A Deadly Encounter (A Seagrove Cozy Mystery Book 3) (5 page)

“It’s common knowledge,” he said. “And Lance was very calm about it at the time. He said that sometimes the bereaved needs a focus for their grief and anger. Sometimes it happened to be him.”

“Mr. Bradshaw didn’t think it was him either,” she said.

“I’m glad Mr. Bradshaw agrees with me. If he didn’t I’d have to question myself.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows at the chief.

“No, really,” he said. “Mr. Bradshaw has excellent instincts. And I think he can sense when people are guilty.”

“Well then, I guess we can remove Lance from our suspect list,” Sadie said.

“Although he gave me a chill. He gave me such a creepy smile I thought for sure it must be him.” She shivered.

He squeezed her shoulder again. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Would you like to have lunch on the beach with me tomorrow?”

“I can’t tomorrow,” Sadie said. “It’s Betty’s day off. I could do dinner though.”

“Tomorrow night is the wedding, remember? And the night after that is Victor Rumsfeld’s wake. I need to be there in case the murderer shows his hand.”

“Really?” Sadie asked. “That’s actually a thing? I thought it was TV nonsense.”

“Yeah. It really is. Not that I think it will happen in this case, but I need to be there if it does. The mayor asked me to be there personally. Not just a police presence, me in particular.”

“That’s flattering. We could do lunch the day after that.” She looked at him for confirmation.

He shook his head. “That won’t work for me. How about Sunday?”

She smiled. “Sunday lunch it is.”

Chapter Four

Early the next morning, Sadie and Mr. Bradshaw were in the bakery next door indulging in their first cup of coffee of the day. Well, Sadie was drinking her first cup of coffee. Mr. Bradshaw had eaten his dog biscuit and had his front feet up on the low windows sill so he could keep an eye on the street outside. Sadie watched him while chatting with John, the bakery’s owner, who had joined her at the table.

The door clicked shut as a customer came in, and John jumped up to serve him. It was a youngish man in army fatigues, and he took his coffee to the table next to Sadie’s. She smiled at him and then focused on the almond and chocolate croissant John had made especially for her. Mr. Bradshaw approached and before Sadie could stop him had his paws on the younger man’s knees.

“Mr. Bradshaw!” Sadie said. “Get down right now. I’m so sorry. He isn’t usually this rude.”

The soldier scratched Mr. B under the chin. “That’s all right,” he said. “I like dogs. Did you say his name was Mr. Bradshaw?”

Sadie nodded.

He patted his lap and said, “Do you want to come up?”

Mr. Bradshaw hopped into his lap and licked his face. Sadie was torn. On one hand this was strictly against the rules. On the other hand the young man seemed to be enjoying it. In the end, she let Mr. Bradshaw be. The soldier had offered his lap to Mr. B after all.

“Are we hosting military maneuvers here in Seagrove?” Sadie asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I’m in town for a funeral.” He took a drink of coffee, careful not to spill any on Mr. B.

“Victor Rumsfeld?” she asked.

John put a fresh cup of coffee in front of her and sat back down at the table to drink his own cup.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Only I’m mostly here to see my buddies. I didn’t much like Professor Rumsfeld.”

“From what I understand you aren’t alone in that,” she said. She half stood and reached her hand out to him. “Sadie Barnett.”

He took her hand in a firm grip. “Anthony Benetti,” he said. “You can call me Tony.” He stood and offered his hand to John as well.

“John Baker,” John said, and the men locked hands for a moment.

Tony smiled but didn’t say the obvious.

“Yes, I know,” John said. “John Baker who owns the bakery. But it’s what I like to do. I suppose I could change my name.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sadie said. “It’s destiny. And you can call the shop John Bakers. I noticed you haven’t put out a sign yet.”

“I was thinking of just calling it The Bakery,” John said. “I mean there’s only one in town, right? People are just going to say let’s stop by the bakery anyway. Might as well make it official.”

“I guess so,” Sadie said, “but I like John Bakers better, probably because I thought of it.” She turned to Tony. “You were telling me why you didn’t like Victor Rumsfeld.”

Tony blushed. “I’d kind of hoped we’d moved on from that.” He slid his hand over Mr. Bradshaw again, his head down, hiding his face.

“Don’t mind me,” Sadie said. “I’m a nosy old biddy. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

“Actually,” Tony said, “I think I’d like to. If I get if off my chest maybe I can move on and enjoy seeing my army buddies. A bunch of us were in ROTC at the college, and we were all going off to Afghanistan together, but I wasn’t doing so well in my classes. I pulled my shit together and passed except in his class. Rumsfeld failed me and I didn’t get shipped out with my buddies. I spent the summer retaking the class with a different teacher—he gave me an A. I swear Rumsfeld just failed me because we didn’t see eye to eye. Anyway, I ended up in a different unit. My best friend, Bolo, died. If I’d been in his unit where I was supposed to be, I know I could have protected him. I blame Rumsfeld for his death. I should have been there.”

“I’m sorry,” Sadie said. “It’s hard to lose a friend like that.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “And I told his mom I’d look out for him.”

“You got to find a way to lose that guilt, young man,” John said. “It’ll eat you up inside.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “If it was only that easy.” He looked down at the table. “I’ve got to see Bolo’s mom this week too.” He sighed. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Well that depends,” Sadie said. “If you are willing to take on a second mom, then offer to do the kinds of things you do for your mom. That’s what she’ll be missing. If you don’t have time, or can’t sustain that kind of effort, then just tell her how sorry you are, and how you wish you could have been there to protect him. You can’t do more than that.”

“I guess,” Tony said. “But it doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Realistically, there’s not much more you can do. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to. Remember, you lost him too, and she knows that.”

He nodded and stood up. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been very kind.”

“Something else occurs to me.” Sadie reached out and put a hand on his arm. “If you were best friends with her son, you may have spent a lot of time in her home. She is probably missing you too. Spend some time with her. That would be a kindness.”

He nodded, and Sadie thought his eyes looked extra shiny. She hoped he could eventually forgive himself.

“So are you going to eat that pastry, or not?” John asked, pulling her thoughts back to the present.

She looked at her plate in surprise. She’d forgotten her pastry? That was unheard of. “Clearly, Victor Rumsfeld’s murder is upsetting me. Although why I’m not sure. By all accounts he was an unpleasant, sourpuss tightwad who didn’t care who he walked over.” She took a bite of the croissant. “This is fabulous,” she said. “What’s it called?”

“That’s a Sadie’s Special,” he said. “This,” he lifted his coffee cup, “Is Zack’s Special Dark Brew.”

She smiled broadly. “You named a coffee after the chief. He’ll like that. And Sadie’s Special is to die for. I think you are going to do really well.”

After she’d finished stuffing her face with pastry—she’d accepted a second croissant from John—Sadie and Mr. Bradshaw headed down to the station to see Zack and tell him about the latest suspect in the growing pool of Rumsfeld haters in the town.

On the way down Main Street, Sadie ran into Justin Ives again. Or rather, he ran into her. He came around a corner muttering, his eyes focused on the sidewalk, and Sadie tried to jump out of the way but wasn’t quick enough. Justin collided with her and looked down in surprise. He was significantly taller than she was.

“Where did you come from?” he asked, frowning.

“I’m fine,” she said, “but thanks for asking.”

A deep red flush crept up his neck and she relented.

“I came from down the street,” she said. “Are you okay? Mentally, I mean. You are very distracted.”

"It's my mom," he said. "She was so rabid about old Rumsfeld, and now she's acting strange. I don't want to believe that she's capable of killing..." He trailed off.

"I don't know your mother," Sadie said, "but she raised you to know better, so she probably knows better too."

"Normally, I would agree, but somehow when it comes to me I think she's capable of more," he said. "Like a mother bear."

"Bears run on instinct, and while your mother's instincts are probably triggered by threat, she still has the ability to know right from wrong." Having covered her obligation to comfort him, she asked the burning question. "In what way is she acting strangely?"

"When I went to see her yesterday, she wouldn’t look me in the face," he said. "The whole time I was over there she was looking away. I couldn't catch her eye to save my life. And then when I left, she didn't give me a hug or a kiss. It sounds silly when I say it out loud like that, but that's not the way she usually behaves."

"I bet she's one of those moms that chase you around the room to get a hug," Sadie said. "Am I right?"

"Normally," Justin said. "But not yesterday. It's like I'm suddenly not her son anymore."

"I'm sure there's a simple explanation," Sadie said. "Let me think on it. And meanwhile, pick up your head and look where you are going. Someone will get hurt."

"Now you sound like my mom," he said. "She's always going on about people putting their eyes out."

"My mom too. She was always saying don't wave that stick around, you'll put someone's eye out, even when no one had anything like a stick in their hand." Sadie laughed. "Have you ever met anyone who put their eye out? I haven't."

"Yeah, actually, I have. There's a cop in Vermont. Put his eye out with a stick when he was a teen. He wears an eye patch."

"There's a cop with an eye patch?" Sadie asked. "You'd think that would mess with his depth perception. How can he shoot a gun?"

"I don't know, but he must do okay. It's not like he lost his eye after he became a cop. He had to have passed all the training and tests—whatever it is they make cops do." Justin shrugged.

“I guess he must,” Sadie said. “How did you find out about him?”

“One of the guys in my unit lived in the town where he’s the cop. It’s a small town in central Vermont. He told me about him,” he said.

"Which reminds me, I was on my way to see my cop. I've got things to tell him. Come on, Mr. B." Sadie gave a gentle tug on his leash.

Mr. B, who had been sniffing along the bottom of the building, perked his ears up and started forward again.

"See you later, Professor Ives," she said, and they sailed around the corner that Justin had just come around.

Down at the station, Sadie found the chief in the property room. “What are you doing hiding out down here?” she asked when she finally found him.

“We discovered some issues with our filing system after the debacle surrounding the mayor’s death,” he said. “I’m designing a new system.”

“Very efficient of you,” she said. “Giving the tax payers their money’s worth. I like it.”

“Glad you approve,” he said. “There’s something I can do for you?”

“I found you another suspect in the Rumsfeld murder,” she said and told him about Tony Benetti.

“For an upstanding citizen, Rumsfeld certainly made a lot of enemies,” the chief said. “I’ll look into it.”

“Oh, and I ran into Justin Ives on the street,” she said. “He’s worried his mother may be the killer.”

“I spoke with her,” the chief said. “She’s worried he might be the killer.”

“Well that explains why she wouldn’t meet his eyes. He thought it was because she’d done it, but it’s because she thought he’d done it.”

“They both have rock-solid alibis,” the chief said. “I’ll talk to the two of them together. Put them out of their misery. If they’d only discuss the subject they could clear it up themselves.”

“They are both so worried what they will find out about the other that they can’t bring it up,” she said. “They don’t want to know the truth because they are afraid.”

“I can fix this,” the chief said. “And thank God. It’s about time for me to get a win. Want to come with?”

“Isn’t this official police business?” she asked.

“Not really. It’s not like either of them are suspects. I’m just performing some humanitarian work. You can come along for that.”

The chief called Justin and asked him to meet them at Mrs. Ives’s house. Sadie heard the chief say not to worry, it’s all good, but she wondered if that was going to be clear enough for Justin. Well he wouldn’t be in misery for too long. They’d all be there shortly.

The chief parked the car in the shade and they cracked the windows for Mr. B, who curled up on the seat for a nap. Sadie didn’t normally leave Mr. Bradshaw alone in a car, but it was a cool day and he would be okay for a few minutes in the shade with the windows cracked.