Scary Sweets

by Jessica Beck

  “Of course I did,” Momma said. “Phillip and I were in there last week buying a hummingbird feeder. The women get along remarkably well. It’s as though they’ve been working together for years.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes you just click with someone else,” I said as I rinsed the last plate and dried it. “I love working in the kitchen with you.”

  “I feel exactly the same way,” Momma said. After she dried her hands, she carefully hung the dish towel on the rack, spreading it just so to maximize its drying potential. I did the same thing myself, a habit picked up from watching her do it a thousand times when I’d been a little girl.

  “So, what else needs to be done here?” she asked me as she looked around the kitchen.

  “That’s it. We cleaned the front earlier, and Emma already took care of the deposit. I lost a little money today, but it’s nothing compared to the PR nightmare I could be facing with the contest results today. I briefly considered cancelling both events tomorrow.”

  “You can’t do that,” Momma said strongly.

  “I realize that, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t be tempted,” I said. “Who knows? Maybe nothing bad will happen tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure of it, despite the rule of three,” Momma said.

  It was long believed in our family that bad things came in threes, but I was hoping that tomorrow would be the exception and not the rule.

  “I’m ready to tackle Gabby and Margaret if you are,” I told her.

  “Lead on, Suzanne,” she said, and we left Donut Hearts and headed next door.

  It wasn’t that far a walk, but every step felt heavy in my heart.

  We were going to be opening some old wounds, and I already felt bad about doing it, but there was no helping it.

  The truth had to come out.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I’m sorry, but she’s changed her mind,” Gabby said after she answered our knock at the back door of ReNEWed. “Margaret doesn’t want to talk to you. The past is just too painful for her to relive.”

  “She should be worrying more about the present, not the past,” I said, speaking loudly into the crack of the open door so she could hear me. “We already know most of it, so she might as well talk to us.”

  “You’re bluffing, Suzanne,” Gabby said as she started to close the door.

  “Am I?” I asked. “Ask her what happened thirty years ago. See if I’m bluffing then.”

  The door shut soundly in my face.

  “I tried,” I said as I turned to Momma. “I guess we’re just going to have to do this without Margaret’s cooperation.”

  “Hold on,” Momma said as she pointed back to the shop. “She’s opening the door again.”

  “Come in,” Gabby said sternly. As I got closer, she whispered, “Suzanne, I’m warning you. Don’t push her too hard. She’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown as it is.”

  “We’ll be as gentle as we can,” I said.

  Gabby had pulled four chairs together in the backroom of her shop, and Margaret was already sitting on one of them. Her eyes were red, and she looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. “Are you okay, Margaret?” I asked her gently.

  “No, and I’m not sure that I ever will be again,” she said.

  “You know that you don’t have to speak with us if you don’t want to,” Momma said.

  While I admired my mother’s empathy, we really needed to hear Margaret’s side of the story. “That’s true, but it might just do you good talking to someone,” I said.

  “She’s been talking to me,” Gabby said fiercely.

  “I mean someone who can be a little more objective about it all,” I replied. “Gabby, everyone knows how big your heart is.” It was tough to say without smirking a little, but the woman was fiercely loyal to those she cared about. It just so happened to be a very short list.

  “How did you find out about what happened thirty years ago?” Margaret asked. “I thought that secret was long buried in the past.”

  “I spoke with a few friends on the condition that I wouldn’t reveal their names,” Momma said. “It must have been terribly difficult dealing with an unmarried pregnancy in those times.”

  “I was a foolish, foolish woman,” Margaret said, her words coming out in a burst. “I was afraid that I was going to become an old spinster, and then Carson Winfield came along. He was young, and handsome back then, and he had an energy about him that was hard to resist. I hired him to do some chores around my place, and he did everything in his power to woo me. I thought we were in love, but when I found out I was pregnant and insisted that we get married, he told me that he was already engaged to someone else! He also warned me that if I breathed one word of my condition to anyone, and who had gotten me into that state, he would ruin my reputation forever. I was devastated, and back then it wasn’t nearly as acceptable to keep a child out of wedlock as it seems to be these days. I went to a cousin’s house in Atlanta, had the baby, gave it up for adoption, and then I came back to try to put my life back together. The reason I never married was that I couldn’t bring myself to trust anyone after that.” Margaret was telling us her tale through tears, and it was all I could do not to put my arms around her and console her. Momma was showing similar restraint. Even Gabby didn’t stop her, which was to her credit, in my book. She merely reached over and took her friend’s hand in hers, giving her what comfort she could.

  “That must have been beyond belief to have to endure,” I said gently. “Did Carson come to town recently to see you?”

  “Yes, but not out of any love or affection. He wanted money. He desperately needed it, or so he claimed.”

  “What nerve,” Momma said. “You refused him, I hope.”

  “I wish I’d been that strong,” Margaret said. “But he warned me that if I refused him, he’d make sure that everyone in town knew what I’d done all those years ago. I couldn’t live with the whispers and stares behind my back! I would rather kill myself than endure that at my age.”

  “So you agreed to pay him off,” I said. “But then you changed your mind.” I was leading her, hoping that I was wrong, but suspecting that blackmail had led to the man’s murder, no matter how much he may have richly deserved it.

  “Yes, but I had another plan ready, too. I knit, you know.”

  “We know,” I said. “You filed the knitting needle down so it would break off inside of him, didn’t you?”

  “I got the idea from a tattered old paperback mystery novel from the fifties. Carson wanted every last dime I had to my name. I knew that if I paid him, I wouldn’t be able to survive. Yes, I decided to kill him, but I didn’t go through with it! You’ve got to believe me!”

  “And yet he was stabbed in the heart with a doctored knitting needle,” I said, trying to keep anything accusatory out of my voice.

  “I lost my nerve at the last second,” Margaret said, breaking down again. After a few moments, she collected herself and continued. “I threw the needle down onto the ground near the booth. When he asked me about the money, I told him I needed more time. He gave me twenty-four hours, and I ran away. Someone must have seen me wearing the scarf Gabby had given me. I went to her house and told her everything.”

  Gabby nodded. “Since Margaret didn’t do anything wrong, I thought she’d be all right. I freely admit that I got too cute putting that scarf in the window, though. When you asked for it, Dot, I nearly had a heart attack, but what could I do? I had to sell it to you. Margaret didn’t kill Carson Winfield, and that’s the truth.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was or not. After all, it made for an awfully convenient story. Her version of recent events could be true. Then again, she could just as easily have stabbed him, and realizing that we’d uncovered her motive, she’d come up with an alternate version of reality to try to sell us in an effort not to go to jail.

  “What are you going to do, Suzanne?” Gabby asked. “Are you telling the police chief?”

  “How can we not?” I asked. “H
e has a right to know what he’s dealing with.”

  “But she just told you. She didn’t do it!” Gabby insisted.

  “Trust me, Margaret. You’ll be better off if you tell the police chief everything you just told us,” Momma said.

  “But he’ll arrest me,” she protested.

  “He’ll question you, but I can’t say if he’ll arrest you or not,” I chimed in.

  “Give me at least until tomorrow,” Margaret said. “Maybe he’ll catch the killer without having to hear my story. You told me that might happen if I cooperated, Gabby. Please?”

  “Pardon us for asking this, but what would keep you from running away?” Momma asked. “You’ve got to admit that you’ve proven to be a bit impulsive lately.”

  It was a tremendous understatement, but Momma had a point.

  “I’ll vouch for her,” Gabby said.

  “How can you stop her if she decides to flee?” Momma asked.

  “She wouldn’t do that to me.” Gabby looked at Margaret and asked, “Would you?”

  “No. I promise. If nothing has changed by tomorrow morning, we’ll call the chief of police together. I swear it.”

  “What do you think, Momma?” I asked. I hated keeping this bombshell from the police chief for a minute longer than I had to, but then again, what could eighteen or twenty hours matter in the long run?

  “I say we trust her,” Momma said.

  “Oh, thank you, Dot. I knew I could count on you,” Margaret said effusively.

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Margaret. If you aren’t here tomorrow at eight a.m., I will take it personally, and believe me, you don’t want that.”

  Gabby looked as though she wanted to protest the overt threat from Momma, but ultimately she decided to stay silent. What was this power my mother had over people, and how could I acquire some of it for myself?

  “Suzanne, is that agreeable to you?” Momma asked me.

  “It will have to work, won’t it?” I asked.

  At that moment, Momma’s cell phone rang, and after she glanced at the number displayed, she said, “I apologize, but I’ve got to take this. We will see you both here tomorrow morning.”

  “We’ll be here,” Margaret said humbly.

  “I sincerely hope so.” As Momma left to take her call outside where she could expect a modicum of privacy, I stayed behind for a moment.

  “Gabby, thanks for coming to us with this,” I said softly.

  “If we hadn’t, I’m sure that you two would have found out on your own. You already knew most of it. Suzanne, I swear, when you go after something, you have a single-minded intensity that I cannot comprehend. You’re like a dog with a bone.”

  “Thanks, I think,” I said, hiding the hint of a frown.

  “It was a compliment, for what it’s worth.” Margaret blew her nose, and then her silent tears began again. Gabby looked at her friend with real pain in her expression. “I need to see to her. I trust you’ll be as good as your word?”

  “The way I see it, we have to trust each other at this point,” I said.

  “That’s a fair point,” Gabby said.

  I walked outside and heard Momma wrapping up her phone call.

  “Who was that?” I asked as she finished.

  “My source,” she said. “Suzanne, we need to find Arthur Bradshaw.”

  “Why? What did you find out about him?”

  “Let’s go. I’ll tell you along the way,” Momma said.

  Once we were in my Jeep heading to Arthur’s place, Momma said, “Apparently Carson was never good at making friends. Twenty-five years ago, Arthur threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again, so maybe he finally carried out his promise.”

  “What did Carson do to him?” I had a sudden thought. No matter how incongruous it seemed, the theory might just fit. “Was Arthur in love with Margaret himself?”

  “No, but he was smitten with a local girl named Jillian Ashe. They were engaged, but Carson decided that he wanted Jillian for himself, and he worked his magic on her, just as he had Margaret.”

  “I saw the man. I’ve got to say, he wasn’t particularly handsome,” I said, wondering how he was able to weave his spells over so many women.

  “From what I understand, he had a swagger, a confidence, that was almost irresistible to a great many women,” Momma said. “You heard Margaret. Once she was under his spell, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him.”

  “I know, but I still don’t understand it,” I told her. “So, Carson broke up the engagement?”

  “He did more than that,” Momma said. “The young woman killed herself when she found out that Carson had just used her and that he was going to throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper. In a fit of rage, Arthur threatened to kill him, so maybe he decided to follow up on his promise all these years later.”

  “Wow, it’s hard to imagine committing murder after so many years,” I said.

  “Suzanne, look at it from his point of view. Arthur lost the love of his life, and we both know that he never married, just as Margaret didn’t. I have no problem believing he could have struck when the opportunity presented itself.”

  “Then we need to talk to him and find out where he was this morning,” I said.

  “Shouldn’t we tell Chief Grant instead of marching over to Arthur’s office and confronting him?” Momma asked me. “It feels as though we might be taking an awful chance.”

  “Momma, it’s what we have to do. This isn’t without its risks, but what choice do we have? When Arthur was at the donut shop and word got out about me finding Carson’s body, he was surprisingly quiet, especially given the fact that the man usually can’t keep his mouth shut about the smallest thing. Remember, we didn’t know the victim’s identity at that point, so he had no reason to suspect that it was his old nemesis unless he had something to do with Carson’s demise.”

  “What if Margaret wasn’t the only one in town who knew that Carson was back?” Momma asked after a moment of thought. “He could have been happy about the man’s murder without actually committing it himself. Let’s go speak with him. But I’m warning you, if he starts to get violent or aggressive, we need to leave immediately.”

  “Hey, I’m not willing to take any unnecessary risks any more than you are,” I said, “but we can’t let that stop us from tracking this killer down.”

  “Agreed.”

  Arthur was just leaving his office when we got there. Two more minutes, and we would have missed him altogether.

  “Arthur, do you have a second?” I asked him as we approached.

  “Not really,” he said, clearly distracted. “My boss just called me. I need to meet with him in three hours, and it will take me just about that long to get there. What’s up? You’ve got thirty seconds.” To emphasize the point, he glanced at his wristwatch to confirm our time limit.

  Okay, there was clearly not going to be an opportunity to ease into this. “We know about your relationship with Carson Winfield twenty-five years ago,” I said.

  Arthur looked at me coolly for a second before he spoke. “Yeah. I figured you’d be by once word got out who he really was. You’re both wasting your time, though. I didn’t kill him.”

  “You don’t deny you had motive enough?” Momma asked him.

  “Of course I did! He might as well have put those pills into Jillian’s mouth himself. I loved her, and he took her away from me.”

  “You threatened to kill him back then,” I reminded him, “and now the man’s dead.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Arthur said. “I hated the guy’s guts, and if I’d known that he was back in town, I would have punched him in the nose, but I wouldn’t have killed him. Am I sorry that he’s dead? No way. That doesn’t mean that I did it.” He looked at my mother with disdain. “Frankly, I expect this behavior from Suzanne, but I thought ambushing someone in front of his office and accusing him of murder would be beneath you, Dot.”

  “We’re not accusing anyone of anything
at this point,” I said. “Where were you at four o’clock yesterday morning?”

  “I was in bed, alone. Where you were you?”

  He’d said it sarcastically, but I answered truthfully. “I was finding your old enemy’s body on the dunking-booth bench.”

  In response, Arthur just shook his head. There really was nothing else that he could say. “Sorry, but I can’t help you with that.”

  “When you were at the donut shop and heard that a man had been killed, you didn’t react at all,” I reminded him. “Why not?”

  “So what if I didn’t? Is that suddenly a crime?”

  “No, but it’s certainly odd behavior for you. Why weren’t you the least bit curious about it?”

  “I’ve got other things on my mind, Suzanne. Something’s been in the air at work for weeks, and I think I’m about to be fired. They’re calling it downsizing, but the outcome is just the same. I’m too old and too specialized to get another job, and I’ve been hearing rumors for a while that this was coming. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go face an execution of my own.”

  After Arthur was gone, I turned to Momma. “Do you believe him?”

  “It’s truly a shame the way corporate America is discarding its most valuable and seasoned employees all to save the bottom line,” Momma said.

  “I’m not talking about him getting fired,” I said. “Do you think he killed Carson Winfield?”

  “I’m not sure. He might have, but there’s no way of knowing, is there?”

  “That’s what we’re supposed to be finding out,” I said.

  “Granted. So, what do we do next?” Momma asked me.

  “I wish I knew,” I said.

  “We could always grab a bite at the Boxcar and see if Trish has heard anything,” Momma said.

  “Look at you, mining your sources like a real professional investigator,” I said.

  “Are you being sarcastic, Suzanne?”

  “Not at all. That was sheer admiration on my part. Come on. Let’s give it a try.”