by Jessica Beck
“I’m sorry I took off like that, Suzanne.”
“You were worried. I understand completely. When are you coming back?”
“I’m hoping to make it sometime tomorrow,” he said.
I looked out my window and saw someone watching the house from the shadows of a large tree. There was still some light out, but I never would have seen them if I hadn’t been looking out my window at that exact moment.
“Jake, I’ve got to call you back.”
“What’s going on?” he asked. “I can hear something’s wrong in your voice.”
“I’ll call you later,” I said, and then I hung up.
I quickly dialed George’s cell phone number. “Somebody’s watching my house. Do you still have your gun?” He’d told me once he’d kept his service revolver after he’d retired, too attached to it to give it up, so he’d paid to keep it instead.
“Sure. Don’t go outside. I’ll be right there.”
“Should I call Chief Martin?” I asked.
“I can handle this myself,” he said.
As soon as we hung up, I began to regret calling him. I should have dialed 911, and left George out of it.
When I tried to call him back, there was no answer.
A little belatedly, I dialed the police number and got Officer Grant, the cop who frequented my donut shop the most.
“I need a favor,” I started off.
“Let’s see. The going rate is a dozen donuts an hour. If you’re ready to pay the price, I’m your man.”
“This is serious. There’s a prowler outside my house.”
His jovial mood disappeared instantly. “Then it’s not a favor, it’s a police matter. I’ll be right there.”
“Hang on. There’s something you should know. I called George Morris first, and he’s on his way over here, too. He’s armed.”
“Suzanne, remind me to tell you how insane that was after this is over.”
He hung up before I could defend my actions, not that there was a defense.
I kept my vigil for the prowler, but I had a sudden thought. Momma was still downstairs, and she had no idea someone was watching our house. I grabbed my softball bat and raced down the steps, just as my mother had one hand on the front doorknob.
“Stop,” I shouted.
“Suzanne, what’s wrong with you? I’m going back out to the glider.”
“Not at the moment you’re not,” I said as I pushed myself between her and the door. “There’s someone outside watching our house.”
She peered around me and looked out the window. “I don’t see anyone.”
“I already called George, and the police are coming, too.”
My mother shook her head. “That’s an awful lot of firepower for just a prowler,” she said. “Why did you call both?”
“I called George first, then I realized it was a mistake. If something happens to him because of me, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”
“Don’t worry, child, it will be all right.”
“I wish I could be as sure as you sound,” I said.
I looked out the window through the curtains, trying to see who would show up first. I couldn’t see anyone from that vantage point, but then again, I hadn’t figured I’d be able to.
In the distance, I saw George carefully approaching, and just behind him was Officer Grant. The police officer must have gotten George’s attention, because I saw my friend stop, turn, and wave Officer Grant away.
When he wouldn’t, the two had a brief discussion, and then I saw them approach together.
They peered into the undergrowth of several trees, and as I saw them stop at the massive tree where the prowler had been, I felt the muscles in my stomach tighten.
A minute later, they came out from under the tree’s canopy and walked out in the open toward the house.
I met them on the front porch. “He was right there. I swear it.”
George said, “Well, he’s gone now.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just somebody out jogging?” Officer Grant asked.
“I can tell when someone’s out for a run or standing there watching me,” I said.
“Playing some softball later tonight?” he asked.
It was only then that I realized I was still holding onto the aluminum bat. “It’s a girl’s best friend,” I said. “I’m not all that comfortable around guns, but I figure this will protect me well enough.”
“I’ve seen you play softball,” George said. “I’m pretty sure you’re right.”
Officer Grant nodded, then said, “I’ve got to get back to the station and fill out a report.”
“Can’t we just keep this between us?” I asked.
“No chance. I had to log it to get permission to leave the station. I’ve got desk duty tonight, and the chief watches us pretty close so we don’t slip out.”
“Thanks anyway,” I said.
He tipped his patrolman’s hat to me. “Part of the service, Suzanne. Good night, George.” He started to walk away, then added, “The next time you try something like this, I’m going to do my best to get your gun permit pulled. You’re not a cop anymore, remember?”
“You do what you have to do,” George said, “and so will I. If one of my friends needs me, I’ll take care of them first, and worry about getting permission later.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, and then headed back into the woods.
George and I watched him go, and then I said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you in the first place.”
“I didn’t need backup, Suzanne,” he said. “I could have handled this prowler all by myself.”
I patted his shoulder. “I know, but what can I say? I worry about you.”
“There’s no need to. I’m retired; I’m not dead.”
“I get it,” I said. “Since you’re already here, why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got to be getting back home.” He looked around the park filled with trees, then said, “If he shows up again, call me.”
I didn’t answer; I just smiled at him. I wouldn’t make that mistake again, but I didn’t have to rub his nose in it, either. “Good night.”
“Night,” he said as he left.
I walked back inside, and found Momma standing by the door. “They didn’t find him, did they?”
“No. I’ve got a suspicion Officer Grant thinks it was in my imagination, but someone was out there, and they were watching us.”
Momma shivered slightly, then dead-bolted the front door. “I think, for tonight, we’ll sleep with our windows closed and our front door locked.”
“I know you like the nighttime breezes, but I think that’s a good idea,” I said.
“What did Jake have to say when you two talked?” Momma asked as I started back up the stairs.
“His niece is going to be all right,” I said.
“That’s good news indeed.” She hesitated, then asked, “But how about the two of you?”
“We’re still working it out,” I said.
“Give him time, Suzanne. Most good men are worth the effort.”
“Was Dad a lot of work?” I asked.
“You’re kidding, right? I had him nearly fully trained when he passed away, but it was a daily struggle.” Her soft smile denied the severity of the words. It was clear to everyone who knew her that my dad had been the love of my mother’s life, and it was easy to see that she missed him every day.
“Ninety percent is the best you can ever hope for, right?”
She nodded. “We have to leave them a little spirit, don’t we?”
“I couldn’t even get Max into double digits, so I’m not the one to comment.”
I called Jake back once I got upstairs, debating whether or not to tell him about the prowler, but it was a moot point.
His phone went directly to voice mail. I left a message that said, “Sorry about that. We had a little excitement here, but everything’s fine now. Call me tom
orrow. I’m going to shut off my telephone and go to bed.”
After the call, I did as I’d promised and I shut off my phone, turned out the lights, and tried to get to sleep, knowing that there might be someone out there watching me.
Surprisingly, I managed to nod right off, and by the time I got up, I was beginning to think that I might have misread the situation myself.
At 5:30 that morning, we were ready to open, but I was having trouble with the floor mixer again, so I asked Emma, “Would you mind getting the door?”
“Happy to do it,” she said.
My assistant poked her head through the door, and then came straight back into the kitchen.
“Maybe you’d better do it,” she said.
“Why? Is Jake out there?” Was that the kind of grand gesture I’d been hoping for?
“No, it’s George.”
“You’re right. I’d better take care of him,” I said as I brushed past her.
As I unlocked the door, I let George inside. “You’re early. I didn’t think we were meeting until noon.”
As he took his seat at the bar, George asked softly, “Can we talk here without her hearing us? I don’t want to drag Emma into this.”
I said, “Don’t worry about her. She’s got her iPod on while she’s working on the dishes. It’s the only time I’ll let her listen to it, and if I want to get her attention, I have to stand right in front of her and wave my hands in her face. Why, what’s so urgent?”
George said, “This couldn’t wait. First things first. Did the prowler come back last night?”
I shook my head. “No, we didn’t see anything, and I’m beginning to wonder if it wasn’t just some innocent jogger that I accused of watching my house. My nerves are more than a little on edge right now.”
George said, “It’s understandable if they are.”
As I got him coffee, I said, “We’ve got some nice orange slice donuts today, if you are feeling like trying something different. It’s a new recipe.”
George said, “Why not? I’ll try one.”
I fetched him a donut from my latest recipe. I’d been working on incorporating different things into my donuts, and my latest attempt was mixing fruit or candy in with my batter. I thought this latest attempt was a winner that might go into my rotation, but I wanted to field-test it first.
I watched him taste his sample, and I got a grimace from George instead of the smile I’d been hoping for.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he said as he took a healthy swallow of coffee.
“George, I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”
He hesitated, then said, “It’s a little sweet for my taste.”
“They need a little more work then, don’t they?”
“Hey, don’t pull them on my account,” George said. “I’m no donut judge.”
“That’s not true. I respect your opinion.”
As I got him his usual fare, I said, “Is that why you came by, just to check up on me?”
“No, I’ve got some news to share,” George said.
“I hope it’s good. I could surely use some,” I said as I took his sample donut and threw it away. I knew if I left it on the counter, he’d peck at it out of politeness, and donuts should be eaten for pleasure, not out of a sense of obligation.
“I’ve learned something interesting about Peg’s late husband. It’s true he worked for a large corporation, but he wasn’t its CEO.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He was a maintenance man,” George replied. “His base salary was never much, and from what I understand, Peg was nearly broke when he died.”
“But that was before the divorce settlement from her second husband,” I said.
George shook his head. “That man never had five grand at one time in his entire life, let alone the fifty Peg supposedly got.”
“What are you talking about, George?”
“That book you found should have been shelved with the rest of the fiction. From what I’ve been able to find out, Peg would have been lucky to raise a thousand dollars if she had to.”
This was getting even more confusing. “She had nice things. Grace and I saw them in her house.”
“I’m not doubting you. All I’m saying is that she was as close to broke as you could be. I don’t know where she got her furnishings, but I’m willing to bet they’re all copies instead of real antiques.”
“Why would she do that?” I asked.
“People do the strangest things,” George said. “I once arrested a man who claimed to be the real King of England. Talk to him about anything else, and he was perfectly rational, but when it came to his succession to the throne, he was so convincing I almost bought it. For whatever reason, Peg’s ledger is full of what might have been, not what was.”
“Then how has she supported herself? Peg’s never had a job as long as I’ve known her.”
“That is the question, isn’t it? She lives in a modest house, and it’s not even hers, most of it belongs to the bank. Still, with taxes, utilities, and pesky things like food and clothing, I have no idea how she managed to support herself.”
“I think I do,” I admitted.
George said, “Don’t keep me waiting in suspense. How did she do it?”
Just then the front door chimed, and I looked up quickly, hoping again it was Jake. I was going to have to stop that, or it was going to drive me crazy.
It was Bob the pie man, ready to pick up his four fried apple pies. “I’ve had warmer greetings at the doctor’s office,” Bob said as he saw my face.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else.”
“Or was it someone?” Bob asked.
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve seen that look of disappointment on a woman’s face before when she realized it was me,” Bob said, adding a smile to diffuse the bite of his own insult.
George swiveled on his stool and smiled at Bob. “I’ve been there a time or two myself.”
Bob slid the money across the counter toward me and looked expectantly at the pies.
I handed him the box. “Enjoy them.”
“You know I will,” he said as he took his change. As he held the money aloft in one hand and the box of pies in the other, he said, “You’re the best, Suzanne.”
“That’s nice to hear,” I said, smiling.
“Even if it’s just from me?”
I laughed. “Good-bye, Bob.”
“Bye, Suzanne, and thanks.”
After he was gone, I said, “Now, where were we?”
George said, “You were about to tell us how Peg managed to support herself after her husband died and she was out of money.”
“I think she was stealing,” I said.
“Honestly?” George asked. “From whom?”
“From the charities she chaired. I’ve found out some pretty interesting details about how she organized the committees she ran.” I brought him up to speed on all of the checks written to P.E.G., and explained my theory of assigning only pliable treasurers and vice chairs.
George mulled it over, and then said, “I kind of find that hard to believe. Are you sure?”
“No, but I can’t account for the way those checks had been written any other way. I convinced Janice to tell the chief about it, so we’ll see what happens.”
“Isn’t he going to suspect you?” George asked.
“I’m hoping he doesn’t connect me with it,” I said, “but if he does, there’s not much I can do about it, is there? So, what did you find out about Burt?”
George said, “It’s not as good as what you uncovered. I had a few drinks with him, and I finally got him to talk.”
“What did he say?”
“Burt’s always been full of brash boasting when it comes to his conquests, and his stories about Peg were no different. He kept bragging about how he dumped her, which is what he told you, Suzanne, so I steered the c
onversation to Marge. That’s when he shut up, and when I pressed him on it, the man walked out of the bar in a huff, even though I was still buying drinks.”
I said, “That sounds reasonable enough. He was finished with Peg, so why shouldn’t he discuss her? Marge is a different story, though. From the look of things, they’re right in the middle of their relationship.”
George frowned. “That’s the thing. Burt normally brags the most about the girlfriend he’s got at the moment. I’m telling you, it’s out of character for him. Something’s going on there.”
I said, “It’s been my experience in the past that whenever someone changes their behavior pattern, there’s a reason for it. We just need to find out what Burt’s reason is.”
George pushed a half-eaten glazed donut around his plate, then said, “Like I said, it’s not much, but I’m not through digging yet.” He looked at it, then added, “I can’t believe Peg isn’t loaded.”
“She sure managed to look like she had more money than she did. Her wardrobe wasn’t as expensive as it looked, though. Grace said she found Gabby’s mark on nearly everything in her closet.”
I knew from my own purchases that Gabby placed one single black line of stitching inside the clothes she resold. It was her way of tracking inventory as it came in and out of the store, and if you didn’t know what you were looking for, it was easy enough to miss. “Now we know that she had every reason in the world to act frugal,” I said.
Grace came into the shop, waving something in her hands. It looked like a 3X5 index card.
“You’re not going to believe what I just found.”
“I’m having a hard time believing you’re even up yet,” I said as I looked at the clock. It was barely seven, and for Grace, that was more like three A.M.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go by Peg’s to see if I could talk Heather into having breakfast with me so I could ask her for another chance to help her with her aunt’s house.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d think,” Grace admitted.
George asked, “What did you find?”
Grace held the card out to me, and I took it from her and read,
I’ll be back at nine tomorrow morning. Heather Masterson.
I fanned the card in the air. “What’s the significance of this? She’s allowed to sleep in, isn’t she?”
