Sadie adjusted the angle of one of Matteo’s specialty heart-shaped gift boxes, which was displayed on a miniature easel. “Cioccolato will be swamped today, but we’ll still want to suggest customers stop by there to add something sweet to whatever they choose here.”
Amber laughed. “This would have nothing to do with the fact that Matteo said we could eat the contents of the display box if we did, would it?”
“That’s a bonus, I admit,” Sadie said. “But we always want to send him business, just like he sends people over to us.”
“You two are great next-door business neighbors,” Amber said. She stepped up to the register to ring up a soft pink sweater, a gift for an elderly mother.
“Wonderful choice, Andrew,” Sadie said, recognizing the regular customer. “How is your mother doing?”
“Still bedridden,” the man said. “But she loves wearing something special around her shoulders. It cheers her up.” He put his credit card in his wallet after Amber handed it back to him. “I have a stack of sweet romance novels to go with it,” he said.
Sadie nodded with approval. “An excellent combination.” She thanked the customer and crossed the room to help a tall man with a puzzled expression. He frowned as he held an item in each hand, debating between a red silk blouse and a fluffy chenille bathrobe.
“Does the person you’re buying the gift for like to go out to social events?” Sadie asked. “Or does she prefer to spend time at home, reading or watching television shows and movies?”
“It’s for my wife,” the man said. “We go out on occasion, but given a choice, she prefers to stay in. We watch a lot of classic movies.”
“I vote for the bathrobe, in that case,” Sadie said. “Nothing beats curling up on a couch and being comfortable at home. She can always return it if she prefers something else.” Sadie took the bathrobe to the front counter, removed the price tag, and wrapped the item in white tissue paper. She placed it in a glossy red handle bag and tied the handles with white ribbons that cascaded over the edges. Amber rang up the sale, and the man left, content with his purchase. As he exited the shop, a woman entered, catching Sadie’s attention.
“What is it?” Amber said, noticing an odd look on Sadie’s face.
“I know that woman, the one with the sunglasses on.” Sadie kept her voice soft. “At least I think I do.” She fought to place the connection as she watched the customer wander from rack to rack. The woman seemed only semifocused on the selections as she looked around. Unable to see her eyes, Sadie tried to judge the direction of the woman’s gaze by the tilt of her head.
“I don’t recognize her, but I love that scarf she’s wearing,” Amber whispered. “It looks expensive. I bet she’s not going to buy anything. She’s got that browsing mode about her.”
Sadie nodded. “You’re right. She’s just looking around. But she doesn’t seem like the shoplifting type either.” Flair rarely had a problem with merchandise disappearing, but occasionally something would show up missing. It was just an unfortunate part of retail.
A line formed at the sales counter, causing the discussion to pause. Amber rang up a silk blouse, cultured pearl earrings, and a red wallet with fringe trim, passing them to Sadie for bags, tissue, and ribbon. Midway through the flurry of activity, the woman who had been browsing left the store.
“I think she might have gone to Matteo’s shop,” Amber said, once there was a break in the line. “At least I saw her turn in that direction.”
“Do me a favor,” Sadie said, an uncomfortable hunch forming. “Run over there and check. I’ll cover the register. Don’t say anything to her. Just see if she’s there.”
Amber looked at Sadie, eyebrows raised. “You’re passing up an opportunity to go to Matteo’s yourself? With that sample tray he keeps out?”
“Just this one time,” Sadie said. “I won’t make a habit of it, I assure you.” She turned toward an approaching customer as Amber ran next door.
“Which do you think?” A man held up two necklaces, one a trendy strand of beads, the other a simple amethyst pendant.
“What colors does she usually wear?” Sadie asked.
The customer thought over the question. “Orange, yellow, red, usually something bright.”
“I’d go with the strand of beads,” Sadie suggested. “It will match more of her clothing.” Placing the necklace in a small gift box, she thanked the man for his purchase.
Amber returned as the man walked out. “No sign of her.” Amber shrugged her shoulders. “But is it ever crowded over there!”
“I’m sure it is,” Sadie said. “This is Matteo’s busiest day of the year. Thanks for checking,” she added. “I’ll be in the office if you need me. Just buzz the intercom, and I’ll come rescue you.”
Settled in the office, Sadie contemplated the strange behavior of the woman. Although she hadn’t been able to see her face clearly, she was almost positive it was the stylish woman she’d seen at Luke Manning’s office. The real question was: Had the woman stopped by to see the store? Or had she come by to check up on Sadie? And, if so, why?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Still mulling over the odd visit in the shop the day before, Sadie set the visit aside to pursue a different aspect of the puzzle. She’d found two of the three men who’d sent chocolate to the victim, but not the third.
“What do you say we go try to find this Bruno character, Coco?” She didn’t have to beg. Coco always responded with enthusiasm to “go.” Hearing one of her favorite words, she immediately trotted over to Sadie’s tote bag and hopped in.
The fog outside looked heavier than usual and the sky above it darker. It provided a welcome opportunity to wear one of the fashionable new rain ponchos that the shop had started carrying. The bright umbrella print was cheerful and somehow made the poncho feel more functional, as far as Sadie was concerned. California wasn’t prone to rain, but it never hurt to be prepared. After all, it was February, and spring was on its way—April showers and all that. Rain could always arrive early.
Sadie slid her arm through the handles of her tote bag, letting it dangle from the crook of her elbow, and headed back to Fisherman’s Wharf.
The cable car’s brakes squealed as it pulled to a stop a few blocks from the wharf. Sadie stepped off and headed for Jefferson Street. The mixed smells of salt water, seafood, and baking bread beckoned to her as she approached. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of another sourdough bread bowl filled with clam chowder. Or maybe she should have a shrimp cocktail, as Froggy had suggested. Or a crab salad. Or some oysters on the half shell with enough horseradish and cocktail sauce to disguise the fact they were rather slimy. Or, heck—why not some of each?
Pushing the thought of food out of her mind, she turned her focus to the purpose of her trip: she was determined to find Bruno this time. No matter how many bread bowls of chowder it took. Maybe she’d even need to make a side trip to Ghirardelli Square. No harm in a few perks along the way.
As usual, Fisherman’s Wharf was busy. Tourists crowded the area, wandering along Pier 39 to visit shops and hovering over the sea lion colony, eager to get a few photos to show off when they returned home. Some visited other attractions, touring the USS Pampanito, a World War II submarine, or playing vintage games in the Musée Mécanique. Occasionally Sadie enjoyed taking in different San Francisco landmarks, even though she lived right there in the city. She knew from traveling that people often visited spots far away from home yet not the ones in their own backyards. But today she was on a mission and headed straight for the seafood stands.
Grabbing a paper cup of crab and cocktail sauce, she consumed the delicacy as slowly as possible, using the time to look around. A similar hustle and bustle hummed along the stretch, with now familiar-looking faces manning the stands. Vendors called out to each other, often with names, which Sadie found helpful. But Joe, Rudy, Steve, and Tony weren’t the names she was hoping to hear.
She continued on, passing the booth where the man had been
cracking crab with a mallet on her first visit. He worked alone this time, without the woman partner who had given her the evil eye before. She considered stopping to chat with him but thought better of it. She’d lingered at that stand before and less at others that she could further explore this time. As she passed by the booth, however, a comment from a vendor at the next stand caused her to pause.
“Working alone today, Brownie? Did Gina leave you on your own?”
It was an innocent comment from a neighboring vendor who was arranging oysters on a tub of ice in his display window. But it represented more to Sadie, whose high school Italian brought back a random fact. “Bruno” was Italian for “brown,” hence the nickname Brownie could be… couldn’t it?
“Nah, she’s just out and about,” the crab-cracking man called back.
“What do you think, Coco?” she whispered to her tote bag. Coco stuck her head out, looked at the oysters with disdain, and retreated back inside. “You’re no help at all,” Sadie teased, though with compassion. Oysters weren’t among her favorite foods either.
Without an easy way to linger undetected, she moved on, knowing she could return later for additional espionage. She made her way several stands down and picked up a small shrimp salad, another excuse to pause. This time a small table was available against an inner wall, barely large enough to be able to sit, and she had to balance her tote on her lap. Still, it was convenient as a place to ponder the comments she’d overheard.
Sadie squeezed fresh lemon on her salad, looking casually back in the direction of Brownie’s booth, as well as taking stock of other customers. She eyed a sourdough bread bowl of chowder passing by and smiled at a young boy pretending to fish from each stand with an invisible fishing pole. A tourist sauntered by with a sizable bag from Ghirardelli Square. This almost erased Sadie’s train of thought, but not quite. She still suspected “Brownie” could well be the “Bruno” she was looking for.
Coco let out a sharper-than-usual yip, and Sadie looked down at her with surprise. It wasn’t unusual for Coco to comment, but this tiny bark seemed more intense than usual. Sadie hushed her gently, expecting the Yorkie to retreat into the bag. But another yip followed. Curious, Sadie followed Coco’s gaze, which aimed in the opposite direction of the stand she’d been intent on observing. There, several small tables away, sat the woman from Brownie’s stand, the one who had glared at her on the first trip. Sadie took stock of the woman’s companion and drew her breath in, a quick-thinking alternative to a verbal exclamation that might have attracted attention. Across from Gina sat the bartender from Zany Z’s. Sadie recalled another customer there calling her Lila.
Sadie lowered her eyes quickly and pulled the hood of her poncho up over her head, grateful the rainwear could double as a disguise. Although she’d only seen each woman once before, the chance of being recognized by either one was too risky.
In addition to the distance between Sadie’s table and that of the two women, the conversation was out of hearing range other than a few random phrases when one or the other raised her voice and then had it shushed back down. Sadie was certain she heard “not worth it” tossed out during a pre-shush exclamation, as well as “a bad plan.”
Tugging the hood forward to help hide her face, she looked down into her bag, pretending to rummage. Coco, who had a habit of treating this as a game, scurried back and forth inside the bag, play-biting Sadie’s fingers.
“Not now, Coco,” Sadie whispered. “We can play later. Right now I’m trying to listen.” Not only that, but she was trying to figure out why Gina and Lila would even be together. Why would these two women know each other? It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Two girlfriends or wives of men who were cheating on them with the victim? The plot was definitely thickening. Now if only…
The far-fetched thought had barely crossed Sadie’s mind when she glanced up and saw another figure approaching. The woman’s nonchalant movements were so much so as to not seem nonchalant in the least. Dressed in similar refined fashion to that which Sadie had seen her wearing in Luke Manning’s office, Sadie was now certain this was the woman who had been browsing at Flair. She even sported the same scarf Amber had admired. The woman looked like—there was simply no point in avoiding the cliché, given the perfect setting—a fish out of water.
With her stilettos clicking against the walkway, the woman paused at a busy stand and lifted a sheet of paper off a stack of order forms. She scribbled ten seconds worth of writing but didn’t hand it to the vendor. Rather, she folded the paper in half and then in half again, her perfectly manicured nails and shimmering rock on her ring finger making the action look dramatic, as if straight out of a Hitchcock movie. Moving on, she sauntered by the table where Gina and Lila sat. But instead of sitting with them, as Sadie expected, she simply slipped the folded paper onto the table and continued on.
Well, Sadie thought. Let’s just see what happens next.
From Sadie’s vantage point, it wasn’t clear who opened the note. Only that—based on four elbows shifting positions—both Gina and Lila were reading the message. A minute later, both women stood and followed the third.
Sadie waited a few moments, just enough to not seem obvious yet not enough to lose track of the trio. Keeping her poncho’s hood pulled forward, she maneuvered the crowded walkway as best she could considering the loss of peripheral vision the garment caused. She rounded the end of the block and observed the three women gathered by a railing alongside a pier.
With the women away from the main crowd of people, there was no way Sadie could approach without making herself known, so she had to settle for watching from afar. Unable to overhear anything, the overall picture was still clear: whatever the discussion involved, it wasn’t pleasant. Arms flew with gestures of frustration, feet stomped more than once, and even one stilettoed foot tapped impatiently. Voices, though muffled, rose and fell. The subject matter was heated, and three participants were not at all in agreement.
As quickly as the trio’s meetup had started, it was over. Sadie watched as Gina headed back to the crab stand. The other two women took off in different directions, neither one bothering to glance back.
“Curiouser and curiouser, Coco,” Sadie muttered under her breath. She’d always been fond of the Lewis Carroll phrase from Alice in Wonderland. It applied to so many situations that she seemed to find herself in.
Not risking another trip along the vendor stands for fear of attracting Gina’s attention, she left Fisherman’s Wharf and caught the next cable car home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What? Are you and Froggy best friends now?” Sadie sighed. She had to admit she was charmed by the upswing of phone calls from Broussard. It had been years since a man had caught her attention in a—dare she say it—romantic sense. Still, it was cramping her amateur-detective style to have not one but two detectives to deal with. It was so much easier to snoop around without actual law enforcement getting in the way.
“I spoke to him because I turned up a few bits of information on my own,” Broussard said, “aside from simply looking out for you since you seem determined to stay involved.”
Sadie could tell Broussard was smiling, just by the tone of his voice. “I appreciate your concern.” This was true. It felt good to know he cared. “And… is there a chance you might want to share these bits of information that you found? Or is that against the rules?” This time she knew the detective was smiling, without even having to hear him speak.
“As I’m sure you know, I can’t divulge specific information, but there are a few general comments I can make.”
“I’m all ears,” Sadie said. She walked to her kitchen, one arm holding the phone to her ear, the other reaching for a wineglass. She’d already changed into a fluffy chenille bathrobe and bunny slippers after arriving home an hour earlier. The trip to the wharf, followed by checking in to see how Amber was faring at the boutique, followed by a quick bite of take-out Chinese that she’d picked up after closing the store,
all added up to a full day. She was ready to relax. She poured a half glass of cabernet sauvignon and retired to the living room couch as Broussard filled her in as much as he could.
“You’re saying that Manning Property Holdings has a shady real estate deal going on? And that Sue Bennett was somehow involved with it?” Sadie’s mind flipped quickly to another real estate deal she’d watched turn into a mess recently.
“No,” Broussard said. “I’m not saying that. I don’t believe I mentioned any names, for one thing. I’m not sure this case has anything to do with real estate or even with that company. I just know there’s a possibility.”
“In what way?” Sadie asked.
“I can’t say any more. And that’s really all I know,” Broussard said. “It may have no bearing on this crime at all.”
“Real estate certainly seems to be a hot topic these days,” Sadie commented.
“Real estate involves money,” Broussard said. “And where there’s money, there’s room for disagreement, which can lead to heated emotions, which can lead to problems. It’s just something we always look into.”
“Hence the expression ‘follow the money,’” Sadie said. She took a sip of wine, thinking that over. Most of the conflicts she’d seen did seem to revolve around finances in some way.
“Yes,” Broussard said. “Money is a powerful motive for a lot of things, crime included.”
“So is emotion,” Sadie pointed out. “And I think emotion may have more to do with this case than money.”
Silence on the line. This was not a good thing, Sadie thought. Either Broussard disagreed or she’d just let on that she’d done more snooping than he already thought.
A Flair for Truffles (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 4) Page 6
