Sweets, Suspects, and Women Sleuths Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  “I certainly understand that sentiment. But here’s the thing, for me to be able to find out who killed April, there’s something I need from you.”

  “What is it?” Summer asked.

  “Tell me everything about these recent problems that your sister was having,” I said.

  Chapter Five

  When I finished speaking with Summer, my emotions were still raw. As Joe approached me, I tried to pull myself together as best as I could, but that proved very difficult to do.

  “Can you believe it?” I asked.

  Joe shook his head. “Of course not. This is crazy.”

  “Just when life was really going well, too.”

  “Isn’t that always the way things work out?”

  “That sure seems to be the case. At least in Hollywood.”

  A pained expression was on Joe’s face as he replied, “What a tragedy.”

  I nodded. “Especially for Summer. My heart goes out to her.”

  “I know. So does mine,” Joe said. “I just wish…”

  He couldn’t finish his sentence, but I had a pretty good feeling about what he was trying to say.

  “I wish we could have done something to stop this too, but we’re not psychic. We didn’t know this was going to happen,” I said.

  Joe took a deep breath. “It’s just incredibly difficult, seeing Summer so broken up, and feeling so helpless.”

  “I know what you mean. You want to do everything you can for her, but you can’t give her what she really wants. The fact is, there’s nothing that any of us can do to bring her sister back.”

  He shook his head. “Isn’t that the brutal truth?”

  “But there is something we can do.”

  Resolve came to his face. “I hear you. As much as I hate to leave Summer alone right now, there’s work to do.”

  “There sure is. I mean, it’s bad enough that there’s a killer on the loose. It would be infinitely worse if they got away with murder.”

  Steely determination was in Joe’s eyes. “That’s not going to happen. I’m going to make sure of it.”

  “On that note, where do you want to start?”

  “In my experience, an ex-husband is always a good bet,” Joe said.

  “I can’t disagree with that,” I replied. “Let’s see what Matthew Wheaton has to say for himself.”

  Chapter Six

  Matthew Wheaton ran one of the most successful solar panel company’s in town. All I had to do was take one look at all the paperwork on his desk to see that he was a busy man. But the slick, trim, angular-faced forty-nine-year-old looked especially eager to show Joe and me the door.

  What Matthew failed to realize was that my brother and I weren’t going anywhere until we got some answers.

  An exasperated tone was in Matthew’s voice as he spoke with us. “I don’t understand why you’re even here.”

  “Mr. Wheaton, please don’t play dumb with us,” Joe said.

  “I’m being serious,” Matthew said.

  “We told you. April Gilbert is dead,” Joe said.

  “I’m sorry about that. But I don’t get why you’re talking to me,” Matthew said.

  “I have a hard time believing either of those statements,” Joe said.

  Matthew’s nose wrinkled. “Why?”

  “Are you really sorry about April’s death?” Joe asked.

  “Of course I am. It’s terrible that she’s gone,” Matthew said.

  Joe stared Matthew down. A moment of silence passed.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Matthew asked.

  “Mr. Wheaton, I want you to know that we’re going to do everything in our power to bring April’s killer to justice,” I said.

  “Are you trying to intimidate me? Because don’t bother,” Matthew said.

  With Joe and Matthew in the middle of a stare down, I tried to diffuse the tension between them.

  “This doesn’t have to be so confrontational,” I said.

  “Tell him that,” Matthew said.

  “Look. We just have a few questions for you,” I said.

  “Isn’t there someone else you should be talking to right now?” Matthew asked.

  I folded my arms. “Matthew, are you in a hurry to get rid of us?”

  Matthew shook his head.

  I squinted at him. “Really? Because it sure seems like you are.”

  “I was just trying to urge you not to waste your time,” Matthew said.

  “Trust me. We wouldn’t be here if we thought it was a waste of time,” I said.

  “Well, it is. I had nothing to do with April’s death,” Matthew said.

  “The jury is still out on that one,” I said.

  Matthew gritted his teeth.

  “Fine. If you’re so convinced that we should be talking to someone else right now, does anyone in particular stand out to you?” Joe asked.

  “It’s your job to know that stuff, not mine,” Matthew said.

  “All right. Since you weren’t able to provide us with any names, we’ll just get back to you,” Joe said.

  Matthew shrugged. “How many times do I have to tell you that I didn’t kill April?”

  “Telling us is one thing. Being able to prove it is another,” Joe said.

  Matthew groaned. “This is crazy.”

  “Look. I’d like to believe you,” Joe said.

  “Then do it,” Matthew said.

  “It’s not that simple,” Joe said.

  “Sure it is,” Matthew said.

  “The thing is, you certainly had reason to want her dead,” Joe said.

  Matthew threw his arms out. “What are you talking about?”

  Joe stared Matthew down. “What do you think we are, stupid? We know you two had a bitter divorce.”

  “That was eight years ago,” Matthew said.

  “True, but you’re still paying her alimony,” Joe said.

  “I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Matthew said.

  “I have a hard time believing that,” Joe said. “Over the course of eight years, all those payments add up to a lot of money out of your pocket.”

  I piggybacked on Joe’s comment. “If that’s not bad enough, April was about to file for an increase in alimony payments from you.”

  “Do you really think I’d kill her over something like that?” Matthew asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re capable of. That’s what we’re here to find out,” Joe said.

  “I’ll make it really easy for you. I’m not a killer,” Matthew said.

  “Mr. Wheaton, we’re going to need more than that,” Joe said.

  “What else do you want from me?” Matthew asked.

  “An alibi would be nice,” Joe said.

  “This is ridiculous. You think I might have killed my ex-wife over alimony payments?” Matthew said.

  “I’ve seen people killed over less,” Joe said.

  “Detective, I run a wildly successful business. I’ve been in a committed relationship for the last five years. I wouldn’t risk all that to murder my ex-wife,” Matthew said.

  “Fine. Then prove it. Do you have an alibi for last night?” Joe asked.

  “I’m afraid my answer is going to be quite boring. I worked late, then went home, watched some sports highlights on TV, and crashed out,” Matthew said.

  “What time did you leave here?” Joe asked.

  “A little after nine o’clock,” Matthew said.

  “And you went straight home?” Joe said.

  Matthew nodded.

  “Is there anyone who can verify that story? Your girlfriend, maybe?” Joe said.

  “I don’t need anyone to verify it. That’s what happened,” Matthew said.

  “Answer my question. Is there anyone who can corroborate what you just told me?” Joe asked.

  “No. But I’m telling you the truth,” Matthew said.

  “That’s what every suspect says,” Joe replied.

  “I don’t care what anyone else says. I
told you where I was last night,” Matthew replied. “So if you don’t have any proof that I did anything wrong, we’re done here.”

  Chapter Seven

  Joe hated Matthew’s attitude, but he was in a bind. As much as Matthew rubbed him in the wrong way, Joe didn’t have a shred of proof that Matthew was guilty of anything other than being a man with a short fuse and a big ego.

  Reluctantly, Joe and I left Matthew’s office and drove over to Monique’s Hair Salon on Sheridan Street. It turned out that business was booming. So when Joe approached Debra Jameson with his police badge out, Debra elected to speak with us outside the salon.

  Things got off to a peculiar start when Debra began walking out of the salon with her hair-cutting shears still in her hand. When I brought that fact to her attention, she immediately put the shears down and pretended like she’d just had an absent-minded moment. Only I wasn’t as convinced that her mind was as absent as she was leading on.

  From there, the three of us headed outside. As Joe revealed the news of April’s death to Debra, I watched the forty-nine-year-old’s body language. Debra had curly hair, a trim body, a square face, and hazel eyes. Her muscles didn’t tense up, nor did she seem overly remorseful upon hearing that April was deceased.

  My thoughts then turned to the conversation I’d had with Summer earlier when she had given me some background on Debra. Apparently, Debra and Matthew had been dating for five years, but they were nowhere near getting engaged. Apparently, Matthew’s bitter divorce from April had made him gun shy about ever getting married again. I couldn’t help but wonder how that made Debra feel, to be in a long-term committed relationship with a man who was so reluctant to ever walk down the aisle again.

  My head was abruptly pulled out of the clouds by the sound of Debra’s voice interrupting Joe.

  “I think you’ve come to the wrong place,” Debra said.

  “I assure you, we haven’t,” Joe said.

  “You must know something that I don’t then. I’m very confused as to why you’re here,” Debra said.

  “I told you, April Gilbert was murdered,” Joe said.

  “Don’t get me wrong. That’s awful. At the same time, I can’t figure out why you want to talk to me. I’ve never even spoken to April,” Debra said.

  “That may be true, but you’re dating someone who used to be married to her,” Joe said.

  “By that logic, why aren’t you talking to Matthew right now?” Debra asked.

  “We just finished speaking with him. Now we have some questions for you,” Joe said.

  Debra’s nose scrunched. “What kind of questions?”

  “Simple stuff, like where were you last night between ten and eleven o’clock?” Joe asked.

  “I was at home,” Debra said.

  “Doing what?” Joe asked.

  “Reading,” Debra said.

  “Were you alone?” Joe said.

  Debra folded her arms. “You mean, do I have an alibi?”

  “Since you put it that way, do you?” Joe said.

  Debra shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s a shame,” Joe said.

  “Then again, I didn’t think an innocent woman needed an alibi,” Debra said.

  “If you’re innocent, that’s exactly why you do need one,” Joe said. “To prove without a doubt that you aren’t guilty.”

  Debra scoffed. “Do you really think I could have murdered someone I’ve never met?”

  “Trust me. I’d love to be able to cross you off of my suspect list, but without an alibi, I can’t do that,” Joe said.

  “By the way, why weren’t you with your boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Matthew was working late so I decided to curl up on my couch with a glass of wine and a good book,” Debra said.

  “According to Matthew, he left work around nine. Why didn’t he stop by your place?” I asked.

  “When he works late, he leaves the office completely exhausted. He wouldn’t have had much energy left over for me,” Debra said.

  “Is that what he told you?” I said.

  “He didn’t have to. I know my boyfriend,” Debra said.

  “What did he tell you exactly?” I said.

  “That he was leaving work and heading home to crash out,” Debra said.

  “And you believe him?” I asked.

  “Of course I do. I have no reason not to,” Debra said.

  “I can think of a reason,” I said.

  “My boyfriend didn’t kill April,” Debra said.

  “Someone did,” I said.

  “It wasn’t him,” Debra said. “And it wasn’t me.”

  “Unfortunately, neither of you have alibis for the time of the murder,” Joe said.

  Debra groaned. “This is ludicrous. What reason would I even have for wanting her dead?”

  Joe exhaled. “Are you really going to make us spell it out for you?”

  “I sure am. Especially since I believe this accusation of yours is completely baseless,” Debra said.

  “Actually, money is one of the most common motives for committing murder,” Joe said.

  Debra chuckled. “Now you’re really talking crazy. I don’t stand to make any money from April’s death.”

  “Not directly. But Matthew will suddenly have twenty-one-hundred dollars extra in his pocket every month just by not having to pay April alimony,” Joe said. “With her dead, that’s money that he can start spending on you.”

  “I don’t like where this conversation is going,” Debra said.

  “And I don’t like that there’s a killer on the loose,” Joe said.

  “I’ll bet. Which is all the more reason for you to stop wasting your time hassling me,” Debra said.

  “Ms. Jameson, trust me. You’re the only one who thinks I’m wasting my time right now,” Joe said.

  “If you’re so certain that I did something wrong, are you planning on arresting me?” Debra asked.

  Joe stared her down. “Not at the moment.”

  “In that case, I need to get back to work,” Debra said.

  She took a few steps back toward the entrance to the salon.

  Joe made sure to get the last word in. “Don’t go leaving town now, you hear?”

  Chapter Eight

  Joe and I headed over to a computer repair shop on Park Road. Greg Bell, one of the repair techs, was tinkering with a laptop as we entered the store. For a man who lived in sunny southeastern Florida, Greg sure had pale skin. The long-haired forty-five-year-old had a mustache, glasses, a scrawny frame, and very little customer service skills.

  Until Joe pulled out his police badge, Greg didn’t even look like he wanted to speak with us at all. Thankfully, the badge was enough to get his attention. Joe introduced himself and broke the news about April’s death. He was very careful with his phrasing, only mentioning that she was deceased, not that she was murdered.

  Greg was visibly distraught when he heard that April was dead.

  “That’s terrible news,” Greg said.

  “You’re really broken up, aren’t you?” Joe said.

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Greg asked.

  “Not everyone is,” Joe said.

  “What kind of a heartless monster wouldn’t be bothered by that news?” Greg asked.

  “I can think of a few names,” Joe said. “Can you?”

  It didn’t take long for Greg to produce an answer. “Her ex-husband, of course.”

  “Anyone else?” Joe said.

  Greg shook his head.

  “Are you sure no one else comes to mind?” Joe asked.

  “Not at the moment,” Greg said.

  I focused on another subject. “You cared about April a lot, didn’t you?”

  “She was a good friend,” Greg said.

  “Isn’t it true that you wanted to be a lot more than just friends with her?” I asked.

  Greg’s face tensed up as he stared at me.

  “Why are you asking me that?” Greg said. “What ar
en’t you telling me?”

  “April’s death wasn’t just some freak accident. She was murdered,” I said.

  Greg’s eyes widened. “That’s crazy.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said.

  Greg threw out his arms. “Who would do something like that?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” I said.

  “Then why are you here?” Greg asked. As he stared at Joe, a paranoid look came to his face. “Unless…wait a minute, you don’t think I might have had something to do with this, do you?”

  “We’re not sure,” Joe said.

  “That wasn’t a no,” Greg said.

  “We’re just here to ask you some questions. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about,” Joe said.

  “I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me,” Greg said.

  “Will you please calm down? I’m just doing my job here,” Joe said.

  Greg shook his head. “No. If you were doing your job, you’d be tracking down the killer, not badgering me.”

  Joe snickered. “I have news for you. This isn’t badgering.”

  “It sure feels like it,” Greg said.

  Joe scoffed. “I haven’t even gotten to the tough questions yet.”

  “What do you mean, tough questions?” Greg asked.

  “For example, where were you last night between ten and eleven o’clock?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t know why you thought that would be a tough question. I was at home,” Greg said.

  “Doing what?” Joe asked.

  “Playing video games,” Greg said.

  Joe’s eyebrows rose. “You still play video games at your age?”

  Greg folded his arms. “Don’t judge me.”

  “Is it safe to assume that you were alone last night then?” Joe asked.

  “What did I tell you about judging me?” Greg replied.

  “Fine. I’ll ask you again without any judgment in my voice. Were you alone last night?”

  Greg meekly responded, “Yes.” He then became very defensive. “Why does that even matter?”

  “Because without anyone to verify your story, I can’t confirm that you are telling the truth,” Joe said.