Chapter Three
Charlotte gave a cry of dismay as Sam rushed forward to look for a pulse. Finding none, she said, “Charlotte, you’ll need to call the police.”
Charlotte, white-faced, gave a quick bob of her head as she fumbled to get her phone out of her pocket.
Sam stepped away from the professor’s body, her gaze scanning the scene.
When she’d checked for a pulse, she had seen no signs of trauma on Margaret.
And she hadn’t seen marks from a ligature around her throat.
Had Margaret suffered a heart attack or stroke?
She wasn’t a young woman. Sam looked again at the coffee cup next to Margaret.
Had someone tampered with her drink last night?
“They’re on their way,” said Charlotte, sounding a little breathless.
“Let’s move outside the building,” said Sam. “The police may want us out of here.”
Charlotte silently nodded as they walked toward the exit. She turned the sign to ‘closed’ as they left.
Sam gave her friend a quick hug. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Not really,” said Charlotte in a trembling voice. “Margaret must have been in there all night, Sam. I just feel sick over it.”
“You didn’t know she was there. You must have assumed everyone had left when you locked up.”
Charlotte took a steadying breath. “For sure. I was just busy checking folks out at the register and straightening up before I left the building.”
“And you didn’t check the back room again. Why would you?”
Charlotte said, “That’s right. The light switch for that room is in the main room.
Everyone is always really good about cleaning up after themselves, so I figured I’d just tidy the room this morning, if it even needed it at all.
” She said in a whisper, “I never dreamed Margaret would still be in there. Do you think she had a heart attack? Could she have been dying in there while the rest of us were in the other room?” Charlotte had a horrified expression on her face.
“I’m not sure. But the police will get to the bottom of it.”
A sedan drove to the front of the store. The police chief, Harold Hawkins, quickly got out. He was in his late-fifties, with a stocky build.
“Ms. Prescott. Of course you’re here,” he said.
Sam had the feeling Chief Hawkins thought she had an uncanny ability to be around when crimes occurred. It was a trait that didn’t appear to endear her to him, although she thought they’d reached something of a detente during the last investigation she was part of. “Chief Hawkins,” she said.
Charlotte said, “She’s in the back room of the store.”
They watched silently as he swiftly strode into Twice-Told Tales. A few minutes later, he came back outside, wearing a grim expression. He reached into his car, pulling out crime scene tape. Charlotte looked even more worried than she had before as he strung it up outside her store.
After securing the scene, the chief stepped away to make a couple of phone calls. Then he joined them again, eyes serious. “Do you know who the woman is?”
Charlotte nodded miserably. “It’s Dr. Margaret Brennan. She’s a retired professor.”
Hawkins had taken out a small notebook and pencil. He carefully jotted this information down before asking, “And how long as she been in the shop?”
Charlotte took another deep breath. “Overnight.”
Hawkins raised his eyebrows at this as he made a note of this. “Can you explain that a little further?”
That was when Charlotte burst into tears. Sam reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of tissues, gently putting it into her friend’s hand.
The chief was now looking at Sam somewhat impatiently.
Sam said, “Charlotte hosted the monthly book club meeting in the shop’s back room last night.
The professor was one of the members. Obviously, we all thought she’d left, but she hadn’t.
Charlotte locked up and went home without realizing anyone was still in the store. ”
Another police car pulled up, and Officer Martinez, an officer in her early 30s wearing a crisp uniform, joined them.
The chief looked glad to see her. He said, “Martinez, could you speak with Charlotte Webb? Maybe get her a cup of coffee from the shop down the street? Actually, if the shop is quiet enough, that might be a better place to get a statement.”
Martinez gently took Charlotte by the arm and led her off, still quietly sobbing, toward the coffeehouse.
Hawkins turned back toward Sam. “Okay, give me a rundown of what happened last night.”
Sam cleared her throat. “I’m guessing this is a suspicious death.”
“Until we know otherwise, I’m treating it that way. The medical examiner and the crime scene techs are on their way. I’ll need to contact the state police, too. Now, the rundown?”
Sam said slowly, “It was my first time at the book club, so everything was new to me.”
Hawkins gave her a wry look. “I have the feeling you went home and took notes.”
Sam didn’t answer this because it was true, and she didn’t want to become a cliché. “Charlotte hosts the club in the back room of the store. We had tea to kind of set the vibe coming in. Except for Margaret Brennan.”
“What did she drink?” asked the chief.
“Coffee.”
“This was at night, though?” Hawkins frowned.
“That’s right. Seven-thirty. Maybe Margaret was used to consuming caffeine at night. Anyway, she had a different drink from everyone else, so it would definitely have been easy to identify it, if someone was wanting to poison her.”
Hawkins raised his eyebrows. “You seem pretty positive about that poison.”
“It’s just a guess. She could have had some sort of major medical event, of course. I’m just covering the bases.”
“What makes you think it could have been a homicide?” asked Hawkins.
Sam said slowly, “There seemed like there was a lot of tension between Margaret and the other club members. A lot of pent-up hostility.”
“That’s a pretty strong statement.”
Sam nodded. “But it’s true. I’d never met Margaret before last night, but I could tell she was the kind of person who didn’t hold back. She said exactly what was on her mind with no regard for anybody’s feelings.”
“Whose feelings did you think she might have hurt? And give me an overview of the people who attended last night, in the process.”
Fortunately, Sam had taken those notes that Hawkins had been so derisive about. So she could easily recite who was there. Sometimes, being Type-A was useful.
“Claire Mills is the club president. She’s very chipper and eager to expand the club. Gerald Parker was there; he’s the treasurer. Sofia Smith, a grad student. Dylan Morrison, a poet. And a retired librarian named Pamela Cross.”
“No one else?”
Sam said, “Well, Olivia was there. And Charlotte.”
Hawkins said, “Olivia Stanton?”
“That’s right.” Sam was reluctant to even confirm Olivia’s presence there. She’d been a suspect before and it didn’t seem quite fair for her to be one again.
Hawkins was carefully making notes as Sam named the members. Giving a bob of his head, he said, “And you felt that tension coming from everybody?”
“That’s right. The air was thick with it. I thought maybe it was because I was there as a new member and everyone wanted to make a good impression.”
“But Margaret Brennan was less concerned about that?” asked Hawkins.
“Correct. She slammed the book they’d read. And she argued over the next selection the club was choosing.”
Hawkins nodded. “What was her manner like when she was doing this? In other words, was she just straightforward with her criticism and other statements?”
“Honestly, it seemed more mean-spirited. I can’t imagine how she must have been in the classroom.”
Hawkins raised his eyebrows. “She taught kids?”
“College students. But I bet she must have cowed everybody in her classroom. Anyway, the point was that she seemed like a tough, straight-shooting person. That doesn’t mean she was murdered, of course. It just means that I wouldn’t be shocked to discover she’d gotten on someone’s bad side.”
Hawkins nodded. “Okay. Did you actually see anyone tampering with her coffee cup?”
“No. But I wasn’t expecting her to die, of course. In general, it was the kind of environment where someone could have easily tampered with her cup. There was lots of milling around and chit-chatting before Charlotte called the meeting to order.”
Hawkins said, “Tell me what happened following the meeting.”
Sam shrugged. “We adjourned. People were paying Charlotte for the next month’s selection. We put our folding chairs away and brought our teacups in the main room of the bookshop. People were still talking with each other when Olivia and I walked out together.”
“And no one noticed Margaret Brennan was left behind?”
Sam said, “No. Charlotte said she assumed everyone had left by the time she was closing up the shop.”
“It seems like she’d have noticed her in there when she was turning off the lights for the night.”
Sam shook her head. “No. The light switch for that room is on the wall leading into it. It’s in the main bookshop area.”
“Okay.” Hawkins made another note, then tapped his pencil on the notepad. “I may need to get in touch with you again for more information.”
“Not a problem.” Sam looked down the street and saw a much calmer-looking Charlotte leaving the coffeehouse with Martinez in tow.
Charlotte walked up to Sam as Martinez and Hawkins went into the shop. “I don’t even know what to say about all this.”
“It sounds like you won’t have your shop back for a while. Would you like to come over to my house? Or do you feel more like resting at your own?”
Charlotte considered this before saying slowly, “You know, I think I want to talk this over a little bit. That might be better than me running it all through my head by myself. Do you mind?”
“Are you kidding? I live to entertain,” said Sam, totally truthfully. “Would you like me to drive you? I can drive you back later to get your car.”
“No, I’m good to drive. I’ll meet you at your place.”