by Jessica Beck
“Did you get all that?” I asked as I tasted a hot donut, and then spat it out again. It wasn’t even close to being edible yet. “Those are awful.”
“They’re even worse than the last batch,” Emma agreed with a smile.
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” I said as I threw them all away.
“Are you kidding? Now you can try adding more milk and less soda. At least you’ll be heading in the right direction.”
“I suppose so,” I said. “You never answered me. Did you hear my conversation with the police chief?”
“I did better than that,” Emma said with a mischievous smile. “I called Dad, and he heard everything, too.”
I wasn’t at all pleased with her using her telephone to eavesdrop on my conversation. “Emma, you just crossed the line. You shouldn’t have done that.”
She looked upset. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see the harm in it,” she said.
Emma looked as though she were about to cry, but I couldn’t let that get to me. I had an important point to make. “I have to have Chief Martin’s trust if he’s ever going to tell me anything,” I said. “I’m not sure I can patch this up when he finds out what you did.”
Emma reached for her telephone. “Don’t worry. I know just how to fix it.”
I put a hand on hers, stopping her. “Calling your dad is just going to make things worse. What’s done is done. Just don’t ever do it again, do you understand?”
“I won’t,” she said. Sometimes I forgot just how young Emma really was. She had a puppylike quality of being eager to please sometimes that made things hard for me, but I’d meant what I’d said before. I couldn’t imagine the circumstances where I’d actually fire her. That didn’t mean she was going to get away with this free and clear.
* * *
By the time we opened, there was a line of folks waiting to get into the donut shop. I had to wonder if it was more about what had just happened nearby than my offerings, but I couldn’t be choosy, especially since I was about to start working new hours. I’d change the sign on the door at noon to give people warning about what I was doing, and I knew that I’d get a few grumbles from my regulars, but my mind was made up. If they fussed too much, I might even start closing the shop one day a week. Okay, that was probably an idle threat, but it was a nice thought, imagining what I could do with a day off every week.
George Morris was the first in line, and after I got him coffee and a donut, I waited on everyone else before we had a chance to really talk about what had happened. Once the line was gone, I grabbed a coffee for myself and joined him on the end of the bar so we could have a little privacy as we spoke.
I took a deep breath, and then said with a grim smile, “Before you say a word, I didn’t have anything to do with what happened next door last night.”
George looked surprised by my comment. “Suzanne, I never dreamed you did, but you’re in the middle of it anyway, aren’t you?”
It didn’t surprise me that my friend knew all about what was going on in April Springs. “What makes you say that? What have you heard?”
George took a sip of his coffee, and then said, “I understand the murder victim used your donuts in a way you’d never intended when you made them.”
“They were crullers, not donuts,” I said.
George smiled slightly. “Point taken. We are getting involved, aren’t we?” George Morris was a retired police officer who took part in my informal investigations. Along with Grace, and even Jake most recently, we tried to find stones that had been unturned by Chief Martin and his staff. It wasn’t that our chief of police wasn’t fully qualified to do what he did, but some folks would tell a donut shop owner something they wouldn’t dream of saying to the cops.
“I’m not sure we should get involved,” I said. “It reflects on Gabby, not me. My crullers were just collateral damage, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Gabby’s another story entirely, though, isn’t she?” George asked.
I felt my skin go cold. “They didn’t arrest her, did they?”
He shook his head as he explained, “No, but she was at the station for two hours this morning. The chief let her go, but she isn’t supposed to leave town. She’s in a real mess, Suzanne.”
“I’m sorry for that, truly I am, but it still doesn’t involve me.”
“I’m not sure I agree with you. Have you discussed it with Jake yet?” George asked. He was a big fan of my boyfriend, and they’d even worked together in the past to give me a hand in my investigations.
“He’s lecturing,” I said as I glanced at my watch. “I expect to hear from him later today, though.”
“I’d be curious to hear what he has to say,” George said. “I imagine he won’t be any more inclined to let this drop than I am.”
I grabbed a pot and refilled his mug. “I don’t think so. I’ve got a feeling he’d rather I didn’t get involved with these cases all the time.”
“Just let me know if you change your mind.” As George pushed his mug away and starred reading the paper, I started cleaning the counter, putting his mug and plate in the bin to be washed.
“Hey, can I buy a donut, lady?” a young man with long sideburns asked at the front.
“Sorry, I got a little distracted,” I said as I joined him there. “What can I get for you?”
“Do you have any of those cursed crullers left?” he asked. “I hear they’re killers.”
I bit my lip a second, and then said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My crullers aren’t cursed.”
“Come on. A dude bought a dozen yesterday, and now he’s dead. How is that not cursed? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I just want to taste something worth dying for.”
“Sorry, but we’re all out,” I said, though we still had three in the case.
“What about those?” he asked as he pointed to them.
“They’ve already been sold. The owner’s just waiting to pick them up.”
He looked at me as though I were crazy, but I held his stare. “I’d be glad to sell you something else, though.”
“No, that’s okay. The crullers were all I wanted.” He left the shop, and it was all I could do not to laugh out loud while he was there.
One of my regulars, Barry Vance, must have been eavesdropping. “You really are holding them for somebody?”
I grabbed a white bag and shoved the last crullers into it. “It’s your lucky day, Barry. They’re yours, free of charge.”
When I tried to hand him the bag, I swore he started to back away. “Thanks anyway, Suzanne, but I’m full.”
“They aren’t really cursed,” I said, but Barry wasn’t buying it.
I cleared my throat, and then asked loudly, “Does anyone want three crullers on the house?”
George saved me from standing up in silence when no one responded. “I’ll take ’em,” he said.
“You don’t have to,” I said softly as he approached.
“I don’t have to. I want to. Now, am I going to get those, or not?”
“They’re all yours,” I said as I handed him the bag.
George looked around the dining area, and in particular at Barry, and then reached into the bag, withdrew a cruller, and took a healthy bite. “Man, that’s the best thing I’ve tasted in a long time, Suzanne.”
Barry just shook his head, made a mumbled excuse, and then left Donut Hearts. That seemed to break the tension in the air, and most of the folks in the shop went back to their breakfasts.
* * *
Emma came up front a little later and handed me a note.
“What’s this?” I asked as I unfolded it.
“You had a call, but you were busy, so I took a message.”
I looked at the scratches on the paper, and couldn’t decipher what she’d written. “What does it say?”
She took the note from me, and as she pointed to different scratches, she said, “It says the book club is canceling their meeting to
day.”
I couldn’t believe it. Could Hazel, Jennifer, and Elizabeth honestly believe that I’d had something to do with Desmond’s death? I never dreamed my friends would just ditch me like that. “Did they say why?” I asked.
Emma nodded, and pointed back to the note. “It’s all there.”
I handed it back to her. “Humor me,” I said. “You read it.”
She took it back, and then read aloud, “Elizabeth’s dad is in the hospital, and Jennifer and Hazel are with her for moral support.”
“What happened to him?” I asked. “Did he have a heart attack?”
“They didn’t say,” Emma acknowledged. “Should I have asked?”
“No, it’s fine. I should send flowers, though.”
“Do you know her dad’s name, or even where he is?” Emma asked.
“No. I just assumed it was in April Springs,” I admitted.
“Good luck with that,” she said as she glanced at the clock. “It’s almost eleven. Shouldn’t you start shooing people out?”
“Our new hours don’t start until tomorrow,” I said as I looked around the dining area. We still had seven customers, and I was beginning to wonder if I was making a rash decision. After all, I wasn’t in any position to turn away income, no matter how much I needed a break.
Emma must have been able to read my mind. “Don’t let this fool you. At least some of the folks are here because of what happened last night,” she said softly.
“I don’t want to believe it,” I said. My customers may have been there showing their loyalty and support, but I didn’t think for one second that any of them were there for more ghoulish reasons.
“Want to check that with a show of hands?” Emma asked.
“No, if I’m deluded, I’d rather keep it to myself.” I smiled as I swatted her lightly with a towel. “Now, back into the kitchen. We have another hour left.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a smile. “But not tomorrow.”
* * *
I didn’t think noon would ever come around, but it made me happy that it was the last working one we’d see. As I shooed our last customer out, Emma popped in, boxed the last few donuts, and took the trays in back with her to wash. “Just out of curiosity, how many did we sell during the last hour?”
I did a quick count in my head, and then said, “Four donuts, one coffee, and one chocolate milk.”
Emma nodded. “Excellent.”
“Why would that make you happy?” I asked, honestly curious about her reaction.
“Hey, if we’d sold four dozen, you might have changed your mind.”
“Not a chance,” I said. “I called the painter, and he’ll be here in the morning to change our sign to reflect ‘six to eleven’ as our new hours. Until then, this will have to do.”
I held up the crude sign I’d made during a lull.
As of today, our hours at Donut Hearts are now six A.M. to eleven A.M. We plan to continue to operate seven days a week, so no worries, and thanks for your understanding!
“What do you think?” I asked.
She took the sign from me, and grabbed the black Magic Marker I’d used to create it. Without a word, she struck through the second line, and added, “The Management.”
“Shouldn’t we reassure our customers that we aren’t going anywhere?” I asked.
“No, let’s present them with the facts and leave the editorializing to people like my dad.”
I frowned at the sign and thought about what she said. I must have taken longer than Emma was comfortable with, because she added, “I’ve crossed the line again, haven’t I?”
“Not at all,” I said as I threw my original sign away. I wrote another, this one to Emma’s suggestion, and then studied it for a second. “I like it.”
“Then let’s hang it up and make it official,” she said as she handed me our tape.
I hesitated a moment, thinking about the income we’d lose, but then I realized that it just wasn’t worth the time it cost us both. Working seven days a week was bad enough, but the hours I’d been keeping had been wearing me out. It probably didn’t sound like much of a break to most folks, but I was actually excited about the extra time I was buying with the money I was sacrificing.
I taped the sign in place, and then said, “Let’s get cleaned up so we can get out of here.”
As I spoke, the donut shop’s telephone rang.
“Donut Hearts,” I said.
The woman’s voice on the other end was hoarse from crying, it seemed to me. “Suzanne, could you come next door? I need you.”
It was Gabby, sounding as contrite and frightened as I’d ever heard her in my life.
“I’ll be right there.”
Before I could hang up, Gabby added, “Suzanne, come in the back way.”
“Why should I do that?” I asked.
She paused, and then admitted, “You don’t want to run into the reporters, do you?”
“There are reporters at your front door?” I asked, incredulous that the murder had brought attention to our small town.
“I had to close the shop,” she said, the worry clear in her voice. “They’re from Charlotte, Asheville, and Hickory, and of course Ray Blake is out there, too. Emma’s dad appears to be enjoying himself.”
“Be by the back door, I’ll be there in two minutes,” I said.
I was tempted to walk outside to see the reporters stalking the shop next door, but fought the impulse and walked into the kitchen instead. “Emma, you can lock up after you finish the dishes. I’m going next door.”
“That was Gabby on the phone?” she asked.
I nodded. “She needs me over there, and she sounded desperate. She even asked me to come in the back way.” I didn’t want to tell Emma about the press in front, especially her own father. The two of them had had their share of clashes in the past, and I didn’t want to do anything to add to them.
“Go. I’ll take care of things here.”
I grabbed my jacket and headed out the back door, relocking it once I was outside. I glanced down the grass strip between our businesses, and found it still hard to believe that someone had been murdered there the night before, despite the police tape still in place and the trampled grass all around where the body had been found. What had Desmond been doing there, and why had the killer chosen that spot to strike? An unintended, or perhaps fully planned, result of the location was that suspicion had been cast both on Gabby and me. I was no stranger to police investigations from both sides, but I realized that it was new to Gabby, and no matter how brave a front she put on, I fully understood how devastating an accusation could be, whether it was voiced or just unspoken.
Someone must have spotted me as I lingered, because I heard a shout, but before they could do anything, I hurried to the back of ReNEWed.
I knocked on the door where Gabby sometimes took deliveries, and then had to knock again before it finally opened.
“Sorry,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. It was obvious that she’d been crying for some time, and I felt real sympathy for the woman, despite her general attitude and the grief she’d given me over the years. Normally a stylish fashion plate, Gabby looked haggard in rumpled clothing and her hair in disarray; for the first time since I’d known her, every moment of her real age showed on her face and the stoop of her posture. “Thanks for coming, Suzanne.”
“Of course. Gabby, I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I said as I came inside. The door to the shop was closed, and we were in the storeroom.
“Let’s go into my office so we can talk,” she said, and I followed her in. While I’d had room for just a small office space in my donut shop/restored train depot, Gabby hadn’t been constrained by square footage, and had put in a lavish desk, bright wallpaper, and three chairs in hers. She sat comfortably behind her big desk, and I settled into one of the chairs opposite her.
“How are you holding up?” I asked, desperate for something, anything, to say.
“It
was awful. I was at the police station most of the night, and when they let me out, I came here instead of going home. That’s what I should have done, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Would you like me to take you home now? You could leave your car here, and I’ll bring you back to get it later. My Jeep’s just across the street.”
I started to get up, and Gabby’s commanding voice broke through, for just a moment. “I appreciate the offer, but before we do that, we need to talk,” she insisted, and I settled back into the chair.
“I’m listening,” I said.
“First, let me get this off my chest. I didn’t steal from Jean Ray, and I didn’t kill Desmond, either.” The words came out in a rush, as though she’d repeated them over and over in her mind before she trusted herself to say them out loud.
“I never thought that you did,” I said. At that moment, I believed it, no matter how many doubts I’d entertained in the past. Gabby was many things, several of them quite unlikable, but I didn’t see her as a thief or a killer.
“You’re in the minority, then,” she said as she dabbed at another tear. “Chief Martin is acting as though I’m some kind of menace to society. I was amazed when he let me go, but I have a feeling that it’s just a matter of time before he finds a reason to throw me in jail. That’s where you come in.”
I still wasn’t sure what she had in mind. “What can I do?”
“Find out who killed Desmond Ray for me,” she said. “You can do it, Suzanne. I’ve seen the way you’ve worked in the past on other cases. You’ve even enlisted my help on occasion, and now I’m asking you to return the favor.”
“Gabby, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
She frowned at me. “That should be obvious. You need to speak with Jean Ray. I have a feeling she holds the key to what really happened.”
“You don’t think Jean murdered her own nephew, do you?” I asked. Jean didn’t have a malicious bone in her body, at least as far as I’d ever seen. I knew that no one could tell what a murderer looked like, but Jean was as far from the stereotype as one woman could be.
