Sawyer Dalton lived five miles farther out of town. His home, if you could call it that, was a rather run-down travel trailer set on a small lot. On both sides of his unkempt land were lovely farms, and I wondered how they felt about this eyesore. I was really surprised by the sight of his place. Because he was the mayor’s son, I expected him to live in a fancy house, but that wasn’t the case.
Mathew pulled up beside the trailer, his truck rocking from side to side as it dipped into deep ruts that made maneuvering the driveway almost impossible. I leaned forward, peered at the forlorn trailer, and felt a heavy sense of sadness.
“No one should live in a place like this.” I barely whispered the words.
Mathew shook his head. “Can’t really afford anything else. His father always paid his way in life. After they had a falling out, Sawyer apparently had trouble holding a job.”
I noticed a curtain flutter from inside. Someone was definitely home. We clambered out of the truck and walked slowly to the door. There was no sidewalk, only frozen, uneven ground. I was glad the snow from several days earlier had melted, or we could have easily twisted an ankle stepping in the wrong place.
Mathew knocked on the door. We waited, but no one answered.
“I saw the curtains move. Someone is in there!” I whispered urgently.
Mathew knocked harder, and we finally heard footsteps. A voice yelled out, “Okay, okay, hold on.”
A few seconds later, the door was flung open by a very angry-looking young man. He was short, blond, and dressed in a greasy white T-shirt. From the odor, we could tell he’d recently had a few drinks.
“What d’you want?” His words screeched out belligerently, and he glared at us. He was rather bleary-eyed, but he also looked as if he were ready to pounce violently on someone.
A frightened whimper slipped from between my lips. Mathew stepped in front of me, which allowed me to move back and take a deep, calming breath.
“Mr. Dalton, um, Sawyer, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Mathew used a steady tone.
“About what?” Sawyer shot back.
“Your father’s death,” Mathew answered bluntly. I was shocked. Mathew was usually so pleasant. I didn’t say anything. Mathew was more equipped at dealing with people like Sawyer than I was.
Mathew’s directness must have impacted the man, because Sawyer pulled back as if he’d been slapped and shouted, “My father was murdered. Someone poisoned him. What kind of questions could you have for me?” He lifted a hand to his forehead and swayed on his feet.
Mathew reached out and laid a steadying hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. At that, the man seemed to sag. He moved to the side, and we were able to slip into the trailer without any hindrance.
Once inside, I scanned the room. There weren’t many places to sit, and the couch looked too dirty to touch. I caught Mathew’s eye, but he put his hand on my elbow and steered me straight to the couch. We both sat, rather gingerly. I clasped my hands in my lap, afraid to touch anything.
Sawyer dropped onto a chair by the kitchen table. “So, what’s this all about?”
I opened my mouth to speak but found Mathew’s steadying hand on my arm. I assumed he wanted me to allow him to do the talking. On quick reflection, I decided this was best. I had little experience in dealing with people who’d had a death in the family.
“Sawyer, the police have been looking into Tea by the Sea and are keeping the shop closed. Obviously, that’s not good for business, so Georgina and I have been speaking with everyone who saw your father that day. Trying to make a timeline of sorts. We hope to help the detective or at least prove that no one at the tea shoppe had anything to do with your father’s death.”
Sawyer lifted his head and met Mathew’s eyes.
“The detective told me Dad was poisoned by something from the tea shoppe. I’m not sure why he hasn’t arrested anyone yet.” He turned and glared at me.
I swallowed, and my mouth felt dry. I knew I hadn’t poisoned the petit four, but seeing the look in Sawyer’s eyes, I realized he believed I killed his father.
I squeezed my hands together to keep from fidgeting. I wanted to appear confident. “Sawyer, I didn’t have any reason to poison your father. I’ve never even met him.”
Sawyer stood abruptly and ran his hand through his hair. “Then who did it? Who else had access to your pastries? When I saw him at the office, he hadn’t eaten anything from the tray. It was sitting on his desk. He actually asked me if I wanted to try the samples, but I was angry with him, so I left the office.”
“What were you angry about?” Mathew inserted.
“That he was running for mayor again. I’d just found out, and I hate to say, we argued about it. I said some pretty mean things to him. But when I left the office, he was alive.”
Mathew leaned forward. “Why didn’t you want him to run again?”
Sawyer swiped at his eyes, which had begun to brim with tears. He swung his arm around as if showing us something.
“Do you see this place? This isn’t my home, but I couldn’t stand the house my father bought once he became mayor. It’s just a house for show, not family. Before he was mayor, we used to go fishing together, hunting—you know, the things fathers and sons do together. He promised me he wasn’t going to run again, that things would go back to the way they were before, but I guess he decided he just loved the limelight too much.” Sawyer plopped himself onto the chair again, his head down on the table.
The room grew silent, except for an occasional hiccup from Sawyer as he tried to regain control. Mathew stood, walked over, and placed his hand on the young man’s back. “Sawyer, tomorrow is the funeral, and I know that will be difficult. I’ll be there for you. I’d like to pray with you right now.” He sat on the chair across from Sawyer. “Would that be okay?”
Sawyer lifted his head and nodded.
I took this as a cue, so I let myself out and walked to the truck. After I opened the truck door, I took a few gulps of the cool air. The trailer had been so hot and humid inside. Once I felt a bit refreshed, I grabbed the inside door handle, stepped onto the running board, and lifted myself into the truck. I flipped open our suspect notebook and jotted down my thoughts.
As I waited for Mathew to join me, I reviewed what I’d just learned from Sawyer. I found myself feeling even more confused.
Sawyer was obviously overwhelmed with grief. I could see how upsetting it was for him to find out that his father was going to run for office again instead of spending time with him, but he seemed more hurt than angry. I didn’t believe Sawyer killed his father. If Mathew agreed with me, we were back to square one. Robert Casey, Don Johnson, and Sawyer Dalton were all innocent, of that I was sure.
After about twenty minutes, I saw the trailer door open. Mathew stepped out onto the wobbly front stoop. Sawyer was standing inside the doorway. He no longer looked angry, but his shoulders were slumped over. The two men shook hands, and then Mathew began to walk toward the truck. Sawyer remained in the open doorway for a minute then disappeared into the trailer.
When Mathew joined me, he didn’t open the conversation, so I just stayed quiet. He started the truck then backed away from the gloomy-looking trailer and began to drive. We went at least five miles before he spoke.
“Sawyer is very sad at the loss of his father, not only because he died, but because of the unfulfilled dreams of having his relationship with his father healed.” Mathew sighed. “I’m not sure what he’ll do now. His father probably left him a lot of money, which won’t help that poor young man at all.”
“I feel so sorry for him,” I choked out. I could feel the pressure of unshed tears on the back of my eyes.
Mathew turned his head and smiled. “Pray for him. That’s the best thing you can do. I’m hoping I can talk with him more and encourage him to go to college. He needs some new goals.”
I was amazed at Mathew’s words. He was right, of course. However, I would never have considered that. I assumed Sawyer was a sad, lost case, but Mathew was able to see a bright future for the young man. I wondered if having a deep relationship with God, the way Mathew did, gave him this outlook. If so, I needed to spend more time with God.
“Now, what about that Christmas tree?” Mathew seemed to have shaken off the sorrowful mood. “It’s time to get you into the holiday spirit.” His infectious laughter filled the truck cab.
I glanced out the side window at the clouds. The sky didn’t look too ominous, so I no longer worried about being snowbound. “If you feel up to it. But I’ll understand if you don’t. I’m sure your conversation with Sawyer wasn’t an easy one.”
“No, it wasn’t, but I think I convinced him to think about moving closer to town and attending church. I’ll encourage college soon enough. What he needs now is community and support.” Mathew stopped at a stop sign then continued driving.
“That’s true. When I first moved to Sea Side, I felt so alone, but becoming part of the tea shoppe community has helped.”
“Same with me. The church and the locals in town have welcomed me with open arms. I feel like I’m truly home. So I’m game for a trip to get a Christmas tree. I think the cool air and the smell of pine are just what we both need.”
I couldn’t help but agree, so Mathew turned at the next corner and headed toward the Christmas tree farm. I opened my purse, pulled out a small hairbrush I carried with me, and ran it through my hair. After being in Sawyer’s trailer, I knew I’d want to give it a good shampoo in the evening. For the time being, I just wanted to enjoy the rest of the day, selecting a Christmas tree with a handsome man by my side.