Blackberry Crumble (11 page)

The rest of the conversation consisted of May’s offer to take care of Sadie’s flight arrangements and the basic details about her suspicions concerning her father’s death. May had been traveling from Ohio to Portland, Oregon, where she would be packing up her father’s house, when she’d stopped in southern Wyoming. That was where she’d come across the newspaper featuring Sadie. She’d gone a few hours out of her way to talk to Sadie personally when she couldn’t reach her by phone. It was thrilling to hear May’s relief and excitement to have Sadie’s help, which increased Sadie’s confidence tenfold.

Just like that, the phone call was finished, and Sadie had two pages of notes, which she skimmed through to ensure she was familiar with the basics. May’s father, Jim Sanderson, had died suddenly, and May was certain that his former business partner, Keith Kelly, was involved. Sadie had names and dates to pursue, and it was so very Perry Mason that she couldn’t help but grin as she committed the information to memory. She was eager to do as much research as possible before she left for Portland, where she would get more details.

As soon as Sadie finished studying her notes, she called Gayle and gave her the rundown of all that had happened since they’d last spoken. Gayle caught the spirit right away and agreed to take Sadie’s place at the March of Dimes fundraiser if Sadie wasn’t home by Saturday. After that, Sadie went online and ordered
Investigating for Idiots
to be shipped overnight. It was guaranteed to be delivered by ten o’clock Tuesday morning, which is why she’d told May to book an afternoon flight. After that, she went to the website for Powell’s bookstore, a famous Portland staple she’d always thought would be a fun place to visit. She typed in “Investigating” in hopes of finding another book on the subject and quickly had more than seven thousand titles to chose from. Overwhelmed, she closed the tab and made a note to go to the store in person if she could find a few extra minutes after she arrived.

It was 4:00 in the morning in London, so she simply texted Breanna about her plans and began mentally preparing for the conversation with her daughter that would take place tomorrow when they were both awake. Breanna would not be thrilled, but Sadie hoped her daughter would at least be supportive once Sadie explained the entire situation. For the first time, she wasn’t stumbling on to something; she had a plan and a guide and a chance to take her abilities to the next level.

Shawn hooted and immediately asked if he could come—which Sadie said wasn’t such a good idea. By the end of the call, he was pouting as only a two-hundred-and-eighty-pound, twenty-two-year-old man-child could. Part of Sadie liked the idea of having him with her—he could be Watson to her Sherlock Holmes or Robin to her Batman—but it seemed like an irresponsible allowance on her part. It was hard enough keeping him in Michigan and focused on the upcoming school year as it was. He didn’t have room for distraction, whereas Sadie was looking for something to keep her mind off her problems.

She was pulling clothes out of her closet that night and planning out the next two days of preparation for the trip, when the phone rang. The caller ID told her it was Pete, and she took a deep breath as she lifted the handset and put it to her ear. They exchanged rather formal hellos, then sat in silence for a moment before Pete asked if she was really going to accept the job. She recited to him a shortened version of what she’d told Gayle and Shawn.

Pete listened for nearly a minute before he broke in. “Sadie,” he said. “You’re not a private investigator.”

The words made her stomach tighten, and although she’d been on the defensive since she’d picked up the phone, she felt the walls go up even more. “You’re right,” Sadie said. “But I’ve had some pretty good hands-on training for the position.”

She could tell Pete was struggling to keep from going into lecture mode as they both sat there in silence. Finally, Pete spoke again. “You really don’t care what I think about this, do you?”

That made her heart shudder just a little bit. “I do care what you think,” she said, her tone softer than she expected it to be. “That’s why I came to your home to discuss it, only to realize that I’ve obviously put more weight into our relationship than you have.”

“That’s not fair, Sadie,” Pete said. “My circumstances are complicated.”

Ouch!
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like a complication instead of a partner, Pete?” Sadie said, tears threatening. At least she was alone; no one would see her break down. She hurried to speak again before Pete could respond. “Why have I never been invited to your home?”

“You’ve been to my home,” Pete defended.

“I’ve only ever stood in the foyer while you grabbed your coat.” Sadie paused. Pete was silent. “Your children knew nothing about me, and while I don’t discount the pain all of you have had since Pat’s death, you
have
moved on, Pete. You
have
developed feelings for me, but you’ve obviously gone to great pains to not let me cross into territory you’re not ready to address. Only I didn’t know that. I thought we were going somewhere that I’m not sure you’ve ever considered. I feel very foolish right now.”
More foolish by the second
. She wiped at her eyes and tried not to sniffle.

The silence stretched even thinner over the phone line. “I don’t know what to say,” Pete said.

“How about wishing me luck,” Sadie said. She wouldn’t mind some reassurance of his feelings either, but wasn’t going to beg.

Pete let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t know what you’re getting into with this job, Sadie. You’re looking into a possible murder, and where there’s a murder, there’s a murderer. You don’t know this woman, and you don’t know the specifics of this case. There are right ways and wrong ways of gathering information.”

Did he think Sadie didn’t know the difference? Being instructed by him right now set her teeth on edge, especially when he flipped to shoptalk in order to avoid the emotional things she’d brought up.

“I need to go,” Sadie finally said.

“I’m just worried about you,” Pete said.

Was that as close as he was going to get to sharing his feelings? It wasn’t much, but it triggered the tears again. Without realizing it, Pete had given her one more thing to run away from, one more reason she didn’t want to be in Garrison right now. “I’ll be okay.”

The silence dragged on much longer and heavier than before. Finally he let out a breath. “At least get all the information before you go. Don’t let yourself get blindsided.”

It was likely the most support Sadie could hope for. “I’ll be fine,” she said. The fact was that she didn’t have time to get
all
the information before she left. But she wasn’t about to say so.

When Pete spoke again, his tone was resigned. “Call me when you get there, okay?”

Despite herself, her girlish heart fluttered at him wanting her to call him; at wanting her at all. “I will.”

Sadie hung up the phone and let her hand rest on the receiver, mourning the relationship she’d thought they had a few hours ago and not sure what they had now. They had felt
together
lately, and she liked that so much. Would their relationship—such as it was—emerge from this experience better or worse? Even feeling the way she did right now, Sadie found it difficult to imagine not having Pete in her future.

I guess we’ll see
, Sadie thought as she turned back to her suitcase and put a layer of tissue paper over her underthings before adding a pair of linen capris on top so as not to perpetuate more wrinkles than necessary. She tried to ignore the heaviness pressing upon her chest. She was more eager than ever to get away, more determined to prove herself. She tried very hard not to think about Pete at all. Real private investigators stayed focused on their work. She needed to figure out how to do that. She also needed to figure out how many pairs of shoes to bring. What was the weather like in Oregon in August anyway? Would her hair be okay?

Chapter 14

Tuesday afternoon, Sadie waited for her suitcase to come out of the baggage claim at the Portland International Airport. To quell her anxiety, she pulled the notebook out of her purse, turning to the instructions May had given her. There was just so much to take in. Rather than read through everything, she looked at the first few things she’d written down.

Pick up rental car.

Drive to Mark Spencer Hotel downtown.

Call May after checking in.

It wasn’t that the instructions were difficult, or that real detectives didn’t do this kind of thing all the time, it was just . . . different. Every other time she’d been part of an investigation, she’d been on the inside. This time it felt as though she were circling the situation, poking a stick through gaps in the fence to see if she hit anything. She’d bought a pocket organizer to put all her receipts in, and she’d even searched the Internet and found a simple business contract she’d adjusted so as to be official, but it all felt very strange. The fact was that she
wasn’t
licensed, and she didn’t
really
know what she was doing. The closer she got to Portland, and the farther she moved away from Garrison and all its reasons to leave, the more she questioned herself. Was she up to this? Did it even matter, since she was too far in to turn back now?

Her blue suitcase with the orange poppy painted on the front for easy identification slid down the angled baggage conveyor, and Sadie stepped forward in anticipation of retrieving her bag. Every little detail was getting her closer and closer to the actual work.

“Mom, are you sure about this?” Breanna had asked when they finally talked Monday morning—late afternoon in London.

“Yes, Bre, I am,” Sadie had replied with a confidence she was having a hard time holding onto right now. She hadn’t said anything to Bre about Pete, even though she wanted to. By the end of the call, Breanna was supportive, but still concerned. Sadie hated giving her daughter more things to worry about; Bre had plenty on her plate without the mama-drama Sadie had stirred up. It was supposed to be parents worrying about their children, not the other way around.

It took another twenty minutes before Sadie had the keys to her rental car and was headed out the doors that would take her to the parking lot.

The heavy air hit her when she exited, not as heavy as Florida humidity, but the dry breezes of Colorado were a distant memory. Luckily, the temperature wasn’t above seventy-five, which made the humidity bearable. She pretended more confidence than she felt and walked toward the attendant waiting for her. He led her to a light brown Sentra—she’d requested a nondescript car at the desk because that’s what her new book recommended—and minutes later, with the GPS she’d affectionately named Dora programmed with her hotel’s address, she was watching Portland whisk past her window while trying to keep her eyes on the road.

So many trees
, she thought, overwhelmed by the green as she slowed down to follow Dora’s instructions and make a left-hand turn, taking her into what must be downtown Portland. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. There was an eclectic mix of old homes and modern buildings. Space was at a premium and yet everything seemed to fit. She slowed down for a light and read a huge sign stretched across the brick wall of a building that read “Keep Portland Weird.” A bicyclist pulled up alongside her car, putting his hand on the hood as he waited for the light. He had what looked like a turban on, but which, on closer inspection, turned out to be his hair, formed into dreadlocks and twisted up on his head like a beehive. The light changed, and he pushed off from her car, giving her a little wave. She waved back, even though he was several feet away, and then checked to make sure her doors were locked.

“Turn right in point-two miles,” Dora said. Her tone didn’t sound nearly as intimidated as Sadie felt. She passed a few more people on bikes and noted food cart after food cart on the sidewalks. Tacos, gyros, and . . . Belgian waffles? It was all she could do not to get lost in the personality of the city around her.

She missed two turns, which sent her on an extended tour of the city before she spotted the Mark Spencer Hotel: two tall, square buildings that shared an entrance squeezed in between them. May had insisted Sadie stay downtown once she’d learned Sadie had never been to Portland before. It took Sadie a minute to realize she would have to park across the street. She didn’t like having to pay for parking, but once inside, the charm of the place eased her ruffled feelings. The hotel was beautifully decorated without being too fancy, and the girl at the desk was very nice. Sadie checked in smoothly and then headed to her room, impressed once again when she walked into the retro-decorated room complete with vintage fixtures and soft colors.

She inspected the bathroom and the view of a building across the alley before finally turning to the task at hand. Now that she was here, it was time to call May. She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Here goes nothing,” she said as she pushed number nine on her speed dial; she’d saved May’s number into her phone as soon as she had accepted the job.

As the phone rang, the faces of Jane, Bertie, Eric, and Pete flashed through her mind, and she was surprised at how calm she felt. She’d written a strongly worded e-mail to
The Post
Monday morning about Jane’s article; it felt good to have her say, and she felt twenty pounds lighter just being out of Garrison.