Gingerbread and a Murder

by Kathleen Suzette

  I was shocked. It hadn’t been that long since Sharon North’s stepdaughter had been murdered. I couldn’t imagine Edward North being in the mood for a party.

  “Really? I hadn’t heard about it,” I said. “She used to work at my mom’s flower shop years ago. She and her husband are really nice people. I wonder if her husband will be there?” Edward North traveled frequently on business and it wouldn’t surprise me if he would be out of town and that was why his wife was throwing the party so soon after Pamela’s death.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Oh, that’s right,” she said suddenly. “I forgot about Pamela.” She tried to suppress a smile when she said it.

  I hung the bag up and walked back over to her. “How are things going without Chrissy here? Did Michelle hire a new employee to replace her?”

  “Great! Things have gotten so much better around here without Chrissy causing trouble between all the employees. Michelle hasn’t gotten around to hiring anyone yet.”

  “It must be crazy here since it’s the Christmas season. With all the shoppers, it must get hectic.”

  She shook her head. “Not really. To be honest, Chrissy was lazy. She thought she was entitled and entitled girls don’t do much work. Besides that, I’ve picked up more hours with her gone and that’s helped me with my own Christmas shopping.” She grinned.

  I nodded. “You don’t miss her at all, do you?”

  She looked up from the top she had just hung up. “Not really. I guess that makes me a terrible person in some people’s eyes. And maybe I am. But you don’t know what it was like working with her. I hated coming to work. She made the day miserably long.”

  I had my own problem co-worker in Georgia Johnson, but I couldn’t imagine being glad if she was murdered. I guess it would be a relief not to have to deal with her on a regular basis, but I could never be happy about it.

  “I understand working with someone you don’t get along with. But I might be one of those people that can’t understand being happy that someone has been murdered.” I tried to say it as kindly as I could. I didn’t want to alienate her.

  She gave me a look that said she wasn’t terribly concerned with what I thought. “If it makes you feel any better, I do hope they find her killer. I’d hate for a murderer to be running around Sparrow.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I said, picking up a gold sequined top. It wasn’t Natalie’s style. I wasn’t sure whose style it would be, because it was unattractive with embroidered roses on the front, but I wanted something to do with my hands.

  “Sure. What is it?” she asked as she closed the top on the empty box she had been unpacking the tops from.

  “Is it true Chrissy framed you for stealing from this shop?” I watched her face to see if I could read what she was thinking.

  The smile left her face, and she stopped what she was doing. “Yes, it’s true. That was the kind of person Chrissy was. She’d do something awful and then blame someone else. She was the one who stole the jewelry, not me. Why do you ask?”

  I shrugged. “I just wondered. I heard you had a temper and got into some trouble a few months ago. Is that true?” Cade would have a fit if he heard me ask her that, but I wanted to see what her reaction would be. She had insinuated that Natalie had killed Chrissy. I might be holding that against her.

  Her cheeks went pink, and she blew air out of her mouth in a huff. “Yeah, it’s true. That tramp Jessica Simms was fooling around with my boyfriend. She bragged about it to me and laughed in my face. So you know what I did?”

  I shook my head. “No, what?”

  “I punched her in her smug face. I did it right in front of everyone when we were at a party because I wanted them to know that I wasn’t afraid to stand up for myself. You never know who might have eyes on your man and I didn’t want some other tramp to try what she did.”

  I nodded. “Well, I guess you showed them.” I said it in a tone that I hoped conveyed mild approval. I wanted her to continue answering my questions if I needed to come back and ask her anything else.

  She nodded, but her cheeks got pinker. “And you know what happened? She called the cops, and I was arrested.” She made a noise of disgust. “That stupid judge sentenced me to anger management classes.”

  “You could have gotten a lot worse,” I said.

  “Yeah, I know. But now, thanks to the judge, I have better ways of handling my anger issues,” she said sarcastically.

  “You mean like when someone frames you for stealing?” I asked mildly.

  Her eyes went wide. “What? Yes! Like when someone frames me for stealing. Is that what you’re getting at? Do you think I killed Chrissy?”

  I shrugged. “Did you?”

  She sputtered. “No! I had nothing to do with that! Just because I hit someone does not mean I’d kill. Is that what that detective thinks?”

  “I have no idea what he thinks. He keeps a lot of the details of his investigations to himself,” I said.

  She inhaled deeply and paused a moment. I wondered if she had learned this in her anger management class because she suddenly seemed calmer. “I had nothing to do with Chrissy’s death. If you want to sniff around someone’s heels, why don’t you try Susan Lang? She had a really good reason to kill Chrissy.”

  “What do you mean?” Susan’s name was coming up again, but I didn’t think she had a plausible reason for killing Chrissy.

  “Chrissy’s parents bought her house out from under her. She couldn’t make the payments on it after her husband died and lost it.”

  This couldn’t be true. Susan had just told me that she had gone all out decorating her house for Christmas. “How do you know that?”

  “Because my sister works at the bank that held the mortgage. Susan came in screaming and crying and begging the manager, who just happens to be Carol Jones, to give her more time to find the money to make up the payments she was behind on.”

  I hesitated, trying to process this. “Are you sure she did that?” I asked. Weren’t things like home loans handled at the corporate level? And wouldn’t she have had to speak to them if she was losing her home?

  She nodded and smiled smugly. “She did. My sister wouldn’t make it up. And besides, I saw her at the Hello Motel a few days ago when I was visiting a friend. Her curtains were open and there was a suitcase on the bed.”

  “Hello Motel?” I asked, puzzled. The Hello Motel was in a rundown part of town. It wasn’t a place that anyone would want to stay if they could afford even a little more money.

  She nodded. “She’s homeless. You tell that to the detective.”

  “I’ll certainly mention it to him.” I wasn’t sure what to make of this information. It seemed too bizarre to be correct.

  She nodded her head triumphantly. “Yes. You go and do that. He needs to talk to her and I think he’ll figure out exactly who killed Chrissy.”

  “How do you know Carol and Roger Jones bought her house out from under her?” I asked.

  “Chrissy said they did. She said the house was a dump and thought it was funny that Susan thinks so highly of herself, but she lived in a house that was falling apart and needed a lot of repairs.” She shrugged. “That’s how Chrissy was. She looked down on anyone that didn’t have money. Don’t you think that’s interesting?”

  “Well,” I said hesitantly. The look of jubilation on her face as she relayed this information was disconcerting. “Thank you for the information. I guess I’d better get going. I’ve got to get to work soon.”

  “You come back and get one of these bags if you’re going to the party,” she said as she turned away. “And don’t forget to tell the detective what I told you.”

  “Sure I will.” I turned and headed out of the shop. I wasn’t convinced about what she had told me. I couldn’t see Susan living at a seedy motel.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I didn’t know what to think about what Elaine had said about Susan. She had been so excited and sentimental about Christmas when I spoke to her t
hat I could hardly believe she was homeless and living in Sparrow’s worst motel. The Hello Motel was run down and whenever I had driven past it, there were some shifty looking characters hanging around out front. Which made me wonder what kind of friend Elaine had been visiting.

  “What did you bring us today?” Sam asked, peering at the shopping bag I held in my hand.

  “An eggnog cheesecake. What’s more Christmassy than that?” I asked as I removed it from the bag and set it on the kitchen counter.

  “Oh, that sounds good,” Luanne said, leaning over my shoulder. “Can you get drunk from eating it?”

  I looked at her. “Seriously? Have you lived under a rock all your life, Luanne?”

  “I have not! I just don’t know what you put in an eggnog cheesecake.”

  “The cheesecake is baked and if there was alcohol in it, which there isn’t, the alcohol would cook off in the heat of the oven,” I explained, removing the lid. “The snow is keeping people home so we’ll have plenty of time to sample this.”

  “Thank goodness,” Diane said, walking into the kitchen. “My feet are killing me. I spotted that bag when you came in. What is it?”

  “Eggnog cheesecake,” I said. “Want a slice?”

  “Are you kidding? Don’t stand there and ask me a dumb question like that and get to cutting.”

  I chuckled. “I take it you all have been waiting for me to bring something in to sample?” I asked.

  “You better believe it,” Ron White, our dishwasher said. “I was just telling Sam he needed to let you go. You’ve been slacking.”

  “Thanks a lot, Ron,” I said and went to a cupboard and got some plates down. “I used real heavy cream, just so you all know if you’re watching your weight.”

  Sam groaned. “I don’t watch my weight until sometime in January. Preferably the end of January.”

  “Right?” Diane asked him. “Calories don’t count in December, anyway.”

  “I’m with you both,” I said.

  I cut everyone a piece and put it on the plates while Diane hung near the kitchen door in case we got some customers. The cheesecake had turned out perfectly creamy, and I was pleased. I had worried the top might crack while baking.

  “Oh my gosh, this is perfect,” Diane groaned when she had taken a bite. “The nutmeg really brings out the eggnog flavor.”

  “Wow,” Sam said, nodding his head.

  “I guess that means I have your approval?” I asked.

  Sam nodded. “Best cheesecake I’ve ever tasted. I’m sure glad it’s Christmas time, and this stuff is in season.”

  I heard the bell over the front door jingle. “I’ll get it. You all enjoy yourselves.” I headed to the front counter and saw Cade sitting there. “Hey, baby.”

  He grinned. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me baby before.”

  “Well it’s high time I did,” I said and gave him a quick kiss. Then I gave him one not so quick. There weren’t any other customers in the diner, so I did it guilt-free.

  “How are things with you?” he asked.

  “Great. I brought cheesecake. Let me get you some.”

  “Do I have perfect timing, or what?”

  I headed back to the kitchen and cut him a piece and then stopped to pour him a cup of coffee on my way back. “Here we are.” I set the plate and the cup of coffee in front of him.

  “Looks good,” he said and took a big bite. “Wow, really good!”

  I chuckled. “I’m glad you approve.”

  He took another bite and his phone went off. He sighed and pulled it from his pocket. When he’d read the text, he shook his head and sighed. “As much as I’d love to finish this wonderful piece of deliciousness, I’ve got to get back to the station.”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  .

  “Most likely. You know how the chief is. He can’t seem to explain things with a phone call or a text.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “He’s old fashioned. He’s got to talk to people face-to-face.” He got to his feet and looked longingly at the cheesecake. Then he took another quick bite. “Save me some?” he said around the food in his mouth.

  “You got it,” I said as he left the diner.

  A minute later Carol and Roger Jones came through the door. I smiled. “Hello, Carol, Roger. Would you like a booth?”

  “That would be great,” Carol said.

  I picked up two menus and showed them to a nearby booth and took their drink orders. I went to get them an iced tea and a diet Coke. I tried to think of a way to ask them about Susan. The more I thought about it, the more I thought Elaine couldn’t be telling the truth.

  “Here we are,” I said, bringing the drinks back to their table. “Would you like more time to decide?”

  “No, I’m ready. I’d like the clam chowder,” Roger said.

  I pulled my order book from my apron pocket and jotted down his order and waited for Carol to make up her mind.

  “I’m debating between the clam chowder and a big juicy burger. Sam makes such tasty burgers and I’ve been thinking about them all day, but I don’t need the calories. Not that the clam chowder would save me calories, it’s so thick and rich.”

  “Now, you know that calories don’t count from Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day,” I reminded her.

  She chuckled. “You’re right. I’ll take the teriyaki burger.”

  “You got it,” I said, writing down her order. I wanted to ask them about Susan’s house, but I didn’t know if it might seem odd. “How are you two doing?” I asked after I finished writing. I was trying to find a way to ask what I needed to know.

  Roger sighed. “We’re coping as best we can.”

  “This is the first day we’ve left the house. I just don’t want to do anything,” Carol said with a hitch in her voice.

  “I can’t imagine how hard this has to be,” I said.

  “I don’t know what’s taking the police so long to figure out what happened to our little girl,” Roger said gruffly. “Seems like they should have had this figured out already.”

  “I know Cade is doing everything he can to find your daughter’s killer. I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded without looking at me. “Chrissy was loved by everyone that knew her. I don’t know why this happened.”

  “I think it had to be someone on drugs,” Carol said, looking at me. “I told Cade that. He needs to look at some of the young people around here. I think someone was at a party and used drugs and maybe killed her on accident.”

  “That’s a possibility,” I said. “Can I ask you both something?”

  They nodded and looked at me expectantly.

  “Did you all buy Susan Lang’s house?” It was a question that probably seemed out of the blue to them and I hoped they didn’t press me on why I was asking.

  “Yes. A little over a month ago. It was sold at auction after the bank foreclosed on it. Why?” Roger asked.

  “Really? I had no idea it was foreclosed on. I could have sworn she was still living there.”

  Carol shook her head. “That woman. She is something else. Home loans are handled in our main office and I know for a fact that they give a person every opportunity to keep their home. I saw the house was on the list of local foreclosures and it was in such a great location that I told Roger we needed to grab it when the foreclosure went through. You could say we had an inside advantage.”

  “We’ve gotten a lot of great deals that way,” Roger added.

  “But when we bought the house, Susan came to us and asked us to sell it back to her. She wanted us to carry the papers on it. When we told her we couldn’t do that, she asked us to rent it to her. There was no way we were doing that. The place was a mess when we finally got to go inside of it. It was in need of a lot of repairs too, and we weren’t going to rent it to someone that treated a home like that,” Carol said.

  “Besides that, I buy homes to refurbish them and sell at a profit. That house has water damage and
needs new electrical put in it. I’m barely going to make a profit after all the clean up and repairs. There’s no way I was going to rent it to her. I don’t buy houses to do charity work,” Roger said and snorted.

  I nodded. Poor Susan was either delusional about decorating her house, or too embarrassed to admit she had lost it. Financial troubles could make a person do desperate things, but could they make someone kill?