A Killer Deal (A Seagrove Cozy Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

“It does,” Sadie agreed. “I had breakfast and coffee with Roger every day for years. A blink of an eye and it’s all gone. Never to be again. I miss him, and his cranky ways.”

“He did like to rub people the wrong way,” he said. He stuck out his hand. “Philip Taylor,” he said.

“Sadie Barnett.” She took his hand. He had a nice solid grip.

“Can I offer you a cup of tea or a soda and a chat?” She gestured to the table and chairs she had left on her sidewalk.

“A chat? Certainly,” Philip said. “And if I could trouble you for a glass of water?”

Sadie saw him settled in a chair and went upstairs to retrieve two glasses of ice water and a plate of cookies. They sat in the shade of the awning and watched a family stroll through the park.

“May I ask you an indelicate question?” Sadie asked.

“If I may ask you one in return,” he said. Sadie nodded.

“Roger was a cantankerous man. I enjoyed that about him, but I know many people avoided him for it. Do you know anyone he upset enough to provoke murder?  Any arguments he had lately. Anything at all, actually.”

“Ah,” Philip said. “The exact question I was going to ask you. You are proposing an exchange of information?” Sadie nodded.

“Certainly. Unfortunately, Roger had a lot of arguments. He always thought he was right and I think he rubbed people the wrong way. If you wanted to go back a ways we could be here all day.”

“Let’s focus on recently. Within the last couple of weeks. For example, about eight or nine days ago Rosie Tricare mixed his name up, she was always doing that, and he called her a bitch and through her out of the bakery. Banned her, if I remember correctly,” Sadie said.

“Oh yes, Rosie,” Philip said. “Roger complained about her quite often. I can tell you last Friday evening Roger challenged the President of our local Men’s Club. Told Larry he was doing a horrible job and that he should be replaced. Threatened to call a special election and run against him. Larry appeared to shake it off, but you never know, he could have been planning revenge.”

“What’s Larry’s last name?” Sadie asked.

“Smith,” Philip answered.

“My turn. He complained to the dean of the community college that one of his junior professors was holding class on the green. Why that should matter, and why the dean should care, I don’t know. But there it is,” Sadie said. She took a sip of her water and stared out into the park. Larry Smith, she thought, did you murder my friend?

“You’re right. It’s unlikely that the dean would care. In fact, it’s unlikely anyone in this town would care beyond Roger. And I have a hard time understanding what his beef was. Didn’t they buy coffee from him?” he asked.

“They did. And pastries. Sometimes I think he started arguments just for the sake of arguing,” she said.

“There is a baker over in Watsonville,” he said. “Roger told him he would put him out of business. I don’t remember his name at the moment. He laughed in Roger’s face. Said he had a contract with the sheriff’s department, a grocery and the prison in Hyattsville. It would be damn hard to put him out of business. – That was about two weeks ago. Roger didn’t like that. Complained for a good two days about that no good son of a gun.” He took a gulp of water and picked up a cookie. “You got anything more?”

Sadie nodded. It had just occurred to her that the Chief might not like her talking details about the case with just anybody. But it wasn’t as if any of this information was secret, and The Chief hadn’t asked to keep quiet. Still, she should have called him first. She would call him after.

“Roger reported our local organic farmer, Olivia Brown, for violating the regulations. Something about using weed killer and pesticides. That could have far-reaching consequences for her,” she said.

“He was going after people’s livelihoods all over the place,” Philip said. “In some communities that justifies murder. Crazy old man. I liked him, he had a sharp mind and a killer sense of humor, but he rubbed a lot of people the wrong way.” He popped another cookie in his mouth and closed his eyes. He obviously liked cookies.

“He did. He tried to take me on once,” Sadie said. “I told him if he kept it up he’d be paying my lawyer bills. He seemed to like it when I stood up for myself. Backed right down and started offering me free coffee first thing in the morning.” She took a bite of a cookie. It tasted pretty damn good.

“He liked a little confrontation. Liked to mix it up. I think it made him feel alive,” Philip said. “Where’d you get these cookies? They taste just like his sugar cookies.”

“They are his sugar cookies. I’d buy them and put them in the freezer. I pulled some out this morning in case someone dropped by and I wanted something to offer them. And see, here you are.” She waved her hands in the air, palms up. He smiled and took another.

“Can you think of any other people Roger ticked off?” Sadie asked.

“Just me. We had a discussion about the cultural significance and importance of certain Hispanic celebrations versus white people’s traditions. He pulled the white superiority card and I called him a few choice names. We were in the bakery and a few people heard,” he said.

“I’m willing to bet that wasn’t the first racist thing you’d ever heard from him,” Sadie said. “So why worry?”

“Because those other times, he never died after we argued. This time he did,” he said. “Someone might have told the cops. Hispanics like to avoid cops.”

“Chief Woodstone is not a racist,” Sadie said.

“Maybe not. But what about the lawyers and the judges? Could he guarantee that I wouldn’t end up a convenient brown skinned man to hang a crime on? That I would get a fair trial?”

“No. That’s out of his control. But he wouldn’t arrest you without any evidence.” She pursed her lips. She didn’t like racism.

“How do you know that?” Philip asked.

“Because if he were going to arrest people on the basis that they had argued with Roger Roberts then a quarter of the people in this town would be in jail. You can’t swing a stick around here without hitting someone who argued with Roger.” At that moment, George Jackson came out of his store and advanced on them.

“Old man,” he said to Philip. “You should not talk to this woman.”

“Why not?” Philip asked, his astonishment clear in his voice.

“Do you not see what she had in her window? There are implements of the devil in that shop. She will bring the wrath of the gods down upon you.” George pointed his finger at Sadie. “You have the mark of the devil on you.”

“Well then you probably shouldn’t get so close, George,” Sadie said. “It might rub off on you.” George’s eyes got big and he turned and hurried back to his store. Stopping at the door for one final glare before he went inside.

“What’s his deal?” Philip asked.

“He doesn’t’ like my treasures,” Sadie said. “He believes they are evil.”

“And is any of it evil?”

“Only when people use them for evil purposes. It’s hard to claim a tea cup has any evil properties,” she said. “But what if someone smashes it and uses it as a shiv… is the cup evil then. Or is it still an ordinary tea cup used for an evil ends?”

“I do believe that an item created for an evil use can contain evil, but I doubt an item like that would ever find its way to your shop. Your little dog would not let it enter.”

Sadie looked at Mr. B, who had curled into a ball in the elderly man’s lap. Philip was gently petting the top of his head.

“He is a reliable judge of character, that is true,” she said. “He certainly is taken with you.”

“As I am with him. You are lucky to have such an excellent creature as a companion.”

He left shortly after and Sadie wondered what it was about Philip that drew Mr. Bradshaw to him. Perhaps his previous owner had been a Hispanic man.

Chapter Five

The next morning before opening Sadie looked up Larry Smith in the phone book and gave him a call. A very nice woman who Sadie took as probably his wife told her he’d already gone to the office. When Sadie asked if she might have the address she gave her the location of a hardware store on the other side of town and mentioned that they didn’t open until 9:00 am. Sadie thanked her for her help.

Sadie loaded Mr. Bradshaw in the car and drove out to the hardware store. She’d been there before plenty of times, but if she had met the owner she hadn’t known it at the time. There was one car in the parking lot and the front door was locked. She walked around the building looking for an alternate way in. There was a door in the back, but it was also locked. She knocked on the back door figuring that the offices were more likely to be in the back. Then she noticed the doorbell next to the big delivery doors. She rang the bell and that got her some action. The big door slid up and a short round man peered out the opening.

“Over here,” Sadie said. She stepped back next to the building and he hadn’t seen her there. He squinted in her direction.

“Oh hello,” he said. “The store doesn’t open until nine. Sorry.” He pushed the button that lowered the roll up door.

“Wait!” Sadie called. “I need to talk to you. I was hoping we could speak before the store opens.” What she really meant was before her store opened, but there was no reason to tell him that.

“Is it important?” he asked. “I’m catching up on my books.”

“I wouldn’t be here at this hour if it weren't important,” Sadie said. “It’s about Roger Roberts.” He was quiet for a moment a look of sorrow on his face.

“Yes, of course,” he finally said. “Come in.”

Sadie lifted Mr. Bradshaw and placed him on the loading dock. Then she climbed the ladder attached to the cement ledge. Once they were inside Larry lowered the overhead door and led Sadie and Mr. Bradshaw to his office.

Larry Smith’s office was on the second floor and had windows overlooking the sales floor and the loading dock and the woods behind. It was a clearly a man’s room, but warm. The chairs were leather and wood and there was a wall of shelves behind his desk filled with pictures of his family. Someone had framed some pictures that looked as though they were drawn with crayon by very young children.

Larry waved Sadie into a small conversation area, a couch and two chairs with a low table in-between. Sadie appreciated that he didn’t hide behind his desk but sat on the couch across from her.

“How can I help you, Ms. – I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” he apologized.

“Sadie Barnett,” she said, “and this is my companion, Mr. Bradshaw. We are here regarding Mr. Roberts.”

“Very sad, that. Have they caught who killed him?” he asked.

“No. and that’s why I’m here,” she said. “I understand you and Mr. Roberts belonged to the same Men’s Club?”

“Yes. The Clangers. Why?”

“Frankly? Roger could be a grouchy old geezer. He was one of my best friends,” Sadie said. “But even I rose to the bait every so often. I understand he quarreled with people in the club.”

“Me, mostly. Didn’t like the way I ran things. Or at least he said he didn’t. Sometimes I think he said things just to get a rise out of me. My god, that man loved to argue,” Larry said.

“He threatened to run against me in the next election and he was welcome to. I’d had about enough. Democratic Rule can be awfully difficult sometimes. I swear half the men in that club don’t understand what a majority is.”

“So you aren’t running in the next election?” Sadie asked.

“No. I’ve been president for five years. It’s time to let some new blood rule the pack. And besides, my wife is starting to resent the time I spend there. I need to focus on my family for a while.” Sadie dropped her hand to Mr. Bradshaw’s head and gave him a little scratch. He was a very good dog. She looked up.

“Is there anyone else in the club who you think might have wished Roger harm?” He held her eyes when he answered and either he was an excellent actor or he was telling the truth.

“No. Every one took Rogers little tirades with a grain of salt. He enjoyed being acrimonious. Took great pleasure in raising people’s hackles. Everyone knew it, and mostly they ignored him. When they didn’t ignore him, it all blew over quickly. There are many personalities in men’s club Ms. Barnett. You learn to work around them.” He paused for a moment running his fingers along the arm of the couch.

“Another thing I noticed about Roger, he didn’t pick fights with strangers. Only people he knew and knew well. If Roger was arguing with someone, it meant they knew what he was like. What to expect from him.”

Sadie nodded. She’d found the same thing. And in Roger’s case she thought he enjoyed stirring up trouble and rarely meant to act on what he said. Not that he was a nice man. You couldn’t call a man who’d swear at a harmless little old lady nice.

“One last thing, Mr. Smith,” she said. “Did you know anything about Roger fighting with another baker over in Watsonville?”

“I heard about that, but I wasn’t present when it happened. I understand they were threatening to put each other out of business. I didn’t take it seriously.”

Sadie thanked him for his time and left. She turned left out of the parking lot and then left again on Highway 132 away from the ocean. It only took twenty minutes to drive to Watsonville and the bakery was easy to find. It was one of the first stores on Main Street and the sign was shaped like a giant muffin. She pulled over and clipped Mr. Bradshaw to his leash.

There was a sign on the door that said no pets. For a moment, Sadie was taken aback. Mr. Bradshaw went with her everywhere, the thought he might not be welcome had never occurred to her. She went back to the car and pulled a dog bed from the trunk and set it in a nice shady spot near the car. She tied his leash to a sign post and got a dish and poured some water from a canteen into it.

“Sorry Mr. Bradshaw, you have to stay out here.” She patted his head. He sat on his bed and watched her walk inside.

From inside the shop, Sadie kept her eye on him, but it didn’t seem right. She turned to go out and untie him when there was a voice from behind her.

“Did you want something?” it asked. Sadie turned to see a large man with beefy hands standing with his arms crossed just this side of the door to the back room. She turned back to him.

“I wanted to ask you some questions, but I’m worried about my dog, so maybe I’ll come back later,” she said.

“Best get a move on,” the man said, “those young bastards are trying to steal your pup.”

Sadie turned to see a boy of about ten or eleven tugging on Mr. Bradshaw’s leash. Mr. Bradshaw was resisting with every muscle in his body, but when the boy pulled the bed would slide. Mr. B was surfing, very slowly down the sidewalk.

Sadie dashed from the bakery. When the bell over the door tinkled, the boy dropped Mr. Bradshaw’s leash and ran for it. Sadie let him go and gathered up Mr. B to make sure he was alright. He wagged his tail and licked her face so she bundled his bed and water back in the car before settling him in the front passenger seat. The Baker had stepped outside his door and was watching her.

“We could talk on the sidewalk if you like,” he said.

“Okay,” she said and let Mr. B back out of the car.

She was a little intimidated by the size of the man, now that he was out from behind his counter. She only came up to about his armpit.

“I’m here about Roger Roberts,” she said, figuring it was best to get straight to the point.

“I heard that bastard finally got what was coming to him,” the big man said. “Killed in the alley behind his pitiful excuse for a bakery.”

“Yes,” Sadie said. “Do you know who did it?” she asked.

“It wasn’t me if that’s what you are thinking,” he said. “And I know plenty of people who aren’t sorry that he’s dead, but that doesn’t make them murderers.”

“But you had a motive, didn’t you?” she asked.

“What motive?” he asked.

“Roger threatened to put you out of business.” He laughed, a true belly laugh with no malice attached.

“Roger threatened people all the time. I’ll put you out of business. I’ll tell your wife. He loved to stir up trouble, did our Roger. But no one who knew him thought he really meant it. It was his way of getting attention. He was a lonely man and we all knew it.” He grinned.

“Somewhere in that greedy little heart he may have wished he could put me out of business, but even if he could, he couldn’t have handled the hassles that come with big contracts. The red tape is killer. No, if you are looking for his killer, you won’t find him with the Clangers.” Sadie nodded.

“Thank you for your help.” She went to turn away, but he stopped her.

“Wait a mo.” He went into his shop and was back a couple of minutes later with a white paper bag. “You’ll be missing your bakery,” he said. “Here are a few things to tide you over.” Sadie reached for her purse, but he waved her away.

“It’s on the house. And I hope you find the bastards that killed our Roger. I liked the cranky old codger.”

Sadie thanked him and left. The exchange had left her sad for some reason. He’d thought Roger was a lonely old man, and as his neighbor that meant she’d not paid enough attention. She stopped the car and called Lucy.

“Did I neglect Roger?” she asked.

“Are you out of your mind?” Lucy asked. “You had breakfast with that cranky old man for how many years? Ten? Fifteen? You did your duty, Sadie. There’s no need to beat yourself up over this.”

She felt a little better and drove home, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind. Something the big man from the bakery had said. She couldn’t figure out what it was.

Back home she grabbed a soda from the fridge and put her feet up out on the balcony. Mr. Bradshaw curled up under her chair. She was still thinking about her conversation with the baker, but when she spotted Rosie across the street in the park, she slipped on her shoes and grabbed Mister Bradshaw’s leash and went to talk to her.

“Rosie!” She called as she hurried across the grass. “Wait up.”

Rosie was moving at a speed Sadie didn’t know she could achieve, she had to actually trot to catch up. Rosie slowed down and looked a little ashamed of herself. Sadie had the distinct impression that Rosie had been trying to avoid her and she thought she knew why.

“Have you talked to Chief Woodstone?” Sadie asked her.

“Well no,” Rosie said. “I haven’t liked to. Talking to the chief makes me nervous.”

“You’ll have to tell him sooner or later, Rosie. You can’t keep information from the police.”

Sadie fell in step with her and let Mr. Bradshaw off his leash so he could sniff the grass and flower beds. She did not, however, let him raise his leg in the flowerbeds because that might kill the flowers.

“Can you tell them for me, Sadie? You know the chief. And you put words together better than I do. I’ll get all flustered and say things backward and he won’t understand the thing I’m trying to communicate.”

“I could tell him, Rosie, but I think it would be hearsay. Eventually, you have to tell him yourself.” Sadie said.

“Let me tell you, then he could write it up and I could sign it. Wouldn't that be just as good?” Rosie asked.

“No, unfortunately, I don’t think so. If you want,” Sadie let out a big sigh, she’d been trying to avoid this.

“I’ll listen to your story and then I’ll go with you to see Chief Woodstone. Then if you get confused or flustered while you’re telling him, I’ll help you keep the story straight. How’s that?” Sadie asked. Rosie clapped her hands together and she pushed the white curls back from her face.