Lemon Larceny (The Donut Mysteries)

by Jessica Beck

  That’s when he started listing some of the cases I’d worked on in the past with my friends, providing enough details with each one to prove that he wasn’t bluffing at all. “Care to keep denying it now?” he asked after he finished summing up my past investigations. It was more thorough than I would have liked, to be honest. Was he a particularly good researcher, or were my exploits that easy to uncover?

  “What can I say? I’m here to see to my aunt’s last wishes,” I said.

  “If that’s the way that you want to play it, that’s okay by me. Just don’t stir up trouble where this isn’t any to be found. I know when something like this happens, it’s natural to look around for someone to blame, but like it or not, accidents happen all of the time,” he said as he tore off a copy of the police report and handed it to me. “I’d get that lock fixed sooner rather than later, if I were you.”

  “I’ve got it covered, but no one’s getting in through there now,” I said firmly.

  “Maybe not, but it’s blocking the only exit down here, and that’s a code violation.”

  “Are you going to write me up for it?” I asked him.

  “Of course not. I’m just saying that it’s not something you want to leave. I’d get Hank to take a look at it if I were you.”

  “He’s already been called,” I said. “Thanks for coming by, Chief.”

  “Happy to do it,” he said.

  I followed the police chief upstairs, and after he was gone, Momma asked, “How did I do?”

  “I’ve got to say, your acting was superb,” I said.

  “I wasn’t acting. He seemed rather cavalier about the break-in, didn’t he?”

  “I thought so, too,” I said, and then I recounted everything that he’d said to me.

  When I got to the part about him knowing about my past involvement with murder cases, Momma said, “Suzanne, are you really all that surprised that you’ve gotten a reputation over the years, particularly in the law enforcement community?”

  “I guess I never really thought about it,” I said.

  “Well, you should.”

  “My real question is why would the police chief investigate the two of us at all?”

  She frowned. “Perhaps he just likes knowing who is in his town.”

  “It’s possible, or maybe there’s something more to it than that. At least we have an alibi for him that we can check now.”

  “Ah yes, the diner. Shall we go there and see if it’s true?”

  “Why not?” I asked. “We can grab a bite to eat and ask about the police chief’s alibi at the same time. After that, we can head over to Adam’s office and see what the attorney has to say for himself. After all, he told us that we needed to come by today anyway.”

  “Good. That just leaves Anna Albright for last.”

  “Boy, you really aren’t all that fond of her, are you?” I asked my mother.

  “No, not really.”

  “Then I’m glad that we’re saving her for the end,” I said. “Now, let’s go to Burt’s and see if the chief of police was lying to us about where he was when Aunt Jean was murdered.”

  “Welcome to Burt’s. Have a seat anywhere, ladies, I’ll be with you in a shake,” a middle-aged waitress with short blonde hair and granny glasses said as Momma and I walked into the diner. I noticed that her nametag said Tammy.

  “Thank you, Tammy. We will,” Momma said.

  She looked closely at both of us. “Do I know you two? You don’t look familiar.”

  “No, this is our first time here,” I said.

  “Then how do you know my name?” I pointed to her nametag, and she smiled. “Sometimes I forget that I’m even wearing it.”

  As Momma and I found a booth against the large window, I said, “I suppose that this place has its own sort of charm, doesn’t it?”

  Momma smiled. “I like it. It reminds me of a place your father used to take me to when we first started dating.”

  “Did it look newer back then?”

  “Suzanne, expand your horizons a little. I think it’s delightful,” she said as she selected one of the menus leaning up against the napkin dispenser.

  I looked around at the worn linoleum floor, the scratched Formica tabletops, and the faded yellow walls and wondered where the attraction my mother was seeing was. “Okay, if you say so.”

  “Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?” she asked me.

  “Hey, I’m going to order something to eat. Isn’t that adventurous enough, given our surroundings?” I asked with a smile. “Honestly, I like eating at places like this.” As I looked at the menu, I wondered aloud, “What looks good?”

  “I’m having the country-style steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans,” Momma said. “That was always your father’s favorite.”

  “Then we’ll make it two,” I said. I loved that even though Momma had found love again with the April Springs Police Chief, she still made lots of references to my late father.

  Tammy walked over with an order pad in one hand and a pencil in the other. “Have you had time to decide yet, or should I come back later?”

  “We’ll have two of the lunch specials, with sweet teas to match,” Momma said.

  “Good choices all,” Tammy said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I waited until our waitress returned with our teas to ask, “Have you seen Chief Kessler today?”

  “Oh, he’s here just about every morning. Most days you could set your watch by him.”

  “Including yesterday?” I asked.

  Tammy thought about, and then she frowned. “You know what? He skipped us entirely yesterday. That’s odd. I never realized that he didn’t show up.”

  It was interesting indeed, for more reasons than she might suspect.

  “Are you sure about that?” Momma asked.

  “Believe me, I notice when he’s gone. The chief eats the same thing every morning; two eggs over medium, two pieces of white toast, and two slices of bacon. It’s a five-dollar meal, and he always leaves me a ten and tells me to keep the change. I’m not about to forget that kind of tipper, or not miss him when he doesn’t show up.” She looked around the dining room as she added, “Believe me, most of these guys leave me their nickels and dimes at breakfast.”

  “Thanks, Tammy,” I said.

  “Happy to chat. It makes the day go by quicker. Your lunches will be right out. Burt’s got an assembly line set up in the kitchen for the daily specials, so you won’t have long to wait.”

  After she was gone, I said, “So, the sheriff’s alibi doesn’t hold water. Why would he lie to us, Momma?”

  “Could he have simply forgotten about it?” my mother asked.

  “I can’t imagine. Where did you have breakfast yesterday?” I asked her.

  “At home with Phillip,” she said, “where I have breakfast nearly every day. How about you?”

  “I had a cup of coffee and a power bar, and then when I got to work, I sampled a new lemon-filled donut that I’ve been playing with.”

  “What makes it different from the kind you usually serve?”

  “This one is tarter, and it uses real lemon zest in the filling and the batter,” I said.

  “That sounds delicious. How was it?”

  “It was too tart for my taste,” I said. “That’s not the point. I might not be able to tell you about something that happened a month ago, but I don’t know anyone who can’t remember where they had breakfast the day before.”

  “So, the chief is lying to us,” Momma said.

  “That would be my guess. The only real question I have is why would he do that?”

  “Maybe he never dreamed we’d try to verify his alibi.”

  I smiled. “If he thought that, he was clearly wrong. So, where was he really, and what was he hiding? Does it mean he had something to do with what happened to Aunt Jean, or is there something else that he’s trying to keep under wraps?”

  “I have no idea, and what’s worse, I don’t even know how we go abou
t finding out.”

  “We just keep digging until we uncover something,” I said as Tammy brought us our food. There was a large slab of ground beef swimming in mushroom gravy on the plate. The mashed potatoes sported a gravy reservoir of their own, and some of it had even spilled over onto the green beans.

  “There you go,” she said, pausing just long enough to top off our glasses of tea.

  “That’s a lot of gravy,” I said before she left.

  “Burt’s famous for it,” she said. “I know it looks like a lot, but take a taste. If you don’t like it, I’ll bring you something different.”

  I took my spoon and dipped it delicately into the gravy. When I tasted it, I was amazed by the subtle flavors and nuances in it. “That’s really good,” I said, showing my amazement.

  “There’s a chef in Raleigh who’s been after him to give up the recipe for years, but Burt won’t budge. He claims he got it from his late grandmother, but I know for a fact that Ruby Devine couldn’t cook a cup of hot water. No, this is all Burt’s.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Momma took a taste of her own. “This is amazing. I’m getting undertones of red wine, leeks, and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “Your palate is clearly more educated than mine,” I said as I took a bite of the mashed potatoes. They were good enough, but the gravy was clearly the star of this meal. “I just know that it’s good.”

  “Who would have believed that we’d find something like this in Maple Hollow?” Momma asked as she relished another bite.

  “The world’s just full of surprises,” I said.

  As we ate, Momma’s fork paused. “Suzanne, I’ve been wondering about something for awhile.”

  “If I can enlighten you, I’d be glad to,” I said.

  “Do people lie to you often?”

  “Are you kidding? All of the time,” I said after I took a sip of too-sweet tea. I liked mine sugary, but too much of this stuff would put just about anyone into a diabetic coma.

  “How do you sift through all of the lies, then?” she asked me.

  “I once heard someone say that at the heart of every lie is a kernel of truth,” I said. “Sometimes you can learn more about the lies people tell you than the truth.”

  “How so?”

  “I believe that the truth shows your character, but lies show your intent,” I said.

  “Did you hear that from someone else as well?”

  “No, that one’s all mine. Momma, you can’t take it personally. There are lots of reasons that people lie, especially during a murder investigation, even though they might not realize that’s what we’re conducting here.”

  “For example?”

  I took one final bite, pushed my plate away, and then I said, “The most obvious reason people lie is to hide the truth, but it’s not as simple as that. They can do it out of guilt, but they also might lie to keep from having to disclose something that embarrasses them, or even something that might incriminate them in a completely different sin. That’s not all, though. Sometimes they even lie out of compassion.”

  She looked surprised by the statement. “How so?”

  “I’m sure you realize that people have been known to lie to spare someone else’s feelings, or even to protect them. In the end, though, it all boils down to concealment. Our job is discovering the facts about what really happened. In the end, that’s really all that matters.”

  “Doesn’t their intent count for anything?”

  “Of course it does. Motive is usually crucial in discovering the truth, but you were right when you told me when I was younger that actions speak louder than words. In the end, I care more about who killed the victim than why they did it, whether it was out of fear, greed, anger, or any of a dozen other reasons. It’s a rare case indeed when murder is ever justified.”

  “I’m a little surprised that you think that it ever is,” Momma said, watching me closely for my reaction.

  I just shrugged. “The older I get, it seems the less I see things in black and white. It’s been my experience that the world is painted in varying shades of gray.” I finished my tea, and then I added, “I must sound pretty cynical to you.”

  “As a matter of fact, you sound as though you’re all grown up.”

  “Well, if I am, it’s about time, isn’t it?” I asked with a grin.

  Tammy came by with a pitcher of sweet tea for refills, but I held my hand over the top of my glass. “I’d better not.”

  She grinned broadly at me. “It’s kind of sweet today, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe just a bit,” I said.

  “I told Penny she was using too much sugar, but she wouldn’t listen to me.” Tammy tore a page off her order book and slid it under my mother’s plate. “No rush, but pay the man up front on your way out, and don’t forget to tip your waitresses.” It was clearly an old and well rehearsed line, but she delivered it with an open smile, and I found it charming.

  “I can get that,” I said as I reached for the check, but I wasn’t quick enough. Momma reached it before I could.

  “Nonsense,” Momma said. “It’s my treat. After all, I should be paying you.”

  “For helping you find Aunt Jean’s killer?” I asked in a low voice. “No offense, but I’m not doing this for you, Momma.”

  “I know that. I’m talking about the internship.”

  Now it was my turn to be confused. “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve taken me on as your sleuthing understudy, and I’m amazed by how much I’ve already learned.”

  “It’s really not all that much. I’m just sharing a few things with you that have worked for me in the past.”

  “What do you think experience is?” Momma asked as she left Tammy a rather sizeable tip. I was pretty sure that our server wasn’t going to forget us, either.

  “That’s too much, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Nonsense. Not only did we get excellent service, but she refuted the police chief’s alibi in the bargain. I think she earned every dime of it.” Momma winked at me as she added, “Besides, I have a feeling if we need anything more from Tammy in the future, she’ll remember us.”

  “There’s little chance that she’ll forget us now,” I said, marveling at my mother’s own savvy when it came to dealing with people.

  “Shall we?” Momma asked.

  “We shall,” I said. She paid our bill up front, and then we walked out of the diner together. We had a meeting with Aunt Jean’s attorney, at his own request no less, but there was going to be more on the agenda than he realized.

  Momma and I were going to use our time with him to see if it was possible that he’d had something to do with my aunt’s death.

  Chapter 13

  “Ladies, it’s nice to see you again,” Adam Jefferson said as we walked into his office. His secretary, a comely young woman named Etta, had escorted us in less than a minute after we walked through the door. She’d been dressed stylishly, but not as nice as her boss. Adam was currently wearing a three-piece suit and tie, quite a change from the last time we’d seen him.

  “My, don’t you clean up nicely,” I said with a smile as I took his offered hand.

  “Suzanne,” my mother scolded me. I could swear that it was almost automatic when she did it, and I wondered if I’d ever be old enough for her not to try to change me into a better person. I kind of doubted that day would ever arrive, but I could live with that.

  “Sorry,” I said, though it was clear to all three of us that I didn’t mean it.

  “Don’t apologize, especially when it’s true.” The attorney used his hands to gesture toward his clothes. “This is just the required uniform for my chosen profession.”

  “You do look rather dapper,” Momma said as she took her seat. “Now, let’s talk, shall we?”

  I had to laugh, even if it was just to myself. That was my mother, straight to the point.

  “I agree. It’s time that we got down to the busine
ss at hand,” Adam said as he started to open the folder on his desktop.

  I didn’t want to discuss anything about my aunt, though, at least not yet. “I have a question for you before we get started,” I said.

  “By all means,” Adam said. “I’ll answer it if I can.”

  “You told us earlier that you spoke with my aunt yesterday at seven in the morning. Is that correct?”

  “It is,” he acknowledged, giving me the full benefit of those deep blue eyes.

  “May I ask what it was about? I don’t mean to be nosy, but I can’t ever remember needing to speak with an attorney that early in the morning, and I get up at the crack of dark to make donuts for a living.”

  “Believe me, it was your aunt’s decision to have that conversation, not mine,” he said. “I dropped my spoon in my cereal when I realized who was calling me so early in the day.”

  “What was so urgent, then?” I asked him.

  “She had a nightmare, actually,” Adam said seriously.

  “A nightmare?” my mother asked incredulously. “Did my sister make it a habit of calling you first thing in the morning to share her dreams with you?”

  “No, that was a first for me,” Adam admitted. “But she said it was important, so I listened.”

  “What was her nightmare about?” I asked.

  “Suzanne, that’s hardly pertinent to the task at hand, don’t you think?” Momma asked me.

  “Not at all. If Adam doesn’t mind, I’d really like to hear what dream Aunt Jean was so troubled by that it woke her up and made her feel the need to share it with someone instantly.”

  My words had been spoken casually, but Momma got the hint that I had a reason for my question, and she shouldn’t worry about it.

  “It was rather troubling,” Adam said. “I’m not telling you this as her attorney, because that’s not why she called me. I’m telling you because Jean and I were friends.”

  “Understood,” Momma said.

  “Well, it was the oddest thing, to be honest with you.”

  “Did she dream that she was falling, by any chance?” I asked.

  “How could you possibly know that? She told me it was the first time in her life that she’d ever had that dream, so I know that she didn’t tell you earlier.”