Case of the Sugar Cream Shooting

by Jessica Lansberry

  Beatrice couldn’t help but smile. Especially considering the dirty look that Stella was now giving her. “That’s me.”

  “Awe damn, you make the best peanut butter brownies I ever… Actually, now that you mention it, there is one thing that you could possibly do for me. If it isn’t too much to ask?”

  There was something about the look on his face that told Beatrice that what he had in mind was going to be more than just a small favor. But, she did offer, and he was very helpful. She only hoped it wasn’t anything too extravagant.

  —

  The Cookie Club were at it again. Only this time they were going all out. Usually, when the girls got together, it was a glass or two of red wine and one dish. Beatrice always chose the dish of course and more often than not she was the only one that actually did any cooking. This time, however, all three of the ladies had to get involved.

  It turned out that the truck driver was on his way to his eight-year-old daughter's birthday. As thrilled as he was by this, he had unfortunately forgotten to buy her a cake… or indeed any dessert.

  So his request was a simple one really, he would give Beatrice a free tire, and change it for her if she would agree to cater the party. If it was any other situation, Beatrice probably would have passed, purely as a result of time management more than anything. But as it were, and the situation they were currently in, Beatrice was all smiles when she agreed.

  For the party, Beatrice was going to serve up a whole host of treats. Peanut butter brownies were a must. As were her blueberry-raspberry muffins. She had some bananas that she could use for banana cake and plenty of cooking chocolate that she could use to make a chocolate fudge cake. And, as much as she hated to do it, she also made peanut brittle. Kids always loved it.

  “I don’t see why we can’t have at least one glass of wine,” Stella complained as she wrapped her apron around herself.

  “Because I need you focused, that’s why,” Beatrice responded as she put Sophie’s apron on for her, followed by her own. “And I don’t need you tipsy flirting with that driver either.”

  “Trust me, I don’t need to be tipsy to do that,” Stella responded, offering a devilish smile.

  The duties were divided three ways. First Beatrice measured and separated the ingredients for all the dishes. As she did this, Stella followed her, combining the ingredients into the correct bowls. And as Stella did this, Sophie followed, mixing the ingredients once they were in the bowls. Beatrice would then back-track and make sure that everything was in order.

  The only slip-up was when she went to the bathroom and came back to find Sophie using her hands to scoop the brownie mixture into her mouth. And this would have been bearable if Stella hadn’t slipped away to sneak a glass of red wine… or at least she claimed it was only one.

  But even despite this, they managed to get all the desserts cooked and to a level that Beatrice deemed satisfactory. Beatrice had never once served up a below par dish, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  The party itself was enjoyable too. The truck driver was over the moon with the results, and his gorgeous little daughter was delighted by all the treats.

  There were a few highlights to the day. The first was, of course, Sophie getting in on the moon bounce. The moment she saw it her eyes shot open in excitement as she near threw her dish to the ground as she rushed toward it. Once there she barged a group of eight-year-olds out of the way and flew onto the moon bounce, jumping up and down with total glee. Soon all the kids joined her and had a great time trying to bounce her out the door.

  Another highlight was watching Stella try and seduce the driver. The driver was single it turned out, and Stella used this fact to her advantage. Even though he was much younger than she was, at least twenty years, it didn't slow her down. This was so much the case that they even disappeared at one point, although where to was anybody's guess.

  But to Beatrice, the best part of the day came from watching the party and all the party goers themselves. There were so much joy and love that she could barely take it. The way that the driver picked up and threw his daughter around and the way she laughed in glee was tear inducing.

  It shot Beatrice back to a time when her daughter was the same age, and how much fun the two used to have. Where had those times gone, Beatrice wondered to herself. Was it too late to get it back?

  And as she watched Sophie run around with the kids, screaming in joy, and as she watched Stella throw herself at the driver, she couldn’t not smile. Beatrice, without a doubt, was a part of perhaps the craziest family of all time. And she loved it.

  11

  The setting was Uncle Joe's Burger Shack on Main Street. It was an establishment that was as old as the town itself. It was one of those places where the furniture hadn't been replaced since the doors opened, and even the staff seemed to have been frozen in time. But the burgers were the best in town, and Beatrice always had a thing about supporting small, locally owned businesses.

  After her meeting with her grandson, and the reveal about the other woman, Beatrice had to concede that it was time to finally meet with Detective Rogers. She had been putting it off for long enough now.

  The thing was that she literally couldn't go any further in her investigation without his help. She had all the pieces, but he had the picture. She just hoped that she would be able to squeeze some information out of him; such as a possible identity to who this other woman might be.

  After she had got back from the birthday party, she called him up. Of course, he was only too eager to meet with her when she called him, despite how late it was. However, when she mentioned where she wanted to eat, she could have sworn that she actually heard his heart drop on the other end of the line. He had no doubt been expecting something a little more… romantic.

  "You know I shouldn't be meeting you like this," said Detective Rogers as he pulled out one of the plastic chairs, taking a seat.

  "You asked for a dinner so ..." she said, flashing her smile. She loved how intensely wicked she was being. As much as she hated to admit it, playing on Detective Rogers’ expectations was always such a delight.

  "This isn't exactly what I had in mind," he said, looking around the diner in distaste. It was an odd reaction, Beatrice thought. She would have assumed that a place like this would be right up his alley.

  "And what did you have in mind?" She asked, picking up the menu. Not that she needed to. Beatrice had been in this town almost as long as the diner. She knew the menu by heart.

  "Something romantic, candlelight, soft music, a cozy booth in an elegant restaurant." He reached for the menu too, turning in one flip to the burger page. Beatrice smiled to herself. She was more than sure that Rogers frequented this place.

  "Well, that gives us something to look forward to," she said with a sly smile.

  "I'd like that," he said, returning it. Sweets and promises. The two easiest ways to get men to bend to your will.

  "But first things first," she said. "I need your help; you need my help."

  He sighed, putting the menu down. "Fine. Tell me what you got, Quid pro quo."

  She was surprised by his willingness actually. She would have thought that she'd have to fight him for it, promise him the world for a few snippets of information. But his eagerness to comply suggested that maybe he needed her help as much as she needed his.

  "All right then. I know that my grandson had some type of relationship with the deceased, but it wasn't romantic."

  "Did he tell you that?" he said arching his eyebrows. It was pretty clear that he wasn't buying it. Typical men, always assuming that sex had to be an aspect where a male and female were involved.

  "As a matter of fact, he did. And I know that she had a degree in science as I know that she was supplementing her income with companionship."

  "Escorting," he cut in.

  She scrunched her nose up at the word. "Certainly we can find another term that is a little more respectful."

  He let out a sigh. "All right
, companionship. What else you got?" She was really laying herself bare here. She hoped that he had more than he was letting on.

  "My grandson says that she was being threatened by some woman and it sounds like she feared for her life," she finally let out. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite the reaction that she had been hoping for. In fact, he didn’t have a reaction at all. He almost looked bored by the information, as if it were as irrelevant as the 'two for one special,' which cost the same as buying two anyway.

  And, as if to confirm this, he let out another long sigh. "I'm sure that she was threatened by many if she was in the habit of entertaining other women's husbands."

  "But this was different," Beatrice insisted. "My grandson said that she was so afraid for her life that she didn't want him to call for help, but he did that night anyway."

  "I'll check the phone records and corroborate the story," he finally said. Although truth be told, she wished that he had said it with just a tad more gusto. The way he said it was more of an afterthought than anything.

  "And you, what do you have to offer?" She asked, trying to sound casual although she was sure that he heard an edge to her voice. She was clearly as hopeful at finding a new angle as he was.

  "Besides, a nice dinner and some drinks?" He chuckled. But she didn't chuckle back, instead she fixed him with an ice cold glare. He swallowed hard, rushing through his next bit. "So speaking of phone records, we did see quite a few phone calls to the same number leading up to her death to a gentleman in the neighborhood."

  "Any hints on who?" Beatrice asked eagerly, leaning forward in her chair.

  "It's probably nothing actually; it was a business. She must have had quite a few rodents or termite problems." By now Detective Rogers was clearly getting bored with the conversation. Beatrice clearly hadn't been the goldmine of answers that he was hoping for.

  "Why?" she asked. The mention of pests peaked her interest. Was she about to be handed the missing piece of the puzzle?

  "Nothing, it was just for a pest control company," he confirmed, leaning back in his chair as he signaled to a very old waiter. One far too old to be working, let alone at a burger joint.

  "Pest control?" she said, her heart racing faster. It was beating so loud she was surprised Rogers couldn’t hear it. This was big.

  "All hours of the night in fact," he said, smiling as the waiter approached them, ready to take their order.

  But for Beatrice, all thoughts of burgers and milkshakes had been eliminated from her mind. There was only one thing that she could think of at the moment. It was small, ran on all fours and had been plaguing hers and the neighbors’ houses for quite some time.

  12

  Beatrice knew that the only thing to do was track the pest control man down and confront him. She was going to get him to admit to what he did whether he liked it or not. And something told Beatrice that a batch of her cookies wasn't going to be enough to get the job done this time. This time she was going to have to get the confession through force.

  So, before she even considered trying to find him, she made two very quick phone calls, summoning the girls to her place where they could arm and equip themselves.

  Beatrice's weapon of choice was the baseball bat. It was good enough for her husband, so it was good enough for her. Stella brought with her a golf club that had been gifted to her by an ex-lover. She had a whole room full of these kinds of gifts, so it was just nice that it was being put to use. And Sophie, after she had insisted on using the flip-flop she brought with her, eventually relented and took a saucepan from Beatrice's kitchen.

  They were armed to the teeth. Now all they had to do was find him.

  It took half of the next day to track the pest control man down. The three ladies circled the neighborhood in Beatrice's car again and again and again, eyes peeled for the big green van. It was only when lunch had come and gone, and Beatrice could feel her tummy begin to rumble that they finally saw it, parked down the end of a cul de sac. Completely out of sight.

  As luck would have it, it was just as they made their way toward the van in the car that they spotted the pest control man too, climbing from out of the van. Beatrice knew a chance when she saw it. Hitting the accelerator, she rocketed toward the van, slamming the brakes on at the last second and skidding right up to the front door.

  Then, with weapons in hand, the three ladies leaped from the car and confronted the pest control man, who was now terrified.

  "You, you murderer!" said Beatrice pointing in the pest control man's face with her baseball bat. He had his back pressed up against the van. To his left was Stella, to his right was Sophie. He was trapped, and Beatrice would make him confess one way or another.

  "What are you talking about?" he asked, looking genuinely scared. Beatrice couldn't blame him, between their weapons, Sophie's shock green hair and the way they had driven in like crazy women, he'd be out of his mind to not be scared.

  "The victim, you knew her. Knew her well enough to have had made phone calls night after night, including the night she was killed," Beatrice accused, keeping the bat level with his eyes.

  "I ... I yes, I knew her she was my... I was in love with her," he all but screamed, eyeing the baseball bat as he did.

  "I bet you were. So it was a crime of passion. You probably thought she'd stop her business with other men but when she wouldn't, you killed her." She was getting close now, Beatrice could feel it. She could see the sweat trickling down from his brow. She could see the ways his eyes darted back and forth, trying to find a way out. She could see the way he visibly shook where he stood. She could see that he was about to break.

  "That's just not true. I would never—" he trailed off as he caught sight of Sophie chewing her own hair. And not just chewing, but apparently trying to eat it.

  But Beatrice didn't let that stop her. "You said you studied art in college, but you failed to mention that you also majored in science. Might have helped you concoct non-toxic sprays for getting rid of pests, but it also put you in the same classroom as the deceased."

  "How did you—?" His eyes were wide with shock. She had caught onto his little secret.

  "You'd be surprised what a batch of my world famous brownies can do to get information out of university archives. You two were classmates, and you probably began a crush on her then."

  That was only half the story. Yes, she had used her brownies to get the information. What she had left out was that the head of the archives was an old student who had had more than a little crush on her when she was his teacher. She was sure that even without the brownies she could have gotten what she wanted.

  "It was more than a crush, so much more. We kept in touch through the years, and then we reconnected this year. Things were going great, but once she found out that I was... dating someone else, she said we should cut it off. That she was ready to leave her escort business and begin a new life." He was looking more relaxed now as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No longer scared, which was a problem for Beatrice.

  "I bet that destroyed you," she said, waving the bat in his face again in an attempt to reassert her dominance. But it didn't work. The shock of the moment had passed, and the pest control man was starting to recompose himself. In all likelihood, he was slowly realizing that a man his size could easily take down three old women, despite how well armed they were.

  "It did, but not enough to kill her. I'd never do that to her, to anyone. I told her I would break it off and we'd planned to run away together that weekend."

  "Break it off? With whom?" Beatrice pushed. She was sure that this was the final hurdle.

  But it was no good, by then the moment was well and truly over. The pest control man pushed the bat from his face, sidestepped Sophie and jumped in the van. It was made all the more easy from the fact that Sophie had started beating the ground with the pan. But either way, he just wasn't scared of three women with blunt weapons.

  Although they had gotten some information out of him, it only opened
up more doors and left more questions unanswered. The primary one being, who was this woman that had Sasha so terrified?

  13

  The incident had left the three gals more than a little hungry. So, after climbing back into the car, they had decided that a meal was in order by none other than Uncle Joe's Burger Shack.

  The three women were able to order without looking at the menu, and it was once they were good and fed, and back in the car on the way home, that they were able to start discussing the case again. There was a lot to unpack, and Beatrice knew that she would need the minds of both Stella and even Sophie if she was going to solve this one.

  "Well, if it's not this pest control man and it's not your grandson, then who?" asked Stella, leaning over the front seat. She had been regulated to the back for the simple reason that Sophie couldn't be trusted in the back by herself.

  "There's only one more person it could be. My grandson said that the victim was terrified by a woman that threatened her." It was the only possible answer. All the leads kept pointing towards this one, mystery woman. The only problem was that they didn't know who she was.

  "That has to be the same woman that the pest control man was dating. It just has to," Stella concluded.

  She was right of course, well Beatrice thought that she was anyway. That was the only possible conclusion. The Pest Control man had been dating the murderer. When she found out about his love for Sasha, she killed her. Case closed. But even still, that didn't bring them any closer to discovering who the woman was.

  Beatrice thought long and hard, the wheels turning, but not connecting with anything. There had to be some way to figure out who it was. Some way to trap them into telling her.

  It was just then that Sophie, in typical fashion, managed to spill leftover sauce from the burger all over her legs. She had been sitting there, eating the remains merrily when she spotted a raccoon on the street, turned to see it better, only to squirt the sauce everywhere. Beatrice wasn't mad. The car was old and had a lot more wrong with it than a few stains.