by J A Whiting
With the purse back under the counter, Angie reached into the bakery case and cut a small piece of the pear tart. She placed it on the plate and carried it over to Josh.
“Are you always a klutz?” His eyes were mischievous.
Angie put a hand on her hip. “Only, now and then. You’d better stand back when I refill your coffee.”
Josh chuckled. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the dessert. He closed his eyes and moaned.
Angie smiled, admiring the chiseled features of Josh’s face. “Does that mean you like it?”
Josh opened his eyes. “It means I love it. I’d love a bigger piece, please.”
Angie was about to cut another slice for him when Lisa called out to her. Lisa was holding the café’s phone in her hand. Her face was pinched with worry. “Angie. It’s Police Chief Martin. He says for you to come quick. It’s Professor Linden. She’s hurt. At her house. She’s asking for you.”
Angie’s eyes went wide. Her heart jumped into her throat. She dropped the knife she was holding onto the counter and bolted from the bake shop.
Chapter 2
Angie was still wearing her pink apron when she raced past four store fronts on Main Street and turned left onto Beach Street. Running past several small shops and residential houses, Angie could see a police car and an ambulance in front of Professor Linden’s Victorian home. A crowd of people had gathered on the sidewalk opposite the house.
“Angie!” Police Chief Martin raised his hand to flag her over. An emergency medical technician was kneeling next to the professor who was on her side laying on the walkway next to the front stairs of her house.
“What’s happened?” Angie was nearly breathless when she ran up the chief.
Two EMTs rolled a stretcher out of the ambulance and hurried it towards Professor Linden.
“A passerby saw the professor on the ground and called 911. The person said the professor seemed to be convulsing or having a seizure.” The chief took Angie’s elbow and quickly guided her over to the elderly woman prone on the ground. “The professor called for you,” he told her.
Angie rushed to the older woman and knelt beside her. She swallowed hard to clear the worry from her voice. “Professor? It’s me. It’s Angie.” She reached for Professor Linden’s hand.
The professor’s eyes fluttered open. “Angie.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She squeezed Angie’s hand. “Take care of my cat.”
Angie blinked. “Yes. Yes, of course, I will. You’ll be good as new soon. I’ll take care of him until you’re home again.”
The tension of Professor Linden’s fingers on Angie’s hand eased and the muscles fell slack. The professor’s eyes closed and she took a quick breath, almost a small hiccup, and then she was still. Angie looked at the tiny hand she was holding. Her gaze flicked to Professor Linden’s face and then back to the hand. A sob caught in Angie’s throat. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over the lids, running down her cheeks.
Chief Martin placed a hand on Angie’s shoulder and gave her a small squeeze.
On that bright, warm April morning, the professor was gone.
***
The county coroner was called and a car was sent over to retrieve the professor’s body. Angie sat on the front steps of the Victorian as the attendants brought a stretcher from the coroner’s vehicle and placed the body on it. A long strand of Angie’s hair had come loose from her topknot and framed one side of her tear-stained face. The EMTs had covered Professor Linden’s body with a sheet. One of the town’s police officers was directing people to move along to keep them from stopping and gawking at the sad scene.
When the attendants rolled the stretcher across the lawn and moved it into the car, Angie stood and watched the vehicle drive away. She dabbed at her eyes as the chief approached. He had a set of keys in his hand.
“The cat. The professor’s cat is in the house.” Chief Martin’s shoulders drooped and the muscles of his face sagged.
Angie stared at him, his words not registering with her.
“Professor Linden asked you to take care of him.” The chief held up the keys. “The cat.”
“Oh, right.” Angie shook herself. “Yes.” She looked at the house. “Poor Euclid.”
“Who?” the chief asked.
“Euclid. Her cat. That’s his name.”
They walked up the front stairs to the porch.
“How old was Professor Linden?” Angie asked.
“I really don’t know. I’ve known her for years, but never knew her age.” The chief had grown up in Sweet Cove and knew just about everybody from town. He’d even known Angie when she was a little girl and came to town with her sisters to visit their grandmother. The chief put the key in the lock and turned. It clicked and he pushed the door open.
Angie asked, “Did the professor have epilepsy? Is that why she had a seizure?”
The chief shrugged. “I don’t know that either.”
“I know that her husband and son passed away before her. And a brother too,” Angie said. “Is there someone who should be called? A relative? A friend?”
As they entered the foyer, the chief shook his head. “I don’t know anything. I only know that Blake Ford was her attorney. He handled her affairs. I’ll call him and let him know what happened. He’ll know who to contact.”
“But ….” Angie said.
“Oh, right,” the chief said. “I keep forgetting that Blake’s retired now and gone to Florida. His nephew has taken over the firm.”
Angie wasn’t sure calling the law office a “firm” was correct since it was only a one-lawyer operation.
The chief hooked his thumb into his belt. “I’ll call the nephew. His last name’s Ford. It’s Jack Ford.” He gestured for Angie to enter the house. “You meet him yet?”
Angie shook her head. “No. I don’t think I’ve seen him around.”
“He seems odd.”
They glanced around for the cat.
Even though Angie had been in the Professor’s home several times, the house never failed to impress her. The foyer of the Victorian had gleaming hardwood floors and high ceilings. A chandelier hung in the center of the space. There was a carved rectangular wooden table standing in the middle of the foyer with a large cut glass vase filled with tall colorful flowers. Carpets of cream, cranberry, and green were placed here and there over the floor. A large staircase led from the foyer to the second floor landing. The Victorian was perfectly decorated with period furniture, wallpapers, lamps, antiques, and mirrors. Entering the mansion was like stepping back into another era.
A terrible shriek came from the dining room on the right side of the foyer. Angie and the chief both jumped. The professor’s orange cat was on top of the large China cabinet and he was staring at the two intruders who had dared to enter his home.
“Oh, it’s only Euclid.” Angie let out a breath. “It’s me, little one. You scared me to death,” she told the cat. The cat did not fit the category of “little one.” He was a huge long-haired orange and white giant. The professor said he was part Maine Coon cat.
As the chief approached the tall cabinet, the cat arched its back. The chief took a step back, and then turned to Angie. “Ah, how shall we get him down?”
“Should I take him home or just come by each day to take care of him?” Angie looked up at Euclid.
“What do you think is best?” The chief eyed the cat.
“Maybe I’ll come by here for a few days to start with,” Angie said. “If Euclid seems amenable to me, then I’ll take him to my apartment. You think that’s okay? I can stop by the police station to pick up the key each morning and return it at the end of the day.”
“Works for me.” The chief handed Angie the keys. “Drop them off at the station when you’re done here this evening.” He moved towards the front door. “Thanks, Angie.”
A thought popped into Angie’s head. “Chief?”
The chief paused and turned to her.
“Why
was the coroner called? Why not the funeral home?”
“It’s the law,” the chief said.
Angie’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“The coroner must be called…when there are questions surrounding the death.”
Angie took a step forward. “What do you mean ‘questions’? Didn’t the professor just die of natural causes?”
The chief looked down. “Right now, it falls into the category of ‘unexplained.’”
“Why?” Angie’s hand trembled causing the keys she was holding to jiggle.
“I can’t say more, Angie. The coroner needs to look into it.”
Angie’s eyes were questioning. “Is it suspicious?” Her voice shook a little. “Do you think she didn’t die of natural causes?”
The chief moved his hand in the air. He forced a slight smile. “It’s just because it happened suddenly. That’s all. Thanks for your help with the cat.” He nodded, opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
Angie stood in the foyer thinking over what the chief had said. A flutter of anxiety picked at her.
Euclid let out a meow.
Angie looked up at the cat and sighed. “It’s just you and me, Euclid. For a while, anyway.” Angie walked down the main hallway to the kitchen. She cleaned the cat box, freshened the water in the cat’s bowl, and filled his dish with kibble. Euclid padded into the room and watched Angie complete the tasks.
“I have to go back to work now. I’ll check on you later.” Euclid followed Angie to the front door. Before leaving, she bent to scratch the cat’s cheek and he started to purr.
“I’m sorry about the professor, Euclid. She was a nice lady.”
Angie left the Victorian and headed back to the bake shop. She would miss Professor Linden’s morning visits. Sadness gave Angie’s heart a squeeze and tears gathered in her eyes.
Chapter 3
Angie returned to the bake shop and when she opened the door, everyone turned to her and the questions started.
“Is it true about the professor?”
“Has she passed away?”
“Was it foul play?”
“The coroner was called?”
“What happened to her?”
Angie wished she could have just gone home to her apartment instead of having to come back to the shop. The barrage of questions unsettled her and intensified the feelings of sadness and shock that she was feeling. She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. Worry lines creased her forehead.
Courtney was standing behind the serving counter with a coffee pot in her hand. Lisa’s arms were crossed over her chest with her hands clutching her forearms. Both of the women’s faces were pinched with concern. Lisa looked like she was trembling.
Angie told Courtney, Lisa, and the customers what had happened, which set off another round of questions and discussion. Angie said that she didn’t have any more information and the cause of death was unknown which is why the coroner was involved.
Courtney could see the strain on Angie’s face and she hurried to her side. She slipped her arm around Angie’s waist and ushered her to a table in the corner.
“Thanks for the rescue,” Angie murmured to her sister.
“Sit down for a while. I’ll get you some tea.” Courtney hurried to the counter to prepare a hot beverage.
The customers realized that their peppering of questions had flustered Angie and had increased her distress. They turned to each other to continue their speculations about the professor’s unexpected passing.
Courtney returned to the table with a cup of tea for Angie and sat down in the seat opposite her older sister. “Do the police suspect foul play?” Courtney kept her voice low.
“I don’t know.” Angie’s fingers shook as she reached for the cup and lifted it to her lips. She sipped the tea. “It wasn’t so much what the chief said to me that worried me. It was more the expression on his face and what he didn’t say. He seemed very concerned. It made me think something was wrong.” Angie rubbed her temples. “We’ll just have to see what comes out. Hopefully, the professor died from nothing more than natural causes, which is upsetting enough.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” Courtney looked out the window. “I can’t believe she won’t be coming through that door tomorrow morning.” Her eyes misted over.
Angie reached for Courtney’s hand.
***
The rest of the day passed quietly as the women tended customers, cleaned the shop, and made preparations for the following morning’s opening. At three o’clock, they locked up the cafe and Angie and Courtney walked along Main Street towards Angie’s apartment. Angie’s shoulders and neck muscles were tight and sore and her whole body felt sluggish and fatigued.
Courtney wanted to make her sister feel better. “Listen, why don’t we go for a bike ride? The day is still warm. The exercise would do us good. It might help lift our spirits.”
Angie put her arm over Courtney’s shoulders. “I haven’t biked for months. It’s a great idea. Let’s do it. That is, if you’re not afraid of pulling the bikes out of the creepy basement.”
“Hmm. Why don’t you get the bikes out of storage, and I’ll pack snacks and water for us.” Courtney smiled.
Angie grinned. “I’m not surprised by that suggestion knowing how fond you are of cobwebs and bugs.”
When they reached Angie’s apartment house, they climbed the stairs to the second floor one bedroom place. It was a small, but cozy space with a living room, bedroom with two single beds, small bathroom, and a galley kitchen. It had three big windows in the living room which allowed maximum natural light to flood the room. There was a non-working fireplace on one wall and Angie had hung a large photograph of her and her three sisters above the mantel.
The picture showed the four girls at the Sweet Cove beach and there was no denying that they were siblings, each one with bright blue eyes and hair in varying shades from pale blonde to light brown. On the day the photograph was taken, they had just finished playing a game of Frisbee when their mother snapped the picture catching their high energy and cheerful spirits.
Jenna was Angie’s fraternal twin, born three minutes after Angie, and even though a resemblance was strong, no one ever believed that they were twins. Angie’s honey blonde hair had a slight wave to it and Jenna’s light brown hair was as straight as a stick. Angie stood five feet six inches but Jenna was three inches taller.
Ellie was three years younger than the twins and was nearly as tall as Jenna. Her height and light blonde hair gave her a Scandinavian appearance. Courtney was the youngest, born three years after Ellie. Her height and hair color was closer to Angie’s, but Courtney’s hair was as straight as Jenna’s.
The girls and their mother had spent many happy summers at Sweet Cove staying at their grandmother’s small cottage out on Robin’s Point. It was a tight squeeze fitting all of them into the tiny house, but Angie couldn’t remember happier times than when they were all together there. When Angie was twelve, her grandmother passed away and the cottage was sold. After that, the girls and their mother only came to Sweet Cove for day trips or an occasional weekend.
Angie dropped her canvas bag on the floor next to the sofa and kicked off her shoes.
“Let’s change fast.” Courtney tossed her sweater on the chair. “Then we can get in at least an hour of biking before dusk.”
Angie’s heart ached with the sadness of Professor Linden’s passing and she just wanted to crawl into bed and take a nap, but she took a deep breath and went to the bedroom to put on her exercise clothes.
***
The sky was streaked with pinks and violet when the girls returned from their ride as the sun was sinking behind the treetops. Exercising outdoors was just what Angie needed and she felt much less stressed when returning the bikes to the storage area in the basement. She decided she would go to check on Euclid after showering and eating some dinner.
Angie chopped tomatoes, onions, and peppers and heated them in a frying pan w
hile Courtney made garlic bread and warmed up tomato soup. Angie cracked eggs into a bowl with a bit of salt and beat them with a whisk for a few seconds. She poured them into the pan and swirled them with the veggies. When the omelets had firmed up, Angie sprinkled them with cheese and removed the pan from the burner. The girls took their plates of food and bowls of soup and curled up on the sofa to eat their dinner and talk.
“I need to go take care of Euclid,” Angie said after devouring the food.
“Do you want me to come?” Courtney wiped some soup from her chin.
“No, I’ll go over myself. You concentrate on your schoolwork. I know you have that paper to write.” Angie stood and started to gather up the dishes but Courtney waved her off.
“Go on. Go see the cat. I’ll handle clean-up. I’ll go with you in the morning to see him on our way to the bake shop.” Angie gave her sister a hug, grabbed a sweater, and headed off to see Euclid.
Approaching Beach Street, a sinking feeling of sadness pulled at Angie’s stomach and she slowed her pace. The image of the professor lying on the brick walkway at the foot of her home’s front steps flashed in Angie’s mind. She tried to shake the mental picture from her brain. Streetlights illuminated the darkening sidewalks and the warmth of the day had dissipated leaving a chill in the evening air.
The Victorian was shrouded in darkness. Climbing the front stairs to the wraparound porch, Angie pulled the key from her pocket. Low-level anxiety pricked at her as she inserted the key into the lock and she hoped there wasn’t a security alarm system that no one told her about. That’s all she would need, a screeching alarm going off while Euclid careened through the house as Angie desperately looked for how to turn it off.
Opening the door, she braced herself and then let out a sigh of relief when the house remained silent. Her hand fumbled along the wall trying to find the light switch, and touching it, she flicked it on and lit up the foyer. The beauty of the space calmed her and her muscles relaxed. She hadn’t realized how wound up she was until the tension in her body eased a little.
