“So, he knocked the basket away; did the goods in the basket fall out?” the Sergeant asked.
“I thought they all fell out, but maybe they didn’t. Honestly, I didn’t count.”
“Do you think the scone over there is one you made?”
“It’s quite possible considering I’m the only bakery in town. However, I’m sure there are people all over town that can bake and might make scones,” I said, trying not to sound flippant.
“Can you explain how you came to be here tonight?”
“Dan, from the leather shop across the street, Paula, from next door, and I went to the Purple Cow for pizza. Dan and I walked back this way; he left, and I headed home. I noticed a light on in here, which was completely out of the ordinary. Mr. Sampson never leaves a light on. I looked in the window then noticed that the door was open. I yelled in a couple of times but there was no answer, so I walked in to make sure everything was okay. Then I noticed Mr. Sampson in his chair. At first, I thought he was asleep, then realized he wasn’t breathing. I checked for a pulse and that is when Deputy Gregerson came in.”
“When you noticed the door open, why didn’t you call for a deputy?” Sergeant White asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I guess I was more concerned for Mr. Sampson and wanted to make sure he was okay,” I shrugged. Why did I risk my own safety by coming in here instead of calling the cops?
“So, let me get this straight, Mr. Sampson tells you he is doubling your rent, he creates a scene out front, doesn’t want your offering, and yet you were concerned enough to check on him?”
“In a nutshell, I guess so,” I shrugged again. I didn’t know why I would still care enough to check on the old man that was determined to ruin my business.
“Until we find out the cause of Mr. Sampson’s death, I’m going to request that you not leave town for any reason. If you feel you need to leave, please come see me first,” the Sergeant told me.
“Why can’t I leave town? I told you everything that I know,” I questioned.
“Right now we can’t rule out the possibility that Mr. Sampson’s death was something other than a natural death. Until we know, we want you to stay close and available to answer any questions we might have,” he explained.
“So, I’m a suspect?”
“Let’s just say you are a person of interest, if indeed Mr. Sampson was murdered,” he said, then turned to leave.
CHAPTER FIVE
Chapter 5
“Can you believe it? Me? A murderer? What is wrong with that sheriff’s department?” I questioned loudly, as I finished fixing Paula’s coffee and a muffin.
“He sure deserved whatever he got,” she shrugged like it was no big deal.
“I didn’t sleep a wink last night. What if he was poisoned? People will stop coming here. I think I’m destined to lose this place,” I sighed, as I sunk into the chair opposite Paula.
“I wonder what will happen now? Do you know if he had any family that would inherit the buildings?”
“Never even gave that a thought. I have no clue, and now have something else to worry about. What if he has a kid that is just like him?” I sighed. I tried to always see the glass half-full, but this time I couldn’t see anything positive in this situation.
“Oh my gosh, Abby, I just heard what happened,” Julia squealed, as she flew into the bakery out of breath.
“Just curious about exactly what it was you heard, and where you heard it?” I asked Julia.
“When I parked my car and got out, there were a couple of other shop owners getting out of their cars, and they asked me if the bakery was going to be open today. I asked them why it wouldn’t be, and they told me they heard that old man Sampson was murdered last night and that you are the primary suspect.” She blurted out the whole conversation she had with the other shop owners.
“Mr. Sampson died last night, that much is true, but we don’t know how he died. Deputy Gregerson seemed to think that it was possible the old man was poisoned. The problem is, I found the body.”
“Why is that a problem? Someone had to find it, right? That doesn’t mean you killed him.” she asked.
“I noticed a light on in his store, then saw the door open. I was concerned and went in to see what was going on and found him in that old recliner. Deputy Gregerson found me standing by the body.” I explained the whole scenario to Julia and Paula.
“That Deputy is just plain crazy if he thinks you would kill an old man because he raised your rent!” Julia declared, loud enough that the whole town could hear.
“So, what are you going to do?” Julia asked, as she went behind the counter and put her apron on. I watched as she went through her regular routine of checking to see what the lunch special would be so she could start prepping. She always checked the display case as well as the timers on the ovens. Generally, I would be busy with customers wanting coffee and a muffin, but it seemed the rumor had already spread through town and no one wanted to take a chance on my baking.
“Honestly? Right now, I don’t know. I was awake all night thinking about it. I can’t believe people in this town would believe I would poison the old man,” I groaned. Somehow I needed a few people to believe in me rather than the rumor, but right now all I had was Paula and Julia, both of whom had a stake in the outcome of this mess.
“What do you think will happen with the buildings now?” Julia asked from behind the counter.
“That is what we were talking about when you came in. We have no idea what will happen now. Maybe someone around here will know if the old man had any kind of family that might inherit the buildings. But even then, will they keep them or sell them? Who knows,” I shrugged.
“It sure makes it hard to try to go about doing business or making plans. I would guess we are only as good as our lease at the moment. But hey, with him out of the way we are free to participate in the coming town events, so that is good news,” Paula cheered.
“Great if you have customers, not so great if you make a bunch of stuff and no one comes in to buy it,” I sighed, wondering what I would do with all the stuff I made this morning. As I was debating about all the baked goods and lunch items, Dan came in, smiling.
“Good morning, ladies, how is everyone this morning?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well, Dan, I think we’ve all been better,” Paula said, sadly. I knew she was concerned about what might happen to her business. Paula lost her husband many years ago, so her business was not only a source of income, but it was her hobby as well. Paula’s grandkids were getting older and no longer required adult supervision when their parents weren’t home, so her time was all her own. I had a sneaky suspicion that Dan had an interest in Paula and vice-versa, but neither of them would admit it.
“You aren’t letting old man Sampson’s demise get you down, are you?” he asked with a laugh.
“Haven’t you heard that they think Abby killed him?” Paula asked him.
“I heard, but who would believe that?” Dan laughed.
“Evidently the entire town believes it. Look around, no one has been in this morning.” I cried, waving my hand at the empty chairs.
“They probably didn’t expect you to be open today and they probably don’t know what to say. It is kind of an unusual situation.” He pointed out to us that the only murder in the last decade was a domestic situation. Virginia City is no longer a place that attracts much crime.
“I guess that is a possibility, but I can’t help but think they are avoiding my food,” I sighed. I then joined Julia behind the counter, leaving Dan and Paula together at the table.
The morning dragged by slowly, with only a few visitors stopping in for a cup of coffee. Everything I baked earlier sat in the display case, quickly becoming a waste of time and money. It was money I couldn’t afford to waste. As lunchtime neared, I told Julia to hold off doing any prep; it was doubtful we would have many, if any, people in for lunch so whatever we had left from the day before would be sufficient.
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br /> “Good Morning, Abby,” Pete said, as he came in and removed his coat and hat. Pete is one of the civil war re-enactors that volunteers his time to be present on the main street of town. The town is proud that it looks much the same as it did 100 years ago; the advertising claims that visiting here is like “taking a step back in time” and the re-enactors lend to that feeling. As visitors stroll along the wooden sidewalks, they are likely to see men dressed in either Confederate or union civil war era uniforms and women dressed in 1860’s costume, as well.
“Hello, Pete, what can I get for you today?” I asked, hoping he would want lunch. Pete comes in a couple times a week for lunch and also takes several muffins home for his wife.
“If you have any poison free soup, I’ll have a bowl,” he laughed.
“As a matter of fact, I do have some. I have either creamy chicken and rice or potato and leek,” I smiled, and grabbed a bowl.
“The chicken and rice is one of my favorites. I’ll have a bowl of that and half a baguette with dressing please.” He winked and took a seat. As I fixed his lunch, we talked about the recent event that led to the lack of customers. Pete said the same thing Dan did about people not expecting me to be open, which made me feel better.
On his way out the door, he turned to me. “Don’t worry Abby, no one believes you killed that cranky old fart. They’ll all be back in. After all, your food is too good to resist for long. He got what was coming to him if you ask me.”
Not long after Pete left, one by one people started coming in for lunch. Before we knew it, all the tables were full, and we were scrambling to get everything made and handed out since we didn’t prep much. About halfway through the regular lunchtime I sighed, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day after all. The locals all expressed their shock that I would be accused of murder. Most of them shared their feelings that the whole town was better off with the old man gone. By mid-afternoon, I think I saw and talked to most of the other shop owners and many of the local business people. No one seemed to know anything about Mr. Sampson’s family, if there was anyone. He kept completely to himself, and only seemed to cause issues around town. It didn’t even seem that anyone knew his first name because he insisted that only his mother called him by that name, and he didn’t have any friends close enough to call him anything other than Mr. Sampson.
I guess the guy in charge of the investigation would figure it all out. After all, that is his job. I wondered how long it would take to figure out how the old man died. The answers couldn’t come soon enough, as far as I was concerned. Was the local sheriff’s department capable of figuring out this mystery? Would they have to call in another department? I wasn’t sure how something like this would work in a county that is so small. If outsiders came in, they might not be as lenient as our own department was being. But then again, I hadn’t done anything wrong and there was nothing at all to suggest I had, except the wild imagination of the deputy.
The old grandfather clock in the corner rang 3:00, which meant it was about time to close. Julia was finishing the prep for the next day, while I finished cleaning tables and getting the garbage gathered. I glanced at the few items left in the display case and decided I would try Paula’s suggestion of wrapping the left-over baked items and placing them by the cash register at a reduced cost.
As I finished wrapping the last muffin the bell above the door sounded, letting me know that someone had come in. Without even looking up, I shouted, “Sorry, we are closed for the day.”
“I’m not here for food. Are you Abby?” a strange voice asked.
“Yes, I’m Abby. How can I help you?” I turned and saw the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Tall, dark, and sexy was the only way to really describe him. Whoever this stranger was, he had piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and a closely trimmed dark beard. He was wearing a black felt cowboy hat and a black canvas work jacket over a gray flannel shirt, jeans, and heavy work boots.
“So, you’re the one who killed my father?”
CHAPTER SIX
Chapter 6
“Excuse me? I haven’t killed anyone,” I huffed.
“Hmm, that isn’t what is circulating in the rumor mill,” he sniped back at me.
“Do you need something, or are you just here to harass me?” I asked, staring him in the eye and hoping he would realize he wasn’t intimidating me.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You certainly don’t look like someone who is capable of killing anybody,” he chuckled as he took off his jacket and hat and put them on the table closest to him.
“I don’t find it in the least bit funny. Now then, if you are looking for something to eat, I can recommend a couple places along the main street, since we are closed.” I turned back to the counter to put the plastic wrap away and wipe off the counter.
“Definitely not the friendliest person in town, are you?” he replied.
“Look, I’ve had a very long 24 hours. I don’t know who you are or what you want so if you don’t leave, I will call the sheriff’s department and have them send someone over.” I moved toward the phone hoping he would get the message and leave me alone.
Instead of putting his hat and coat back on, he put his hand out in an invitation to shake it and moved toward me, “I’m sorry, I guess we didn’t get off to a very good start. I know you are Abby, owner of this bakery. I’m Toby Sampson.”
“Sampson? As in, related to old man Sampson?” I stuttered. This was not making my already bad string of luck any better.
He took a deep breath, “Yes. The old man was my dad.”
I couldn’t decide if I should be angry, scared, nervous, or relieved, so instead of trying to figure out the best reaction, I stayed with confused.
“You look confused,” he said.
Good! Staying with confused was a good choice.
“I guess I am rather confused,” I shrugged.
“It’s a long story, one I’ll tell you another time. I just wanted to stop in and see who it is that everyone is talking about.” With that, he put on his hat and grabbed his jacket.
“Let’s get something straight,” I said as I walked out from behind the counter. I couldn’t help but notice the once over I got as I walked toward him. My customary outfit when I’m in the bakery is a t-shirt topped with a flannel or plaid shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes because I have to be comfortable yet presentable. I always apply a light touch of make-up, fixed my short, tousled hair, and finished with a sweatshirt adorned with the bakery logo. “I had nothing to do with your father’s death and for anyone to even think I did is just plain crazy.”
Paula came through the door as I was waiting for the younger Mr. Sampson to vacate.
“Hey Abby, anything new about the wretched old man?” she asked before she noticed Mr. Sampson standing there. “Oh, hello, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s okay Paula, this is Mr. Sampson’s son. He thinks he came in here to see what a murderer looks like.” I introduced them to each other, making sure that the young Sampson understood that Paula is the other tenant.
“Oh, listen here mister. I don’t know who you are or what you call yourself, but this beautiful young lady here had nothing to do with that old curmudgeon’s death, you hear me?” She got up in his face as she made her stance clear to him.
“Okay, okay,” he laughed. He stepped back then raised his hands up in a show of defeat.
“If you are the old man’s son, why haven’t I seen you around here before now?” she asked him.
“As I was telling Abby, here, it’s a long story for another time. I have an appointment I must get to right now so if you ladies will excuse me.” He tried to step around Paula, but she was too fast for him.
“Not so fast. You can’t just blow in here, claim to be the son of a dead man, and then slither out of here with no explanation,” her finger wagged in his face.
“I promise I will explain everything, but I really must get going right now.” He finally darted around Paula and made it
through the door.
Paula continued to shout after him as he walked briskly up the street, climbed into a dark-colored car, and sped off down the street.
I couldn’t help but laugh at Paula as she came back into the bakery with her hands clenched into fists and her face red.
“That man has some nerve. Who does he think he is, barging in here like that?”
I handed Paula a cup of tea and sat down at one of the tables with her. “Do you think there is any truth in what he said?”
“That he would tell us the whole story?” she huffed, obviously doubting he would follow through with his promise.
“No, that he is actually old man Sampson’s son.”
“Oh, that. I’ve never heard about the old man spawning any demon children, but it seems way too soon for slimy treasure hunters to swoop in and try to claim the old farts estate.” She blew on her tea to cool it a bit before taking a drink.
“So why don’t you tell me how you really feel about the Mr.’s Sampson?” I laughed. Paula made no bones about the fact that she strongly disliked old man Sampson and was going to now project that feeling on the man claiming to be his son.
“From the day I moved here after my Walter died, I couldn’t stand that crazy old coot. He was always harassing someone, it seemed. No one in this town liked him one bit,” she spit out.
“Did he ever have a wife?” I asked.
“Not that I know of, but then I never cared enough to ask about him or his past,” she shrugged.
“Well, if he really is Mr. Sampson, Jr., hopefully, he will be able to give us some much-needed answers about the properties, and sooner rather than later,” I said, then finished my cup of tea.
Paula and I chatted for a while longer about all the unanswered questions about the two Mr. Sampsons. I eventually grabbed a piece of paper and started writing them down. We decided it would be a good idea to head over to the saloon to see if any of the town’s old-timers might know more about the old man.
Murder on Main Street Page 3
