Lemon Tart (5 page)

Detective Cunningham finished filling his last jar, and she
wiped the rims and put on the lids and rings. He didn’t sit down, but simply
moved aside and leaned against the counter.

“And you were here, inside, at the window all morning?”
Detective Madsen pressed.

“Yes,” Sadie said, her annoyance rising. “All morning.”

“Making applesauce?” the disbelief in his voice was obvious and
she couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him to believe her. The evidence
was right in front of him.

Sadie opened her mouth to tell him so, but Detective Cunningham
didn’t give her a chance, reentering the game after his self-imposed
time-out.

“And there is no other access to the
cul-de-sac?” Detective Cunningham asked. It may have been
Sadie’s imagination but she felt sure his tone was softened on purpose in order
to make Detective Madsen’s seem even harder. He still had on the apron, and his
crossed arms covered everything but “give her chocolate!”

“Our little cul-de-sac was considered the
outskirts of town when it was built more than twenty-five years ago, and
despite recent developments, we’re still surrounded by fields. It’s certainly
not convenient to get in from that direction, but there is an old farm road
that provides access to the barbed wire fence that runs a few yards past the
property line behind Anne’s house and Mr. Henry’s. The neighbor kids ride their
bikes and build forts in the trees on the south side.” Her own kids had loved
playing in the field when they were young. Then she remembered that Anne had
died there. She swallowed. She’d never feel the same about that field.

Detective Madsen spoke again. “And did you have reason to go to
Ms. Lemmon’s home this morning?”

“No,” Sadie said. She finished preparing the remaining jars and
set them aside so they could wait their turn for the water bath. She took off
her apron and indicated for Detective Cunningham to do the same. Laying both
aprons over a kitchen chair, she invited the two men back into the living room.
They all took their original places as Sadie continued.

“Anne usually stays up late—sometimes until two
or three in the morning. And then she sleeps in. I’ve told her that she’s going
to have to get a better schedule for Trevor. He’ll go to school in a few years
and she’ll regret not . . .” She stopped and swallowed. Anne would
never regret anything again. Sadie looked at the floor and took a deep breath,
trying to hold back another round of tears.

“So maybe you went over there,” Detective Madsen began. She
lifted her head and looked at him—he couldn’t mean . . .

“You said yourself that everyone else in the circle had gone
for the day and based on the timer on Ms. Lemmon’s oven that left just you and—”

“Well, Mrs. Hoffmiller, you’ve been very helpful,” Detective
Cunningham cut in. “We may need to ask you a few more questions later. Will
that be okay?”

“Sure,” she said, stunned by the accusation Detective Madsen
had thrown at her but still wanting to be helpful. She looked at Detective
Cunningham. “Thank you for your help with the applesauce. You saved me a lot of
time.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. As soon as he shut his mouth
Detective Madsen was talking again.

“You’ll be staying in town?”

Her heart sank again. That’s what the TV cops said to people
who were considered “people of interest” in a case. Was she a person of
interest? Could she really be a suspect?

“My friend’s daughter is getting married in Colorado Springs
next weekend—I can still go to that, can’t I?”

“Hopefully we’ll have this all wrapped up by then,” Detective
Cunningham said.

Detective Madsen stared at his partner before adding, “But you
will need to check with us first.” He seemed to be trying to make Detective
Cunningham understand it as much as Sadie.

“I didn’t kill Anne,” Sadie said, her voice shaking. How could
they think such a thing?

“No one said you did,” Detective Madsen said, turning to face
her, his expression blank. Detective Cunningham’s jaw flexed and he shook his
head slightly while Detective Madsen continued. “Why are you jumping to that
assumption on our part?”

Sadie looked at the floor and tried to think of an explanation
that wouldn’t make her seem even more guilty. She was about to speak when the
front door flew open. Both men were on their feet in mere moments.

Chapter 4

Sadie was
hardly rattled—apparently her nerves were sufficiently numbed
from the day’s events.

“Ron,” she said with a sigh, getting up from the chair and
walking to him. He pulled her into a tight hug. It had never felt so good to be
held. She hoped he’d never let go and everything would just disappear in his
embrace. She was surprised, however, to feel how tense he was.

“I just heard,” Ron said into her hair. “Do you know what
happened?”

“I thought you weren’t married,” Detective Madsen said,
interrupting the moment.

Sadie pulled out of the embrace, but Ron kept a protective arm
around her shoulders that, for some reason, made her feel uncomfortable, as if
his reasons were not solely to comfort her. “Ron Bradley, this is Detective
Madsen and Detective Cunningham. Ron and I have been dating for about a year
and a half.”

“We’re engaged,” Ron said, pulling her a little closer.

Sadie’s cheeks reddened, embarrassed that she hadn’t said it
first and yet not liking the way it made her sound like some silly girl. “Well,
yes, we’re engaged.” She caught Detective Madsen’s eyes as they darted to her
ring-free left hand and she felt the need to explain. “We haven’t
gotten around to rings yet.”

“She’s not answering any more questions without a lawyer,” Ron
announced bluntly.

Sadie snapped her head to look at him. “What?” she asked.

“Is that the case?” Detective Cunningham asked in his smooth
voice. “Are you requesting legal representation?”

“No,” Sadie said, shaking her head. She didn’t want to give
them any reason to feel suspicious of her; she had nothing to hide. What was
Ron doing?

“Yes,” Ron said almost as quickly. “You can leave now.”

Sadie’s mouth hung open as she looked between Detective Madsen
and Detective Cunningham not knowing what to say. Detective Madsen opened his
notebook and wrote something down. When he looked up at her, his face was
hard—more than it had been. Detective Cunningham didn’t write
anything down, he simply looked at her, then at Ron and back to her again. She
felt he held her eyes a little too long and it made her feel small somehow.
Then the detectives nodded in tandem and headed toward the door.

“We’ll let ourselves out,” Detective Cunningham said, his voice
tight and yet perfectly professional, contrasting the help he’d been with the
applesauce. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “Please have
your attorney contact us. I’m sure we’ll have a lot more questions for you.” As
Detective Cunningham spoke, Detective Madsen fumbled in his pocket and quickly
found a card of his own, shoving it into Sadie’s hands.

Sadie was in shock. Earlier, the detectives said they might have a few more questions for her, now
they were sure they would
have a lot?

She waited for the door to shut before she pulled away from
Ron.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shrill. “Now they
suspect me more than ever!”

“What did you tell them?” Ron replied, panic in his eyes. “What
did you see?”

Sadie paused, confused. “What?” she asked slowly, trying to
absorb what was happening.

Ron took a step toward her and grabbed her arms. His fingers
pressed into her skin and she felt a whole new emotion—fear.
Ron was taller than six feet, and she was forced to look up into his face as he
seemed to glare down at her. “Tell me everything you told them. Everything.”

She swallowed, wishing she dared scream for help. How did he
even know about Anne’s murder in the first place? He was supposed to be in
Denver. His grip tightened and she hurried to get the words out. “I told them
when Anne moved here, what I knew of her past, what I saw from the window.”

“What did you see?”

“I . . . I saw what I always see. Mr. Henry went to
work, the Baileys went to school and work, and Carrie headed to the gym. Then I
saw two police cars go by.” His hands on her arms relaxed and his face
softened. His relief scared her more than his anxiety had. She pulled her arms
out of his grip and stepped back, putting distance between them and watching
him with trepidation. “Why are you asking me this?”

Ron took a deep breath and rubbed his left hand over his
thinning hair, cut close to the scalp. He turned away from her and looked out
the front window, staring at nothing. Ron was five years younger than Sadie,
something that bothered her at first but she’d grown accustomed to. He had soft
features, a stocky build, and a rounded middle, but they suited him just fine,
as did the neatly trimmed beard and mustache he’d worn for as long as she’d
known him. She wasn’t sure when the initial feelings of friendship had
transitioned into their recent discussions about weddings and merging
households. She wasn’t ready to set a date—she wanted to get
used to the idea before they began making plans—but she’d
looked forward to the prospect of sharing her life with him.

When Ron spoke again she could barely hear him. “She was alive
when I left last night, I swear she was.”

Chapter 5

Sadie’s blood ran cold and she stared at this man, the
only man she had really cared about since Neil’s death. He’d been at Anne’s
house last night? Why?

Part of her wanted to run out of the room and never find
out.

She took an instinctive step backward, and the movement caught
Ron’s attention. He turned from the window to look at her, his eyes pleading.
“I swear I didn’t hurt her, Sadie,” he said, his tone begging. “You know I
couldn’t do anything like that.”

“Why would you even be there?” she asked, forcing herself to
remain calm.

“I went because . . . someone asked me to. I needed
to settle something for him.”

“Who? Settle what?” she asked. This made no sense. It was as if
she’d woken up to a whole different world this morning. She wanted her old,
boring, rather predictable life back. She wanted to look forward to her kids
coming home one weekend every month, pull some weeds, and make more
applesauce—with ginger this time. She had a hair appointment on
Friday and was planning on getting blonde highlights. She wanted to think about
those things, not this. Not any of this.

Ron groaned out loud. “I can’t tell you that, at least not yet.
I need to find out what happened after I left.” He shook his head. “She was so
mad.”

“Mad about what?” Sadie said, her voice rising.

“I can’t tell you yet.”

Sadie blinked and felt anger raise her defenses. “You just told
the police I wanted a lawyer, now you’re telling me you were with Anne last
night and you won’t explain it to me? Do you really expect me to shrug this
off?”

“I wasn’t with Anne,”
he said as if just now realizing the obvious implication. “I was just talking
to her, for a friend. I didn’t do anything inappropriate.”

“Are you kidding me?” she said, taking another step backward,
wanting—needing—distance from him right now. “She’s
dead—you went to see her at night without telling me, you won’t
even tell me your reasons now, and . . .” She paused, her mind
clearing and allowing more thoughts inside. “You’re supposed to be in Denver.”
Did she even know this man at all? Looking at him now, at the emotions playing
across his face, was almost like looking at a stranger. She’d read things like
this in books before, but she’d never lived it. She worried she was being
overdramatic while at the same time wondering how else she could regard him
after hearing what he’d said during the last few minutes.

Ron hurried toward her and though she tried to get out of his
way, she was walking backward and wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed her arms again
but surprised her by pulling her into another embrace, as if that would somehow
change the way she was feeling.