“You were talking about Dylan,” Sam said.
Sofia made a dismissive gesture.“I don’t really know anything about it.Like I said, I wasn’t here.But I know he was really crushed by Margaret’s reaction to his poetry.He mentioned quitting the club.I was glad he stuck around.”
Sam circled back to something that had been bothering her.“You said Margaret made you feel stupid for suggesting lighter reading?It sounds like she did that often?Made people feel small?”
Sofia’s hands stilled on the milk pitcher she’d been wiping.For just a moment, her carefully neutral expression cracked.
“She did it her whole life.”The words came out sharp, almost bitter.Then, Sofia seemed to catch herself, softening her tone.“I mean, from what I heard.From the other members.That Margaret was always that way.”
“You’ve heard stories about her from before the book club?”asked Sam.
“Just ...you know.It’s a small town.People talk.Charlotte mentioned Margaret had been teaching for like thirty years.That’s a lot of students who probably have stories.”
“Did you know her from before?”asked Sam.“From the university, maybe?Before she retired?”
“No.”The answer was quick, defensive.Sofia busied herself with rearranging the cup lids that didn’t need rearranging.“I didn’t know her.But I’ve known people like her.Professors who think tearing other people down is the same as teaching.”
Then the door opened as another customer walked in, and Sofia’s professional mask slid back into place.Sam turned to see that the customer was Chief Hawkins.He spotted Sam immediately.“Ms.Prescott.You’re everywhere, aren’t you?”
“Just getting coffee.”
“Uh-huh.Just try to leave some investigating for the actual police.”In his voice was a weary acceptance.
Before she could answer, Hawkins was chatting with Sofia.Sam decided this might be the perfect opportunity to ask him a few questions.But not in front of Sofia.She quietly finished her coffee, waved to the barista, then left to sit at a table outside the coffeehouse to wait for her quarry.
Hawkins followed a few minutes later with his coffee in hand.
“So,” he said, taking a sip.“Sofia Smith.What did you learn?”
“Like I said, I was just visiting with her.She’s a member of my book club, after all.I’m trying to get to know everyone.”
“Right.”Hawkins waited.
Sam sighed.“I didn’t learn much.She said she barely knew Margaret because Sofia’s a new member.She left when everyone else did and went back home to work on a grad school project.”
“Which matches what she told us,” said Hawkins.
Sam hesitated.There was something off with Sofia, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.“She seemed really stressed out.That could just be school, work, and the fact she’s now caught up in an investigation.”She paused.“Which I’m assuming is a murder inquiry.”
Hawkins frowned at her.“What makes you assume that?”
“The fact you’re pressing me on what I heard from Sofia.”
Hawkins sighed.“Margaret’s death was suspicious.You were right about that.”
“Was it poisoned?The coffee, I mean?”
He nodded.“That’s right.Although I’m still curious how you came to that conclusion.You’re sure you didn’t know Margaret Brennan?”
“Not at all.I hadn’t met her before book club.Our paths hadn’t crossed whatsoever.”
“Kind of odd in a small town,” said Hawkins.He took another sip of coffee.“Look, I know I can’t stop you from asking questions around town.But when you learn something relevant, I need to know.This isn’t a game.And you could get hurt.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”His voice was gentle but firm.“Because somebody killed Margaret Brennan, and killers don’t appreciate amateur detectives getting too close to the truth.”
“I’m careful.”
