Free Lemon Tart by Josi S. Kilpack Page B

yelled, turning sharply, his hand on
the back door.
    “My keys,” she said. “The key ring you’ve got in your pocket
belongs to me.”
    He shook his head as if annoyed and pulled the door open. “It’s
part of the investigation,” he said in his demeaning tone.
    “I’ve been entrusted with the keys to the homes of my
neighbors,” she said, emboldened by his pompous attitude. She’d have put her
hands on her hips if not for the magnet incident. “You can’t just take them
away from me.” She kept her voice calm and looked at Cunningham. “He can’t keep
the keys to other homes, can he? I mean, what do I tell the neighbors? They’ll
never trust me again, and the only reason I gave them to the police in the
first place was because I was trying to do anything I could to help out.” She turned
back to glare at Madsen with her best angry-teacher expression. “If
I’d have known that—”
    “Fine, but we keep the key to this house,” Detective Madsen
said as he stomped over to her and pulled out the ring, fumbling through the
keys as if he knew which was which.
    “Of course,” Sadie said as if she’d never considered otherwise.
“Anne’s is the one with the red heart sticker on it,” she offered helpfully,
even though that particular key fit the lock to Jack and Carrie’s house. She
refused to analyze herself enough to figure out why she was lying to an officer
of the law. But she knew why. Suppose she needed to get in Anne’s house,
suppose they continued to treat her like a suspect and she had to prove her own
innocence. Plus, Detective Madsen hadn’t been very nice and tricking him made
her feel better. All was not chocolate sprinkles with Sadie Hoffmiller, but
they didn’t need to know that.
    It took several seconds for Detective Madsen to extract the
key, which he promptly pocketed before handing Sadie the supposedly
Anne-free key ring and storming toward the door again. All of which
he did with plenty of dramatic flair, though it fell completely flat.
    Sadie nodded at Detective Cunningham, indicating she was ready
to leave. He kept his expression blank but his eyes danced. He’d liked her
little game with Detective Madsen. They didn’t say anything until they reached
the sidewalk. Two police cars were parked by the entrance to the
cul-de-sac, presumably to monitor the people driving in.
    “Can you tell me about your neighbors as we walk?” Detective
Cunningham asked. He started walking, and Sadie fell in step next to him.
Instead of cutting across the cul-de-sac like she usually did,
he seemed intent on taking the sidewalk.
    “Sure,” Sadie said with a chipper smile. She loved that she
could help him, and without a doubt she was the right woman for the job of
talking about her neighbors. She indicated Mr. Henry’s house as they crossed
his driveway. “Mr. Henry is in his early sixties. He’s from Canada, with two
ex-wives and four children, but I’ve never met any of them. He’s an
engineer and works at the GM plant. He works a lot, likes to travel when he
can, but keeps to himself.” She leaned in to the detective a little bit. “He’s
got a girlfriend,” she whispered. “And he goes to her house every Friday for
dinner. A woman in my yoga class lives just down the road from her. She and I
both think it would be a good match. He’s lonely.”
    Cunningham smiled, though she couldn’t tell if it was polite or
sincere, but no matter. She really did hope Mr. Henry married again. It would
be wonderful to have another woman in the neighborhood. She paused until they
passed Mr. Henry’s property and entered the stretch of sidewalk in front of the
Baileys’ house. “The Baileys have five children ages seven to sixteen. Steve
manages a sporting goods store and Mindy’s a medical assistant in a
dermatologist’s office. Steve’s from California, but Mindy is from here. They
met in college and lived in Sacramento for a few years before she demanded he
find a job where she could be