by Jessica Beck
“Is there anyone else?”
“Well, he and his sister hated each other,” she said.
“Enough for her to kill him?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” she said.
So far she’d named each of our suspects, bar one. “Do you happen to remember how he felt about Judge Hurley?”
“He thought he was a fool, but he certainly didn’t hate him,” Hilda admitted.
“Could the reverse have been true?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “The judge was furious about Ben taking advantage of him, but I don’t know if he’d kill him for it. Besides, poison’s a woman’s crime, don’t you think?”
“I don’t follow.”
“If you ask me, a man’s more likely than not to sneak up behind you and clobber you with an iron pipe,” she explained, “but poison’s a more subtle way of getting somebody’s attention. It has something going for it that the more direct methods don’t.”
“Go on,” I said, fascinated by how much thought the cook had put into the idea of poison as a murder weapon. It made me wonder if I’d ever be able to eat at the Boxcar Grill again without wondering if I was about to be killed.
“If you shoot someone or stab them, you have to be close by, but poison can work from a thousand miles away. There’s no final confrontation to it. I’m not saying women don’t stab and shoot or even bludgeon, but it’s the rare man who would think of poison.”
“I can think of a type who might,” I suggested.
“Who’s that?”
“Someone who’s presided over countless trials that have involved all kinds of methods of murder,” I said. “Like a judge, for example. He might have chosen poison for the very reason that he wouldn’t be suspected of it.”
“I never thought of it that way. You and Jake both have your work cut out for you. Suzanne, I know there’s no earthly reason for you to believe me, but I didn’t do it. I surely hope that one of you catches whoever did, though.”
“So do I,” I said. “Hilda, you have to tell Jake everything that you just told me.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her expression clouding up a little. “It would be different talking to him.”
“Would you like me to go with you?” I offered.
She frowned, and after a moment, the cook shook her head. “No, I’ll face him alone. Where do you think he is right now? If I don’t do this right now, I might never be able to do it.”
“Let me call him for you,” I said, hoping that his interview with Lisa Port Smith was over. To my happy surprise, he picked up immediately.
“How did you know?” he asked the moment he realized that it was me on the other end of the call.
“Know what?” I asked him.
“That I just turned my ringer back on,” Jake said.
“Just lucky, I guess. How did it go with Lisa Port Smith? Did George’s information help you any?”
“I figured you must have been behind that,” Jake said. “Thanks, for all the good it did me.”
“What happened? Did she bring a lawyer with her and refuse to answer questions?” I asked. I knew it was her right to do so, but Jake hated to be stonewalled.
“No, but she might as well have. Interviewing her was like banging my head against the wall. Suzanne, if you want to take a crack at her, be my guest.”
“Thanks. I’ve got something that might help your day.”
“I’m listening.”
“At this very moment, I’m sitting on a bench in the park near our place with Hilda Fremont, and she’d like to speak with you.”
“I’ll be there in four minutes. Don’t leave, either one of you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“I don’t know how you managed it, but remind me to thank you later,” he said.
“I won’t let you forget that,” I said with a smile, and then I hung up and turned to Hilda. “He’ll be right here. You don’t mind if I wait with you, do you?”
“No, I don’t blame you for wanting to make sure that I’ll stay. After all, I’ve already run off once, haven’t I?”
“It’s understandable,” I said as I reached out and patted her hand. “You were scared. Don’t worry, though. Jake is a good man and a great cop.”
“He must be to have captured your heart so completely,” Hilda said, surprising me by how sentimental she could be. It was a side of her that I’d never seen before.
Jake was as good as his word. He must have parked at the cottage, because he hurried toward us from that direction. Jake nodded to me as I stood, and then he looked straight at Hilda. “Thanks for agreeing to speak with me. I know how hard this must be on you.”
“I just want to get this over with,” she said with a heavy sigh.
Jake nodded again, and then he turned to me. “Thanks, Suzanne. I’ve got this.”
“I’ll see you later, then,” I said as I started to walk away.
“You can count on it.”
I decided to leave my Jeep right where it was in the Boxcar parking lot and made my way to Grace’s house on foot. I had plenty to tell her about my conversation with Hilda and Jake’s invitation for us to speak with the dead man’s sister.
Those particular conversations would have to wait, though.
Grace wasn’t alone when I got there.
Chapter 15
“Judge Hurley, what are you doing here?” I asked him.
“I was looking for you. You weren’t at home, so I figured that you’d be here,” he said. The judge had gotten older since the last time I’d seen him, and it was clear that the years had been particularly hard on him. His thinning hair did nothing to enhance his appearance, nor did his drooping cheeks or his hangdog demeanor. He never ate at my donut shop, and I’d never had any reason to appear before him in court, so our paths rarely crossed, no matter how small a town we both lived in.
“Well, you found me. What can I do for you?”
“Right now you can keep quiet and listen. I already spoke with your husband, so I figured I’d go ahead and have the conversation I knew that you and I were going to have sooner rather than later.” He shook his head before he spoke next. “Don’t act so surprised. Do you think that the news of your exploits hasn’t reached my ears? You and this one here have been nosing around in police investigations for years.”
“I was just telling the judge that he wasn’t welcome here,” Grace said severely.
“Miss Gauge, are you ever going to get over what happened?” the judge asked her. “I’ve sentenced at least a dozen folks in this town to far worse than I gave you, and yet apparently you’re the only one still holding a grudge.”
“That you’re aware of,” Grace said.
He surprised me by smiling at the comment. “I suppose you’ve got a point there. Anyway, what do you want to know, Miss Hart? Or is it Mrs. Bishop?”
“Either one is fine with me. I’m proud of both names,” I said. “But I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were saying?”
“You’re wondering if I was angry with Benjamin Port. Yes, unequivocally. Did I want to kill him? Only metaphorically. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“Did you write that confession and put it in the time capsule?” Grace asked him.
“I did not.”
“Do you have an alibi for the time Benjamin was murdered?” I asked him.
“Boy, there’s no beating around the bush with you two, is there?”
“You’re the one who wanted to expedite this interview,” Grace said severely. “We’re just complying with your request.”
“Judge, I really would like to know.”
“How do you expect me to come up with an alibi for something that happened fifteen years ago? I barely remember what I had for breakfast last week, and you expect me to recall a time a decade and a half ago? Sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t do it.”
“Were you anywhere near the time capsule or its contents before it was buried under the
town clock?” I asked him.
“Asked and answered,” he objected. Where did he think he was, his courtroom?
“No, you said you didn’t put the note in the capsule. You didn’t say one way or the other if the opportunity might not have presented itself.”
“It’s a moot point. If I didn’t write the confession, then it doesn’t matter whether I was close to the capsule’s contents or not.”
“Still, we’d like to know,” Grace said.
“I was never anywhere near it, to the best of my recollection. Is that all?”
I looked at Grace. “Do you have anything else to ask him?”
“More than you can imagine,” she said.
“About our investigation,” I amended.
“No, nothing about that.”
“Thank you for your time, Judge,” I said. “Feel free to come by the shop for a free donut as my way of thanking you.”
“You know very well that I don’t believe in donuts.”
“Do you mean you don’t believe that they exist?” Grace asked him, clearly enjoying poking the bear a little.
“Of course I know that they are real. I just feel as though they have no nutritional food value whatsoever. No offense intended,” he added hastily to me.
“Why should I be offended? You just condemned my entire way of life. What is there to take offense at in that?”
The judge grumbled a little at my comment, but he decided not to pursue it. As he marched back down the street toward the courthouse, I said, “That was odd. How long had he been here when I arrived?”
“About thirty seconds, which was half a minute too long in my mind. What a stuffed blowhard.”
I decided not to comment on her analysis. Instead, I asked, “What do you make of what just happened?”
“Are you talking about his answers?”
“Those, and the fact that he basically just volunteered to be questioned by a pair of amateurs. How often does that happen to us?”
“You can count the times on one hand and still have a finger or two left over,” Grace said. “It was kind of unusual, wasn’t it?”
“The question is whether his explanation was valid and he wanted to nip our conversation in the bud as quickly as possible, or he’s hiding something and wanted to see how much we knew.”
“Which, truth be told, is not much of anything at this point.”
“I’ve got a bit of good news, actually.”
“Tell me. I could use some,” Grace answered.
“Jake has given us the green light to speak with Lisa Port Smith.”
“How did that happen?”
I shrugged. “He told me that she was basically unresponsive to every last one of his queries, so we might as well try to speak with her ourselves.”
“In other words, what is there to lose at this point, right?”
I grinned at her. “Right. Don’t you just love it when the bar has been set so low?”
“Low? This one is practically resting on the ground. If we manage to get anything out of her at all, we’re going to look like a pair of heroes.”
“Then let’s go see what we can come up with,” I suggested. “Should we drive or walk there? Her office isn’t that far, and it’s a beautiful day.”
“Ordinarily I’m not a big fan of exercise, but I’ve put on a little extra padding lately, so walking might be better. Suzanne, I have to learn to say no to your donuts.”
“Do you agree with the judge, then, that what I do is worthless?” I asked, feeling a little touchy about the subject. I’d been attacked for my offerings on more than one occasion before, but that didn’t mean that I’d grown to like it any more than I had in the past.
“I’m not going to argue with him on a nutritional level, but your donuts offer a spiritual and transcendental boost that is worth more than any health benefits that might be absent in the actual product.”
“That’s a saleswoman’s answer if ever there was one.”
“More like a best friend’s response, if you ask me,” she said as we started walking toward Lisa Port Smith’s office.
When we neared it, Grace said, “This is the hardware store. You know that, right?”
“Her space is around the corner,” I said as I led her around the brick building.
When we got to the back, I saw that the rear of the building had been divided up into three offices. One was vacant, one housed a small insurance business, and the third was nameless. It had a green door, which I approached with more confidence than I felt.
“Are you certain that this is the place?” Grace asked me. “There’s no sign or anything.”
“I understand she likes to keep a low profile,” I replied. “But this has to be Port Resources.”
“That’s a fairly generic name, isn’t it?” Grace asked. “I mean, they could be into anything.”
“The way Momma described the company implied exactly that.” No one answered my knock. Was it possible that Lisa was out? I knocked again, this time quite a bit more forcefully, and a moment later, the green door opened. I’d been expecting a secretary or a receptionist of some kind, but it was Lisa Port Smith herself who came to the door. I’d met her a few times several years ago, but that image didn’t jibe with the woman now standing in front of us. Her once-bright blonde hair had faded into dishwater brown, and she’d done nothing to stop the transformation. Lisa’s face, though heavily made up, still exhibited more lines than a woman her age should sport. Only her clothes presented the appearance of a woman who was a success in business.
“Yes? May I help you?”
“It’s Suzanne Hart and Grace Gauge,” I reminded her. “Do you remember me? We’ve met a few times in the past.”
“Of course. You’re Dorothea’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I said.
She showed no interest in Grace’s profession, and my friend didn’t offer any explanation for it, either.
“I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment. What can I do for you?”
“We’re here about your brother,” I said.
She frowned at the reference. “It’s a tragedy, but as I told the sheriff earlier, I don’t know anything about it. I, like everyone else in April Springs, assumed that Benjamin had been poisoned accidentally. I’m still not sure that it was intentional.”
“Even with the confession we found?” I asked her, incredulous that she could be so uncaring about her closest family member being murdered.
“The sheriff showed it to me, or rather a copy of it, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be legitimate, no matter how much credence he gave it. When did he take over the office, anyway? We seem to be going through law enforcement officers at a surprising rate around here. Where did they find this one?”
That was all I was going to listen to about Jake. “The sheriff, who also happens to be my husband, is a former investigator for the North Carolina State Police. While on the job, he was assigned the most difficult cases in the state. Your brother’s murder investigation is in solid hands.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected in terms of a response, but the next thing she said honestly surprised me. “If you’re so certain of his competence, then what are you two doing investigating as well? That’s why you’re here, am I correct?”
“We thought it might be a good idea to offer our input based on background information about April Springs that the police might not have full access to,” I said curtly.
“I’m sure. Well, as I said, there’s nothing I can do to help you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a business to run.”
“Don’t you want anyone to find out who murdered your brother?” Grace asked her before she could shove us out the door.
That finally got a response from her. “What good will it do him at this point? Will it bring him back from the dead? Will it matter one iota to him now if his killer is punished for the act?”
“All I know is that if it were my brother, I’d want to know,” Grace said,
taken aback by Lisa’s response. We’d questioned dozens of suspects in our time, but we’d never had a reaction quite like this one.
“Well then, we must be different,” she said.
I wasn’t ready to be ushered out quite yet, though. “You inherited his half of the company when he passed away, didn’t you?” I asked her.
She looked from Grace to me so quickly that I worried her neck might snap. “What do you mean by that? Are you actually implying that I had something to do with what happened to him?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m just gathering information.”
Grace added, “If you don’t want to tell us, I’m sure we can find out on our own at the Clerk of Courts’s office. After all, it’s got to be a matter of public record.”
Lisa clearly wasn’t happy with our unwillingness to disappear quietly, but what could she do, call the police and have us forcibly removed from the premises?
She bit her lower lip for a moment before trusting herself to speak. “Fine. We each owned half the company when he passed away. If I’d have died first, he would have inherited from me, but I didn’t. He did.”
I briefly considered sharing what George had told us about his brother’s plans to hire a hit man to take care of her, but I didn’t think the timing was right just yet.
Evidently Grace was under the impression that it was. “He was trying to have you killed. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, though it was obvious from her expression that this wasn’t the first time that she’d heard that particular bit of news. “That’s complete and utter nonsense.”
“Is it?” Grace asked. “We have a police officer’s statement that it’s true.”
“I don’t doubt that Benjamin might have joked with someone about it, but he always had a twisted sense of humor. I’m guessing that the person who overheard his statement didn’t know him and assumed that it was true. I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t, not one little bit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to go.”
