“Nothing that I can remember,” Amber said. “Except…”
“Except what?”
Amber yawned, causing Sadie to feel slightly guilty for not waiting until the morning to ask her to recall Sue Bennett’s shopping occasions.
“Now that I think about it, she did make a comment a couple of weeks ago when she picked up a lace camisole. I remember thinking it seemed out of the ordinary for her,” Amber said. “She was looking for something ‘a little sexy.’ Those were her own words, and she blushed after describing it that way.”
Sadie tried to imagine the quiet woman requesting anything other than conservative clothing. “Did she say why?” A silly question, Sadie thought. Customers might describe what they were looking for but rarely got into personal details.
“Only that she was going out to dinner that evening,” Amber said. “Oh wait. For seafood. I remember that because I asked if she was going to Alioto’s or Scoma’s.”
Aha! Sadie’s mood perked up. That would give her a lead if she knew where the woman planned to dine. Even better if she had an excuse to follow up and treat herself to a meal at one of the city’s well-known restaurants. “So, was she?”
“No,” Amber said, shooting down Sadie’s hopes for a fancy night out. “She said she’d just be eating at one of the little sidewalk shacks along Jefferson Street.”
“Huh. It’s odd that she’d want something sexy to wear just for that,” Sadie said. “Unless she had plans afterward, I suppose.”
Amber yawned again. “Maybe. I wasn’t about to ask, and she didn’t volunteer a reason.”
“I’ll let you go,” Sadie said. “Thanks.”
“Not sure if that helped,” Amber said, “but happy to oblige.”
“Get some rest. I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow, figure in the afternoon. I have an errand to run in the morning.” Sadie ended the call and mulled over Amber’s comments. They might not lead to any new information, but there was one plus to it: Sadie now had an excuse to visit one of her favorite San Francisco haunts.
CHAPTER TEN
With her tote bag securely slung over her shoulder, Sadie hopped the Powell-Hyde cable car line and headed to Fisherman’s Wharf. The well-known San Francisco mode of transportation was not only a popular attraction for tourists, it also made for an easy way to avoid crowded parking lots and the near-impossible city street parking. She’d always been grateful that the penthouse she and Morris had shared was in convenient proximity to the cable car route. Now, on her own, she was even more appreciative.
The delectable aroma of freshly baked sourdough bread surrounded Sadie as she walked along Jefferson Street, the hub of wharf activity. Large cauldrons of boiling water prepared local Dungeness crab that passersby could purchase and eat on the go or at wooden countertops along the boardwalk. Stacks of bundled whole crab sat ready for customers to take home or have shipped. Oysters on the half shell, shrimp cocktails, and lobster-filled square paper trays, ready for hungry customers, offered other options for those seeking out the variety of seafood available.
Sadie had never been able to resist grabbing something to eat at Fisherman’s Wharf. The sounds, smells, and hustle and bustle of activity simply begged for a dip into the local culture. Ordering a traditional favorite, clam chowder served in a sourdough bread bowl, she stood at a wooden countertop and dipped her spoon into the creamy mixture. She closed her eyes and sighed. Chowder never tasted as good anywhere else, partially because of tradition and atmosphere, but also because it was just plain delicious. Even Coco, not one for seafood, poked her head out of the tote bag to try to steal a bit of the bread.
Pausing for the meal gave Sadie a chance to look around and consider options. All she’d been able to find about Bruno was that he might work at the wharf. He could be one of the multigenerational Italian fishermen whose ancestors first brought the crab fishing to the area. Or he might be a vendor, someone she’d seen in one of the stalls she’d passed. She only had his first name to go on, but at least it was something. Enough questioning might lead her in the right direction—after she finished her clam chowder, of course.
Still, the main puzzle in her mind continued to grow. How was it that the victim was associated with men of such varied backgrounds? And well enough that they all ordered special Valentine chocolate assortments for her. She mulled over possible connections while taking time to enjoy the thick, creamy chowder. Dropping small pieces of bread into her tote bag periodically, she finally finished the meal and reluctantly threw the remainder of the bread bowl away in a trash container.
Sadie glanced around, relieved that Frogert—Froggy—was nowhere in sight. Without a doubt, she’d be able to learn more without his shadow looming over her. She was also aware that her persistence in chasing down the three men who had ordered the chocolates might make her look even more suspect than she already did. The thought annoyed her, thinking of Mags taking down the license plate to her car and passing it on to the police. To begin with, she had nothing to do with the murder. Her presence at the scene was clear, and she’d explained it as such. Apparently, Mags was not only a busybody but an untrusting person with an active imagination. As a result, Sadie was stuck in the middle of a murder investigation.
For a good portion of an hour, Sadie went from vendor to vendor, inquiring about the name Bruno. Either no one had heard of him or they weren’t willing to admit it, or they knew multiple men named Bruno. She even broke down and bought a whole crab to take home from a couple working at one stand, thinking that chatting with the man cracking the crab for her would open up his willingness to pass on information. Each time the man pounded a crab leg with his mallet, she came up with a different approach. But the more she lingered, the more the woman shot her angry looks, and the man became impatient to move on to the next customer.
In the end, her attempts to find any trace of Bruno were futile, aside from having the cracked crab to look forward to that evening—a plus, needless to say. She picked up a fresh sourdough loaf to accompany the crab later and headed back home.
* * *
Amber looked up from the store counter as Sadie entered. A telltale blush on her cheeks and a small stack of new deliveries told Sadie that Amber’s favorite UPS driver had stopped by.
“So?” Sadie asked, hoping for a progress report from her young manager. She wasn’t usually one to play matchmaker, but Amber felt like a daughter to her, and Dylan seemed like a good guy. She just wanted them both to be happy.
“So,” Amber said, blushing even more, “he asked me out.”
“Finally!” Sadie clapped her hands together, her enthusiasm causing clunky wooden bangles to clatter against each other. “And you didn’t even have to hint.”
Amber smiled. “Nope. He just asked me out of the blue. It was funny; he was nervous!”
“I’m not surprised.” Sadie laughed. “You two have been stalling for ages.”
“I suppose we have,” Amber admitted.
“So is this for Valentine’s Day?” Sadie asked.
“Yes, but lunch, not dinner,” Amber said. “So no stress on romance.”
Sadie nodded with approval. “A good plan. Smart guy. Still, a little romantic, I think.” She started back to her office, only to hear Amber call after her.
“Oh, by the way, speaking of romance…” Amber’s voice had a teasing tone to it. “Your own boyfriend called. I put the note on your desk.”
“Which one?” Sadie quipped, a twinkle in her eye. Without waiting for an answer, she entered the back office and looked at the message. Ah, not the one I’d prefer to hear from, she thought, seeing Detective Frogert’s name on the paper. Deciding there was nothing to be gained by stalling, she dialed his number.
“I recommend the shrimp cocktail next time,” Frogert said. “It’s quite good.”
Sadie sighed. “You’re following me.” Was she surprised, or simply annoyed?
“Maybe you’re following me,” Frogert said.
“Hardly.” An
noyed, definitely annoyed.
Not wasting any more time on small talk, Frogert continued. “I received a call today from a friend of yours. Apparently, you’re well connected with the New Orleans police.”
“Broussard called you?” This took Sadie by surprise. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might check into the situation himself. She’d only called him for advice.
“In your best interest, I might add,” Frogert said. “He’d make a good character witness for you if you ever get into serious trouble.”
“Your statement implies I’m not in serious trouble,” Sadie said. “Glad to hear that.”
“No. As much as I’ve enjoyed our coincidental meetings, I don’t believe you’re involved in this,” Frogert said. “I’ve spoken with Margaret Gabston numerous times now, and she’s implicated at least twenty people, ranging from you to the Pope. We generally refer to this type of help as unreliable.”
Sadie debated whether to ask if Mags AKA Gladys had any other conspiracy theories or simply to compliment Froggy on his sarcastic sense of humor—something she highly admired in people—but decided to remain quiet.
“So I believe we can now stop running into each other,” Frogert said.
Sadie nodded, knowing the translation of this sentence was “back off.” Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Sadie mused. She’d never been one to easily shrug off curiosity.
“Are we in agreement on this?” Frogert asked.
“Of course,” Sadie said. After all, she was all for the idea of not running into Froggy again. Naturally, she was going to agree. After a few polite parting comments, the call ended.
Sadie returned to the front of the store to see if Amber needed anything.
“Any news?” Amber asked.
“Just that I’m not a hardened criminal, apparently,” Sadie said. She gave Coco a pat on the head, which the Yorkie gladly received.
Amber added more bottles of hand lotion to the counter display, restocking some she had sold earlier. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
Sadie picked up Coco, got her situated in the tote bag, and then headed out. She had a phone call to make and planned to make it from home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“You called Froggy?”
Sadie had barely taken the time to pour herself a glass of chardonnay—much more appealing than that boilermaker she’d managed to force down at Zany Z’s—before picking up her phone and calling Broussard. She was flattered that he had taken the time to call in a positive word for her with the SFPD. But it wasn’t something he needed to do, and she worried it might backfire if Detective Frogert felt she had a law enforcement friend interfering.
“Ms. Kramer,” Broussard said when he picked up the phone.
“Detective Broussard,” Sadie replied, in keeping with their traditionally formal greetings.
“Yes,” Broussard said. “I did call Detective Frogert. I admit that I was concerned with having your license plate associated with the crime scene. I apologize if you felt I was interfering. But it’s also not uncommon for departments to compare cases and details. It did sound like a curious set of circumstances.”
“Did you find out any more details?” Sadie asked. She took a sip of wine and paced her living room. “There hasn’t been much else in the paper since the first article. Only that they suspected foul play.”
“There probably won’t be more details right away,” Broussard said. “A lot of that is kept under wraps during an open investigation. Letting the information out can make it tougher to find the guilty party. The less that person knows that we know, the more chance we have of catching him. Or her. I don’t mean to not sound like an equal opportunity accuser.”
“An admirable trait,” Sadie said, sitting down. Her relaxation was short-lived, however, as Broussard spoke up again quickly.
“I did find out some interesting details that I can divulge though.” His voice trailed off as if to tease Sadie.
“Really?” Sadie jumped out of her chair eagerly. The sudden movement caused a splash of wine to slip over the edge of her glass, which she ignored. “What did you find out?”
“The most interesting thing, totally unexpected,” Broussard said.
Even more eager now, Sadie ran the possibilities through her head. Cause of death? Murder weapon? Suspects narrowed down? She could hardly wait to find out.
Broussard coughed and then cleared his throat. “There’s a bar out there in your city that might be connected to the case. It’s owned by one of the men who ordered the chocolate.”
Yes! Sadie thought. This was exactly what she hoped to hear.
“And this bar had the most unexpected visitor last night. I believe the exact description was ‘a senior citizen doing a poor imitation of a biker walk.’”
No! This was definitely not what she wanted to hear. But there was no getting out of it now. She sat back down and surrendered. She knew where the conversation was headed.
“Aside from the fact the bar doesn’t sound like a smart place to hang out, I worry about you getting near those guys who sent the chocolates. They’re obvious suspects, even though they could all be innocent. Keeping your distance is the smart thing to do. You really don’t have anything to do with this, Sadie.”
“That’s not entirely correct,” Sadie protested. “I was at the scene of the crime, heading for the victim’s house, and was carrying deliveries from three different suspects. Plus that nosy Mags person reported my vehicle’s license plate. It seems I was involved from the start, whether I wanted to be or not.”
“All true,” Broussard said. “For someone not involved, you managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with potential evidence in your hands.”
“Well, you see?” Sadie countered. “Now that you put it that way, I rest my case.”
“Fine,” Broussard said. “But how about not playing amateur sleuth on this one anymore? I’d certainly feel more comfortable knowing you were staying out of danger. And I’m sure the SFPD will do their job with or without your help, possibly more easily without it.”
Sadie considered arguing the last point but thought better of it.
“Do we have a deal?” Broussard waited patiently for an answer.
“I think we do,” Sadie said, not even bothering to cross her fingers this time. He had a good point, that the police would do their job with or without her. And it was touching that he was personally concerned for her safety. Maybe she would just stay out of it and let Froggy hop around doing the work. At that thought, she burst out laughing.
“Sadie?”
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said, still laughing. “Just a funny image that popped into my mind. It’s nothing important.”
Broussard’s voice softened. “How about I check in with you tomorrow just so I know you’re staying out of trouble?”
“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Sadie said. That strange fluttering feeling hit her that she felt sometimes when talking to Broussard. “I’ll most likely be at the shop. It should be a busy day with last-minute Valentine sales. I’ll either be there or I’ll be at home, one or the other.”
“That’s a comforting thought,” Broussard said. “Stick to your shop and home until this blows over. I don’t need to remind you that an arrest hasn’t been made yet, do I? There’s a killer out there somewhere.”
“On that pleasant note…” Sadie sighed.
“I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble.”
“I appreciate that,” Sadie said, realizing this was true. It felt good to know he cared about her safety even if it would mean keeping her curiosity in check.
With a few more words of goodbye, the call ended. Sadie looked around for Coco and patted her lap. Coco immediately jumped up. “Looks like we have to cool it with the snooping around.”
Coco looked at her with a dubious expression.
Sadie had to admit: wise as the plan was, even she wondered if she could pull it off.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As Sa
die expected, Flair was busy the next day. In fact, it was more than busy; it matched the frenzy of opening day at AT&T Park. There was always something different about the approach of Valentine’s Day too. Whereas the shop usually saw almost entirely female customers, this was a time when Sadie and Amber could count on men to arrive instead of the boutique’s usual women customers who tended to browse and enjoy the shopping experience itself. Men had a different energy about them at this time, which could easily be summed up in one word: panic.
Sadie had anticipated the unique challenge after years of handling Valentine’s Day, Christmas, birthdays, and anniversaries, which were similar in last-minute activity. The men who stopped in needed a gift, they needed it now, and they had no idea what to get. That created a challenge for Sadie and Amber, but they were prepared for it, even enjoyed it.
“You were smart to order in those simple heart necklaces this year.” Amber complimented Sadie as she sipped on what Sadie expected was her usual double espresso from Jay’s Java Joint.
“Thanks,” Sadie said, eyeing the sterling silver chains with a dangling heart, presented in a box small enough to be elegant but not so small as to mislead the recipient about its contents. Each heart featured a tiny diamond just off-center. This made the piece a sweet choice for those who weren’t able or willing to pick up something pricier at the local jeweler.
“These should help with the indecisive customers too.” Sadie moved to a shelf of cashmere scarves in a rainbow of colors. With wind and fog common to San Francisco, a soft scarf was always a good accessory to have on hand, no matter what season. It also served as a sweet but nonromantic option for those choosing a gift for a mother, sister, or secretary. Valentine’s gifts were not always intended just for sweethearts.
A Flair for Truffles (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 4) Page 5
