Lemon Tart (12 page)

Is it Ron?
she wondered, her insides knotting up. She wasn’t ready to talk to him, but a
look at the caller ID showed a number she didn’t recognize. Deciding not to
take the chance, she hit the end button and waited until she heard the chime
indicating a voice message had been left. After dialing her mailbox, she
listened to the message.

“Mrs. Hoffmiller? This is Jean from the library. After you left
I remembered something else Anne Lemmon left at the library at story time on
Friday. She’d been on the computer and had printed some pages. But her son
started throwing a tantrum and she left without paying for her copies. We put
them aside for her to pick up next time. If you wanted to put them with her
other things, you’re welcome to pick them up—but you’ll need to
pay the fees for them. It’s fifteen cents a page. I’m so sorry for your
loss—let us know if there’s anything we can do. Thanks.”

Sadie saved the message before closing her voice mail. She
remembered that day because Anne had asked Sadie to watch Trevor while she went
to her job interview that afternoon. Anne had still been frustrated about
Trevor’s tantrum when she dropped him off but Sadie told her she’d done the
right thing, taking him home and putting him immediately in time- out.

Sadie wondered what Anne had printed and was eager to get back
to the library. But first things first. She looked around the office, feeling
antsy. It wasn’t large or fancy, but it was very cozy and Sadie made a note to
compliment Ms. Gimes on that if she had the chance.

Sadie had never been very good at waiting. When she went to the
doctor’s office she always took a book. But she’d not anticipated waiting in
the office of an attorney she’d never heard of and the minutes felt like hours.
She tapped her fingers on her purse and tried not to watch the second hand of
the large clock hanging above the reception area, but it was hard not to. After
four minutes she considered making an appointment and coming back, but that was
silly. She was a grown woman, surely she could wait a few more minutes.

She scanned the waiting room again and saw copies of Time and Working Woman on an end table. Neither one held any
interest for her. She did have the library book in her purse, but there was no
way she was going to read that in public. It had been a lot of years since
she’d read a romance novel and she wasn’t sure she was prepared for other
people to see her with it. Then she remembered the book list the library had
printed for her. That was something she was planning to go over anyway. With
anxious relief to have found something to do, she reached into her purse and
dug out the list.

After scanning half the list, one title stood out to her:
My Father’s Eyes. Sadie
fumbled in her purse for a pen and underlined it, even though she was
unsure why it had caught her attention. She read through the rest of the tape
and found at the bottom, where fines or unreturned items were listed, that My Father’s Eyes had never been
returned—Anne had paid for it before it was even overdue. Sadie
stared at the title again. There was something familiar about it but she
couldn’t think what it was. Had Sadie read the book? Not likely.

After reading through the list again and determining there was
nothing else that stood out, she folded the list and returned it to her purse,
ignoring the hidden romance novel for a second time. However, her nerves
tightened with every second, and she finally gave in. The waiting area was
empty anyway. She unzipped her purse and opened the book hiding inside, careful
to keep the cover in her purse. She had barely gotten through the flowery
description of the buxom main character, when the receptionist interrupted her,
bringing her back to the present.

“Mrs. Gimes will see you now,” the receptionist said in a tone
of forced politeness as Sadie quickly zipped her purse back up.

Susan Gimes was on her feet when Sadie entered the office. She
was very tall, at least six feet, Sadie guessed, with black hair cut short and
trendy, and large brown eyes. Her very presence was quite imposing, something
Sadie felt sure was an asset in her line of work. The two women met halfway
across the room and Sadie shook the proffered hand before taking the seat
offered to her.

“My apologies for my receptionist—we’re in the
middle of updating our files and computer system and we ended up
shorthanded today. Because of that I’m afraid I only have a couple minutes
to meet with you,” Susan Gimes said with a very professional smile as she sat
behind the large mahogany desk.

“That’s okay,” Sadie said with a nod. “I’m sorry to have
interrupted you, Ms. Gimes, but—”

“Call me Susan.”

“Okay, thank you. My name is Sadie Hoffmiller—you
can call me Sadie.” She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to
continue.

“You headed up the Youth in Action program a few years ago,
right?”

Sadie blinked and allowed her thoughts to shift. “I did,” Sadie
said with a smile. “Did we meet then?” It would be nice if they had, though
Sadie would be embarrassed not to remember.

Susan shook her head. “No, we didn’t. But you worked with my
daughter, Laura Johanson—I remarried after her father and I
split up and I took my new husband’s name.” She gave Sadie a soft smile. “She
was really struggling. In fact she was arrested for shoplifting and the judge
offered her the option of working with Youth in Action instead of putting it on
her record. She had a wonderful experience working with you, Mrs. Hoffmiller.”
She looked down, n. Both the police and myself know very little of where to start.”

“Do the police know about me?”

Sadie nodded, trying to keep the sour expression off her face
as she thought about Madsen taking the card. “Yes, I’m sure they will be
contacting you.”

Susan fixed her with a pointed look. “Do they know you’re here?”

Sadie squirmed. “Uh, not really.” Though she wouldn’t be
surprised if Madsen showed up as soon as his hearing was over. “Anne was a good
friend of mine, and I helped her with her son. I can’t do nothing. I’m hoping
to get some answers—something to help things move forward. I
know she was from Boston, but I don’t know who her parents are, and with the
filing cabinet gone, I have nowhere to start.”

The room was silent for several seconds. “I’m afraid I can’t
give out any information about Anne. It’s protected by client privilege.”

“Oh,” Sadie said. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She looked at her
hands and let out a breath. She looked up and smiled apologetically. “I’m very
sorry to have taken your time today—though it was wonderful to
hear how Laura’s doing. I should have thought things through better before I
came.” She stood up, embarrassed to have wasted the time of this woman, but
grateful that Susan was as kind as she’d been.

“Why don’t you give me your name and number,” Susan suggested.
“There might be something I can give you, but I’ll need to review the file
first.”

“That would be wonderful,” Sadie said. She started fumbling in
her purse, looking for a pen. Susan handed her one along with a pad of paper.
Sadie thanked her and began scribbling down her information.

A buzzer from the desk startled her and she jumped slightly as
the receptionist’s voice came over the intercom. “Susan, Garrison PD is here.
They need to speak with you.”

Sadie felt her face fall and her hand freeze, but she tried to
contain her panic and finish writing her phone number. Her mouth was suddenly
dry as she anticipated how she would explain her being here. Would they believe
it was just a coincidence?

“You don’t want them to know you were here?” Susan asked,
correctly reading the look on Sadie’s face.

“I wouldn’t ask you to lie about it,” Sadie repliedseemingly embarrassed. “I always meant to send you a thank you
card, and I didn’t get around to it.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” Sadie said, invigorated by something
positive, by the reminder that she had done good things in the lives of other
people. “Laura was a sweet girl. Did she ever make those
cinnamon-ginger cookies I taught her to make?”

Susan nodded. “She did and they were wonderful. She makes them
every Christmas now. I have to admit I was surprised she took to cooking so
well. I grew up watching my mother slave away in the kitchen and swore I’d
never do it. I’ve been good to my word, so it’s been surprising to me to see
how much Laura enjoys it.”

“Well, Laura was a good girl and a quick study in the kitchen.
It was my philosophy, especially with those young girls, that directing them
back to the basics of cooking, cleaning, and taking care of themselves allowed
them to build self-confidence from the inside out instead of basing
so much of their self-image on social labels. If they know what they
are capable of at home, then they can enter the world with that same confidence
and help themselves and the people they love.” She suddenly realized she might
be offending this woman who had just told her she personally hated kitchen
work; she felt her cheeks heat up. “Um, I mean, it works for some girls, and
then others are, uh, directed elsewhere for those same—”

Susan’s smile got even bigger as Sadie attempted to save
herself and she finally laughed out loud, cutting Sadie off. “Laura’s in
culinary school in New York right now. You were a wonderful influence for her
at a difficult time in her life and set her on a good path—I’m
not the least bit ungrateful for that. In fact she taught me how to make a few
things and cooking’s not as bad as I thought.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Sadie said. “Tell her hi from me; I’m
excited for her success.”

They both smiled at one another, but the silence became
awkward.

“I’m sorry,” Susan finally said. “I got off the subject. What
can I do for you today?”

A pall fell over the room. “Well, I’m here because . . .”
She paused, not sure where to start. “My friend, Anne Lemmon, passed away this
morning—actually, she was murdered.” Susan Gimes’ eyes went
wide and her back straightened. “I found your card in her papers and I’m trying
to . . .” She paused. What was she trying to do? Detective Madsen
thought she was trying to solve the case. But she wasn’t. Was she? Sadie felt
her shoulders slump. “Well, I guess I don’t know what I’m trying to do. I just
. . . well, I never asked much about Anne’s past—she
was trying to make a fresh start. And now that all this has happened, I’m
hoping to find something that will help me find her son and I—”

“Her son?” Susan leaned forward slightly. “What happened to her
son?”

“He’s gone,” Sadie said. “Sometime this morning or last night
Anne was killed, and we haven’t found her son.”

Susan leaned back, her fingertips together. “And so you came to
me to try to find out more about her?”

“She kept all her papers and things in a filing cabinet and it
was stole, forcing a
smile. She handed the pad of paper to Susan and was relieved when the other
woman quickly put it in her desk. “But, well, no, I’d rather they didn’t know.”

“Why don’t you wait here,” Susan said as she stood. “I can talk
with them in the waiting area and then show you out when I’m finished.” She was
dressed in heeled boots and a long skirt that she smoothed in anticipation of
leaving the room.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Sadie said.

“Not at all,” Susan said with a smile. “Just sit tight, this
will only take a few minutes. You might want to sit over there.” Susan
indicated a chair next to the door that was out of view from anyone looking in
from the waiting area.

Sadie nodded and sat in the chair, taking a deep breath while
Susan took long strides to the door. When the door opened and she heard
Madsen’s voice, she felt her stomach tighten and she pressed herself against
the back of the chair. Hadn’t he said he had a hearing to go to? She’d expected
that to buy her some time. Susan closed the door and the voices became muted.
Sadie was forced to wait again. Even with the adrenaline rush of knowing Madsen
was out there, Sadie was bored and fidgety within thirty seconds.

After a full minute, she began wondering if she could shimmy
down a drainpipe. The fantasy became even more tempting when the voices in the
waiting area increased in both volume and speed. Sadie couldn’t make out
exactly what was being said, but the overall gist of the conversation came
through perfectly clear. She swallowed. If Madsen found out she was in here. . .
. She shuddered at the probable scene that would follow. The door opened and
she looked up. Susan’s face was tight as she headed for a bank of long filing
cabinets along one wall. She didn’t acknowledge Sadie was there and left the
door open.

“Of course it’s up to you,” Madsen’s voice called through the
door. “But you know the drill. If I come back with a warrant, I can look
through whatever I think might be helpful.”

“And make as big a mess as possible,” Susan said hotly over her
shoulder.

Madsen said nothing, and Sadie remained frozen, pressed against
the chair with the open door just a few feet away. Susan looked up for just a
moment, shooting Sadie the quickest don’t-move
look Sadie had ever seen. Sadie was quiet as a mouse and still as a statue
while Susan retrieved a file and left the room, closing the door behind her
again and allowing Sadie to breathe once more. She assumed Susan would be right
back, but the moments stretched into minutes again. Sadie tried to resist, but
kept thinking about the romance novel still in her purse. She gave up after a
few more seconds and discreetly cracked it open.

Sadie was on page twelve when the door opened and then shut
behind Susan Gimes. The book disappeared into her purse again and Sadie’s
cheeks flushed hot. Sadie would have never guessed the captain’s quarters on a
merchant ship could be so . . . exciting. She’d nearly forgotten
where she was.

She looked at Susan expectantly as she zipped up her purse and
held it on her lap. Susan went around her desk and sat back in her chair.