finished eating.”
“I’ll just take it with me,” Sadie said. “There is someone I need to see.”
Sadie took Mr. Bradshaw for a walk in the park with a plastic bag to pick up the results of his morning constitutional. Her bag deposited in the dumpster behind the shop, she drove out to Chomps to talk with Reggie Smith.
It wasn’t until she got out there that she remembered Chomps wasn’t open for breakfast. She took Mr. B down the road to a public beach for a run. She wouldn’t wait around until noon, but they might as well take advantage of the empty beach while they were here.
Sadie let her terrier off his leash and he ran down the beach, chasing waves and the shadows of the gulls on the sand. The breeze was brisk and chased any remaining sleepiness from her head. She remembered she’d seen Reggie Smith’s address when she was at the police station watching him be questioned.
She let Mr. Bradshaw run a while longer and then loaded him back in the car for the ride down the coast to Reggie’s apartment.
It was a little collection of tiny houses in a three-sided square around a patch of lawn. Reggie was sitting outside his little cottage smoking a cigarette when Sadie walked up. He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it as she and Mr. B approached, and stood to greet her.
“You were with the police chief the other day, weren’t you?” he asked. He looked nervous.
“I was,” Sadie agreed. “And you can sit down, I’m not a cop.”
“I wondered,” Reggie said.
“Cops don’t usually travel with tiny dogs.”
He sat down and motioned for her to sit in an identical plastic chair. She sat cautiously, not trusting the chair to be sturdy or steady, but it held.
“This is none of my business,” she said.
“And I’m not here from the police or anything like that, but I feel compelled to give you some advice.” He paled a little and nodded.
“You’ve heard the adage ‘Never speak ill of the dead’?” she asked. He nodded.
“Well, that goes doubly when the person has been murdered. You got yourself in some hot water saying things about a person you didn’t really know. Do you realize what you said wasn’t true?” she asked.
“I didn’t then, but I do now,” he said. “I believed someone I shouldn’t have.”
“Exactly. You were repeating something you heard, not something you knew. My advice to you is not to spread rumors. If you don’t know something is true first hand, then keep it to yourself. You’ll keep yourself out of trouble that way.”
She stood up and Mr. Bradshaw looked up from the patch of grass he’d been sniffing. Reggie put his hand on Sadie’s arm.
“I never, ever want to go to jail again,” he said.
“So I am going to take your advice and keep my mouth shut. Unless I know something to be true, and then I’ll tell the cops, not a customer at work. I promise.”
Sadie patted his hand, proud of herself for getting the mom thing down. “Good for you, Reggie. Now the other thing you can do is to think about continuing your education and getting a job that uses your skills. Any fifteen-year-old can be a busboy. It’s time you figured out what you want to do with your life.”
“I’m the dishwasher,” Reggie protested.
“Same difference,” Sadie said.
“Anybody can be a dishwasher, Reggie. You are smart enough to do something with your life. Make a difference in the world. Not that clean dishes aren’t important, but you are capable of more. Do something with yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“That’s right. You need to occupy your mind with real life problems and solving them. You have too much time on your hands if you don’t have anything to say about a dead woman except that she deserved it.”
“I know.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Learn, Reggie. Take it all in and learn from your mistakes. And, just
“I’ll just take it with me,” Sadie said. “There is someone I need to see.”
Sadie took Mr. Bradshaw for a walk in the park with a plastic bag to pick up the results of his morning constitutional. Her bag deposited in the dumpster behind the shop, she drove out to Chomps to talk with Reggie Smith.
It wasn’t until she got out there that she remembered Chomps wasn’t open for breakfast. She took Mr. B down the road to a public beach for a run. She wouldn’t wait around until noon, but they might as well take advantage of the empty beach while they were here.
Sadie let her terrier off his leash and he ran down the beach, chasing waves and the shadows of the gulls on the sand. The breeze was brisk and chased any remaining sleepiness from her head. She remembered she’d seen Reggie Smith’s address when she was at the police station watching him be questioned.
She let Mr. Bradshaw run a while longer and then loaded him back in the car for the ride down the coast to Reggie’s apartment.
It was a little collection of tiny houses in a three-sided square around a patch of lawn. Reggie was sitting outside his little cottage smoking a cigarette when Sadie walked up. He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it as she and Mr. B approached, and stood to greet her.
“You were with the police chief the other day, weren’t you?” he asked. He looked nervous.
“I was,” Sadie agreed. “And you can sit down, I’m not a cop.”
“I wondered,” Reggie said.
“Cops don’t usually travel with tiny dogs.”
He sat down and motioned for her to sit in an identical plastic chair. She sat cautiously, not trusting the chair to be sturdy or steady, but it held.
“This is none of my business,” she said.
“And I’m not here from the police or anything like that, but I feel compelled to give you some advice.” He paled a little and nodded.
“You’ve heard the adage ‘Never speak ill of the dead’?” she asked. He nodded.
“Well, that goes doubly when the person has been murdered. You got yourself in some hot water saying things about a person you didn’t really know. Do you realize what you said wasn’t true?” she asked.
“I didn’t then, but I do now,” he said. “I believed someone I shouldn’t have.”
“Exactly. You were repeating something you heard, not something you knew. My advice to you is not to spread rumors. If you don’t know something is true first hand, then keep it to yourself. You’ll keep yourself out of trouble that way.”
She stood up and Mr. Bradshaw looked up from the patch of grass he’d been sniffing. Reggie put his hand on Sadie’s arm.
“I never, ever want to go to jail again,” he said.
“So I am going to take your advice and keep my mouth shut. Unless I know something to be true, and then I’ll tell the cops, not a customer at work. I promise.”
Sadie patted his hand, proud of herself for getting the mom thing down. “Good for you, Reggie. Now the other thing you can do is to think about continuing your education and getting a job that uses your skills. Any fifteen-year-old can be a busboy. It’s time you figured out what you want to do with your life.”
“I’m the dishwasher,” Reggie protested.
“Same difference,” Sadie said.
“Anybody can be a dishwasher, Reggie. You are smart enough to do something with your life. Make a difference in the world. Not that clean dishes aren’t important, but you are capable of more. Do something with yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“That’s right. You need to occupy your mind with real life problems and solving them. You have too much time on your hands if you don’t have anything to say about a dead woman except that she deserved it.”
“I know.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Learn, Reggie. Take it all in and learn from your mistakes. And, just
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