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Sugar Coated Sins

Page 8

by Jessica Beck


  “I know. I asked her thirty seconds after you left. She’s going to give us both copies when she finds them.”

  “Great minds think alike,” I said. “I’ll see you back home.”

  “See you then,” he said.

  Trish was looking particularly frazzled when I walked into the Boxcar Grill five minutes later. Turning her back to her customers, she was facing the kitchen as she said, “I don’t know when she’s coming back, Gladys. You’ll just have to do your best.”

  “Fine, but I can’t work every shift, Trish,” the older woman said.

  “I’m not asking you to. Just help me out for now, okay?”

  Gladys grumbled a little, and I saw Trish biting her lower lip, no doubt trying to keep herself from commenting any more than she already had. When she turned back to see me standing there, she said, “Hey, Suzanne.”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Hilda took off all of a sudden, and who knows when she’ll be coming back. Gladys is not happy about coming in early, or staying late, for that matter. Grab a table and I’ll get to you as quickly as I can.”

  “Actually, I’m here to talk about your wayward employee.”

  Trish frowned. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told your husband. All of a sudden Hilda had to leave town, and I’m stuck with holding things together until she gets back.”

  “Hey, I’m one of the good guys, remember?” I said softly. “Jake needs to speak with her for a reason. He said that she went to see her sick sister in Georgia. Is that right?”

  “That’s what she told me,” Trish said, hedging her bets a little.

  “Did you believe her?”

  Trish frowned. “Hilda’s been with me since I took this place over, and she worked here ten years before that. She’s like family to me, Suzanne.”

  “I understand that I’m putting you in an awkward position, but this is important. A man was murdered.”

  “And you think she did it?” Trish’s voice was shrill, and I knew that she was close to the edge of hysteria.

  “I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, and neither is Jake. I won’t lie to you, though. It looks bad, her running off just after the confession was found in the time capsule.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Trish asked, suddenly near tears.

  “When exactly did she leave? It’s important. Was it this morning, or was it some time after twelve?”

  “The latter. We’d just finished the early lunch crowd,” she admitted.

  “So, it was after the time capsule was opened,” I said.

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Trish said.

  “Would you like to know the details?”

  “No, I can’t deal with it right now,” she said abruptly. “Hilda didn’t do it. She couldn’t have.”

  “Then help us find her. Do you happen to have her sister’s number in Georgia? That could be very helpful.”

  “How about if I call and ask her about it myself?” Trish volunteered.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to give me her number?”

  “I can’t. Please don’t ask me to.”

  I wasn’t at all sure how Jake would feel about the proposed arrangement, but I trusted Trish with my life. “Fine. Go on and call her.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  Trish disappeared for a moment, and before she could return to the front, Jack Jefferson approached the register with his bill. “Where’s Trish?”

  “She had to step away for a second,” I said.

  “Well, I can’t stand around here all day waiting for her,” he said. “I’ll pay this later,” he added as he tucked the bill into his front pocket.

  “No worries, Jack. I can help you,” I said. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but I’d hate for Trish to lose money because of me. I rang up his bill, made change, and then I said, “Thanks for coming.”

  “I thought you ran the donut shop?” he asked me as he double-counted his change.

  “I do.”

  “Then why are you taking money at the diner?” Jake asked.

  “What can I say? I’m a multitasker.”

  He humphed and then walked out the door.

  “Did I miss something?” Trish asked as she walked back out of the kitchen a few minutes later.

  “No. I rang up a few customers while you were gone. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Are you kidding? I appreciate it,” Trish said. “If you’re looking for part-time work, I could use a hand.”

  “Sorry, but as a cook, I’m no match for Hilda or Gladys.”

  “That’s the problem. Neither am I.”

  “Were you able to get in touch with Hilda’s sister?” I asked her.

  Trish frowned for a moment before she answered. “I spoke with her.”

  “What did she say?” Why was my friend making this so hard?

  The words came out in a rush. “She hasn’t spoken to Hilda in four months, and what’s more, she’s feeling perfectly fine.”

  “So Hilda is on the run,” I said softly.

  “Just because she took off doesn’t mean that she did anything,” Trish protested.

  “You have to admit that it doesn’t look good.”

  “Suzanne, you’ve got to prove that she didn’t do it. I need your help.”

  “All I can promise you is that I’ll try to find out what really happened to Benjamin Port. After that, it’s up to Jake and the court system.”

  “I understand that, but since I know in my heart that Hilda is innocent, all you can do is help matters.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “Promise me two things, though.”

  “What?”

  “If you hear from her first, do your best to try to get her to come back to town.”

  “I can do that. What’s the second thing?”

  “Call me the second you hear from her, day or night.”

  “I don’t know. I’d feel as though I were betraying her trust if I promised you that.”

  “Take it or leave it, Trish. I can’t help her if I don’t know what she’s up to.”

  After a few moments, my friend nodded. “Okay. I’ll let you know, but I’m telling her that I’m calling you. If you’re not okay with that, then the deal’s off.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said, and then I patted her shoulder gently. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Just figure it out quickly, okay?”

  “Like I said, I’m going to do my best.”

  As I suspected, Jake wasn’t back home when I got to the cottage, so I decided to make us something to eat instead of going out for dinner. The main option we had for eating out in town was the Boxcar Grill, and after speaking with Trish, I was in no mood to go back there. Besides, Jake loved my cooking, or at least he claimed to. I was a pale imitation of my mother when it came to the kitchen, but I could hold my own when I had to. Dinner wasn’t going to be anything complicated, though. After making donuts in my shop all morning, I wasn’t in the mood for a marathon cooking session. After going through my cupboards and our freezer, I decided on a simple meal of spaghetti and French bread. I knew from the start that it wouldn’t compare to Napoli’s, but it was here and not half an hour away in Union Square. Besides, it would give us a chance to spend a little time together all alone, something that was worth more than a dozen meals out, even if Anita DeAngelis and her daughters made them.

  The pasta had just finished cooking when I heard the front door open.

  “Jake, is that you?”

  He came into the kitchen and smiled when he smelled the sauce simmering on the stovetop. “It had better be. I’m so glad you decided to cook. I wasn’t in the mood to go out tonight.”

  “Good. It’s nearly ready. Would you mind setting the table?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  As he worked, I drained the pasta and then added the sauce, stirring everything together while it was still hot. I’d toasted the bread in the oven,
so it was crisp and slightly browned, just the way we both liked it.

  “It’s not much, but at least it should be filling.”

  Jake smiled. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think it looks and smells delicious.”

  “That’s what I like, a man with a low bar.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight.

  “I’m going to spill dinner,” I said with a laugh.

  “Go ahead. I want to hug my wife.”

  I broke free long enough to put the pot on the table and then turned my attention back to my husband. After a proper greeting, he broke free and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” I said.

  Chapter 12

  After dinner, I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and we moved outside to the porch swing. The night was pleasant, with a gentle breeze stirring up and the serenade of crickets surrounding us as we lightly swung back and forth. “I’ve got to say, I love domestic life,” Jake said as he put his arm around me.

  “I’m a fan of it myself,” I said. “Are you ready for my report about my visit with Trish, or should we postpone it until later and just enjoy the evening?”

  Jake frowned for a moment. “The husband in me wants to wait, but the sheriff realizes that the sooner you tell me, the better.”

  “I’ve got to warn you, you’re not going to like some of it.”

  “Why should it be any different from the rest of my day?” he asked with a sigh. “And to think that I thought this job would bore me.”

  “No worries about that,” I said. “Let’s get the bad news out of the way first. Trish called Hilda’s sister. Not only is she not sick, but she hasn’t heard from Hilda for months.”

  “Why didn’t you speak with her yourself?” Jake asked softly.

  “I tried to, but that was the only way Trish would do it, so I didn’t have much choice.”

  “Hey, who am I to be a choosy beggar? I couldn’t even get that much out of her. It doesn’t look good for Hilda, does it? I hate to jump to conclusions, but she’s not making it any easier on herself by running away.”

  “I told Trish that. She promised to tell me the moment Hilda got in touch with her, and she also vowed to plead with her to come back to April Springs.”

  “Do you believe her?” Jake asked me.

  “Trish? With all my heart. If she says that she’ll do something, you can take it to the bank. It may seem as though we’re on opposite sides of this, but I trust her.”

  “Then that’s good enough for me.” After a few more swings, he added, “Not that I won’t pursue Hilda on my own. I can’t depend on her good intentions.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “It’s urgent that I speak with her, Suzanne. She’s a person of interest in a murder, no matter how long ago it occurred. My hands are tied.”

  “I realize that. I just hope she comes back on her own.”

  “So do I.”

  “How did it go with Judge Hurley?” I asked. “Or are you allowed to say?”

  “If he’d given me anything substantive, I might be tempted to keep it to myself, but he barely talked to me two minutes. When he realized what I was asking him about, he suddenly remembered an important engagement. Don’t worry. I’ll corner him yet.”

  “Would you like any help with that?” I asked.

  “No, at least not yet,” he replied.

  “Have you spoken with Benjamin’s sister yet?”

  “She’s coming by the station tomorrow. She was in meetings today that she couldn’t postpone, and I figured our interview could wait,” Jake said. “So, what’s on tap for you and Grace tomorrow?”

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure about her, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m going to be making donuts, just like always.”

  “I mean after that,” he prodded.

  “At this point, I’m not really sure. That’s the good thing about donut making, though. It gives me plenty of time to think.”

  “Well, keep me posted,” Jake said, and then he stretched and looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be going to bed about now?”

  “I can stay out a few more minutes,” I said. Our shifts were at such crazy odds that I didn’t get nearly enough time with my husband. So what if I stole a little sleep from the night? I’d manage to get through it, and in the meantime, I’d be able to spend a little more time with Jake.

  Soon enough though, I headed off to bed despite my intentions. After all, I had a big day ahead of me. After making donuts all morning, I planned on digging back into Benjamin Port’s life to see if I could figure out who had poisoned him on purpose.

  “What are those?” Emma asked me the next morning in the kitchen of Donut Hearts when she came in.

  I’d been playing with ideas for new ways to present yeast donuts, and I was having fun with my latest creations. “They’re nut-shaped donuts,” I said. “First I cut the donuts into squares instead of using my rolling circle cutter, and then I lop off diagonal corners to make them look like nuts. What do you think?”

  “They’re cool,” she said. “You should make bolt-shaped ones to go with them.”

  “Boy, we both need to get lives outside of the donut shop, don’t we?” I asked her with a grin.

  “I don’t know. I’ve tried the outside world, and personally, I like it here.”

  “Truth be told, I do too.”

  After I finished making my cuts, I had a good amount of leftover dough, so I combined it all into a ball, rolled it out until it was about a quarter of an inch, and then cut it into small strips. On a whim, I braided three strips together and set them aside as well. Why not have a little fun? After all, this was one of the spur-of-the-moment creations I liked to come up with every now and then. Emma’s forte for experimentation came to the coffee we served, but after a particularly bad combination a month before, we were sticking to our regular roasts for a while.

  The rest of our prep went normally, and when we were ready to open the door to our public, I was surprised to see Ray Blake standing outside.

  When I let him in, I asked, “Do you need to see Emma?”

  “No, I’m here for you,” Ray said. “I might have been a little hasty yesterday. If you’d still like to share information with me, I promise that I won’t print any of it without your permission.”

  “Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll pass,” I said. “Ray, I hate to think you got up this early just for me. Can I get you a donut? It’s on the house.” I’d thought about my earlier request to ask Ray for information, and in the end, I was glad that he’d turned me down. The man wasn’t just a thorn in my side; he was also a pain to local law enforcement, which now included my husband. I was probably being a little pigheaded, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Suzanne, don’t be that way. I was a little giddy having the upper hand for once, and I let it go to my head.”

  “No worries, Ray.” I gave him a plain glazed donut, one of the round ones, as Emma came out.

  “I thought I heard a familiar voice,” she said. “Hey, Dad. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to have a chat with Suzanne.”

  “I told you last night that wasn’t a good idea,” Emma said sternly.

  “Need I remind you that I’m your father?” Ray said. “I’m not obligated to take your advice, young lady.”

  “You might not be, but you should,” she said. “Bye, Dad.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a donut, see?”

  Emma reached out, plucked it off his plate, and then shoved it into a bag. “And now it’s to go.”

  Ray frowned at the offered bag and then at his daughter. He was about to say something when she added, “Don’t.”

  Ray took a moment to think about it, shrugged, and then he left.

  “Suzanne, I’m so sorry. Dad told me what happened yesterday, and when he shared h
is plans with me for this morning, I did everything I could to talk him out of it. I told him that when you made up your mind about something, it was tough to get you to change it.”

  “Am I really that stubborn?” I asked.

  “Not about everything, but I knew what it must have taken for you to go to my father for help, and when he started putting conditions on his cooperation, I realized that he’d be wasting his breath trying to get another shot at you.”

  “Well, you’re not wrong about that,” I said. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I don’t need my father butting into my life at work. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  “Why should I be? You tried to be the peacemaker. No worries, Emma.”

  “Good.”

  After a few moments, I asked her, “You’re not upset with me, are you?”

  “No way. Why do you ask?”

  “I just rebuffed your father in front of you. That would make some people angry.”

  “Your relationship with my dad has nothing to do with our connection,” she said.

  “Okay then. What say we sell some donuts?”

  “You can. I’m looking forward to tackling that sink full of dishes, myself.”

  “Then let’s get started,” I said as our first real customers started streaming in.

  Jan Kerber came in around ten with an envelope in her hands.

  “Good morning. What can I get you?” I asked her.

  “No donuts for me, I’m afraid,” she said as she frowned at my display case. It was clear that she wanted one, but I wasn’t going to push her on it.

  “What brings you by?”

  “I’m still working on that list you and Jake asked for,” she said. “It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. All I found in our archives was a grainy photo taken for a newspaper article Ray Blake published about the time capsule when it was first buried.”

  So, Ray might have been able to help me after all. At least I was getting the information from another source. “May I see it?”

  “Certainly,” she said as she handed it over. “I’ve got to warn you, though, our copier is just about worn out, so the quality’s not very good.”

 

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