Tempest In The Tea Leaves Part 5

"Oh, h.e.l.l no. Not partners. Never forget I'm in charge. You're just my a.s.sistant." Detective Stone headed for the door. "Come on, Tink, we've got a case to solve."

"Whatever," I said, having no choice but to tag along behind the man in charge. "And quit calling me Tink."

"You should talk. Grumpy Pants? That's so childish."

"Oh, that's rich coming from a man who gave me a fairy-tale nickname. You started it."

"This ought to be good," the captain's words trailed us out the door, "if you don't kill each other first."

Look out, Divinity, because murder number two was just around the corner. Who needed digoxin? I was so ready to kill my new "partner" with my bare hands and not give a hoot.

"I'll ask the questions, got it?" Detective Stone shot me yet another warning look, and I just fluttered my lashes at him as we left the car at the curb.

I didn't want to be there any more than he did, but he didn't have to make the situation unbearable. He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat and clenched and unclenched his fists several times before focusing on the door of the librarian's neighbor. After taking a few deep breaths, he rapped three times with the back of his knuckles.

"Who is it?" asked a shaky voice from the other side of the door.

"It's Detective Stone, ma'am. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

A pause filled the s.p.a.ce, followed by, "We . . . ?"

"My-"

"Partner, Sunshine Meadows," I interjected as the door opened a crack. I held out my hand, not daring to glance at the detective, who I knew must be fuming, but I didn't care what he said. His captain had made me his partner-temporary or unofficial, it didn't matter.

He would have to deal with it.

The tiny woman with caramel-colored skin, a wobbly smile, and big red-rimmed eyes looked us over carefully and then opened the door fully and shook my hand. "Come in, please."

"Thank you," the detective said, nodding once, then stepping all businesslike past me into the room.

I shook my head, giving her a look that said, Men! Enough said. I reached into my enormous, over-the-shoulder tote bag and fished out a tissue. "You're very kind, Miss Hanes. I know how hard this must be after losing someone so close to you."

She pressed her lips together, dabbed at her eyes, her lips wobbling a bit. "Thank you, Detective Meadows, for understanding. And please, call me Carolyn." She shot a disapproving look at Detective Stone as she closed the door and joined us in her living room.

"She's not a detective," he said, clearing his throat and not quite meeting her eyes as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. "It's warm in here." He frowned at the crackling flames in the fireplace.

She let out a little hmph and ignored him. "What shall I call you, then?" She sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside her.

"Just Sunny." I joined her on the checkered sofa next to the tall bookshelf. A whiff of spiced apple drifted to my nose from the candle burning on the end table nearby.

"Well, aren't you ever. The name suits you."

"Thanks." Warmth oozed over my insides, bringing a smile to my lips. "I try."

A snort came from the detective's vicinity, but he didn't say anything. Just took the matching chair catty-corner to us. The warmth I'd felt a moment ago cooled to match the temperature outside. Moments like these were all I needed to remind me why my vision had to be off. We were so wrong for each other. The insensitive oaf pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and opened his mouth to speak.

"Would you care for some tea?" Miss Hanes asked.

"No, thank you," the detective said.

"Yes, that would be lovely," I said simultaneously.

Our eyes locked, and I gave him a nasty look. I knew he hated tea; however, Miss Hanes was obviously as reclusive as the librarian had been. They were neighbors and reported to be best friends. It was apparent she was lonely and craving human contact. Either he wasn't very observant, or he had no patience. I was betting on the latter.

The detective closed his notebook, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sat back with a polite smile for Miss Hanes. "Sure thing, ma'am. That would be, what was it again . . . oh yeah, lovely."

She beamed and hustled off to the kitchen to brew the tea.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" I whispered.

His smile faded. "We don't have time for tea."

"I suggest you make time, or you won't be getting any answers out of her, just plenty more tears." I brushed an imaginary piece of lint off my pants, but even through my peripheral vision, I saw his face pale at the word "tears."

"Fine, we'll play it your way, but like I said . . . I'll ask the questions. We clear?"

"There's nothing like a spot of tea to lift one's spirits, don't you agree?" Miss Hanes said, carrying in a large tray and setting it on the coffee table in front of us.

"Absolutely." I reached for my cup and took a sip. "It's delicious." I leaned forward. "Would be even lovelier with a dash of whiskey. Coffee isn't the only thing that the strong stuff is good for. If you have any handy, that is." I winked, not letting on that I'd already seen the bottle on the counter through the open kitchen door when we first came in.

Her eyes brightened. "A woman after my own heart. I'll get the bottle." She jumped up, moving faster than I had thought possible.

"Are you crazy?" the detective hissed when she was out of earshot.

"You might be on duty, but I'm not a detective, remember ?" I smirked. "And after that whiskey, I'll bet her spirits will definitely be lifted . . . and her tongue a little looser."

"You're also not a drinker. Remember that, Tink."

"You're such a worrywart." I waved him off. "I know what I'm doing, Spanky."

"Somehow I doubt that." He tossed up his hands and sat back with a slight shake of his head.

Miss Hanes beamed as she waltzed through the door, looking as though she'd downed a shot already. "Care for a pick-me-up, Detective?"

"I'm good. The, uh, tea hit the spot." He rubbed his stomach.

Miss Hanes shrugged and then poured a generous dollop in her own tea as well as mine. As she turned around to place the bottle of whiskey on the table behind her, I dumped half my tea into the nearest potted plant, then took a tentative sip. My eyes nearly crossed as she sat down beside me. Wowzer, that certainly was a generous "dollop." Poor plant would either giddyup and grow, or it would join its roots six feet under by sundown.

I set my cup down. "Speaking of tea, I didn't know Ms. Robbins well, but I do remember she seemed to like a good cup of the fine brew."

Miss Hanes's face lost a bit of color, but there were no tears. "Amanda loved tea. It had a wonderful calming effect on her."

Detective Stone perked up, set his barely touched cup down, and pulled his notebook back out. "Was something troubling Ms. Robbins?"

"A lot of things were troubling her. This year's library budget, the staff she had to let go, her love life . . . She was a very private, complicated woman, but she was my friend." Miss Hanes downed the rest of her tea without so much as a grimace.

"Was there anything specific she mentioned recently?" Detective Stone asked.

"Well, she did say she felt like someone was stalking her at night. She would hear sounds right outside her bedroom window, but there was never anyone there whenever she looked."

"Aha!" I shouted, and the poor woman fell right off the couch. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." I helped her up and patted her hand, then looked at Mitch. "The footsteps outside her window. Someone was there that night. I told you."

"But the footsteps belonged to a woman," Mitch clarified. "Not some guy she was seeing and having issues with."

"Wait a minute. I remember something," Miss Hanes interjected. "The morning Amanda died someone came to visit her. I didn't see who it was, but they argued. I could hear them, and the voice definitely belonged to a woman."

"Did-" Mitch started to ask.

"Oh my gosh, really? What did they say?" I sat on the edge of my seat, ignoring Mitch's blazing eyes.

"Well, I couldn't make out all the words, but I did hear the woman tell Amanda to stay away or she would be sorry."

"Are you-" Mitch tried again.

"Did you hear that, Mitch?" I sputtered, grabbing his arm and shaking it.

He looked down at my hand clutching the sleeve of his sports coat. "It's Detective Stone, and yes, I heard Miss Hanes. Now, if-"

"I can't believe it," I went on, releasing the nowwrinkled fabric. "A real clue." I stood and began to pace. "So maybe those footprints weren't from a witness. Maybe this woman was involved in the murder, because I still believe the murderer is a man. I mean-"

"Tink," Mitch snapped. "The investigation is ongoing," he said calmly, but his eyes screamed, Quit revealing all we know!

"Oh, right. Sorry." I winced.

"That's not all," Miss Hanes added, snagging our attention once more.

"What else-" Mitch started.

"You mean there's more?" I gaped at her and then turned to the detective, excitement forming patterns in my brain like tea leaves across the inside of a cup, helping me decipher the mystery. "There's more, Mitch." I held up a hand before he could correct me. "I mean, Detective Stone."

"Imagine that," he said dryly.

"Well, if you'd stop interrupting, you would have heard the poor woman. Jeesh." I turned to Miss Hanes and rolled my eyes in Mitch's direction. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Only that Amanda was really upset after the woman left, and shortly after that, she went to the doctor's."

"What for?" Detective Stone asked.

"She didn't say. She called me to ask if I would let the staff know she'd be late to the library, and then she hung up."

Detective Stone closed his notebook, slipped it back inside his sports coat, and then stood up. "Thank you for your time, Miss Hanes." He handed her his card. "If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to call day or night."

I thanked the woman and hurried after him, thinking I needed to get some cards of my own. "Where are you going?"

"Home," he said after we had stepped outside into the brisk evening air.

"What about the doctor's office?" I zipped the new puffy coat I'd picked up at a thrift shop, feeling like a marshmallow, but I had to admit I was toasty warm. Except for my ears. I'd have to pick up a hat and mittens on my next shopping trip.

"Doc's office is closed." The detective's sports coat hung wide-open, but he didn't look cold in the least. He looked . . . I swallowed hard and tore my gaze away from his dress shirt pulled tight across his sculpted chest and flat abs. Why again weren't we right for each other? I wondered. "We'll visit him first thing in the morning." Mitch broke into my thoughts, sounding irritated. "In the meantime, I've had enough for one day."

Ah yes, there was the reason we weren't a match, because I'd certainly had enough of his crankiness. I pressed my lips together and didn't say a word.

He opened his car door for me and tipped his head to the side, studying me. "No argument?"

"Nope. I do believe I've given you enough for one day." I nodded, playing along as a plan formed in my mind.

"Why does your comment make my head pound even more?"

"Maybe you should have had the whiskey."

He grunted, got in, and drove me home in silence while I sat back and silently schemed. Doctors might not make house calls these days, but that didn't mean I couldn't.

"Papas?" My mother turned up her nose and eyed the restaurant before us with doubt and suspicion. "Is it any good?"

"It's Greek, Mom. I'm sure it's fabulous," I answered.

"At least we know the portions will be big," my father stated, and opened the door for us.

"Who needs big portions?" My mother smoothed her stiff pencil skirt. "I can't afford to gain an inch in this outfit."

"Well, I'm starving," I said, and my mother pursed her lips at my much roomier, elastic-banded skirt with loads of gauzy material flowing down to my ankles. Mother weighed barely over one hundred pounds and wore a size 2. My healthy size 6 probably horrified her. I smiled.

The people of Divinity had moderately filled Papas Restaurant, but there were plenty of available tables left. The restaurants my parents frequented in the city would have been packed already. I scanned the inside, taking in the marble statues of G.o.dlike men and women, looking for . . . him.

A small smile of satisfaction tipped up the corners of my lips.

"Here's an empty spot right over here by the window." My father started leading the way, but I placed my hand on his arm.

"Wait, Dad. There's someone I want you to meet." I stopped at a table right by the one we were headed to and plastered on my most friendly smile. "Excuse me, Dr. Wilc.o.x, but my name is Sunshine Meadows. You can call me Sunny. I'm new in town, and I've been meaning to introduce myself, but well, my life has been rather chaotic lately."

He was a decent-looking guy, sandy blond hair parted on the side, clean shaven, with a lean, average build. At the mention of my name, his green eyes widened for a second, but then he blinked and donned a pleasant expression, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"Ah, yes, I've heard about you," he said. "You're that fortune-teller from the city who bought the old Victorian down at the end of Shadow Lane, aren't you?"

"That would be me. It's nice to finally meet you." I held out my hand.

"Likewise." He shook my hand, looking at me curiously.

My mother sniffed sharply, implying a dual meaning with that one simple gesture: (1) I had the right to remain silent, and therefore I should when referring to my recent "troubles," and (2) I was being rude by not introducing them promptly.

"Forgive my manners, Doctor. These are my parents, Vivian and Donald Meadows. They're visiting for a little while."

"Doctor Donald Meadows." Dad shot me a frown and then shook Dr. Wilc.o.x's hand.

Dr. Wilc.o.x got to his feet. "The Dr. Meadows, as in world-renowned cardiologist?"

My father puffed up his chest. "One and the same. What is it you specialize in?"