A Brew Most Foul, page 4
Stone continued, his voice softer now. "We're not accusing you of anything. We just need to understand everything that happened leading up to... your mother's passing."
Levi interjected then, his tone crisp as he addressed me. "Did you notice anything unusual last night? Any strangers around Steeped in Mysteary or someone who seemed out of place?"
The question sparked a memory, and I frowned as I sifted through the events of the previous evening. "There were customers," I said slowly. "A couple were looking at a book. One was in a rush."
Levi leaned forward slightly. "Can you describe that person?"
"She was older, maybe mid-forties? Wearing a dark coat and her hair was in a ponytail." The details were hazy; it had been dark and my mind preoccupied with my own turmoil.
"Did she see you?" Levi's voice was sharp with urgency.
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I think so. I was next to the counter, waiting…waiting for my mother. But she was in a rush, like I said. The customer. I wasn't sure she noticed anything specific."
Stone watched our exchange with keen interest before addressing Levi directly. "We'll need to check security footage, see if we can get a visual on this her."
Levi nodded once and made a note in his book before his eyes returned to me.
"So, Lockhart didn't find any cameras in the shop?" Levi asked.
"Besides the one that shows people coming and going, no," Stone replied.
"And after you spoke to your mother?" Levi prodded, turning back to look at me.
"I went straight to Sasha's inn," I replied quickly. "I didn't stop or talk to anyone else."
Levi's eyes drilled into me. "What did you speak to your mother about? We touched on this back at the inn, but since the chief wants to partake, let's catch him up to speed, shall we?"
I took a breath, trying to find the courage to articulate the pain of last night's conversation. "I wanted to... reconnect. Maybe now that I accomplished what she wanted me to do, she'd…she'd want me." I cleared my throat. "To be in her life."
"And?" His gaze didn't waver. "What did your mother say?"
I hesitated, a knot forming in my throat. It wasn't that I was hiding anything from them; it was the sting of humiliation that held my tongue. Whose mother didn't want them? I could feel the weight of their stares as I struggled to find my voice.
"Well?" Levi prodded.
I cleared my throat again, willing my voice to be steady. "She wasn't interested in a relationship with me," I said, forcing out the words. "She... she wanted me to leave."
Levi scribbled something down in his notebook while Stone pulled up a chair next to him.
"Were you surprised by her reaction, Miss Hart?" Stone asked.
My lips pressed into a thin line as I considered the question. "Yes and no," I admitted. The truth was complex; hope had warred with years of accumulated rejection, leaving me raw and uncertain.
Levi glanced up from his notes. "She has letters showcasing the victim's dismissive response to Miss Hart."
"I'm sure that upset you." Stone's voice took on a tone laced with empathy.
My frown deepened as I registered his words. Did he think pity would soften me? Open me up? The last thing I wanted was their sympathy, especially when it felt so hollow.
"Of course it upset me," I said, my voice firm despite the turmoil inside. "But not enough to kill her."
"That wasn't what I was implying," Stone quickly backtracked.
The room felt smaller suddenly, the walls closing in with each second of silence that stretched between us. The tea in my hands had gone cold, forgotten as I grappled with the reality of their scrutiny and the insinuations hanging unspoken in the air.
I needed them to understand—I needed to understand myself—but trust was a luxury I couldn't afford, not when every word felt like another step through a minefield of doubt and suspicion.
"Where does your father fit into all of this?" Levi's question sliced through the heavy air of the interrogation room.
I shrugged, feeling the weight of not knowing press down on me. "I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know who he is."
"You don't know your father?" Chief Stone's voice was tinged with surprise.
Levi's gaze was intense as he watched me, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing more.
"If I did," I murmured, more to myself than to them, "I'd hoped to be with him and not at the inn." The words that my mother had made it painfully clear—that my father didn't want me either—remained locked away within me.
Chief Stone pushed himself up from his chair, the legs scraping against the floor. "I think that's enough for now," he said. "Levi, why don't you take her back to the inn?"
Levi looked like he wanted to argue, his eyes flickering with an unspoken protest, but he seemed to think better of it and merely nodded.
"As you know, you're a person of interest," Chief Stone continued, turning back to me. "That doesn't mean we think you did it. It just means you could help us find out who did." He paused for a moment before adding, "Having said that, I'm asking you to remain in town, at least until we solve this. If you are Katarina's only heir, you'd inherit her cottage and her business, but you wouldn't have access to those things until the case is closed."
My mother's house? Her business? The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.
"Between you and me," Stone went on, leaning against the table with a familiarity that felt out of place in the sterile room, "Detective Kessler is the reason your mother stays in business." A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "He prefers his tea a certain way, and your mother apparently had the knack where even Levi can't find fault—and that's saying something."
The image of Levi sitting peacefully with a cup of tea seemed almost absurd given the circumstances.
"Can I count on you to remain in Wallshire for the time being?" Stone asked.
I hesitated but nodded eventually. There was something about him—something that put me at ease despite everything. The hair, the eyes…could we be related?
It was silly to think so; I knew this. But without any idea who my father was—only that he was someone in this town—the possibility tugged at my imagination like an unsolved riddle.
And maybe, just maybe, once my mother's case was solved, I could finally uncover who he was too.
Chapter
Six
Levi's footsteps echoed mine as we exited the station, a steady rhythm that seemed to match my racing heart. We stepped out into the crisp air, and he led me to his car. The door opened with a familiar creak, and as I slid into the passenger seat, the comforting scent of tea and leather enveloped me.
It was a peculiar combination, one that didn't seem to fit with the image of Levi I had built in my mind. The aroma was strong, almost overpowering in the confined space of the car. It clung to every surface, an invisible yet tangible presence that hinted at layers to the cold and stoic Levi Kessler. I didn’t notice it before, my focus on my mother’s death. And now…
He settled into the driver's seat with a grunt and started the engine. The car hummed to life beneath us, and we pulled away from the curb smoothly. I expected him to head towards Sasha's inn, but as we took a turn that led away from it, confusion knotted in my stomach.
"Where are we going?" My voice sounded more accusatory than I intended.
"To your mother's shop," he replied without taking his eyes off the road.
"Why?" The question hung between us, thick with unspoken tension.
"You're her heir," he said simply. "You need to see what you've inherited."
The drive was short but felt endless as I watched buildings pass by in a blur. Anticipation grew within me—a mixture of fear and an odd sense of curiosity about stepping into a place that had been such an integral part of my mother's life.
Steeped in Mysteary loomed ahead of us, its windows reflecting the late morning sun. Levi parked out front and cut the engine. Silence fell over us for a moment before he turned to face me.
"Ready?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice as I looked at the quaint facade of the shop my mother had loved so much. It felt like stepping into her world—a world where I'd never been invited until now.
Levi led the way to the door, his movements deliberate. He held it open for me, and as I stepped over the threshold, I entered a part of my mother's life that I hadn't had access to until now.
The moment I crossed the threshold of Steeped in Mysteary, the smell of bleach assaulted my senses, so strong it almost masked the underlying fragrances of tea. Yellow police tape crisscrossed the entrance, a stark contrast to the homely warmth I had imagined. It served as a grim reminder that this place had been transformed into a crime scene.
Levi watched me closely as I took it all in, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Your mother was found behind the counter," he began, his voice betraying no emotion. "She was poisoned. Someone slipped something lethal into her tea."
I wrinkled my nose, both at the pungent odor and his blunt delivery. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want to see how you react." His gaze never wavered from mine.
"So, a test?" My voice was colder than I intended.
"Yes."
A scowl crept onto my face, but I kept silent. Instead, I turned my attention to the shelves laden with teas from all corners of the world. Their names whispered promises of distant lands and times of peace—promises that now felt hollow. Careful not to disturb anything, my eyes traced over the neatly arranged canisters.
"Is it true?" I asked without looking back at him. "What Chief Stone said about you coming here all the time?"
Levi shifted his weight slightly, and in that small movement, I sensed an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Yes." His answer was almost too quiet amidst the stillness of the shop.
The single word hung in the air between us, laden with unsaid thoughts and unasked questions. I continued to scan the shelves, each label meticulously penned in my mother's familiar handwriting.
In the corner of my eye, I saw Levi's reflection in one of the glass jars on a shelf: stern, composed—a man who seemed perpetually braced for whatever darkness his job would unearth next. Yet there was something else there too, something that suggested his visits here had been more than just professional duty.
The sharp scent of bleach clawed at my throat again, dragging me back to the present—a present where every surface gleamed unnaturally clean and every shadow seemed to whisper secrets that only silence kept.
"I don't even know what I'd do with a place like this," I murmured, more to myself than to Levi.
"Well, we haven't cleared you yet," Levi said.
I shot him a look. "Considering I know I didn't do it, I'm just talking out loud. I mean, where would I even get poison, anyway?"
"Don't know," Levi said. "But considering you graduated with honors at Pembroke University, I'm sure you'd be able to figure it out."
"You looked me up?" I asked.
"It's part of my job," he replied.
"Well, did you see I graduated with a major in Literature?" I asked.
He clicked his tongue, clearly disapproving of the major. "Unfortunately for you, yes. Unless you plan to teach a bunch of obnoxious brats, why would you choose to major in that?"
"I figured if I was going to be there, might as well study what I like," I replied.
"And that's what you like? Books?"
"I like helping people," I said. "But yes, I do like to read in my free time."
Levi's gaze was a scalpel, dissecting every twitch of my face, every flicker in my eyes.
"Yeah, I like books," I found myself saying, the words a small defense against his unspoken judgment. "Stories help people make sense of the world. They teach empathy."
Levi's mouth twitched in what could've been the ghost of a smile or maybe just a reflexive scowl. "Empathy's in short supply these days."
I glanced around the shop, at the shelves filled with tea. "Maybe," I conceded. "But it doesn't mean we should stop trying to understand each other."
A pause stretched between us, filled with the creaks and sighs of Steeped in Mysteary settling around us like a well-worn coat.
"You really didn't know her," Levi said suddenly, his voice low but not unkind.
I turned to face him, finding his expression inscrutable. "No, I didn't. Not really." The admission stung more than I expected.
"And yet here you are," he continued, gesturing vaguely to the shop around us.
"Here I am," I echoed, unsure what he was driving at.
Levi crossed his arms and leaned back against a counter that had probably seen countless cups of tea served upon it. The silence wasn't uncomfortable exactly, but it was heavy with things unsaid.
"Look," he started, pushing off from the counter to stand straight once more. "You might not know the first thing about running a tea shop—"
"I don't," I interjected before he could finish.
"—but you're all she had left." His eyes locked onto mine, challenging me to deny it.
I swallowed hard, the weight of inheritance suddenly tangible like a key turning in a lock I hadn't known existed. "So what am I supposed to do with this place?"
"That's up to you." Levi glanced around the room once more before fixing his gaze back on me. "But for now, you need to stay out of trouble and let us do our jobs."
"I'm not planning on getting in your way," I assured him, though part of me wondered if that was entirely true.
Levi nodded as if he'd expected my answer. "Good." He moved toward the door then paused and looked back at me. "I'd have to stop you if you did."
"Did you know her?" I pressed, my voice echoing slightly in the hollow quiet of the shop. If Levi had been a frequent visitor, he must have gleaned something about my mother, something beyond the professional facade.
Levi's eyes met mine, steady and unyielding. "I don't go out of my way to get to know anyone," he said flatly.
I gave him a long look, taking in the sharp lines of his face and the guarded set of his shoulders. "That doesn't surprise me," I murmured. There was a story there, in his reticence, but it wasn't mine to uncover. Not now. "So, there's nothing you can tell me about her?"
His gaze drifted away from mine for a moment, focusing on a spot over my shoulder. "She knew how to make a good cup of tea," he admitted with a gruffness that didn't quite mask the hint of respect in his tone. "Until she was poisoned by one."
A chill ran through me at his words, but I pushed it aside. This was not the time for fear or sorrow; it was a time for facts and understanding. "What's your favorite?" I asked, surprising myself with the question.
He arched a brow, taken aback by the sudden shift from somber realities to personal preferences.
"Tea," I explained, feeling the need to clarify as if the context wasn't clear enough.
A flicker of something indecipherable crossed Levi's face before he composed himself again. "Earl Grey," he said after a moment's hesitation, his voice betraying nothing of what he thought about divulging such a personal detail.
Earl Grey—a classic choice for a man who seemed to value tradition and order. It made sense in an odd way; the tea was straightforward yet complex, much like Levi himself appeared to be.
The silence settled back over us like dust after a disturbance. Levi's admission hung in the air, another piece of this intricate puzzle that my life had become since stepping into Wallshire and discovering my mother's fate.
I considered him for a moment longer before turning back to take in Steeped in Mysteary once more—my inheritance and perhaps the key to understanding who my mother had been and what had led to her untimely death.
"Did she have any employees?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. The word I couldn't bring myself to say loomed over us, heavy and suffocating.
Levi's gaze pinned me in place, his eyes sharp and assessing. "No one on paper," he replied after a moment. "I think she had someone come in once a week to help with inventory and stocking. As far as I knew, though, she liked to do things on her own."
I nodded; that sounded just like my mother—self-reliant to a fault.
Levi's expression shifted, a flicker of pride—or was it defiance?—crossing his features. "My record on closing cases is pristine," he declared. "I know I'll close this one too."
"I'm sure you will," I said, meeting his confidence with my own quiet conviction.
A frown creased his brow, as if my agreement was unexpected or unwelcome. "If you're hiding anything—"
"I'm not," I interrupted firmly.
His voice took on an edge. "I'll know. I'll find out." He paused, scrutinizing me as if he could peel back the layers of my soul with his stare alone. "You seem like a decent girl—"
"I'm a woman, Detective Kessler," I corrected him, feeling a surge of irritation at the diminutive.
He blinked but recovered quickly. "Young," he amended. "You're just a kid."
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it—a short, bitter sound that seemed to bounce off the walls of Steeped in Mysteary. "And you're not as old as you act," I shot back. "Just tell me straight: what are you getting at?"
Levi's jaw clenched for a moment before he spoke again. "I'm going to find out what happened to your mother," he said with unwavering determination. "No matter who did it."
"Good." The word left me with more force than I intended, fueled by an anger and sorrow that had been simmering within me since I first heard the news of her passing. "Just because she never... we never connected doesn't mean she deserved this."
His eyes never left mine, intense and probing. But I didn't waver under his scrutiny; I meant every word. If Levi wanted to believe it was me behind all this tragedy, then so be it—I'd just have to prove him wrong and find the truth myself. My mother's killer had to be found; regardless of our strained relationship, she deserved justice.
And as Levi continued to stare, searching for any sign of deceit or weakness, I held his gaze unflinchingly. This was one mystery that had to be unraveled—and I was determined to see it through to the end.
