Lemon Tart by Josi S. Kilpack Page A

given it
to him later, but he brought out the worst in her and made her act like the
Sadie who once hid her dad’s golf clubs because he wouldn’t let her go to a
party after a high school football game. He never did find out she was the one
who put them behind the water heater and made him miss his tee time.
Passive-aggressive was likely the technical term, but Sadie thought
of it as quiet justice. Madsen took the card and then held her eyes. She didn’t
flinch.
    “Can I expect you to stay out of this now?” he asked in what
she supposed was a professional
tone but was actually a ten on the offensive scale.
    “Does Detective Cunningham know you’re here, pulling me into an
unmarked car and threatening me?”
    The pink on Madsen’s neck inched its way up. He said
nothing.
    Sadie nodded sharply. “That’s what I thought. Will you please
let me out, or should I start screaming for help?”
    He let out a long breath and finally opened his door. He slid
out and she stepped out a moment later, not looking at him or allowing him any
parting comments. Her car was only a few spaces away, and once inside, she
waited until Madsen had pulled out of the parking lot. Then she reached under
her seat to retrieve her local phone book. She always kept last year’s edition
in her car for reference while running errands.
    It took less than a minute to find Attorney Gimes’s address.
She smiled to herself and shifted into drive.

Chapter 11

    Sadie pushed
through the glass doors and approached the reception desk. She cleared her
throat. “Hi,” she said to the twenty-something blonde behind the
desk. The desk groaned under the weight of papers and files piled everywhere
and the receptionist was sufficiently frazzled. “I wondered if I could speak
with Susan Gimes,” Sadie asked.
    “Do you have an appointment?” the young woman asked without
looking up from the files in her hands.
    Sadie shook her head. “No.”
    The receptionist looked at her for the first time. “Are you a
client?” she asked and Sadie could have wrung the condescension from her voice
like water from a dishrag.
    “No, but a friend of mine was.”
    The woman’s face hardened even more—apparently
being the friend of a client and having no appointment didn’t count for much.
“I just wanted to talk with Susan Gimes for a minute. I guess I should have
called first.”
    “A call would have been nice,” the receptionist said almost too
quiet to hear. Louder, but with no more enthusiasm, she added, “Have a seat.
I’ll see if she has a minute.”
    “Thank you,” Sadie said. She backed up and sat in one of the
red upholstered chairs in the waiting area. She’d no sooner sat down when her
cell phone rang, causing her to jump.
    Is it Ron?
she wondered, her insides knotting up. She wasn’t ready to talk to him, but a
look at the caller ID showed a number she didn’t recognize. Deciding not to
take the chance, she hit the end button and waited until she heard the chime
indicating a voice message had been left. After dialing her mailbox, she
listened to the message.
    “Mrs. Hoffmiller? This is Jean from the library. After you left
I remembered something else Anne Lemmon left at the library at story time on
Friday. She’d been on the computer and had printed some pages. But her son
started throwing a tantrum and she left without paying for her copies. We put
them aside for her to pick up next time. If you wanted to put them with her
other things, you’re welcome to pick them up—but you’ll need to
pay the fees for them. It’s fifteen cents a page. I’m so sorry for your
loss—let us know if there’s anything we can do. Thanks.”
    Sadie saved the message before closing her voice mail. She
remembered that day because Anne had asked Sadie to watch Trevor while she went
to her job interview that afternoon. Anne had still been frustrated about
Trevor’s tantrum when she dropped him off but Sadie told her she’d done the
right thing, taking him home