Free Lemon Tart by Josi S. Kilpack Page A

work, come home, taken care of
her son—and then everything changed.
    Sadie saw the books on the kitchen table and she had an idea.
She cleared her throat. “There is a note on the fridge about Anne’s library
books being due,” Sadie said, keeping to herself that they weren’t due for
another week. “I was planning to head over there later—could I
possibly return them for her?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    She and Detective Cunningham both turned at the sound of
Detective Madsen’s voice again. He was back in the kitchen, his hands on his
hips and his jaw tight. “It is completely inappropriate for her to be in here
and she will not remove any items from the premises.”
    Detective Cunningham turned on his partner in an instant. “Get
out of here, Madsen,” he said like a frustrated parent. “I asked Mrs.
Hoffmiller to come here and she’s been a great deal of help. You, on the other
hand, are being a royal pain in the butt. Shut up and let me do my job.”
    Sadie nodded sharply in agreement. Cunningham didn’t notice,
but Madsen did. His neck turned red, and he took two huge steps forward,
suddenly inches away from Detective Cunningham. The younger man may have been
taller, but Detective Cunningham’s presence was much more imposing. Sadie took
a step away from the confrontation and looked at the front door—should
she make a run for it? Would Detective Madsen shoot her if she tried?
    “If you’d just do your job, I wouldn’t have to babysit you,”
Detective Madsen said.
    Detective Cunningham gave a rueful laugh, but in the next
instant his hand shot out, grabbing and twisting Madsen’s tie as he pulled him
closer. Madsen tried hard to hide his fear, but his Adam’s apple bobbed as he
swallowed and his tuft of chin hair trembled.
    “I’ve been doing my job since you were in diapers, Madsen. The
silver spoon in your mouth might give you the feeling of superiority, but that
is nothing compared to instinct and gut reactions. Mrs. Hoffmiller isn’t going
to return the library books—nothing is being removed from the
crime scene. However, I am
going to escort her home and thank her for the help she’s been, and you’re
going to go outside and work very hard to stay out of my way until you have to
leave for that hearing.”
    He let go of Madsen, who stumbled backward until his back hit
the kitchen counter, knocking Sadie’s smiley-face key ring from the
counter to the floor in the process. It skittered across the linoleum, coming
to a stop as everyone in the room went silent again. Sadie stared at the
keys—her keys—and nearly leaned down to pick
them up while every set of eyes watched Madsen straighten up and try to smooth
the wrinkles out of his shirt. Sadie noticed that many of the people in the
room seemed to be trying hard to conceal a smile at witnessing Madsen’s
comeuppance. Clearly, most people felt toward Detective Madsen the same way
Detective Cunningham did. She looked back at the keys on the floor.
    “I’m calling the captain,” Madsen said loudly, turning on his
heel and storming toward the back door.
    “And your daddy, I suppose,” Detective Cunningham said back,
his tone lowered to a normal range which made Madsen’s echoes seem even louder
and more out of place.
    Daddy? Sadie
wondered. She’d give her entire Seinfeld
DVD collection to know what that
meant.
    Detective Madsen scowled over his shoulder, and saw the key
ring. He bent and picked it up—shoving it deep in his pocket
while Detective Cunningham turned to look at Sadie, a polite smile on his face
and an odd light in his eyes, as if his moment with Madsen was terribly
fulfilling to him. “I’ll walk you home,” he said, indicating for her to lead
the way.
    “Uh, could I get my keys back from Detective Madsen first?” she
asked, feigning meekness. She was pretty sure they had no grounds to keep her
keys and the truth was she wanted to get her own dig in while she had the
chance.
    “What?” Detective Madsen