Read Online A Spoonful of Murder by Connie Archer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Connie Archer
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anyone’s eyes.
Jack stepped around them to block their path. “Nate, what’s this all about?”
“Jack, I’m sorry. Please step aside. There’s just nothing I can tell you at this point.” With no word of explanation, the three men exited through the front door of the Spoonful. Once outside, Bradley held open the back door of the cruiser and waited while Sage climbed in. Nate returned to the passenger seat and Bradley climbed in behind the steering wheel.
Janie and Meg pressed up against the frosty window watching as the cruiser drove away. Lucky reached for Jack’s hand. He squeezed it to acknowledge her. No one had spoken a word. The girls turned to Lucky as if she could explain what had just happened, but she was as stunned as they were.
“Oh God, it’s all my fault,” Meg wailed and burst into tears.
“What are you talking about?” Lucky asked. Jack stared at the young girl in complete confusion.
“It’s all my fault!” Meg cried again.
“Come sit down and tell me what you’re talking about.” Lucky caught Jack’s eye and made a slight gesture to indicate this would be girl talk and he should make himself invisible. Janie threw an arm around Meg and led her back to the counter. She pushed her gently down onto a stool and sat next to her. Jack returned to his newspaper at a corner table, discreetly feigning a lack of interest in their conversation.
They had Lucky’s full attention. Janie spoke first. “The other night…we left with Sage.”
“Yes, I remember,” Lucky replied.
Janie reached out and put her hand protectively over Meg’s. Meg was trying hard to regain control. “…Sage said he had to come back to the Spoonful. He had forgotten his keys.”
Meg took a deep breath and stifled another sob. “He doesn’t know it, but we followed him.” Lucky nodded sympathetically and waited for Meg to spill out the rest of her story. Meg looked up, her face stained with tears. “Lucky, he was lying, because he didn’t go back inside the Spoonful. He hung around outside, like he was waiting for someone.”
“What night was this? The night of the storm?”
“No. A few nights before. I’m not sure exactly. It was the night you were working in the office.”
“Did you see him meet anyone?”
“No. We waited as long as we could. We didn’t want him to know we had followed him, but nobody else turned up.”
“That’s hardly incriminating. I’m sure Nate wouldn’t jump to any conclusions based on that.”
“That’s not all,” Janie offered. “The night we closed early—the night of the storm—I usually give Meg a ride home—but instead we parked down the street and waited for Sage to leave.”
Lucky marveled at the craftiness of young love. “Did you hope to talk to him and hang out?” Meg nodded sheepishly, her face bright red. “What happened then?”
“We saw him come out to Broadway. He started walking away from us toward Maple,” Janie responded.
“I’m sure he was just walking home. He only lives a few blocks away.”
“Maybe he was, but then a red Jeep passed by and pulled up next to him. The driver must have called out to him, because Sage stopped and looked at the car. First, we thought somebody was asking him directions. But then Sage turned away and started walking faster.”
Meg, more excited than upset now, said, “It was really weird. The red car started up, passed him and pulled over ahead of him. That woman jumped out. She left the car running in the street and got right in his face.”
“You mean Patricia Honeywell?”
“Yes.”
“Really!” Lucky wondered once again what the connection between Sage and the blonde woman could be. There had to be some history. “What did Sage do then?”
“They were kinda far away by then. We started the car and drove real slow to catch up. We wanted to see what was going on, but we were trying not to be obvious. Sage said something to her—we couldn’t hear—and then it looked like her hand
Jack stepped around them to block their path. “Nate, what’s this all about?”
“Jack, I’m sorry. Please step aside. There’s just nothing I can tell you at this point.” With no word of explanation, the three men exited through the front door of the Spoonful. Once outside, Bradley held open the back door of the cruiser and waited while Sage climbed in. Nate returned to the passenger seat and Bradley climbed in behind the steering wheel.
Janie and Meg pressed up against the frosty window watching as the cruiser drove away. Lucky reached for Jack’s hand. He squeezed it to acknowledge her. No one had spoken a word. The girls turned to Lucky as if she could explain what had just happened, but she was as stunned as they were.
“Oh God, it’s all my fault,” Meg wailed and burst into tears.
“What are you talking about?” Lucky asked. Jack stared at the young girl in complete confusion.
“It’s all my fault!” Meg cried again.
“Come sit down and tell me what you’re talking about.” Lucky caught Jack’s eye and made a slight gesture to indicate this would be girl talk and he should make himself invisible. Janie threw an arm around Meg and led her back to the counter. She pushed her gently down onto a stool and sat next to her. Jack returned to his newspaper at a corner table, discreetly feigning a lack of interest in their conversation.
They had Lucky’s full attention. Janie spoke first. “The other night…we left with Sage.”
“Yes, I remember,” Lucky replied.
Janie reached out and put her hand protectively over Meg’s. Meg was trying hard to regain control. “…Sage said he had to come back to the Spoonful. He had forgotten his keys.”
Meg took a deep breath and stifled another sob. “He doesn’t know it, but we followed him.” Lucky nodded sympathetically and waited for Meg to spill out the rest of her story. Meg looked up, her face stained with tears. “Lucky, he was lying, because he didn’t go back inside the Spoonful. He hung around outside, like he was waiting for someone.”
“What night was this? The night of the storm?”
“No. A few nights before. I’m not sure exactly. It was the night you were working in the office.”
“Did you see him meet anyone?”
“No. We waited as long as we could. We didn’t want him to know we had followed him, but nobody else turned up.”
“That’s hardly incriminating. I’m sure Nate wouldn’t jump to any conclusions based on that.”
“That’s not all,” Janie offered. “The night we closed early—the night of the storm—I usually give Meg a ride home—but instead we parked down the street and waited for Sage to leave.”
Lucky marveled at the craftiness of young love. “Did you hope to talk to him and hang out?” Meg nodded sheepishly, her face bright red. “What happened then?”
“We saw him come out to Broadway. He started walking away from us toward Maple,” Janie responded.
“I’m sure he was just walking home. He only lives a few blocks away.”
“Maybe he was, but then a red Jeep passed by and pulled up next to him. The driver must have called out to him, because Sage stopped and looked at the car. First, we thought somebody was asking him directions. But then Sage turned away and started walking faster.”
Meg, more excited than upset now, said, “It was really weird. The red car started up, passed him and pulled over ahead of him. That woman jumped out. She left the car running in the street and got right in his face.”
“You mean Patricia Honeywell?”
“Yes.”
“Really!” Lucky wondered once again what the connection between Sage and the blonde woman could be. There had to be some history. “What did Sage do then?”
“They were kinda far away by then. We started the car and drove real slow to catch up. We wanted to see what was going on, but we were trying not to be obvious. Sage said something to her—we couldn’t hear—and then it looked like her hand
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