Needless to say, I was stunned, especially since I’d just sent the mayor the sample tray earlier in the day. I bent over, grasped his arm, and pulled Billy toward the counter, shushing him.
“Slow down.” I shook his shoulders gently. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Mayor Dalton is dead. I saw the ambulance at city hall, and I heard a few of the police officers talking about it. They said it had to be murder ’cause it wasn’t suicide.”
“What? Are you telling the truth, Billy?”
The boy nodded.
“Are you sure you heard them say ‘murder’?”
Billy didn’t answer. He looked a bit pale.
I was holding him by the shirt. “Is there anything else you can tell us, Billy?” My voice was insistent.
Mathew moved forward and pried my fingers off Billy’s shirt. “I think we can let the boy go now. I’m sure he’s given us all the information he can. Isn’t that right, Billy?”
The boy’s head bobbed up and down.
Mathew walked him to the front door, speaking softly. I assumed he was advising the child to keep this story quiet, but I knew Billy. That wasn’t going to happen.
After watching Billy tear away on his bike, Mathew came back to the counter, his face a bit ashen.
“Do you think Billy is telling the truth?” My eyes met Mathew’s.
Mathew nodded. “Doesn’t seem to be any reason for him to make this up.”
I wrinkled my brow. “Did you know the mayor very well?”
“No, but he did go to the church. This is a terrible thing to happen, especially at Christmastime.” I heard the sincerity in his voice.
Yes, this is terrible, especially because Gran was hoping the mayor would let us cater his big campaign party! I didn’t say that out loud, but I couldn’t help from thinking it and then wondering how I could be so callous. Hoping the guilt didn’t show, I faced Mathew.
“I … I don’t even know what to say. I haven’t lived here long enough to get to know the mayor, but I’m sure if he was voted into office, he was well-loved.”
I noticed a strange look on the pastor’s face. He stood up and slipped his coat on. “I’m going back to the office. I’m sure someone from the mayor’s family will be contacting me pretty soon, and I need to be available.”
I shivered at the thought. This perfectly lovely man was going to be the one who had to help plan and carry out the funeral for Sea Side’s beloved mayor. Rather a gruesome task to have to take on and, like Mathew said, especially at Christmas.
My eyes swept the shop, and I realized that all the customers had heard Billy’s announcement. Several had risen and were making their way out the front door, each of them sporting a grin like the cat who caught the canary. I imagined they were eager to start spreading the news of the mayor’s death. Small towns were known for their intricate gossip chains.
Mathew sluggishly moved toward the front door, but just as he reached for the handle, he had to step back to allow the door to swing open again. This time an older gentleman, wearing a severely outdated double-breasted overcoat, came in. Mathew didn’t leave. Instead, he hurried back to stand beside me. I wasn’t sure why, but I got the sense he was there to give me moral support.
I saw the man’s eyes sweep the room, and then he came toward us. I looked up at Mathew. “Who is he?” I asked him quietly.
The gentleman must’ve heard me, because he spurted out, “I’m Detective Rawls.”
“Hello, Rawls,” Mathew said, his voice even, not quite friendly.
“Hello. Is Mrs. Holland here?” The man spoke in a dull, monotone voice.
“No, I’m her granddaughter. Is there something you need? I’m in charge.”
The man huffed, obviously not pleased by my answer. “Mayor Dalton died a few hours ago.” His words were blunt, and his eyes seemed to bore through me with a cold glare as if I weren’t even there.
“We just heard,” Mathew spoke before I could. He reached out and took my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. I felt comforted by the action.
The detective eyed Mathew. “How did you hear, Pastor?”
I was surprised the detective knew Mathew. I wondered if he attended Mathew’s church as well.
“A young delivery boy named Billy Deck told us about it. You know how these kids are. They know about everything before anyone else.” Mathew tried to joke, but the detective just grunted and cocked his head.
“Hmm.” He pulled a notepad from his coat pocket and wrote something in it. I assumed it was Billy Deck’s name.
“And did this”—he looked at the notepad again—“Billy Deck happen to tell you how the mayor died?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Murder!” I blurted out. I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth but didn’t move a muscle.
The detective’s head turned, and he seemed to actually acknowledge me. I couldn’t help but gulp. Somehow, his stare made me feel as if I was the person he’d decided had murdered the mayor.
“Indeed, murder. In fact, we’re pretty sure it was poison, since there was no blood or trauma to his head.” He took a step toward me.
My eyes were locked with his. “Goodness, that’s terrible.” I could feel my hand slip to my throat. “Do you have any idea …?” Suddenly a thought formed in my mind. Why did the detective come to the tea shoppe right after finding out the mayor was dead, unless …
“You don’t think that I? That we …” My hands started to tremble, and I felt a bit faint. I could feel the blood drain from my face. Mathew must have noticed, because he stepped even closer and put an arm around me just as I started to faint. He helped me to one of the chairs at a table and sat me on it.
“Put your head down for a minute. You look like you might pass out.”
I spread my knees and bent over, my head falling gently between them. If the situation wasn’t so serious, I might have burst out laughing. First good-looking man I’d spoken to in a long time, and here I was, hanging my head upside down in front of him.
I heard a few chairs scraping as our remaining customers rose and quickly left the shop. I kept my head down for a few moments, then sat up straight when I felt better.
First, I looked at Mathew. He wore a sympathetic smile on his face. Then I turned so I could see the detective. He wore an accusatory look.
“Can we go on?” Rawls asked.
I nodded.
“Very well.” Rawls had his pencil poised. “Please tell me what was on the tray you sent to the mayor’s office this morning.”
As I rattled off the contents of the sample tray, my mind was feverishly thinking of the ingredients in each one. Flour, sugar, butter, vanilla, peppermint, milk, pecans … Was the mayor allergic to nuts?
“According to our sources, the mayor only ate one thing today before he keeled over and died. A petit four that came from this tea shoppe.” He didn’t exactly accuse anyone, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was doing more than simply reporting occurrences.
My mouth opened and closed, but I made no sound. This tended to happen to me whenever I was flustered. Realizing I must look like a codfish caused me to clamp my lips together and sit up even straighter. I did some deep breathing through my nose, then met the detective’s eyes once more.
“Exactly what are you trying to say, Detective Rawls? That the petit fours were poisoned? I can assure you, that is impossible. Gran and I made them together, and I packaged them this morning. In fact, I ate one myself. As you can see, I’m alive and well.” I stood up, straight and stiff, one hand jammed against my hip, a sinking feeling tugging at me.
“Detective Rawls, is there any proof the petit fours were poisoned?” Mathew asked. “Did he eat anything else on the tray? Are you going to test everything on the tray?”
“We will, yes, but we’re pretty sure it was the petit four, since that seems to be all that was missing from the tray.”
“And who told you the mayor didn’t eat anything else today?” I asked. “His wife? She wouldn’t know what he did once he left the house.”
“No, his wife died over five years ago. But if you must know, it was his secretary.”
I threw my hands up to express my frustration then quickly lowered them. “Oh! I see. His secretary knows if he ate breakfast? Or grabbed a donut on the way to work? Or, well, I could give a million scenarios of what else he could’ve eaten today.”
I saw a change on the detective’s face. After meeting Phyllis Gates, I could only imagine the man had been persuaded to believe whatever she told him. She was a force to be reckoned with, but I could tell I’d made a dent in her statement by the way he started jotting in his notebook again.
“We doubt he stopped to get anything on his way to work because, according to his secretary, the mayor was on a diet and was only having a light lunch and dinner each day. In the past, he always ate breakfast at a local diner. They confirmed he didn’t come in for breakfast today. The secretary told us that although she was out of the office part of the day, when she got back, he was dead. And now I’ve confirmed that only one of the petit fours on the tray was missing.”
After a few more of what Rawls called “preliminary questions,” the detective left the shop. I think Mathew and I had been holding our breath, because as soon as the door closed behind the detective, we both let out heavy sighs.
I was still feeling rather stunned knowing that I, or at least the tea shoppe, might be accused of murder, when I felt a hand on my arm.
I tilted my head and stared at Mathew’s hand. He was offering me comfort, but I felt numb.
“Can you believe that?” I whispered, not really meaning for anyone to hear. Mathew heard me, though, because he hadn’t left my side.
“No. The whole thing seems impossible. Murder just doesn’t happen in this town.”
I spun around to face him. “What do you mean? Do you think I, we, the shop, had something to do with this murder? I don’t believe he was murdered at all. I’m sure they’ll find out it was really a heart attack or something.” My jaw was tense, and my teeth clenched. My words sounded brave but unconvincing. I was simply voicing what I wanted to be the truth.
Mathew lowered his hand to mine. “Hey, I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure neither you, nor Tea by the Sea, had anything to do with Mayor Dalton’s death. The only thing we can do now is wait until the police have proof.”
“Do you think they’ll do an autopsy?” My words were clipped and terse. I’d never spoken to anyone about things like murder and autopsies before.
Mathew shrugged. “Don’t see how they can prove he was poisoned without doing one. It may take a few days for them to get the results. Until then, you shouldn’t worry about anything. Of course this town loves a good story to gossip about, so who knows what you’ll hear? I say, carry on as usual, but don’t allow anyone to get you into a conversation about the mayor, his death, or poison.” He smiled, and even though I was worried about this situation, I found his smile absolutely charming.
I tried to relax my shoulders but had a feeling it would take a day at the spa to work out the tightness in them. I felt a giggle forming as I thought about how much tension being accused of murder could cause.
“And he suspects you of murder?” Gran’s voice screeched so loudly I had to pull my cell phone away from my ear. I could tell she really was sick, because her voice sounded a little raspy. “Why didn’t you call me right away? I could’ve set that man straight.” She sneezed.
“Gran, it all happened so fast, and Mathew was still here when Detective Rawls started questioning me. He didn’t actually accuse me, but he did say they think one of the petit fours I sent the mayor to sample had poison in it. We won’t know anything for sure until they do an autopsy and check the other petit fours on the sample tray. I’m sure it will all turn out to be a big mistake.”
Gran was quiet then said, “Georgina, you haven’t lived in a small town very long. You have no idea how much damage even untruthful gossip can do. If the story gets around that he was poisoned by our food, it could put us out of business.”
“Gran, Tea by the Sea has been around as long as I can remember. I’m sure it’s weathered gossip before. Mathew … I mean, Pastor Mathew assures me we have nothing to worry about.” I wasn’t comfortable calling the pastor by his first name in general conversation. It wasn’t the way I’d been brought up, but even Gran had referred to him as Mathew several times. We spoke a few more minutes, but I could tell the stress wasn’t good for her. She was coughing, and her voice sounded scratchy. I ended the call.
I didn’t want to talk to any customers about the mayor’s death, so I closed up the shop, making sure to turn off all the lights and lock the front door. I doubted in a town this small anyone would try to break in. Plus, everyone knew we didn’t keep any cash in the register overnight. However, the idea niggled at the back of my mind that maybe, just maybe, if the mayor had really been poisoned eating one of our petit fours, then someone had gotten in and put poison in it.
How would someone know exactly which petit fours I would put on the sample tray? I wondered. We’d sold many of the petit fours from that batch during the day, and no one else had complained about negative effects. Unless there was a crazy person running around town putting poison in random food, then someone must have poisoned the petit four after I placed it on the tray.
It had stopped snowing, so I decided to put off boot shopping for at least one more day. As I strolled toward my apartment, watching small flakes blowing in the wind, I kept running different scenarios over in my mind. When I reached my door, not one proved to provide any possible way the one specific petit four could have been poisoned before I set it on the tray.
I pushed open the apartment door and entered. The room was rather stark, with only a couch, coffee table, and small kitchen table. I’d been in town a short time, and major furniture shopping was not at the top of my to-do list. I didn’t really like the apartment. Since I’d decided to stay in Sea Side, I hoped I might find a small house, so I didn’t want to waste any money on furniture I might have to replace.
I tossed my coat on a chair, grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, slouched down on the couch, and turned on the television. I desperately needed the distraction from my thoughts. After channel surfing for fifteen minutes and realizing there was nothing interesting on, I finally put down the remote and headed for a shower.
As the warm water soothed my aching shoulders, a despairing thought suddenly flashed through my mind. What if the detective decided to close the tea shoppe? That really could destroy the business.