justin Ives was in the park with a group of students. They were sitting in a circle on the damp grass, and one of them was reading. Sadie noticed that the paper was shaking in the student’s hands. Would it make her nervous to read her work out loud, she wondered? She didn’t think so, she just didn’t care that much about what people thought of her.
She took another look at the class. She thought they looked uncomfortable sitting there and she wondered if they only came to the park because they thought it was life-on-the-edge to hold class outside of the classroom. She was glad she didn’t have to do her work sitting in the wet grass. She heard someone calling her name and looked over to see Lucy in front of her shop, waving at her. She waved back, and she and Mr. B hurried back across the park.
Mr. Bradshaw showed Lucy his very best manners and didn’t try and jump on her. Lucy had a treat in her pocket which she gave him as a reward for not scratching her legs. Then she gave him a pat on the head and they all went inside. Mr. B took his treat into the back room where Sadie knew he would hide it in his bed. Then when she went to feed him tonight he would refuse his dinner and eat his treat. Mr. B was an odd dog.
“Where shall we start?” Lucy asked and plunked herself in a chair at the work table.
“That box right next to you,” Sadie said. “If I remember correctly that’s the one with the best stuff in it.”
She passed Lucy the box cutter. They opened the box together, peering down into the masses of bubble wrap and packing paper.
“Oh, this is the China,” Sadie said. “You’re going to love this.” She started pulling out tea cups.
“But they don’t match,” Lucy sounded disappointed. “It’s not a set.”
“I never buy sets, you know that.” Sadie gave Lucy a look. “If you want me to bring you a set you have to tell me, Lucy. No one buys sets around here. Do you want to type or read?” She asked.
“You type, I’ll read,” Lucy said. “That way you’ll know what the abbreviations mean.” She looked at the bottom of the teacup. “This one says Carrig Ware, it’s a teacup with a matching saucer in perfect condition.”
Sadie handed her a sticker which she stuck to the bottom of the saucer and we moved on to the next item. We moved quickly through the first box and moved on to the next, which was full of strange kitchen implements. Lucy held up a sharp tubular blade.
“What in the world, Sadie?” she said. “This looks like something you’d use to let blood out of a pig.”
“It’s a potato peeler. I don’t know why you’d think it was for bloodletting.” I kept my face as straight as I could, but she knew me too well.
“You liar!” she shrieked. “You thought the exact same thing and that’s why you bought it. Another item for Sadie Barnett’s collection of items of torture.” I typed in the information and handed her a sticker.
“I’m putting this straight in the dangerous items drawer,” she said. “Otherwise I’ll come in one day and find you trying to bleed some poor animal with it.” She got up, pulled a drawer out and placed the potato peeler in it.
“Gross. I would never.” Sadie shuddered.
“Who do you think killed poor Roger,” Lucy asked. “Has the chi
ef dropped any hints?”
“No. I think I know more than he does at this point. Poor old Rosie thinks he’s going to charge her, but you already know that. Justin Ives, one of the Junior Professors from the community college rubbed Roger the wrong way and Roger complained to the dean. But I talked to the kid, I mean professor, and he didn’t even know Roger had talked to the dean. Unless he’s a really good liar. So no. Nothing.”
“Doesn’t it worry you? Living about your shop when someone was brutally murdered on your back step?” Lucy asked.
“Well no, not until just now when you said that,” Sadie said.
“I’m sorry Sadie. I wasn’t thinking. Anyway, I’m sure the chief will keep an eye on you.”
“What is it with everyone and the chief?”
Sadie was annoyed, but mostly because she wanted to keep things quiet until she knew for sure what the chief was thinking. Public heartbreak was so, she couldn’t think of the right word, so she inserted public again. She didn’t want the town to see her get shot down.
“I think it’s cute,” Lucy said. “Just because you aren’t a young thing anymore doesn’t mean you can’t have romance. I think the chief likes you.” She tossed an empty box aside. “Can we open a new box?”
“Here,” Sadie said and pushed a box toward Lucy. “Open this one.”
It was a good thing Lucy wasn’t looking at her, she couldn’t quite keep the smirk off her face. Lucy took the box cutter and sliced through the tape.
“Oh, more China,” she said. She pulled a few pieces out. “But it’s matching. Is it a set?” She dug into the box pulling out a set of china. “But you said you can’t sell sets of china,” Lucy said.
“It’s not for sale,” Sadie said and she knew she was grinning like a fool.
“Not for sale? I don’t understand?” Lucy looked up to see Sadie smiling at her.
“It’s for you,” Sadie said. “I knew you wanted China, so I brought it home for you. Do you like it?”
“Of course I like it! It’s beautiful. But I can’t afford it, Sadie.” Lucy said, crestfallen.
“It’s a gift Mr. Bradshaw bought for you for taking such good care of him while I was away. Now pack it back up and take it home with you. And don’t forget to thank Mr. B, he gets his tail in a twist over things like that.”
Sadie watched Lucy thank Mr. Bradshaw very prettily and she knew the thanks were for her. It was easier when Mr. B did things for people, he wasn’t embarrassed by the thanks in the way she was.
Lucy was packing up when the phone rang.
“Have you seen Olivia Brown recently,” Zack asked.
“She was in here yesterday asking about that electric branding iron,” Sadie said. She waved goodbye to Lucy as she left. “Why?”
“It seems that Roger Roberts reported her for claiming her produce was organic when she was using pesticides. Got her in a lot of trouble. If her produce tests for pesticides she’ll still be able to sell her produce as local, but not organic for another three years. That’s got to hurt,” Zack said.
“Roger could have been wrong,” Sadie said. “Maybe they’ll test and find her stuff is clean.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Zack said. “But I’m having trouble finding her to question. If you see her will you give me a call? I have questions.”
“Sure, I’ll call you,” Sadie said. “No problem. By the way, Rosie called me again. Was trying to tell me something about Roger but I had someone here. I told her to call you.”
“Just what I need, another one of her cracked brain ideas. She’ll have me spending half a day running down some hippy weirdo only to find they were quite innocently visiting our town. What a nightmare.” Zack sighed with exasperation and hung up.
Sadie clipped a leash on Mr. B and led him out to her car. It was parked on the street out front of the shop, in the spot she usually reserved for her clients. But ever since Roger’s death she had avoided going into the back alley and hadn’t been parking her car in her spot out back. She was going to have to buck up and get used to going that way again. As much as she’d rather not.
Sadie drove down to the farmers market. She leashed Mister Bradshaw and went in search of the manager. She found him behind the desk in a rickety old shed that served as the business office. He smiled as she and Mister Bradshaw came in.
“Can I help you?” He asked. Sadie shook his offered hand and sat in an old wooden chair across from him.
“My name is Sadie Barnett,” she said. “And this is Mister Bradshaw.” She pointed down at Mister B, who was sitting at attention next to her right heel.
“I have some questions about what makes a product organic,” Sadie said.
“Nice to meet you, Sadie, my name is Dick Fellowes.” He half rose out of his chair.
“Can you explain what organic means?” She asked.
“Organic products are governed by the United States government and certified by a third-party,” he said. “As far as I understand, and I’m not an expert by any means, they are limited to certain types of pesticides and amounts are also strictly regulated.”
“What if an organic farmer was caught using something like Round-Up? Could they lose their certification over that?” Sadie asked and shifted in her chair; it was hot and the little shed.
“Something like Round-Up, yeah I think they could. You’d have to prove it was actually used on the produce you were selling. You can’t take someone’s organic certification away just because they’re using Round-Up on their lawn say. I think you have to prove that it was possible for the chemicals to come in contact with the produce.”
“So if someone saw you using Round-Up and reported you to the appropriate agency, that might not be enough to get your certification taken away. That right?” Sadie asked.
“I think so,” Dick said, “but I did warn you I’m not an expert. And what it might mean is that the governing body would be paying closer attention to you in the future. Some people might take exception to that.”
“So what’s the difference between organic and the signs I see around the market that say ‘no spray.’ What’s that all about?” She asked.
“Those generally are people who are committed to organic practice but can’t afford to be certified. It’s a costly process,” he said.
“You have to trust that what they’re saying is true because there’s no governing body, but the produce tends to be a bit cheaper and some people are willing to risk it. People come here every week, they get to know their growers they make friends with them and they develop that bond of trust that makes official certification unnecessary.”
Sadie thanked the man and left. She and Mister Bradshaw walked up and down the aisle greeting the growers and sampling their produce. She had more questions now than she did before. She had been fairly certain that Roger brought about his death when he reported Olivia for using pesticides. But it seemed like something that would be easy to explain that away, and even if it did mean more oversight that wouldn’t matter if she weren't wrong.
She picked up some summer squash and a few strawberries. And then just as she was leaving the market she spotted a Baker and went to pick up some cookies and a scone for her morning breakfast. She sat on the bench for a few minutes sharing an oatmeal cookie with Mister Bradshaw. The facts around Roger’s death were all so confusing.
When Sadie got back from the farmers market, there was an older man of Hispanic descent standing on the sidewalk staring in the window of Roger Robert’s bakery. Someone had posted a note in the window saying the shop was closed until further notice and the man was staring at it uncomprehendingly. Mr. Bradshaw wiggled his way up to the man and rolled over on his back showing his belly. The older gentleman reached down and rubbed Mr. Bradshaw’s belly.
“The bakery is closed,” Sadie said, nodding in the direction of the door.
“I had to come see for myself,” the old guy said. “I’ve known Roger most of my adult life. “It’s hard to believe he’s go
ne. Murdered. It defies explanation.”
“It does,” Sadie agreed. “I had breakfast and coffee with Roger every day for years. A blink of an eye and it’s all gone. Never to be again. I miss him, and his cranky ways.”
“He did like to rub people the wrong way,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “Philip Taylor,” he said.
“Sadie Barnett.” She took his hand. He had a nice solid grip.
“Can I offer you a cup of tea or a soda and a chat?” She gestured to the table and chairs she had left on her sidewalk.
“A chat? Certainly,” Philip said. “And if I could trouble you for a glass of water?”
Sadie saw him settled in a chair and went upstairs to retrieve two glasses of ice water and a plate of cookies. They sat in the shade of the awning and watched a family stroll through the park.
“May I ask you an indelicate question?” Sadie asked.
