One Cuppa Brew: Book 1 in The Thyme for Tea Series by J. Louise Powell Page B

friend had recently died in a car accident. A few more questions and she would find out more. Newcomers to the Osprey Creek tennis community were always discussed at book club on Thursday night, which was about 7 hours from now.

CHAPTER TWO
    Pastor stepped into her condo on the beach, closed the door with a little sigh, and kicked off her shoes in the same step. She was glad her yoga routine kept her flexible. Yes, she might carry some weight around the middle, like many of her age, and especially, her former profession, but she didn’t suffer from the lack of mobility she had watched take hold of many of her peers. She was heading for the balcony to enjoy a few quiet moments listening to the Gulf’s waves, when her phone began ringing in her purse. Puzzled, she turned around, unable to imagine why anyone would call at this hour with anything other than bad news. Years of being always on-call made her fear the phone, she realized.
    Picking up her phone, she was surprised to see William’s name on the caller ID. She answered, the remembered cheerful church voice returning to her easily. “Why, hello again, William. How are you?”
    “Not doing so well here, Pastor. I know it’s late, but would you mind if I stopped in quickly?” William asked, sounding shaken.
    “Of course, the address is….” Pastor began.
    “No need, I’m outside.” William said and hung up. As Pastor stared at the phone, she heard a determined knock at the door. She let in an unusually discombobulated William. “I am so sorry to come at this hour, and in this shape,” William began, “But your book club just went on and on and on, and I didn’t want to be seen, so I thought I would stop here on my way out of town.”
    “What do you mean ‘on your way out of town’? What’s going on?” Pastor asked.
    “You heard a lot of crazy stuff during your years as a minister, right? Strange questions, confessions, guilt, all of that, right?” William asked.
    She nodded. “Of course. All kinds of things. Not much about the human race surprises me. It saddens me, but it doesn’t surprise me. I only want good surprises from now on.” Pastor stopped speaking as she realized she was rambling. William was always the cool, calm, collected one. “You never answered me, what IS GOING ON?” she asked again.
    “I didn’t do it, Pastor, but I know things are going to look like I did. I doubt I could have planted evidence as well as this has been set up. By tomorrow morning they’ll probably interview you. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Lois Bell.”
    “Who’s Lois Bell?” Pastor started to ask. “Oh, you mean your friend Jack’s widow? Well of course you didn’t kill her, unless you gave her fatal heatstroke by making her run all over the tennis court today.”
    “No heatstroke. Right now, she’s busy being dead outside my condo.” William answered her.
    “But how? Why? Oh, I found out more about her at book club. I was waiting to tell you tomorrow morning. If you were set up, we can prove you were innocent. Why don’t you turn yourself in, William?” Pastor hated knowing she might be aiding a fugitive, but she also had been around long enough to know when someone was trying to pull the wool over her eyes. William and sincere were almost synonyms. Though she supposed that if he had been a spy, he must have been very good at lying. “You are telling me the truth, aren’t you? I mean, I hate to ask, but you’re right. If I can suspect you, locals won’t look anywhere else. Oh, I wish Andy were here.”
    “Andy?” William asked her, thinking she must be talking about her dead husband for a moment. He must have really upset her if she couldn’t handle being alone with him. This was never his intention. But her husband had been named Charles, and gone by Chuck, according to his research. Andrew was her late father-in-law, who had outlived his son. Andrew Potts was a name well known in the area, having been one of the original