Brownies & Betrayal (Sweet Bites Mysteries, Book 1)

by Heather Justesen

  “Where do you start with something like that?” I asked.

  Though she appeared for a long moment to wonder if she should speak, Lidia eventually opened up. “This morning I had a friend who does home loans pull Valerie’s credit for me so I could see what her debts look like,” she admitted. “The sooner I can start working to straighten that out, the better, but she doesn’t have much debt. She loves designer everything, but she also had a thing about not having anyone own her—including the credit card companies. She used to say that the only way to live was to own someone else.”

  “Own someone else?” I played that back through my head and tried to figure out how to ask without making Lidia defensive. “Did she mean like having a sugar daddy who helped pay the bills?”

  Lidia stood and picked up a twig from the ground, twirling it in her fingers. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me. She was good at manipulating people, and she always had a way with men.”

  “It would explain a lot.” Honey stood as well, and I joined them as we began walking the sidewalk around the playground, always staying where Lidia could keep Dahlia in sight. “We’ll have to ask Analesa if she knew anything.”

  “Do you have access to her bank account?” I asked. Seeing the pattern of deposits and her spending habits would give a pretty good indication. There had to be more than one account if the statement Honey had found in the hotel room was typical for that account. Once we knew that, we could decide whether this was an angle worth pursuing. Yes, we had her account numbers, and I knew someone who could hack in, but I didn’t want to push my luck if there was a better option.

  Lidia shook her head. “Not yet. The paperwork takes ages.”

  “I know someone who might be able to help us.” I pulled out my cell phone and grabbed the information Honey had written down when we’d gone through Valerie’s hotel room.

  “I don’t know,” Lidia said. “Maybe we shouldn’t, I mean, it’s Valerie’s privacy we’re talking about here.”

  “It’s murder we’re talking about here,” I reminded her. As I found the number I needed in my contacts list, I walked far enough away that Lidia wouldn’t be able to overhear the conversation.

  “Hey, Lenny,” I greeted him when he answered his cell. “What are you up to?”

  “Not much. I have tonight off. How are you doing? The rumor is you caught the boss with Karen and kicked him to the curb.” As he had been my assistant until I quit, he was well informed on all hotel gossip. I’m surprised he hadn’t heard the jerk was cheating before I found out. If Lenny had known though, he would have said something.

  I heard a thud through the phone, and could imagine him sitting back on his sofa and propping his booted feet on the table. The image made me smile, even though I felt uncomfortable about the subject of my defunct engagement. “Yeah. The idiot showed up here a few days back. Do you think you can cause a problem so he’ll have to rush back there and take care of it?”

  His laugh was deep and throaty—the result of too much smoking for too many years, despite the fact that he was only twenty-eight. “I’ll see what I can do.” He added a few comments about Bronson that were unrepeatable and more than a little on the salty side. For once, I didn’t argue, or try to defend Bronson.

  “I do have a real favor to ask, though. I need some info about a couple of bank accounts. Do you think you could use your special skills?” I knew he’d gotten into hacking as a teen, and spent some time in juvie. He swore his time “on the inside” was for boosting cars, and any hacking was all for fun. I wasn’t sure “for fun” rather than “for mischief” made it any better, but I decided to ignore that detail for the moment. I filled him in on what we needed and rattled off the account numbers and banks they went with.

  “You gonna tell me what this is all about?” he asked when he had time to write it all down.

  “Ever heard of plausible deniability?” I tried.

  “Yeah. Pretty sure it doesn’t fit here, though, since I’m the one committing the felony for you. Can you do better?”

  “You’re not going to get caught if you help me out, will you?”

  “Nah, I have some crazy wicked safeguards. I’m the best.”

  I hesitated, afraid he’d leak it to others at the restaurant. But he was pretty good with secrets. “Between you and me only, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  So I filled him in, giving him the extremely abbreviated version, aware of Honey and Lidia standing nearby, even if they were out of earshot.

  He whistled. “That sounds interesting. You sure you’re in that Po-dunk town and not somewhere with more people than cows?”

  “Come on, Lenny. Will you do it?”

  “Sure. Give me some time and I’ll email you what you need.”

  “You’re the best!”

  “Of course I am.” He hung up.

  “With any luck we should have answers this afternoon, the evening at the latest. You want to meet back at my place?” I asked Lidia. “It’ll give you some time to get things together.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Lidia, Honey and I reconvened at my apartment and settled Dahlia in front of PBS. To my surprise, in the hour since my call, Lenny had already sent data from one account. The man was a wonder. He attached the information I needed as jpegs.

  The first account appeared to be where Valerie’s paychecks went. It showed regular withdrawals by the childcare center, the housing company where she rented, her car payment and the utilities. The woman had everything set up on direct withdrawal, and the other purchases—all by debit card—appeared to be meals and gas. The savings account associated with her checking held three thousand—enough to cover most emergency expenditures.

  It took a little longer before he sent me a text message saying that he’d emailed the rest of the data. The second bank account had a different pattern altogether. It showed irregular deposits of twenty to thirty thousand dollars every three months or so with charges to clothing stores, expensive meals, jewelers, hotels, plane tickets, shows—all the kinds of things one used discretionary income to buy.

  There were a few charges here and there for kids’ clothes and other things for Dahlia, but by and large, this money seemed to be play money for Valerie alone. Unfortunately, there was no way to track where the money came from, as it all appeared to be deposited in cash or cashier’s check rather than transfers from any accounts at other banks. The account was down to thirty-two dollars and fifty-seven cents.

  “Look at this. It can’t be some guy helping her with expenses. These payments look more like hush money,” Honey said, peering over my shoulder. There had been a few stores we didn’t recognize, and with a few clicks of the mouse, she had been able to find the businesses. She was also the one who recognized the names of the children’s clothing and toy stores, since she shopped at many of the same places for her own kids. “Other than stocks or something that paid quarterly dividends, I don’t know how she could have come up with the extra cash to invest, unless there was a major inheritance.”

  “Not that I know of. It could be work bonuses,” Lidia suggested. “Maybe a case that went well?” She was a little pale, as if uncomfortable with looking at the accounts.

  “Or Dahlia’s father might be making lump child support payments,” Honey said.

  “Some child support,” I said, thinking most families could survive on half the ‘support’ payments, if that were the case.

  “It can’t be from work.” Honey pointed at the latest major deposit. “See how it wasn’t transferred from another account like her work paychecks? A lot of employers can split your direct deposit checks to two accounts, or to a savings and checking in the same account, but it has to be set up to do that automatically. It’s not something you change as the mood hits you. And if it were, you would still see her employer’s name listed on the deposit like they are for the other account.”

  “It really looks like hush money, doesn’t it?” I asked, almost afraid to vo
ice the question.

  “That’s how it feels to me,” Honey said. “Regular cashier’s checks with that kind of balance. It definitely feels off.”

  When I looked at Lidia, she shook her head. “I think you’re right about the sugar daddy. Or she was blackmailing a client. She wasn’t exactly known for her ethics.”

  I wasn’t sure I understood where this was all going. So now we knew she could have been blackmailing someone. The question was, who and why? And could that person have been the one responsible for killing her? Someone thought I was heading in the right direction or they wouldn’t have hurt me. I told myself this because I needed to believe there was a positive reason for my aches and pains.

  “Does anyone know who she met Friday night?” I asked after we all sat in silence for a long moment.

  “I have no idea. She said something about dancing,” Lidia said.

  “Not in Silver Springs, then,” I said. That left things pretty wide open, as I had no idea how many dance hotspots there were in the greater Prescott area. With a population over a hundred thousand, there could be several.

  “Actually, you’ve been away for a while,” Honey said. “There’s a cowboy bar, the Silver Spur, on the edge of town that has dancing at night. I know the guy who runs it.”

  “Valerie? Country dancing?” That was a twist I didn’t expect. Valerie didn’t seem like the type to listen to country, never mind dance to it.

  “Maybe she didn’t know it was country music. Either way, if she was there, Joe’s bound to have noticed her. He’ll have heard about the murder, so he’ll remember.” Honey scratched a couple notes in the book we’d been keeping and I closed the bank account documents Lenny sent me.

  “Let’s go see what we can see, shall we?” I asked.

  “I’m going to have to beg off,” Lidia said. “I need to head into Prescott to make arrangements for the funeral, then I’ll pop by your house to drop off Dahlia, if that works for you.” She looked at Honey for confirmation.

  “That’ll be great.” Honey shut down the laptop and gathered Zoey and her diaper bag. “Let’s go have a chat with Joe.”

  The bar was already smoky and a number of patrons were scattered around the large room. Music poured from the speakers a little louder than a Learjet at takeoff. After a quick scan of the room, Honey led me to the sandy-haired man in his forties standing behind the bar. “Hey,” I greeted him when we got close enough to be heard—which meant leaning over the bar and raising our voices.

  “Hey, Joe, how are things going?” Honey asked, sliding onto a bar stool. We’d stopped by her in-laws to drop off Zoey, since she was a little underage for bar hopping. I settled into the seat next to Honey.

  “Been steady. Weekends are starting to pick up again. Can I get you ladies anything?”

  “Not right now. So the dancing’s been a hit? That’s great. I’ll have to drag George in one of these days.”

  “You came to my bar, but don’t want a drink?” He looked puzzled. I doubted he’d got that response before.

  “We have a couple questions for you,” I told him.

  “I heard the murder victim Valerie Crofts came in here with a date Friday night, probably with a local guy. Do you remember seeing her?” Honey asked.

  “Yeah. She was in here earlier that evening. Tiny little red dress, lots of glitters. Looked like she was out of place, too classy for a honky tonk.” He lifted a finger of acknowledgement to someone behind us and moved a couple feet to pull a beer.

  “Do you know who she was with?” I tried to sound mildly curious, instead of anxious. This was what we needed.

  “She had a beer with Lars Taylor.”

  The wrinkle on Honey’s brow indicated she didn’t know the name.

  Joe continued, “She danced a few slow dances with him, then they took off. Not sure what time. Wasn’t payin’ attention. Why you askin’?”

  Honey fielded the next question. “We’re trying to clear up a couple things. Do you know where Lars works?”

  “Try the feed store.” Joe came around the front of the bar with the two beers he’d poured and headed for a table.

  I realized what he’d said a moment before. “One last question,” I said as I trailed after him. “You mentioned Valerie wore a lot of glitter?”

  He shot a disgusted look at me over his shoulder, and looked forward again as he set the drinks on the table and collected their money. When he turned, he said, “Flashy earrings, necklace, bracelet with dangling stuff on it. It was more out of place than the dress.”

  “Did the necklace have a big sparkly pendant on it?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Are you done yet?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it,” Honey said as she hopped from her stool.

  “You’re welcome, and hope to see you two in here again sometime. As customers.”

  I smiled. “I’d really like that. I’ll have to fit it into my schedule.” It had been years since I did any country dancing, but maybe I could nudge Shawn to bring me in before he returned to Nogales on Saturday.

  When we got out of the bar and into the parking lot, Honey looked at me. “Millie was lying. She didn’t find the necklace in Analesa’s room before Valerie’s date.”

  “Nope. How about if we have another chat with her after we talk to Lars?”

  “Sounds good. I’m up for a quick trip to Prescott.”

  The feed store was one of those big-box stores—country style. Local farmers and ranchers, as well as people who just wanted to raise a few goats, horses, or chickens all used the store, which had live chicks and turkeys for sale along with everything one could need to raise them. After asking employees for directions twice, we found Lars hefting fifty-pound bags of horse supplements into the back of a truck.

  “You Lars?” I asked, then wondered where my English had gone. Had the hours alone working in my bakery already sapped away half of my vocabulary? I made a vow to myself not to start talking to the walls if no one came to buy cakes from me.

  “Yeah.” He dropped the next bag in the truck bed and turned, lifting the front of his cowboy hat to wipe his forehead, despite the cool breeze. I could see what would pull Valerie toward this guy. He had a face fit for Hollywood and the build of a rodeo star—all thin, wiry goodness. He scanned us. “Who wants to know?”

  Honey stepped forward. “We’re working with Valerie’s sister, Lidia. We heard you had a date with Valerie Friday night.”

  “Yes, but I don’t know nothing about murder. I dropped her back at the hotel before midnight, like she wanted, as if that sweet little red dress might turn to rags if she stayed out later.” He huffed. “Never saw her again.”

  “Before midnight?”

  “Yep, just a little before that. I’d thought we might stretch the evening out, make a night of it. She said she had business to take care of, and the wedding in the morning. That’s all I know. Except, what kind of business does a woman like her have in the middle of the night?”

  “That’s a really good question,” Honey said.

  If we could figure that out, we’d have the murder solved.

  When Millie answered her apartment door, she didn’t look happy to see us. “Hey. What’s going on?” She didn’t invite us in.

  “We had a couple more questions about Friday night,” I said.

  “You’re not the police, and I don’t have to put up with this harassment.” She tried to shut the door on us.

  Honey stuck her foot in the doorway, blocking it open. “We know Valerie didn’t leave her necklace in Analesa’s room before her date. She was wearing it that evening.”

  Millie’s lips thinned. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Do you want us to have this discussion on your porch, where your neighbors might overhear?” I asked, afraid if we weren’t inside when Detective Tingey arrived, he’d send us home and I wouldn’t get to ask my questions. I wondered if calling him when we left the feed store had been a good idea—he hadn’t been thrilled that we were
heading to Millie’s.

  A moment passed while she appeared to be considering her options, then she opened the door further and let us in.

  Her apartment was small—not exactly high class, but tastefully decorated, and not a thing out of place, unless her purse sitting on the floor beside the sofa counted. Japanese fans adorned the wall above her sofa, and three varieties of lucky bamboo sat in dishes on the black enamel Shaker coffee table. The sofa fabric had a Japanese design on it in black and white, and a nearby chair was covered with a black-and-white throw.

  “So, what’s this all about?” Millie asked, a façade of calm on her face, though her hands shook.

  The doorbell rang and we all turned. Millie gave us an irritated look and stomped over to it. When she opened up, Detective Tingey stood on the other side. “Hello, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you have a minute.” His words were solicitous, but his manner suggested that even if she didn’t have a few minutes, she’d be chatting with him anyway.

  “Come on in, then. Might as well make a party of it. Sorry I don’t have any good snacks.” She practically growled out the words as she ushered him in.

  Detective Tingey’s forehead crinkled for a moment. Then he saw Honey and me. “I thought I told you not to come over here.”

  “We’re just having a friendly chat,” I offered with a smile. I pretended I wasn’t intimidated, but wasn’t sure if I succeeded.

  His scowl said he wasn’t fooled. “Really?”

  “It’s nothing,” Millie said. Apparently getting in trouble wasn’t on her to-do list that day, either. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I came to ask you about a certain necklace you have in your possession.”

  Millie curled her fingers together in front of her. “What necklace would that be?” Her voice cracked.

  “Don’t play games with me. The one the victim wore the day she was murdered.”

  I became the recipient of Millie’s accusing glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”