by Jessica Beck
He slumped a little. “You know who really owns this place, don’t you?”
“I do. It’s mine. Bad luck. Why were you snooping on our conversation, and why did you run away when I spotted you? You’re a smooth guy. Why didn’t you just try to lie your way out of it?”
He grinned at me, an odd thing to see. “Believe it or not, I panicked. Whether you put any credence in it or not, I want to know what happened to Gray Vincent every bit as much as you do.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I said as Grace rushed up to join us. She looked at me quizzically, but I shook my head. I had this under control.
“It really doesn’t matter what you believe,” he said. “I’ve done nothing illegal here.”
“Besides trespassing, you mean,” I said. It was an interesting choice of words for him to use. Why would he go straight to illegal? Did that mean that this man had a past history as a criminal, just the same as Gray had? Were they in on something together in the past? Perhaps the robbery gone wrong that had cost someone his life? “You wouldn’t mind showing me some identification, would you?”
That made him chuckle. “Why in the world should I do that?”
“If you have nothing to hide, why wouldn’t you?”
“Because I hate busybodies like you and your friend, there,” he said. His apparent good nature had melted away when I’d asked him for ID.
“Grace, call Chief Grant.”
She pulled out her cellphone, and as she did, Wright started toward me. Was he going to try to attack me? I braced myself, but he walked right past me and headed back to the park.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I asked him.
“Anywhere that’s away from you and your friend.”
As I started to follow him, I told Grace, “Tell Stephen we need him right now.”
That got his attention. He stopped and turned toward me, and there was an ugly look on his face that gave me chills. “I’m only going to say this one time. Butt out of this, donut lady. You’re in over your head.”
“I often am, but that isn’t going to keep me from finding out what really happened to my friend,” I said, standing my ground.
“Suit yourself, but you’ve been warned.”
He kept going, and I started to follow him again when Grace grabbed my arm.
I tried to free myself, but she wouldn’t let go. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you from yourself, probably,” she said. “Suzanne, that was an honest-to-goodness threat. Let Stephen handle it.”
“Where is he, by the way?” I asked as I calmed down a little. When I was pushed, I tended to push back, but Grace was right. It was time to let a professional deal with this man. Unless I missed my guess, he’d seen plenty of trouble in his life, and had no doubt caused as much himself.
“There’s a wreck outside of town. He’s got his hands full at the moment, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.”
I looked back for the stranger who’d threatened me, but he was already gone.
Sooner or later we’d have to find a way to deal with him, but at the moment, Gladys had given us a few other folks to speak with. I wasn’t about to be driven off this case, or any other. If I gave in to bullies, I might as well stop investigating on my own, and this was too important for me to walk away from.
“What should we do in the meantime?” Grace asked me.
“We need to speak with Barry Vance and Donald Rand,” I said. “Any preferences as to which one we tackle first?”
“That’s a little like asking me if I’d like to get punched in the face or kicked in the ribs, isn’t it?” she asked me with a bit of a frown.
“Unfortunately, this time both of the suspects we know aren’t very nice people,” I said. “If you don’t have a preference, let’s go see Donald first.”
“Why the investor instead of the mailman?” Grace asked as we walked to my Jeep and got in.
“It’s simple, really. At least we know where he usually is this time of day. Barry could be anywhere, but chances are good that we’ll find Donald Rand in his cheesy little office in the strip mall.”
“Then let’s go,” she said.
But our plans changed abruptly, as they had a way of doing sometimes. We were just reaching the heart of town when I saw the mailman walking his route, and I quickly pulled the Jeep over so we could speak with him first after all. Grace had been on her phone texting someone about something, and she looked up with alarm as I changed direction and movement so suddenly. “What’s going on, Suzanne?”
“There’s Barry,” I said. “Do you want to come with me, or should I handle him alone? He might be more willing to talk if there’s just one of us.”
“I suppose it’s worth a shot, but if you don’t feel like tackling him alone, give me three minutes to finish with this. I’ll be glad to join you,” she said as she frowned. “I’m just trying to put out a fire at work so I can keep helping you.”
“You do that, I’ll handle this,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“No worries. If I get in trouble, I’ll just scream,” I said with a grin. “Besides, what’s he going to do to me? This is about as public as it gets in April Springs.” We were near the clock, and right across the street from city hall. It would be a stupid place to attack me, even if Barry felt the impulse.
“Promise?” she asked.
“I promise.”
“Okay. Should I join you when I’m finished with this?”
“No, just wait here. I shouldn’t be long.”
I walked over to Barry, who was listening to something on his iPod as he walked his route. I doubted that was completely kosher, but what did I care? I wasn’t there to enforce the US Postal Service’s rules and regulations. I was looking for a murderer.
“Barry. Barry. Barry!” I finally shouted, trying to get his attention. The last time did it, and he stopped dead in his tracks as he pulled out his earbuds. He was an odd shape of a man, with a decent-sized belly but possessing the legs of a much younger man, no doubt from all of the walking he did on his job. Though there was still a chill in the air, especially in the mornings, he wore uniform shorts, as if to put his best foot forward, so to speak. His face looked a bit like a bird’s, with a beaklike nose, long, narrow eyes, and a pointed chin.
“What is it, Suzanne? I haven’t gotten to the donut shop yet, and I can’t just dig through my bag looking for something special for you. I’ve got a schedule, and I’m sticking to it.”
Barry wasn’t a great mailman. Though my mailbox hung on the outside wall of the former train depot where I sold my treats, he’d refuse to walk in, even if he had something for me too big to fit into the box. Instead, he’d prop it up against the outside wall, as though he couldn’t be bothered walking it the extra four steps inside to hand-deliver it to me. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually stepped foot into Donut Hearts, business or personal, and we didn’t exactly have a cordial relationship. “It’s not about the mail. I need to talk to you about Gray Vincent.”
That caught him off guard. “What about him? He wasn’t on my route, so I barely knew the man. It’s a shame what happened to him, but I can’t help you.”
I was on his daily route, and he didn’t know me at all, either. Was he being a little too defensive? “That’s not what I heard.”
His eyes sharpened a little, and his mouth narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“That there was bad blood going on between you two,” I said.
“That’s a lie,” he said loudly and forcefully. “I know where you heard it. Gladys said something, didn’t she?”
“What could she possibly say, if nothing happened between the two of you?” I asked him innocently.
“Nothing. If she, or anybod
y else, said anything happened between Gray and me, it was strictly in their imagination. Now I have to get back to work. Some of us put in a full day and don’t cut out before lunchtime.”
That was patently unfair, since I started my day before any sane person even thought about getting out of bed, but I decided to let it slide. It felt as though he was purposely goading me, trying to start a fight so he could end the conversation.
I wasn’t going to let that happen. “We’re going to find out what really was going on between the two of you,” I said earnestly.
“Who’s this ‘we’?” he asked me, looking around. “Is your husband prying into other people’s lives with you nowadays?”
“You never know,” I said, hoping that Grace would do as I asked and stay in the Jeep. It was a lot more intimidating having a former state police investigator on your heels than it was a cosmetics company sales supervisor, though if he really knew Grace, I doubted that he’d feel that way.
“Fine. So something happened,” Barry said. “He owed me a little money, but we cleared it up. That’s it.”
“Why would Gray owe you money?” I asked, curious about this sudden confession.
“It was from a poker game,” the mailman said just a little too quickly. I couldn’t imagine a more outrageous lie. Poker was, by its very nature, a social event, and Gray Vincent would barely leave his cabin, let alone be out among other people playing poker, or any other game.
“That should be easy enough to prove, then. Who else played that night?” I asked him, doing my best to present a face that didn’t shout LIAR at him.
“It was a private game,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t feel right mentioning any other names without their permission.”
No doubt he was hoping that I’d just drop it. It was clear that Barry didn’t know me at all. “That’s okay. I’ll ask around,” I said.
As I started to walk away, Barry said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Why on earth shouldn’t I?”
“Important people, powerful people, were playing. They won’t like you snooping around, Suzanne.”
I laughed. “In April Springs, I’m either friends with or related to every important or powerful person in town, and I know for a fact that Gray Vincent wouldn’t come into town for anything short of a hurricane or a nuclear explosion.”
I was four steps away when Barry stopped me. “Fine. It wasn’t poker.”
Wow. It hadn’t taken him very long to give up that particular lie. As I turned back to him, I said, “I didn’t think it was. So, if it wasn’t poker, then what was it?”
“It was personal,” Barry said guardedly. “If I wanted you to know, I’d tell you.”
“Okay, but you should know that I’m not going to just let this go. I’m going to find out what really happened between you.”
“Do whatever you want to,” he said with a frown. “I’ve got to get back to my route.” With that, he jammed the earbuds back in and tried his best to ignore me as he walked away.
Grace was just finishing up with her phone when I got back to the Jeep. “Catastrophe averted?” I asked her as I started it and continued on to Rand’s office.
“For the moment,” she said. “What did Barry have to say for himself?”
“He tried telling me that Gray owed him money because of a poker game, but he folded pretty quickly when I told him I didn’t believe him.”
“Did he tell you the truth then?”
“No, but it’s obvious that Gladys saw something pass between them. I’m afraid that we’re going to have to dig a little harder into the mailman’s life to find out.”
“We can do that,” she said. “After all, that’s one of the things we’re best at.”
“Let’s forget about him for now and focus on Donald Rand. It’s too bad we can’t use a cover story with him, but after he found out that we lied to him once, he’d never believe another one.”
“It was fun pretending to be someone else, wasn’t it?” Grace asked me.
“I have to admit, once I got into the spirit of it, it could be,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, this time we’re going to have to just play this straight up.”
Chapter 10
It had been years since I’d set foot in BR Investments, but nothing had changed as far as I could tell. The lone desk was the same cheap one I’d seen before, and the carpet was just as ugly a green, though perhaps a little more worn. Donald Rand was a little worse for the wear himself. His clothes were even more frayed than they’d been before, and his massive belly made me fearful that a button might pop off his shirt and blind me at any moment. At least he’d finally given up on nurturing the wispy strands of hair that had been precariously arranged on top of his head; he was now completely bald.
“Unless one of you ladies has suddenly come into a fortune you need help investing, I’m busy at the moment,” he said the moment Grace and I walked into his office.
I saw Grace’s face light up, and knew that if I didn’t act quickly, one of us would be about to inherit a sizable fortune from some fictitious long-lost relative. “We’re here about Gray Vincent’s murder,” I said.
Grace frowned at me for a moment for killing her fun, but we didn’t have time to mess around.
“I don’t talk about my clients with other people,” he said flatly.
I glanced down at some of the paperwork spread out across his desk and caught a few glimpses of Gray’s name written here and there.
Grace asked, “Should you even be admitting that he was a client of yours, if that’s the case?”
Rand frowned, realizing that she was probably right. “I don’t know anything about Gray’s murder,” he said dully. “So don’t bother asking.”
“You two didn’t get along very well, did you?” I asked him. “I’m really surprised he kept you on as his financial advisor.”
Rand’s face darkened. “We got along just fine.”
“Really?” I asked, leaving it up to him to fill the silence that only grew between us. It was an old trick that Grace and I liked to use when the situation called for it. It was amazing how many people would do their best to fill in empty gaps in conversation, if you just gave them enough opportunity to talk and fill the voids.
He couldn’t take it for very long. “I don’t care what you heard. I advised him on something, and he did just the opposite. When I pressed him on it, he pushed back. I was right, I knew that he was making a mistake. How could I not try to talk him out of it? Was he happy with me? Probably not, but he would have come around sooner or later.”
I caught Grace’s glance, motioned to the desktop, and then pled for her to make a distraction for me.
I wanted a better look at that paperwork.
My partner caught on immediately. She started to put her purse down on the edge of the desk and then “accidentally” spilled the contents onto the carpet. “I can’t believe I’m so clumsy,” she said loudly. I thought she was overacting, as she had a tendency of doing sometimes, but evidently Rand didn’t have a problem with it. Both of them dropped to their knees to recover the contents while I did a quick scan of the desktop. Grace did her part; she’d reach to pick something up, only to knock it farther away. Rand grew tired of the game quickly, though, and that’s when he must have noticed what I was really doing.
He stood up quickly and covered his desktop with his jacket. “See anything interesting, Suzanne?” he asked me sarcastically.
I decided to tell the truth. “Why was Gray Vincent in the process of changing his beneficiary?”
“Get out of my office,” Rand said slowly.
“But my purse,” Grace protested, trying in vain to buy us a little more time.
“I’ll mail anything else I find to you,” he snapped. “You are both trespassing. Now leave!
” The last bit was said with a great deal of force.
We had no choice. Grace scooped up the last bits of the contents of her purse, and we did as we were told.
Once we were outside, Grace asked me, “Suzanne, what exactly did you see in there? I thought he was going to take a run at us both on the spot.”
“It was paperwork for a brokerage account Gray evidently had with Rand. I saw a change of beneficiary form letter on top. There weren’t many blank spaces, and two of them were already filled in.”
As we walked back to the Jeep, she asked, “Whose names did you see?”
“I couldn’t tell which was which, but I know for a fact one was Rand’s name, and another was Gladys. It appeared to me that Gray was about to change his beneficiary. If he was going to take Rand’s name off the forms and replace them with Gladys’s, it could give the broker a motive for murder. He knew that he had to strike before the paperwork was officially filed so he could get control of the account.”
“What if he was changing the forms from Gladys to his name instead?” Grace asked me.
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
“They broke up, remember? If their relationship really was over in Gray’s mind, why wouldn’t he give his money to someone else? Why not his investment counselor? If that was the case, how would Gladys react if she knew that she was going to lose her inheritance from Gray? For all we know, she was counting on the cash.”
“Are you saying that you think she killed him for his money?” I asked her. The idea was difficult to wrap my mind around. I never would have thought of the older cook as a gold digger, but it was clear that events may have been interpreted exactly that way.
“Suzanne, we’ve both seen murder committed for money in the past. Just because we think we know Gladys doesn’t mean that she might not be capable of it herself.”
