Scary Sweets

by Jessica Beck

  “I’ll take ’em all,” he said with a grin.

  After I bagged them up, being careful to place them in the bottom of the bag without smudging the icing any more than I had to, I took his money and waited for the inevitable questioning to begin.

  He didn’t say a word about me finding the body though, and that fact made me a bit curious. “Aren’t you going to ask me about Carson Winfield?” I asked him.

  Arthur frowned, shook his head, and then he left abruptly, forgetting his donut holes and his change. “Arthur, you forgot your money and your donuts.”

  “Sorry. I thought I heard someone calling my name outside,” he explained as he quickly came back to the counter, grabbed the donut holes, shoved the change into the tip jar, and then took off.

  That was odd behavior, even given the circumstances. Arthur was usually pretty inquisitive by nature. So why was he quiet about Carson Winfield’s murder? I’d have to look into his reticence once I had more time, and Mattie Jones might bear investigating as well. Not only was she a knitter, but she was taking an awfully active interest in the murder.

  I had to laugh at myself. Mattie was a suspect because she asked too many questions, and Arthur was one because he didn’t. Maybe I was getting a little too carried away thinking that anyone around me could have done it. I’d need to back off a little before I blew a fuse.

  I wouldn’t be able to do it just yet, though, because Gabby Williams was storming toward my donut shop, clearly furious about something.

  “Suzanne, I need to have a word with you,” she said, barely acknowledging anyone else in my shop.

  “I’m kind of busy right now, Gabby,” which was true enough, but I really didn’t want to talk to her when she was so upset. If I could stall her for a while, maybe she’d have a chance to cool off before we spoke.

  Then again, probably not, but it was at least worth a shot.

  Gabby wasn’t about to be thwarted, though.

  “Right now, Suzanne. Get your assistant up here. That’s what she’s for, isn’t it?”

  I knew that there was no room for negotiation in her voice. “Let me get Emma.” After my assistant had taken over the front counter, I put a hand on Gabby’s arm. She recoiled from my touch, something that didn’t make me feel particularly hopeful about the coming conversation. “Let’s step into the kitchen,” I suggested. For one thing, it was my home turf, so maybe I’d feel a little better about our pending conversation. For another, if we stepped outside, I was certain several of my customers would relocate with us, hoping to overhear our discussion. I didn’t think the folks of April Springs were particularly nosy, but they certainly weren’t shy about trying to overhear something that might be juicy and, just as important, repeatable.

  “Fine. I don’t care where we talk, just as long as we talk.”

  We walked in back, and as I passed Emma, she gave me a quick look of sympathy.

  I was afraid that I was going to need it.

  “Now, what’s so important?” I asked her, deciding to meet fire with fire. If she was going to be aggressive about our conversation, then I would be, too.

  “You just had to go behind my back and start harassing her, didn’t you?” she asked angrily. “I don’t know how you figured out who she was, but you clearly managed it somehow.”

  I didn’t even have to play dumb, since I had no idea what she was talking about. “Do you mind explaining yourself a little more? I’m afraid that I’m lost.”

  “Suzanne, it’s not going to work with me. Margaret told me that someone painted a black cat on her front door. It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Margaret? She’s the one you’ve been protecting?” I asked, surprised by Gabby’s willingness to tell me a secret that she’d been guarding so closely just the day before.

  “You really didn’t know, did you?” Gabby asked as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small talisman, a knitted elephant, and started to play with it absently as she spent a few moments in thought. “Oh, no, I’ve made a terrible mistake. Forget I said anything.”

  Gabby started for the door, but I blocked her exit, a dangerous move even if she wasn’t agitated, which she clearly was at the moment. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t do that. Margaret was meeting Carson yesterday morning, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Gabby said, clearly furious with herself for divulging the information and now squeezing the poor little animal even tighter. “She didn’t kill him, though.”

  I wasn’t about to debate that fact with Gabby. “Momma and I need to speak with her.”

  “Suzanne, I was supposed to protect her, and all I’ve done is make a mess of things! How can I arrange for you to grill her about something that’s too painful for her to talk about? I’m her best friend, and she won’t tell me anything about it!”

  “Find a way to persuade her, then,” I said calmly.

  Evidently she took it the wrong way. “Are you threatening me, Suzanne?” Gabby asked. Was she actually happy that she had somewhere to redirect her anger? I wasn’t backing down, though. I couldn’t afford to, given the circumstances.

  “Gabby, it’s not a threat; it’s a promise. Margaret either talks to us willingly, or we push her until she has no choice but to comply with our request. Someone’s been painting black cats on windows all over town. You’re just being paranoid, but I understand why. I know you two are friends, and we won’t make it any harder on Margaret than we have to, but we need to speak with her about Carson Winfield, and sooner rather than later. I can guarantee you one thing, though; we’ll be gentler with her than the police will be.”

  “You just know they’ll want to talk to her, too,” Gabby argued. Was her resolve cracking just a little? I hoped so. Going against Gabby Williams always left me exhausted and shaking, and normally I avoided it at almost any cost if I could help it.

  Clearly this was the exception.

  I had no choice.

  “She has one chance to avoid that,” I said.

  “How is that possible?”

  “If Momma and I solve this murder before the police find out about her involvement in the case, her name will never come up.”

  “Are you really saying that you wouldn’t tell your buddy, the police chief?” Gabby asked, surprised by my admission.

  “Only if we run out of options,” I said. What had I just promised? If Chief Grant found out that I’d been holding out on him, he wouldn’t be at all happy with me. Then again, I had to give up something to get Gabby on my side. Margaret would be a tough nut to crack without Gabby backing us, and I knew it.

  “I need your word, Suzanne.”

  “I give you my word that I’ll do my best to keep her name out of this,” I said, the only concession I could really make. “I’m sorry. I know you want more, but I’m not going to lie to you.”

  Gabby seemed to consider that, and after a moment, she nodded. “Okay. I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you. Come by ReNEWed after you close at eleven. We’ll be in back waiting for you.”

  “What about your customers?” I asked her.

  “I’ll close the store,” she said. “This is too important.”

  “Fine. We’ll see you then. Thanks for making this happen, Gabby.”

  The shop owner looked at me fiercely, and then she said, “I’m doing this for Margaret, not for you, Suzanne.”

  “I understand,” I said, still feeling the sting of her words.

  Gabby was about to leave when I asked, “Where did you get that elephant? Did you knit it yourself?”

  “Do I look like a knitter?” she asked me. “It was a gift.”

  “From whom?” I asked her, not backing down for one second.

  “None of your business,” she answered abruptly.

  “It was from Margaret, wasn’t it?” I asked, taking a stab in the dark.

  “She finds knitting them relaxing,” Gabby admitted. “You can’t use that against her, though. I heard how that man died. Just because she knit
s doesn’t make her a murderer, Suzanne.”

  “I never thought it did,” I replied. It didn’t exactly rule her out, either.

  “Fine then,” Gabby said, and then she started toward the door yet again.

  As we walked out of my kitchen together, Gabby eschewing creeping out the backdoor like some kind of scoundrel, all eyes were on us, but no one dared to speak a word. Things were quiet for five seconds after Gabby left, and then the normal droning buzz of conversation took back over. Emma resumed her duties in back, and I took my place at the counter. It was as normal as things could possibly be, given the circumstances, but I for one reveled in the opportunity to sell donuts and not dig into a stranger’s murder.

  Unfortunately, my customers had other ideas.

  “You the chick that found Carson?” a gruff man asked me fifteen minutes later as he walked up to the counter.

  “I am the woman who discovered his body, that is correct. Who are you?” I wasn’t usually so blunt with my customers, but this man had irritated me from the moment he called me a chick. His chin sported sporadic gray whiskers, and his hair was in serious need of a trim. I couldn’t tell much about his clothes because he wore a long black overcoat, a duster that was clearly in need of dry cleaning. I wasn’t a snob, so the state of his appearance wouldn’t have bothered me if it hadn’t been for his attitude.

  “I’m Carson’s only friend in the world,” the man said, though if he’d felt any affection for the dead man at all, or sorrow for his loss, he wasn’t showing it to me.

  “Good for you,” I said, finding myself matching his manner.

  “Say, you treat all of your customers like this?” he asked me, the edge growing in his voice.

  “That’s the thing. You’re not a customer.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you haven’t ordered anything,” I answered, pointing out the obvious.

  “Give me a donut, then,” he said.

  “What kind would you like?”

  “Surprise me,” he said.

  If I’d had any that were old and stale, that was what I would have served him. Instead, I had to be satisfied with a lemon-filled donut that most of the filling had already oozed out of. I needn’t have been so careful in selecting my worst to offer him. After he slid the money across the counter to me, he jammed the entire donut into his mouth and downed it as though it were a contest.

  I doubted that he’d even tasted it.

  “Now I’m a customer. Tell me about it.”

  I shook my head. “You must have misunderstood me. Your purchase entitled you to a donut, not a question-and-answer session with the owner,” I said.

  “Okay. I get it.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Does that buy me some of your time?”

  I was tired of playing this game with him. I touched the bill and slid it back across the counter toward him. “Sorry. I don’t know anything that could be useful to you. I was taking a walk on my break when I found your friend. I called the police, and that’s all I know.”

  “Okay, I get that,” he said as he retrieved the bill. “If you don’t know anything about Carson, who would?”

  “Have you tried asking the police?” I asked him.

  The stranger looked at me as though I’d suggested he operate on himself without anesthesia. “The thing is, the cops and me don’t get along so good,” he said. “Anybody else I could talk to?”

  “Sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Gotcha. Okay then.”

  As he started to leave, I called out, “I never caught your name.”

  Instead of answering, he just grinned back at me. “That could be because I didn’t give it.”

  The second he was gone, I called Chief Grant. “A man was just at the donut shop asking about Carson Winfield. He claims to have been his only friend in the world, and when I asked him what his name was, he refused to give it to me. He was wearing a dark duster like a trench coat, and he has gray hair and stubble in need of a shave.”

  “Got it,” the chief said. “Thanks.”

  It wasn’t my problem anymore.

  Let the chief handle him.

  I had things to do myself.

  CHAPTER 13

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to show up,” I told George and Cassandra as they came into the donut shop a few minutes before we were going to get set up for the first donut-decorating contest. “I thought I was going to have to do the judging myself.”

  “We wouldn’t have done that to you,” George said. “But I don’t see what the problem is. Would it have been so bad if we hadn’t made it?”

  I took a deep breath before I replied and let it out slowly. “Mayor, there’s going to be one winner, and the rest are going to be losers. Let that be on your heads, not mine,” I said.

  “Perhaps we didn’t think this through, dear,” Cassandra told him.

  “Nonsense. They all know the nature of the contest going in. It will be fine.”

  “We’ll still be having it, then?” I asked him.

  “Of course we are. Why wouldn’t we?” George asked.

  “I thought that when the police discovered that it was murder, you might start shutting things down,” I admitted.

  “There’s nothing we can do for that poor man,” Cassandra said. “And you know what they say. The show must go on.”

  “If you say so,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

  George noticed something in my tone, though. “Suzanne, can I see you in the kitchen for a second? Cassandra, why don’t you help Emma and the others get things set up out here?”

  “Are you sure you don’t need me?” she asked him as she glanced in my direction.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered,” George said.

  “Listen, before you start in on me,” I said the second we were alone, “You should know that I’m doing the best I can with her.”

  “Really? That’s your best?” he asked me in the way only good friends are willing to do. It was clear that he didn’t worry too much about offending me and that I didn’t have to worry that much, either. “I kind of think you can do better than that. She’s a fine woman, Suzanne, and she’s going to be a part of my life and this town, so you might as well get used to it.”

  “Have things really gotten that serious between you?” I asked him.

  “That’s the direction they’re heading,” he admitted. “So, what’s your problem? The entire town is suddenly acting like I’ve done something wrong.”

  “Do you want to know the truth, or do you want me to sugarcoat it for you?”

  “Do you even have to ask?” George asked me, doing his best not to get angry. He might have learned some diplomacy skills since he’d become mayor, but the raw, rough George was clearly still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

  “Stop letting Cassandra run April Springs,” I said.

  The mayor looked at me sharply, and then, after a moment, he said softly, “She’s not running it. I’m the one in charge.”

  I eased my tone to match his. I’d said it in an inflammatory way on purpose so I could get his attention. Now we could chat like two old friends. “If that’s really the truth, then it wouldn’t hurt to show people that. It’s okay to consult with her, but you need to be the public face of this town. We elected you, George, not her. Most folks seemed to like her just fine before Fright Week, but she’s losing the chance to make friends left and right with the way she’s been acting lately.”

  The mayor took that in as well, and then, after a few moments, he nodded. “Okay. I get it. I’ll talk to her. You’ll like her if you give her a chance, Suzanne. I just know it.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting the opportunity,” I said. “As long as she doesn’t try to tell me what to do, we’ll be fine.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” George protested.

  “Why wouldn’t she? She’s doing it to you,” I countered.

  “I said I’d talk to her,” Geor
ge said as he started to walk out of the kitchen. Did I have to offend everyone who came into the donut shop to speak with me? Apparently so.

  I followed the mayor out and saw George take his girlfriend’s arm and walk her out the door.

  “What did you say to him?” Emma asked me.

  “We had a much-needed chat, that’s all,” I said. “Why?”

  “When you two came out from the kitchen, he looked as though he’d just been to the principal’s office,” Emma said.

  I wasn’t about to get into my conversation with the mayor. “What do we need to do to get set up in here?”

  “For one thing, this won’t work,” Emma said.

  “Why not? We still have plenty of donuts to decorate and all of the toppings there are,” I said as I glanced back at our inventory.

  “The problem is that there are fifty kids out there preregistering for the contest,” she said. “Barton is taking names and giving out numbers, and my mom and dad are getting tables and chairs from City Hall.”

  “Tell them they don’t need the chairs. The kids can decorate standing up,” I said as I looked outside.

  Emma was right. The town was crawling with kids ready to adorn their own donuts.

  “Good idea,” she said as she grabbed her phone and made the call.

  By the time we got the tables up, the police chief had temporarily blocked Springs Drive from Grace’s place all the way to City Hall. Anyone who had any business anywhere in between would have to do it on foot. The long folding tables were quickly set up, the tablecloths taped down, and the paper plates brought out, though not yet distributed.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, trying three times to get everyone’s attention but failing miserably.

  Finally Chief Grant blew a whistle so loudly that all conversations stopped instantly. He grinned at me as he nodded and said, “Go ahead.”

  I tried not to laugh as I said, “Welcome to the first round of Fright Week’s Decorate a Donut contest. This round is for kids nine and under.” A few tweens grumbled at that, but I was adamant that only the youngest got to participate in this division. “The seniors competition will be held right afterwards, and the adult division will be judged tomorrow. Immediately after that, the winners from each category and each round will compete for the grand prize, a free donut a week for a year.” There were several cheers from the crowd. Emma and I had played with the idea of a donut a day earlier, but that wouldn’t be good for our bottom line, or our winner’s bottom, either.