The detective noticed me as soon as I opened the door. He said a few words to his sergeant before approaching me. Up close, I could see the detective was Tom Bennett, newly hired after the last murder. I’d wondered whom they would send.
“What’s wrong with Marshfield?” I felt responsible because I had left him outside. I owed it to Sir Geoffrey to take care of his dog. “Is he—dead?”
Tom shook his head. “No, but he’s weak. Like he was poisoned or sumpin’—”
Daisy came out on the porch. “I’m Daisy Guilfoyle, Sir Geoffrey’s sister-in-law. You’re here about his death, aren’t you?”
She probably wondered why we were wasting time on a dog.
Tom nodded. “Don’t worry about the dog. We’ll get him the help he needs.”
“And get his stomach contents analyzed,” I said. “In case it’s connected.”
We went back into the house and joined Roland and Freddy, who had taken advantage of my absence to return to the kitchen.
“Mahnin’, Mistah Whitakah.” Tom’s gaze swept every detail of Roland’s attire, as if assessing where he’d been and exactly what he’d been doing all morning. “And you ah?” He turned his attention to Freddy.
Before Freddy could say anything, Roland burst out with, “He’s the doggone fool who touched the spear when we found Geoffrey like this.”
Freddy glared at him. “I am Lord Frederick Guilfoyle, Baron of Durrow,” he said to no one in particular. He smiled as if the title pleased him.
Sir Geoffrey had never introduced himself with all the tags, although he didn’t complain when we used them.
Tom ignored the introduction to concentrate on the body. Without breaking his concentration, he said, “I’ve worked with the Mounties from up north a time or two. They say their law is similar to British law. They would frown on touching things at the crime scene.”
After writing in his notebook, he looked directly at Freddy. “You have done your uncle a great disservice by disturbing the crime scene.”
“I didn’t want to leave him like that,” Freddy said.
Another car approached. “That’s probably the coroner.” Tom tucked his notebook in his shirt pocket. “All right, everyone, return to the living room. My sergeant will sit with you until we’re ready to question you.”
Freddy sputtered, where his uncle would have held his head high, perhaps answered with a cutting comment. I missed Sir Geoffrey intensely in that moment.
I let the men go ahead of me—to guide them in case they got “lost.” Of course Roland knew the house, but he might want to wander off.
Tom placed a hand on my shoulder before I left the kitchen. “I’m sorry to ask you to stay as well, but since you discovered the body …”
Yes, I understood. Wasn’t the person who discovered the body automatically a suspect? I shuddered at the thought. At the first hint of suspicion, I would call my lawyer.
During tense times, I like to feed people. I decided to ask for permission. “I left breakfast treats in the pantry when I arrived this morning. Do you mind if I bring them out for everyone?”
He chewed on it for a moment. “Since you brought them with you, they’re not technically a part of the murder scene.” He walked into the pantry and came out with an open box. He was frowning. “How many items were here?”
“A baker’s dozen—thirteen. Six hot cross buns, two scones, and five donuts.”
He shook his head. “There’s only eleven now.”
“Let me see.”
He set the box on the table. Two of the hot cross buns were missing. I could see the sugary imprint of where they’d been. “I guess someone discovered the box and helped themselves,” the detective said.
I wished it was that simple, but an ugly thought occurred to me. “Tell me, did the dog vomit anything?”
Tom looked at me curiously. “I doubt there was much left in his stomach.”
“Tell the vet that he probably ingested several raisins.” I explained how the raisins had made Marshfield sick at the tea shoppe yesterday. “I would guess someone fed two buns to the dog. That was downright cruel if they knew how sick the raisins would make him.”
He closed the box and set it back in the pantry. “I’ll hold on to the box for now.” He peered at me. “We’ll need everyone’s fingerprints. My sergeant will get them when he finishes with the dog.”
I hated to think of the many things we had touched, one way or another, that morning. And of course we’d all been there before. That reminded me of something. “Our delivery person also cleans here once a week. She did a special cleaning yesterday, in preparation for the arrival of Sir Geoffrey’s family. Any prints should be relatively new.”
“A detailed cleaning, then.”
“Oh yes. Sir Geoffrey wouldn’t be—wouldn’t have been—satisfied …” I broke down. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
Tom gave me a moment to regain my composure before he asked how to contact our delivery driver.
“Phoebe Oberlin.” I looked up her number on my cell and showed it to him while he made a note.
Apparently the age of electronics hadn’t taken over the need for handwritten notes. He tucked the notebook away. “You may join the others. Only—don’t mention the buns or the cleaning yesterday.”
I wouldn’t talk about it with Roland or either of the Guilfoyles. I just might talk things over with Georgina when I got home. She would probably insist that I call in her fiancé, Mathew, the pastor of our church. Like it or not, our tea shoppe was once again embroiled in a murder.
How should we handle it? Last year’s mystery had given our little shop a certain amount of notoriety and increased business. Two murders, on the other hand, could seem like bad luck.
Oh, for the freedom to make a phone call. To go home! I hoped Georgina’s experience helped her understand the situation.
“Why did he keep you so long?” Freddy demanded when I returned to the living room. “What were you talking about?”
Roland took a long look at me. “You won’t get her to spill secrets.” He laughed. “Some eateries are known as gossip central. And you can generally get the pulse of Sea Side at the Tea by the Sea.” He put a finger to the side of his nose. “But no one is better at keeping secrets than Evie here. I’ve told her some of my secrets that she’s never repeated to anyone else.” He paused for effect. “And that was thirty-five years ago.”
My mind went blank for a minute. Thirty-five years ago, the tea shoppe was a new business that took every ounce of my time and mind and energy. Roland was a teenager working on his first job on a fishing boat, the career path he’d eventually followed. At the end of the day, he would stop by and ask for any leftover donuts for half price. I gave him what I could. I didn’t have a son of my own, just two daughters.
And he had a helpless crush on Georgina’s mother. She didn’t give him the time of day. She’d already met her future husband. The memory brought a smile to my face. “I think things worked out for the best, don’t you?”
He winked, and his smile grew wider. “See what I mean? Even now she doesn’t reveal my secrets.” He grew serious. “With all sincerity, I say, I wouldn’t be the man I am today without Evie Holland.”
I was touched. “Those were rough times for both of us,” I told him. “Made me feel good to think at least one teenager wanted to hear my wisdom. My daughter was out searching for her own way.”
“This sounds like Sea Side’s version of The Young and the Restless,” Freddy drawled. “What’s next, a May-December affair?”
I snapped around but managed to control my tongue. I had no reason to defend myself against bad manners.
Roland laughed it off. “May-December? You think I was interested in Evie?” At least he wasn’t offended. “No, I was interested in her daughter, who wanted nothing to do with me. It’s a good thing too, or else I never would have married my Maggie.”
“Freddy can’t object to May-December romances,” Daisy said comfortably. “I was fifteen years younger than his father.”
Daisy’s words reminded me of something Sir Geoffrey had told me, but I couldn’t chase it down. Maybe it would come back to me later.
Freddy shrugged. “Enough about old times, Mother. I want to know what the detective said to Ms. Holland.”
Someone knocked on the door. I jumped up to answer it before Daisy could. Two technicians stood there. They’d come from the only lab in a ten-mile radius that performed forensics when needed. I recognized them but couldn’t remember their names.
“Mrs. Guilfoyle?” the young man around Georgina’s age asked.
“That’s Mrs. Holland, from Tea by the Sea.” His companion was a middle-aged woman of Vietnamese descent. “She found the body.” She turned to me. “Where is Detective Bennett?”
“Down the hallway, in the kitchen.” I pointed the way.
They carried forensics kits with them. I shuddered, glad I didn’t have to dig into the muck of death.
Freddy followed them but was turned back.
No one said anything for a few minutes. Roland stood by the window, watching what was going on outside. When another car approached, he announced, “The vet’s here to look at the dog.”
I joined Roland at the window. Marshfield had been Sir Geoffrey’s pride and joy. I drew a sigh of relief when he wobbled to his feet to greet the newcomer. I recognized the vet, Dr. Stetson. He loaded Marshfield into the back of his van before speaking with the officer for several minutes.
“Bet you’re wishing you could eavesdrop on their conversation,” Roland said.
“Am I that obvious?” I was a little embarrassed.
“It has to be related to Sir Geoffrey’s death.”
The police officer backed away from the van, and Dr. Stetson took off. Then the officer grabbed a small black bag from the back of the patrol car and headed toward us.
Fingerprint time, I’d guess.
Once again I opened the door.
He apologized for how late it was getting. “You must be eager to go home.”
Not really. If I was at home, I’d be worrying about Sir Geoffrey and wondering what was happening. At least this way I had a chance to help.