Lemon Larceny (The Donut Mysteries)

by Jessica Beck

  “In this case I’d be crazy not to,” I said. “Momma, I never wanted to be the only one investigating any case. The police are much better suited for what they do. As a matter of fact, I know better than anyone that they have resources at their disposal that I could only dream about. All I do is supplement what law enforcement does every now and then, but I never want to carry the whole load myself.”

  “I see that I may have misjudged you in the past.”

  “How so?”

  “I wasn’t aware of how much reason there is behind what you do,” Momma said.

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” I said with a grin. “Most of the time I’m just wandering around in the dark hoping to spot a little bit of light somewhere.”

  “And more times than not that’s exactly what you do,” Momma said.

  “Maybe, but we still need someone to help us in an official capacity,” I said. “Hopefully Jake will come up with somebody soon.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?”

  “Mostly we just try to stay safe,” I said. “Once we’ve accomplished that, we can keep digging on our own, but carefully.”

  She frowned. “And how exactly are we supposed to do that?”

  “Stay safe? We do the things that we’ve already done, like changing the locks and always sticking together. Mostly it’s being careful, not taking too many unnecessary chances, and watching each other’s backs.”

  “That sounds like a solid course of action to me. After we finish cleaning up, we’ve still got a few hours we can investigate. Do you have any suggestions?”

  I thought about it for a moment before I spoke. “I’m not sure. We’ve already spoken to every suspect we found in Aunt Jean’s journal multiple times, and they aren’t opening up any more to us than we started.”

  “I just had a dreadful thought. What if whoever killed her wasn’t mentioned in her journal?” Momma asked.

  “Then we’re out of luck, but it doesn’t do us any good to think that way. We have to act on the assumption that we’ve already spoken to the killer today.”

  Momma shivered a little. “That’s a bit chilling, isn’t it?”

  “It’s certainly not a happy thought,” I agreed. “If it helps, it doesn’t get any easier over time.”

  “Then why do you continue to do it?” Momma asked me.

  “It’s addicting,” I said. “Just you wait and see. You’ll find yourself yearning for it after we’re finished here.”

  “I can assure you that won’t be the case. I’m a reluctant investigator. The only reason I’m doing this is so that we might help dispense some kind of justice for the person who ended my sister’s life.”

  “We’ll do our best,” I said.

  “So, if we won’t be crimefighting any more tonight, what will we be doing?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said. “I noticed something in the attic that might be fun.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Come on and I’ll show you.”

  Momma followed me up to the second floor, and then on up into the attic. What had been a scary place just the night before was now much more pleasant in the daylight, though that would be fading soon enough.

  “Well, you’ve got me here. What’s next?”

  I reached into a pile of things I’d noticed before and I pulled out an old 8mm projector. “How about some home movies of you and your sister growing up, or will that be too painful for you?”

  “Actually, it’s exactly what I need,” she said. “Let’s take these downstairs where we can be more comfortable watching them,” she said as she chose a few canisters of old film.

  “I’ve got an even better idea. Why don’t we show them up here? It could be fun,” I said as I put the projector down and reached for the folded screen I’d seen earlier.

  “Why not?” Momma asked. “You set the projector up and I’ll drag a few old chairs over.”

  In five minutes, we were ready. “Lights, please,” I said, and Momma extinguished the lone bulb in the attic. It killed most of the light, but some of it still crept in through the gable windows. I flicked on the projector and we suddenly saw two little girls appear on the screen.

  “You and your sister actually wore matching outfits once?” I asked, doing my best not to laugh. I only partially succeeded.

  “Jean hated it when Momma did that to us,” my mother said with a laugh. “I thought it was neat to dress like my big sister, but she didn’t find anything pleasant about the experience at all.”

  “When was this filmed, do you remember?” I asked.

  Momma stood and studied the screen, partially obscuring the images for a moment until she moved over to one side. “That was Easter Sunday afternoon on my sixth birthday,” she said as she returned to her seat.

  As we spoke, the girls continued to pose, with the younger girl smiling broadly and the older one barely tolerating the situation.

  “How can you be that sure?” I asked.

  “See those bangs of mine?” she asked me.

  I looked a little closer and saw a ragged set of bangs on the smaller girl. “Did you cut them yourself?”

  “Jean did it. She said it would make me look like a princess, so I let her.”

  I studied the image for another moment. “Well, she was wrong.”

  “I know. Momma was furious,” my mother said with a laugh.

  I started laughing with her, but our mirth was suddenly interrupted by the sound of crashing glass downstairs.

  “What was that?” I asked as I turned the projector off, plunging us both in darkness. Evidently the light had faded outside as we’d been watching the old movies.

  “I haven’t a clue, but it sounded bad,” Momma said as she reached for the light switch.

  “Don’t turn it on,” I said strongly.

  “Why not? Suzanne, we can’t just sit here in the dark waiting for something else to happen.”

  “Momma, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. I’m calling Chief Kessler.”

  “I didn’t think we could trust him,” Momma said.

  “We can’t, at least not completely, but there’s a chance that he’s a good guy, and we need one of those pronto.”

  “Call him, then,” she said firmly.

  I dialed the number, and thankfully, the chief answered quickly. “Kessler here,” he said.

  “Chief, this is Suzanne Hart. We’re at my aunt’s house, and we just heard the sound of shattering glass downstairs.”

  “Those blasted kids,” he roared. “They must be at it again. Stay right where you are. I’ll be right there.”

  I wanted to tell him that it most likely wasn’t vandals, but he had already hung up.

  “What do we do now?” Momma asked.

  I walked over and locked the attic door, and then I shoved a chair under it for good measure. “Now we wait until the chief shows up and tells us that it’s all clear.”

  Chapter 16

  Nineteen minutes later, my cellphone rang.

  When I answered it, I heard Chief Kessler say, “You might as well come out from wherever you two are hiding. I found your problem.”

  “We’ll be right there,” I said, and then I hung up.

  “He’s here,” I said as I flipped on the light. It certainly made it much easier to see to pull out the chair and unlock the attic door.

  “I’m not entirely certain how to act around one of our suspects, even if he is the chief of police here,” my mother said softly.

  “Momma, for now, try to pretend like he’s just another cop. If he senses that we might be on to him, it could have some pretty severe consequences for us both.”

  “Do you mean that he might try to kill us, too?” she asked me as we walked down the stairs.

  “That’s one option. Who knows? He might just run, or he may even try to hurt someone we love. Killers are notoriously dangerous when they’re cornered.”

  “Understood,” Momma said.

  When we got to the first
floor, I saw the chief outside and noticed that something was lying on the floor of the front parlor. I walked over to it, but the chief shouted, “That’s close enough. Let me in. I need to see it first myself.”

  I reluctantly did as I was told, but I wasn’t about to go very far from the police chief while he examined the evidence, and I didn’t care whether he liked it or not.

  There was a brick lying among the broken glass on the floor, a piece of paper wrapped around it and held in place with a rubber band. The chief took a few photos with his camera phone and then carefully removed the rubber band. Taking the paper in hand, he studied it, and then he deposited it into a clear evidence bag.

  “Hey, we want to see that, too,” I said.

  “Give me a second.” As he sealed the bag and wrote something on it, he asked, “What took you so long?”

  “What are you talking about? We called you as soon as it happened.”

  “I’m not talking about that. I waited out here a good three minutes for you to come out after I called.”

  “We were in the attic,” Momma said before I could stop her. I didn’t want the police chief to think that there was anything important up there, especially since that was where we’d found my aunt’s journal.

  “Watching old 8mm movies,” I said.

  “In the attic?” he asked skeptically.

  “What can I say? We thought it would add something to the atmosphere.”

  He shrugged at that, and then he finally handed me the evidence bag. “Don’t try to take it out. You have five seconds to study it.”

  “Fine,” I said as I pulled out my cellphone.

  “Who are you calling now, that Statie boyfriend of yours?”

  Interesting. I hadn’t mentioned Jake to him before, so he had clearly been doing some investigating, not of the potential killer, but of me. “No. I want a photo of my own.”

  “I’m not sure that I should allow that,” the chief said, but I already had my hand on the plastic bag. Good luck to him to try to get it away from me now.

  “Chief, if you’d rather, I can have my attorney here in an hour, but do we really want to take that particular road?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose not. Okay. You’re allowed to take one photo only, so make sure that it’s in focus.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Momma, would you hold this?”

  She did, but instead of holding it up where I could see it, she read it aloud instead.

  BUTT OUT!

  WHAT HAPPENED HERE IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.

  IF YOU DON’T STOP DIGGING, THE NEXT THING THAT WILL BE DUG WILL BE BOTH YOUR GRAVES.

  GO HOME.

  BEFORE THE TWO OF YOU ARE NEXT!

  “Well, that’s rather emphatic, isn’t it?” Momma asked as I took a quick snapshot of the bagged note.

  The chief snatched it back. “So I was wrong. I figured it was just vandals again, but there was nothing random about this.” After he put it away, he asked me, “Suzanne, who exactly have you aggravated lately enough to make them do this?”

  “Honestly, I would have to make you a list,” I said sarcastically.

  He pulled out a little notebook like Jake carried and handed it to me. “Thanks, that would be great.”

  “Are you serious? Should I add motives, too?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” he said with a self-serving smile.

  I started to tell him that I wasn’t going to do it when I realized that chances were that it wouldn’t hurt to tell him what we knew, at least most of it. “Sure, why not?”

  “Suzanne,” Momma said, and when I looked at her, she shook her head almost unperceptively.

  “It’s fine,” I said. I jotted down the names: Greta Miles, Anna Albright, Adam Jefferson, and Hank Caldwell. I wasn’t stupid enough to add the chief’s name to the list. Beside the names, I put, in order, “Fear, Avarice, Greed, Love.”

  “Those motives are a little broad, aren’t they?” he asked as he frowned at the list. “Not that it matters. You’re way off base with all of these people. I’ve known them for years, and there’s not a coldblooded killer in the group of them.”

  “Chief, I shouldn’t have to tell you that you can’t spot a murderer just by looking at one.”

  “I know that, but this is just plain wrong,” he said as he slapped the notebook with his free hand in disgust. “You’re slandering at least three of these people, if not all four.”

  “How is that slander? We’ve only told you,” I pointed out. “If you share what we’ve told you with anyone, then you’ll be the one guilty of that, not us.”

  “Maybe you should both consider taking the note’s advice,” he said softly after studying us for a few seconds.

  “While we appreciate your input, we choose to decline your suggestion,” Momma said stiffly. “If that will be all, thank you for coming so promptly.” It was as though she had invited him to have tea with us, but I knew that tone. She was angry, and if the chief proceeded with this, he was soon going to regret it.

  “Suit yourself,” he said. “I’ll drop a report off in the morning.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Momma said.

  “It’s not for you; it’s for the insurance. Replacing that window isn’t going to come cheap.”

  “Fine,” Momma said, clearly done with him.

  After he was gone, Momma let loose. “Of all the arrogant, egotistical, condescending—”

  “I get it,” I said. “He was out of line. Now let’s see if we can patch this window up tonight before it rains again.”

  “I have a better idea,” my mother said. “Call Hank and have him do it. He still needs to replace that hasp, so he can add this to the list.”

  “Do you actually want to have another suspect over here tonight?” I asked.

  “Why not? This is the perfect excuse to grill him again.”

  I thought about it and realized that my mother was probably right. “Okay, I’ll give him a call, but I’m not going to make any guarantees that he’ll actually show up.”

  Momma looked surprised. “Is it honestly going to be that easy? Are you offering no debate at all?”

  “Why would I? It’s a good idea. When you’re right, you’re right.” I made the call, explaining that we’d pay extra for one-hour service, and, to my surprise, Hank agreed to come right over.

  “Well, what do you know? He agreed, and he’s on his way,” I said, and then I spotted two people walking toward us. “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t look now, Momma, but Anna Albright is on her way up here, and worse yet, Greta Miles is with her.” Whether we liked it or not, our interrogations were about to intensify, and unless I missed my hunch, things were about to get interesting.

  “What was that police cruiser doing up here?” Anna asked us as the two women approached.

  That’s when Greta spotted the broken window. “Oh, no! There must be glass everywhere. Don’t you worry yourself one little bit. I’ll have it cleaned up in two shakes.”

  “Thank you, but we can do it ourselves,” Momma said.

  “On the other hand, it would be truly nice of you to pitch in, if you don’t mind,” I said, quickly overriding her.

  Momma shot me a quizzical look. My reply was a slight shrug. I’d explain my rationale to her later, but for now, I just hoped that she’d go along with it.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Greta said as she walked inside.

  “Momma, you’d better check your cellphone,” I said. “You might have missed a call in all of the excitement.”

  My mother understood in an instant what I wanted—at least I hoped that she did. “While I’m inside, I’ll see if I can give Greta a hand.”

  Good. That meant that she had understood after all. “That would be great.”

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Momma said, leaving me alone with Anna.

  Once she was gone, Anna and I approached the window from the porch side, and I looked at the shards of glass
still sticking within the frame. It was an older home, and there were only single panes instead of the more efficient double glazed ones they used now.

  “How did Greta happen to be at your place?” I asked her.

  “Oh, there’s no mystery there. We eat our evening meals together two nights a week; once at her place, and once at mine. After all, we’ve been friends since elementary school.” As Anna studied the broken window, she added, “What would make someone do this?” Neither woman knew about the note attached to the brick, and Momma and I weren’t about to enlighten them.

  “Do you have any ideas at all who might have done it?” Greta asked timidly as she and Momma began to pick up the larger pieces of broken glass from the inside.

  “It’s an act of plain cowardice, if you ask me,” I said, trying to goad one of them into a reaction, to no avail.

  “Can we help you clean that up?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I’d put my mother to work without offering to lend a hand myself.

  “No, you’ll just get in the way if you try,” Greta said, and then she glanced at Momma and softly added, “It’s crowded enough in here with two of us.”

  Momma smiled. “You know what they say. Many hands make light work.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone say that,” Greta said.

  I chose to not even reply.

  “What did they use to do it?” Anna asked. “My guess is that it was something big and heavy.”

  “Actually, it was a brick,” I said.

  Greta gasped. “A brick? That could have been deadly.”

  “Fortunately, we weren’t anywhere near the window when it happened,” I said. “That’s not the worst part of it, though. It was no random act.” It was time to share our news with them to see how they reacted. I didn’t know how long the police chief would keep the contents of that note under wraps, but I couldn’t be sure that the message we’d received wouldn’t be spread all over town before we could use it to our advantage.

  Anna looked at me sharply. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “There was a note attached to it,” Momma said.

  Anna looked sharply at my mother. “What did it say?”