Lemon Tart Read Online Free PDF Page A

and wondered what she was missing.
    “She worked at Albertson’s,” Sadie replied slowly, still trying
to pin down the undercurrent in the room but knowing for certain that she did
not like Detective Madsen. “She was a cashier—but she had a job
interview last week and was really excited about it. It was for an office
job—a receptionist or something like that.”
    “Did she hear back on that job?” Detective Cunningham
asked.
    “I don’t think so,” Sadie said with a shake of her head. “I’m
sure she’d have told me if she did. I helped her with Trevor a couple days a
week.”
    Detective Madsen frowned at the answer, but hurried to ask the
next question, cutting off Detective Cunningham, who then shut his mouth and
clenched his jaw. His mashing intensified.
    “And do you know anyone who might have a grudge against Anne?
Her . . . ex-husband or boyfriend? Someone she was afraid
of?” Detective Madsen asked.
    Sadie looked between the two men again as understanding dawned.
I’m not the problem, she
realized—and neither was her applesauce. There was something
going on between the two of them that had started long before this
conversation. She felt herself relax a little, grateful to know she wasn’t the
one to blame for the extra tension in the room.
    “No,” Sadie said, shaking her head and filling another jar with
the rich golden sauce. “Trevor’s dad isn’t part of their lives.” She looked up
at Detective Cunningham. “All I know about him is that he pays her child
support—enough so she could rent the Tilly’s house instead of
an apartment. She doesn’t talk about him, but that’s why she came here—to
start fresh. I think he really broke her heart, if you want the truth of it,
and she needed to find a new life.”
    “But you don’t know his name?” Detective Cunningham asked
almost before she’d finished speaking. He had a deep voice; her father would
have described it as baritone, with a smoothness that surprised her. She
wondered if he was a singer—her church choir was always short
on baritones. Was Detective Cunningham a church-going man?
    “I don’t know anything about him or anyone else in her life
before she came here. She kept her past very private.”
    “Was she dating anyone?” Detective Cunningham asked, sending a
sparring look at his partner.
    Sadie shook her head. “No, she told me she was waiting for Mr.
Right. She seemed more interested in caring for her son and for her home than
in men. But I have to tell you, I wondered if there wasn’t someone.”
    “Who?” Detective Madsen asked, leaning forward as if desperate
for the gossip. She really disliked him.
    “I told you, I don’t know. There were just times when she’d
quickly get off the phone, or ask me to watch Trevor without telling me where
she was going. I didn’t press,” she explained. “It was up to her how much she
told me, and if there was someone in her life, which I’m not certain there
was, she’s entitled to her privacy.” Though now Sadie realized there would be
no such entitlement. The police would dig and dig until they learned everything
they could about her. It seemed so unfair, poking and prodding into her
personal affairs.
    Detective Madsen’s face was hard as he made some notes and then
began asking her about today’s events, anything Sadie had seen and why she’d
run into Anne’s house after being told not to. Saving the lemon tart didn’t
seem to impress him any more than it had impressed Officer Malloy, but
she pretended that the rescue was her only motivation for going inside.
Detective Cunningham kept mashing, allowing Detective Madsen to take the lead
in the interview.
    “What were you doing that kept you at the sink all morning?” Detective Madsen
asked.
    “Making applesauce,” Sadie said with a bit of a chuckle as she
waved her hand over the pans on the stove, the jars, and the bowl of apple
skins ready for the compost pile. Wasn’t it obvious? But Detective