by Leona Fox
“Is that why you’re talking to me?” He asked. “Are you interested in renting space in the new hotel?”
“No. I agree with Marjorie Rumstocking, that development would lessen the charm of our town, limit the views from that bluff to hotel guests, and hurt the merchants on Main Street. I don’t think either of those things is a positive result. Nor do I think we need outlet stores to attract tourists to our town.” The design called for a half mile long mall of outlet stores to be connected to the hotel. It appalled her.
“I don’t understand why you’re here.” He said. “Except to irritate me and make me late for lunch. What could you possibly be hoping to gain from this conversation?”
“I really just came to get an impression of you,” she said. “I wanted to know if you were the coldhearted bastard the people said.”
“And what did you find out?” He asked a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“Yes,” she said. “You are. Not one word of regret or condolences for her family. No horror at her death on the streets of our town. You don’t care that she died, and you’re already working behind the scenes to elect a mayor who will help sway the Town Council in your favor.”
His face turned a livid red. “You have no proof of that,” he said. “How dare you accuse me of trying to fix an election, I should have you arrested.”
“I don’t think I can be arrested for telling you what I think to your face,” Sadie said. “You can try if you like. And as for proof, isn’t that the man who ran against Mayor Rumstocking in the last election?” She pointed down into the atrium where a man in an expensive suit was trying to get Ryan’s attention.
“Just because I’m having lunch with him,” Ryan said. “Doesn’t mean I’m trying to fix an election. There is no law that says I can’t back him, especially if I think his mayorship would benefit me.”
“As long as you didn’t have anything to do with the events that make it possible for him to run for mayor again,” she said.
“And I didn’t,” he said. “This conversation is over. Please leave.” He started quickly down the stairs.
Sadie didn’t turn and leave until he was seated at the table. She didn’t like being told what to do.
Chapter Three
The next day Sadie was at her table on the sidewalk outside her store, when she spotted a young, dark-haired woman in her late teens or early twenties sitting on a bench in the park. She looked closely. Yes, it was Britt Rumstocking, Marjorie Rumstocking’s daughter, so she grabbed Mister Bradshaw’s leash and crossed over to the park. She didn’t go straight up to Britt, but let Mister Bradshaw sniff around in the grass until they ended up at Britt’s bench. Sadie sat down with a sigh, pretending that Mister Bradshaw had worn her out.
“Such a lovely day,” she said. “Don’t you think?”
“I guess,” Britt said.
“Oh my,” Sadie said. “I’m sorry, you are Mayor Rumstocking’s daughter. My condolences.”
Britt nodded, apparently unaffected by her mother’s death. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“You aren’t upset by your mother’s death?” Sadie found this very interesting.
“Why should I be?” Britt asked. “We all die. There’s no point in going nuts, wearing dark clothes and black arm bands. It was her time to die. That’s all.”
Sadie was willing to bet that the girl wasn’t really as cold as she was making herself out to be. The question was – was it more productive to let her go on pretending she didn’t care, or to facilitate bringing her true feelings to the surface. Sadie thought probably the second course of action to bring her more information -and at the same time the healthier for the girl.
“You won’t miss your mother, then?” she asked.
“I suppose I’ll miss her a little bit,” Britt said. “There’s no point wailing over it. And truthfully, my mother was overbearing. She always thought she knew best.”
“Mothers do tend to always think they know what’s best for their children. That’s true.” Sadie reached down and picked up Mister Bradshaw. He curled up in her lap.
“What’s your dog’s name?” Britt asked.
“This is Mister Bradshaw,” Sadie told her. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Does he like being held by strangers?” Britt asked.
“Depends on the stranger,” Sadie said. “But I’m willing to bet he would like you.” She scooped Mister Bradshaw up from her lap and handed him to Britt.
Britt took Mister Bradshaw and cuddled him, burying her face in his fur. Mister Bradshaw licked her ear, which made her laugh. It took about a minute for the laughter to turn to tears. Which Mister Bradshaw then licked off her face.
“Sorry,” Britt said. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” Mister Bradshaw settled in Britt’s lap and licked her hand.
“Don’t you?” Sadie asked. “I would’ve thought it was obvious.”
“You think I’m crying for my mother,” Britt said. “But I’m not.”
“I do think you’re crying for your mother,” Sadie said. “At least partially. And maybe you’re crying for some other reasons too. And maybe right now those other reasons seem bigger, but whether we like it or not, the loss of their mother is always monumental for women. Either, you had a wonderful mother and the loss of her ruptured your heart out, or, you had a terrible mother and now that she’s dead you’ll never get closure. There is a third possibility, which is probably the most common, and that is when you had an imperfect mother, whom you will miss dreadfully, but who you’re also still angry with.”
“I am still angry with her,” Britt said. “I’m almost 21 years old, and she’s forbidden me to see my boyfriend. I told her I’m of age and she can’t, but she said if I didn’t she’d withdraw all financial support. What kind of mother refuses to support her daughter?”
“The kind who is trying to save her daughter from a bad relationship,” Sadie said. “If you love him so much, you should be willing to go be with him without the money. That’s what I think. If you’re not willing, that means you don’t love him enough. I’m sorry that seems cold, but relationships are hard and if you’re not willing to sacrifice something like money, then what will you do when it gets really tough?”
Britt hugs Mister Bradshaw close to her. “But money is the toughest thing, isn’t it? You can’t live without it,” she said.
“For two young people at the start of their life money should be the easiest thing in the world. You both can get jobs, you don’t have children to support, and you have simple needs. If you loved him, you’d be happy to live in a little studio apartment and scrape by. And eventually, you both finish your schooling and get better jobs. Then you move to the suburbs and have kids and then your life gets really complicated and money becomes a big issue. But right now…” Sadie let her last sentence trail off.
A couple of sobs escaped Britt before she pulled it together again. “But that’s the thing,” she said. “Hall doesn’t want to work. He likes to hang out with friends and go to parties. His father cut him off financially until he gets his act together. We were counting on my allowance while I finish school.”
“I see,” Sadie said. “Sponging off you, was he? Expecting you to maintain his lifestyle? That doesn’t sound like love to me, Britt. Does it feel like love to you?”
“No. No, it doesn’t seem like love at all. And I should’ve just told him to get lost when he started getting angry about the money. But I didn’t because I was afraid, and now I think he might’ve killed my mother. And it’s my fault.” Britt buried her face in Mister Bradshaw’s fur and cried.
“It’s not your fault, Britt. If Lawrence Hall killed your mother, it is entirely his fault. No good can come of blaming yourself,” Sadie said.
“But if I’d broken it off, none of this would’ve happened,” Britt said. “So in that way it is my fault.”
“I get the feeling,” Sadie said. “That this young man is abusive. And if it’s true he killed your mother, he v
ery well may have tried to kill you had you broken it off without someone to keep you safe. Try to let go of the guilt and just grieve for your mother. That’s enough pain all by itself. And you can come and see Mister Bradshaw anytime you like.”
“Thank you,” Britt said. “But I don’t even know who you are. Did you know my mother?”
“I knew your mother very well,” Sadie said. “Do you see that little shop over there? The treasure shop? That’s mine. I live over top. If you ever need anything come see me.” Britt nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She handed Mister Bradshaw back to Sadie.
“But what do I do about Hall?” She asked.
“Why don’t you let me take care of Lawrence Hall for you? Would that be all right?” Sadie asked.
“I guess so,” Britt said, “but aren’t you afraid of him?”
“No,” Sadie said. “I’m not afraid of bullies. And I know how to deal with them.” She noticed Britt starting to tear up again. “Now, don’t start blaming yourself. I am a lot older than you are, and I’ve had a lot more experience in life. Dealing with bullies is something that takes a bit of experience. And frankly Britt, you are too young and your life has been too sheltered for you to be able to deal with Lawrence Hall effectively. But I can, and I will.”
“Thank you,” Britt said quietly. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“Sure you do,” Sadie said. “Everyone deserves kindness. And now I’m going off to be kind to Lawrence Hall in an entirely different way.” Sadie stood up and put Mister Bradshaw on the ground. She stopped a moment to drop a kiss on Britt’s head before they headed back across the park to home.
That afternoon Sadie and Mister Bradshaw left Betty in charge of the shop and headed off to find Lawrence Hall. From what she understood, he was living in a fraternity at the University an hour west of Seagrove. It was a smallish university and Sadie figured that it wouldn’t take her too long to find which frat house he lived.
As it turned out when she stopped to help a young man with a flat tire on the road near the University, she found Mister Hall right away. She parked her car behind the expensive blue sports car with a flat tire, and when she and Mister Bradshaw approached he was leaning on the fender of his car talking on the phone. He saw Sadie and cut short his call.
“There’s something I can do to help you?” He asked, clearly annoyed at her.
“I was just coming to ask you the same thing,” she said. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No,” he said. “A tow truck is coming.” He might as well have said ‘now go away,’ because it was implied if not spoken.
Sadie held out her hand. “Sadie Barnett,” she said. “And you are?”
The man didn’t take her hand. “Lawrence Hall,” he said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Oh, but it is my business,” Sadie said cheerfully. “You’re just the person I was coming to see.”
“That can’t possibly be true,” he said. “So whatever it is you want from me, I’m not going to give it to you. You may as well go away.”
Sadie smiled. “You are quite as rude as I expected,” she said. “How delightful to be proven correct.”
“What?” He asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Rude young men who think the world owes them a living. That’s what I’m talking about,” she said. “And I’d like to know what you were doing at 7 PM two nights ago.”
“Why should I tell you what I was doing at 7 PM two nights ago?” He asked. “That’s absurd.”
“Because it’s easier to talk to me than the police,” she said. “Unless you’d rather talk to the police. I’m sure they’d be happy to drag you down to Seagrove and question you there.”
“Why would the Seagrove Police want to question me?” He asked.
“Haven’t you heard? Britt Rumstocking’s mother was killed two nights ago. From what I understand you have a pretty strong motive,” Sadie said.
Hall’s face blanched white. His mouth fell open and he was dumbstruck for at least a full minute. Sadie found that very satisfying.
“So, do you want to tell me what you were doing last Tuesday night?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sure I was probably partying at the frat. I’m almost always there.”
“Maybe we should go there now and ask if anyone else remembers you being there? Shall we?”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I’m not even seeing Britt anymore. Why would I have a motive to kill her mother?”
“Because her mother forbade her from seeing you, which cuts off your money supply. That’s a very strong motive.”
“Rich girls are ridiculously easy to come by,” he said. “I’ve got two on a string now. I don’t need Britt, in fact, I was happy to be rid of her. She thought I should get a job.”
“You don’t think you should work?” Sadie asked.
“Why should I? My dad is loaded. One of these days he’ll pop off and I’ll inherit. It’s as simple as that.”
“Money isn’t the only reason to work, Mr. Hall,” Sadie said. “One works to make a contribution to society. To make a difference. To be productive.”
“Don’t moralize at me. God, you sound like my mother.” He looked at his cell phone.
“Your mother sounds like a smart woman, you should listen to her,” Sadie said.
Hall made a noise of derision that made him sound like a pig to Sadie. That seemed appropriate.
“I am going to make a suggestion,” she said. “That I want you to think carefully about.” She paused for a beat to make sure she had his attention. He looked up.
“My suggestion is that you stay away from Britt Rumstocking, unless of course you want to be embroiled in a murder investigation, in which case, feel free. If I hear you’ve had anything to do with her, so much as a text comes from you, I will have the Seagrove P.D. in that frat so fast your head will spin. Do you understand?”
“No worries, if it means I’ll never see you again, I will happily stay away from Britt. I was done with her anyway,” he said.
On the way back to town, Sadie wondered if it were true that Hall had been done with Britt. And if he had been done with her was it because of her mother, or was there some other reason?
When she pulled up in front of her shop, Sadie noticed there was a light on inside the bakery. She let Mr. Bradshaw out of the car – safely leashed - and pressed her nose against the window. There was someone inside. She pushed the door and it wasn’t locked so she stepped inside.
The display case was as empty as the last time she had seen it, just after she had helped to clean the shop. It was quiet, except for the occasional clink from the back room. Sadie decided she’d better make her presence known.
“Hello?” she called.
“Hello?” a male voice called back.
“I’m your neighbor,” she said. “I saw a light and thought I’d better check in.”
He appeared in the door to the back room, the light behind silhouetting him. “I’m the new owner,” he said. “Who are you, again?”
“Sadie Barnett,” She stuck out her hand. “I own the shop next door. Timeless Treasures. And this is Mister Bradshaw, my canine companion. He doesn’t know he’s a D-O-G.”
He took her hand and held it for a moment. It was a good grip, she thought, firm and confident without being overwhelming. Or painful. There was nothing worse than a painful handshake.
“John Baker,” he said and his eyes dared her to comment. “Nice to meet you, and you too Mister Bradshaw. Did Roger let pets in this store?”
“Not pets, per se,” she said. “But Mister Bradshaw and I would stop by in the morning before opening. We’d drink our morning coffee together and normally he’d have a special treat for Mister Bradshaw. Not that we expect the same of you.”
He walked around the counter and knelt putting his hand out for Mister Bradshaw to sniff. Mister Bradshaw licked John’s hand while his tail wagged a mile a minute. Then h
e forgot all dignity and flopped over on his back to allow John Baker to rub his tummy. Sadie took this as a good sign.
“When will you open?” Sadie asked.
“The day after tomorrow,” he said. “At least that was the plan. The violence that occurred out there on the street is making me wonder if I made a mistake. Maybe this isn’t the right town for me.”
“Seagrove is a good town,” Sadie said. “It has a very low crime rate, although I have to admit these two murders have come as a pretty big shock to all of us.”
“And what about this big development they are talking about outside of town?” He asked. “Do you think that’s going to shut down Main Street?”
