One Cuppa Brew: Book 1 in The Thyme for Tea Series (2 page)

She nodded. “Of course. All kinds of things. Not much about the human race surprises me. It saddens me, but it doesn’t surprise me. I only want good surprises from now on.” Pastor stopped speaking as she realized she was rambling. William was always the cool, calm, collected one. “You never answered me, what IS GOING ON?” she asked again.

“I didn’t do it, Pastor, but I know things are going to look like I did. I doubt I could have planted evidence as well as this has been set up. By tomorrow morning they’ll probably interview you. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Lois Bell.”

“Who’s Lois Bell?” Pastor started to ask. “Oh, you mean your friend Jack’s widow? Well of course you didn’t kill her, unless you gave her fatal heatstroke by making her run all over the tennis court today.”

“No heatstroke. Right now, she’s busy being dead outside my condo.” William answered her.

“But how? Why? Oh, I found out more about her at book club. I was waiting to tell you tomorrow morning. If you were set up, we can prove you were innocent. Why don’t you turn yourself in, William?” Pastor hated knowing she might be aiding a fugitive, but she also had been around long enough to know when someone was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. William and sincere were almost synonyms. Though she supposed that if he had been a spy, he must have been very good at lying. “You
are
telling me the truth, aren’t you? I mean, I hate to ask, but you’re right. If
I
can suspect you, locals won’t look anywhere else. Oh, I wish Andy were here.”

“Andy?” William asked her, thinking she must be talking about her dead husband for a moment. He must have really upset her if she couldn’t handle being alone with him. This was never his intention. But her husband had been named Charles, and gone by Chuck, according to his research. Andrew was her late father-in-law, who had outlived his son. Andrew Potts was a name well known in the area, having been one of the original condominium builders here. With buildings throughout the Southeast, he had settled right along the Florida-Alabama border, just a few miles away, still on Perdido Key. William knew Pastor was a very wealthy woman, with her share of potential homes. She could have gutted the six-condo building she lived in, remodeled it into a mansion, and led a much more expensive lifestyle, but she chose to remain publicly anonymous. If anyone made a connection between her last name and that of Perdido Key’s developer, she wouldn’t deny it, but she was more likely to shrug off indelicate inquiries.

“Andy is my youngest. He’s a police officer outside Washington DC, somewhere in Maryland. He has changed precincts a bunch, so I’m not sure exactly where. Silver Spring, maybe?” Pastor shrugged. She couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken on the phone.

“Are you sure he’s a police officer?” William asked, well aware of the number of intelligence organizations in the environs of DC.

“Well, he’s in law enforcement. He’s a detective, which was why he was able to wear plainclothes when I visited a couple years ago.” Pastor answered.

William was intrigued by Pastor’s son. Little did Pastor know, but he knew all about Andy. “You haven’t said much about him before. But if you do talk to him, any set of outside law enforcement eyes on my side would be good. Right now, I have work to do. I’m headed to New Jersey.”

“New Jersey- but why? Oh, yes, Lois Bell was from New Jersey. That’s one of the things the ladies told me today. Somewhere near the shore, correct? And your friend Jack is buried up there somewhere, right? His girls, did they stay close to home after they graduated? One of the other things I found out about her was that she loved horses and she would go up to Lillian, Alabama and ride on the days she wasn’t winning at tennis. And she’s great at golf. Those are all expensive pastimes. Was your buddy Jack wealthy?” Pastor finally stopped her recounting of her book club’s gossip and looked at William, whose face had lost all its ruddiness.

“Jack’s first wife died horseback riding. There is no way he would have married an equestrian. I remember him telling me that was one of the reasons he thought things would work out so well; Lois loved being a homebody, and horses terrified her.”

Pastor looked at her friend. “Well, either they are two different women, or someone had a massive mid-life crisis. I understand why you are heading to New Jersey. I don’t think there is anything else important I learned about her, other than she is, or was, a decent card player. I doubt that will help much.”

William smiled suddenly. “Well, cards and New Jersey are sometimes connected.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I do try to ignore that part of the shore when possible. Speaking of gambling, why do you think her killers left her outside your place? Was it because you played tennis today, or because of your past connection with Jack?”

William’s smile dimmed as he considered his answer. “That’s one of the questions I’ve been going over and over for the past couple of hours while you and your girlfriends were discussing the latest and greatest books. On the surface, maybe the tennis, but the evidence was nicely planted; I think this is someone who knows about my past. And that, my dear Pastor, is more than I wanted to let you worry your lovely head about. I’d best be on my way, before people realize she’s missing. Whoever did kill her could have already called it in as well. There could be roadblocks on the roads out of town.”

Pastor considered. “You’d think we would see the lights from here; perhaps the police are being low-key for once. But you already have another way off the island, don’t you? Stay in touch. Godspeed, William!”

William grinned and tipped his hat at her as he stepped out the doorway with a wink. Pastor was glad he had felt safe enough to tell her. She was sure he felt he could use a local ally. To think her book club had just discussed Mrs. Bell’s oddities, and now she was deceased. She hoped her gentle questioning at book club wasn’t going to lead any suspicions her way. The last thing she needed was to come under scrutiny from the police.

CHAPTER THREE

After her sunrise stroll through the State Park, roughly a three-mile roundtrip walk, Pastor hopped into her golf cart and headed down to the plaza to open her shop. She was thrilled the locals had won the right to use the carts on the main roads. It was the first step in getting everyone to slow down more around here. She alternated between taking the car or the cart. On days like this, when she didn’t anticipate running any last-minute errands, she knew the cart would be fine. She chuckled, thinking the store was about as far away as her halfway point on her walk that morning. However, being at the store with no transportation would just be silly, and it was much easier to walk the return miles in the morning, while she felt refreshed, than after a long day at work.

As she set out the baked goods and began brewing regular and decaf tea for the thermal carafes, Pastor wondered how busy they would be. Would the body have been discovered yet? Would William’s disappearance make him appear guiltier than if he had stayed? Were there two different Lois Bells? She had been pondering these questions and more on her walk. When she was out on the beach, the waves and wind were great distractions. That didn’t work so well in the shop.

The Hallelujahs of the chorus surprised Pastor and she glanced up, forgetting she had already unlocked the door. “Andy! Wow! Why are you here?” she exclaimed, rushing around the counter to catch her son in a big embrace. “Let me look at you! Have you gotten more handsome since the last time I saw you?”

“Whoa, Mom, calm down, it’s just me!” Andy said, immediately feeling like an awkward ten-year-old boy back in front of Mom. “I heard something happened down here yesterday, and thought you might want some company for a few days?”

“How could you know about that? How could you have had time to get here already?” Pastor realized that William’s question about Andy really being a police officer was making her more suspicious than normal, which was saying a lot.

“Remember Jason- we were friends when we were kids? He’s pretty high up on the local police force, and I’ve asked him to give me a buzz if something happens with the Oyster Creek folks,” he tried to explain.

“That doesn’t explain how you can be walking in my door at this hour. Did you drive all night? I know the morning flights have barely begun; you couldn’t have landed in Pensacola or Mobile yet. I’m not sure the residents even know what happened. I’d hoped you were one of the first customers, so I could listen to the gossip. Of course, I’m very happy it’s you! At least you aren’t the local police here to question me. Wait, are you?” Pastor glanced up suddenly, having subconsciously moved back to preparing the breakfast items.

“Of course not, Mom, and if it helps, I was in New Orleans when I heard. I drove over from there.” Andy answered, bracing himself for the question he knew would come next.

“You were in New Orleans and you weren’t going to mention it? How long have you been there? What were you doing? Were you working? Why would the Silver Spring police department send you to New Orleans?”

“Mo-om!” Andy drew out the name just as he’d done when he was a kid. He knew that he’d been caught but couldn’t handle any further questioning. It was almost like calling ‘Uncle’ in their house. “I’m here now and that’s what matters. What can I help you do to get ready?”

Of all her sons, Andy had always been the wild card. He was named after his father’s father. Steven Charles, their eldest, had been named after her husband Chuck, while Marshall Robert, the middle boy, had been named after her father. Steve had been serious and responsible from the moment he was born, and he was now in charge of their grandfather’s real estate holdings and investments. Marshall, who somewhere along the way began to go by Bob, ran the family construction company. Bob was always Steve’s shadow. They had been born just shy of a year apart, and she was constantly asked if they were twins, even when half a head separated them during growth spurts. Born when his brothers were six and five, Andy, née Andrew Paul, had always been the impulsive one. After completing a business degree at Wharton, he entered Cornell intending to earn his doctorate in Economics. However, one year into that program, he switched courses, and studied law for two years, before surprising everyone and moving to George Washington University for a master’s degree in criminology. Pastor had blamed one of his girlfriends for his multiple changes of heart, but Steve and Bob assured her Andy’s choices were his own. With both of her elder sons married and giving her grandchildren, Pastor had a hard time not worrying about her youngest. But she was overjoyed to see him and hoped he could help her make sense of the local mystery.

The rest of the morning and mid-day passed in a blur. By the time Pastor and Andy sat down to have their own cups of tea, it was nearly 2:30 in the afternoon. Pastor raised an eyebrow at Andy, “So, did you learn as much as you wanted to today?”

Her son chuckled, “If I filter out the conversations about denture storage and favorite black-and-white movies, then yes, I gathered some healthy information.”

Pastor looked at her son, as if seeing him for the first time as an adult, “What will you do with it? Are you planning to work with the locals? I find it funny that they haven’t been in here yet. Or are you just here to distract your mother during a tough time?”

Andy looked slightly pained, and somewhat sheepish, but answered her rapid-fire questions as quickly as she’d asked them. “I
am
trying to figure out what happened; you caught me. I thought this would be a good place to hear it first hand. The community sure is ready to put it all on this William Winthrop, aren’t they? All except that guy Joe. And don’t try to pretend I didn’t hear you defending William. What’s up with that, Mom?”

“‘What’s up with’? Is this how you talk these days?” she asked, trying to figure out how to answer him.

Andy waited for his mother to think. He knew all her stalling tactics. His job, after all, was to ferret out the truth. He had found a great apartment in Silver Spring, but as William had suspected and his brothers were well aware, Andy wasn’t a local police officer; he was an FBI special agent. He had been wrapping up some undercover work in New Orleans when Jason had called him about a murder near his mom on Perdido Key. He requested a few days off before his next assignment and headed to Florida. He was glad he had finished his assignment there before Jason called, because he would hate to have been tailed here. He’d had a rough couple of months undercover, waiting for things to break open. Let her stall. He could outlast her.

“Fine. Your poor grammar is no excuse for me to stop talking. I don’t know what William used to do, exactly, but I am fairly sure that he was, in fact, a spy. What would he have to gain by killing someone, especially her? So she could play tennis a bit better than the other ladies—that isn’t a reason to kill her. Last night he came and told me he needed to investigate this on his own. And before you ask, I believe him. He didn’t do whatever was done to her. But he did have a question about her background.”

“Really?” he asked, glad his mother had finally given up thinking and begun talking.

“The Lois Bell that he knew—the one married to his friend Jack—was deathly afraid of horses, and wasn’t athletic. The one here went riding three to four times a week and was a tennis and golf ace. It didn’t make any sense to him.” Pastor was glad to get it off her chest, even though she was usually the one leading others to talk.

“Seriously? What about her looks?” her son asked.

“I know I taught you to speak better than this, young man. SERIOUSLY?” Pastor shook her head. “I can’t even understand what
seriously
means. Do you mean, am I telling you the truth, am I telling you something that you find ridiculous? What do you mean?”

“Sorry Mom, it’s how I talk now.” Andy replied. “I mean, I can’t believe you spoke to him and found that out before he took off. What if he had been the one to kill her? I don’t like the idea of you on your own, Mom. When I asked about her looks, I meant, had she changed significantly, or did she still have the same height, stature, face, you know.”