Free Uncommon Grounds by Sandra Balzo

idea was taking root in Brookhills. “I understand Patricia was very active at Christ Christian,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll miss her terribly.”
    “She’s been a tireless worker for God. We’ve been so lucky to have her—organizing fund-raisers, teaching Sunday School, chairing the Education Committee. Though in the last few months, she had resigned a number of her posts with the church, she remained faithful in her attendance.”
    “I suppose with the store and the town election, something had to give.”
    I had said it a little off-handedly for Langdon’s taste. Behind his thick glasses, he winced. “Perhaps. Blessedly, though, David has always been a tower of strength. He’s financial secretary for the congregation, as well as head of our Men’s Bible Study. I only wish he would let us provide comfort to him now in his time of grief.” He shook his head dejectedly. “He seems to be avoiding me.”
    I pictured Langdon, Bible in hand, chasing down poor David in order to comfort him.
    “We all find solace in our own way, Pastor.” 1 Maggy, Verse Trite.
    Langdon raised a bony finger as a thought struck. “I must remember to call Sarah Kingston. Sarah doesn’t speak about her emotions, but she must be suffering greatly.”
    Sarah, Patricia’s campaign manager.
    Sarah was a no-nonsense type. So much so, that I’d wondered at the friendship between the two women: Patricia, the consummate suburban matron. Sarah—blunt, outspoken and, if you could believe it in Brookhills, absolutely no fashion sense.
    A thought struck me now. Maybe Sarah would give me the lowdown on Patricia. Why hadn’t I thought of her myself?
    But first I had to deflect Langdon, so I could get to her first. “I’m not sure if it’s my place to tell you, Langdon,” I started, “but Kate McNamara was very agitated the last time I saw her.” It was true. She’d nearly tackled me in the Town Hall parking lot.
    “Really?” Langdon said thoughtfully. “Kate isn’t a member of our congregation, but perhaps I should stop by The Observer when we’re done here.”
    “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said. “Good to see you, Langdon. Henry.” I smiled at both of them and then smiled my way right through the cash register line and all the way out the door.
    I love helping people.

Chapter Seven
    Sarah Kingston’s office was across the street from Town Hall. She was on the phone and waved me to the visitor’s chair. “No, I won’t present an offer like that, Evan. My client won’t entertain it, that house is worth three-fifty if it’s worth a dime. Don’t waste my time with this lowball shit.” Slam.
    She turned to me. “Can you believe that? Beautiful house on Cardinal Lane, priced right, and they offer twenty-five percent below asking. It’s a goddamn insult.”
    Sarah was a real estate agent. With her baggy jackets, pleated trousers, sensible shoes and blunt manner, she neither looked nor acted like a member of the Whatever Million-Dollar Sales Club, at least in a town like Brookhills. But she had been, for more years than I could remember.
    “By law, don’t you have to present any offer you receive?” I asked.
    She snickered. “Yes, and when I do receive that offer from Evan, it will be twenty thousand dollars higher than if we hadn’t talked. Now what do you want?”
    Like I said, blunt. I decided to be equally blunt and to appeal to the business instincts of a woman who had made it on her own.
    “Listen, I know Patricia was your friend and I’m sure you want to find out how she died as much as we do.”
    “The morning paper suggests that you had something to do with it,” she said, pursing her lips.
    “I didn’t,” I said flatly. “And neither did Caron.”
    “Then what happened?”
    “I don’t know, and neither does the sheriff, obviously. Gary, who might have a chance at figuring it out since he at least knows the people around here, has been taken off the case.”
    “So that leaves you? The