Killer Crullers

by Jessica Beck

  “I don’t know what to think,” Gabby admitted. “It’s difficult to imagine, but then again, I never thought of her as a liar before, either. If she didn’t do it, I’m willing to bet that she has a good idea who might have killed her nephew. The two of them were really close.”

  Gabby was right about that. If I were going to investigate, it would be the perfect place to start. But I still wasn’t convinced it was something I should be doing at all, despite her urging and George’s expectation that I would dig into Desmond Ray’s murder.

  I had one last very real concern that I had to voice. “Why would Jean talk to me? I was there when you and Desmond fought yesterday. He threatened me, too, remember?”

  “Don’t you see? That gives you a perfect excuse. Tell Jean that you feel bad about the way you and Desmond spoke yesterday, and you want to find out who killed him to make amends. If you make yourself her ally instead of her adversary, she’ll tell you anything.”

  “Even if her finger points straight at you as the murderer?” I asked.

  “I would expect nothing less, given the circumstances,” Gabby said, “but you have to push her until she tells you something more.” Gabby opened a drawer, pulled out a long envelope, and then pushed it toward me. “I don’t expect you to do this for free, Suzanne. I’m willing to pay you for your help.”

  I was tempted to peek inside to see how much she thought my aid was worth, but I knew better. I shoved the envelope back and said, “I don’t charge to help my friends, Gabby.”

  She looked startled by my admission. “Then you consider us friends, as well? There have been times in the past when I haven’t been sure.”

  Gabby had a point, and there was no use denying it. “We have our disagreements from time to time, but you said it yourself. There aren’t many women who own small businesses in April Springs, and those of us that do need to stick together.”

  Gabby frowned, and after a moment, she said, “That wasn’t exactly a declaration of fealty, was it?”

  “We’re friends, okay?” I said, probably just a little too tartly, but Gabby had a tendency to bring that out in me.

  Instead of being offended by my tone of voice, she actually looked pleased. “Good. That’s better. You are not to use kid gloves with me, Suzanne. Is that clear?”

  “Be careful. I’m willing to bet you’re not going to be happy with my questions for you,” I said.

  “I’m a tough old broad, as we both know,” she said with a slight smile. “Ask away.”

  I took a deep breath and plunged in, realizing just how inflammatory what I was about to ask would be.

  “Gabby, have you ever stolen anything from any of your clients in the past?”

  CHAPTER 5

  “What possible relevance does that have to your investigation?” Gabby asked coldly. Her good nature had plummeted to a frigid stare in an instant, but I couldn’t let that stop me.

  “It’s something I need to know,” I said. “I don’t want to tell Jean you’ve never done it before if it’s not true.”

  Gabby appeared to think about that, and then shrugged. “I suppose it’s relevant. You need to define your idea of stealing.”

  Was she trying to be difficult? “Taking something that’s not yours. It’s pretty much everyone’s definition, isn’t it?”

  Gabby seemed to consider that, and then finally said, “Suzanne, who is to say what true ownership means? If I buy a box full of books at a yard sale and find a hundred-dollar bill inside one being used as a bookmark, don’t I own it, though it wasn’t specifically being offered for sale?”

  “Are you saying that there actually was ten thousand bucks and a diamond brooch in Jean’s jacket?” I couldn’t believe she was confessing the theft to me.

  “Of course not,” Gabby said, a little too quickly for my taste, as though she’d been prepared to make the denial as soon as I’d asked the original question. “But from time to time, I discover small, forgotten things. Is it my obligation to always return them?”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to answer it. “I’d have to think about it before I could give you an answer one way or the other,” I said.

  “I’ve wrestled with my stance countless times since I’ve been in business,” she admitted. “Would you like to hear the standard I’ve set for myself?”

  It was an intriguing conversation about an issue that I’d never have to deal with in my donut and coffee shop business. I had to wonder exactly where I would have drawn the line myself. “Please enlighten me,” I said.

  She nodded. “First, if its value is equal to or less than that hundred-dollar bookmark we discussed earlier, second, if I don’t know beyond a doubt exactly who the original owner was, and third, if I can possess it in clear conscience, then I usually keep whatever I find as a sort of salvage fee.”

  “And if its value is greater?”

  “I do everything in my power to track down the original owner and return it. Believe me, that’s not always easy, considering the estate sales and blind buys I make throughout the year. Things have a way of getting jumbled, and for all I know, I unknowingly pass along objects of even greater value myself without even realizing it.”

  I doubted Gabby let anything go out onto her sales floor without a thorough inspection first, but I wasn’t about to challenge her on that. “I can use that, I guess.”

  “You’ll have to. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Make yourself comfortable. We’re just getting started.”

  She was clearly surprised by the instruction, but she nodded her agreement. “Go on, then. I’m at your disposal.”

  I took a deep breath, and then plunged in. “When was the last time you saw Desmond Ray, to the minute, if you can remember?”

  Gabby just huffed instead of answering.

  “If you want my help, you’re going to have to tell me,” I said. “I’m not being nosy. I don’t have access to police interviews, so we have to start fresh.”

  “I understand,” she said. “The last time I saw him was when I was with you.”

  “In front of your shop when he was throwing crullers,” I clarified.

  “Yes, of course.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and she added, “But you saw him later than that, didn’t you?”

  “Like I told you, we ran into each other at the bank,” I admitted again. Had Gabby already forgotten her telephone call to me when she’d admitted seeing him staked out in front of her place all afternoon the day before? “You didn’t see him again by yourself? I thought you told me that he was in front of your shop yesterday.”

  Gabby looked at me a little petulantly. “I assumed you meant when I actually spoke to him face-to-face. We spoke briefly on the telephone, and he camped outside my shop, but when he was there, we didn’t share a single word. I’ve already gone over my telephone conversation with the man with you. Surely you still remember what I said.”

  It was another jab, but I didn’t mind. Maybe Gabby was getting some of her spirit back, and if she was going to fight this, she was going to need every ounce of spunk she could muster. “I remember,” I admitted.

  “And when was the last time you spoke to Jean?” I asked, an innocent question that was voiced more out of curiosity than anything else.

  “At the police station this morning,” Gabby admitted.

  “What did she have to say?” I asked. This was certainly new information.

  Gabby looked uncomfortable recounting it, but when she started to protest, she must have noticed how intent I was on getting an answer. “She asked me why I killed Desmond,” Gabby reluctantly admitted. “I told her I was innocent, but she didn’t believe me. Neither did anyone else at the station, as far as that’s concerned. I could see the accusations in their gazes as I walked past them.”

  “Nobody said this was going to be easy,” I said. “You may have to endure worse than that before we can prove you didn’t do it.”

  “Do you have any more
questions?” she asked.

  “Let me get my Jeep,” I said as I stood. I’d probably gotten all I was going to out of her at the moment, but at least the dam had been broken and she knew our ground rules. “I’ll run you home.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but you’ve got work to do, don’t you?”

  “The donut shop’s closed for the day,” I said. Being up all night must have skewed Gabby’s sense of the time of day, and I noticed she wasn’t wearing a watch. Her office was without a window, so it could have been any time of day or night as far as we were concerned.

  “I’m talking about your investigation,” Gabby said.

  “Right, I get that. But how are you getting home?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll call Muriel. She owes me a few dozen favors, so I’m going to collect one right now.” I knew Gabby had done a great deal for Muriel Stevens in the past, even driving her to West Virginia to stay with family so she could escape a killer on the loose in April Springs who was intent on doing her in. This was a small thing to ask in return, and I imagined Muriel would be happy to oblige.

  I stood, and headed for the front door without realizing it.

  “You can’t go out there, Suzanne,” Gabby said as she took hold of my shoulder.

  “No, of course. I wasn’t thinking.”

  When she opened the back door, I stood in the shop for a moment before I stepped out. “I can’t make any promises, Gabby, but I’ll do my best.”

  To my great shock, Gabby leaned forward and hugged me. “I know you will. Thank you, Suzanne.”

  “I just hope something turns up,” I said as I stepped outside.

  As Gabby started to close the door, she said, “You can do it. I have faith in you.”

  As the dead bolt slid closed, I thought, At least one of us does.

  Whether I liked it or not, I had been dragged into the middle of another crime. I hadn’t been able to tell Gabby no, and I was just hoping that I’d be able to help her. I understood that the chief of police wouldn’t be thrilled with my meddling, but at least Jake had started to come around when it came to what I could contribute to a murder investigation. I would have loved to have him help me now, since Asheville wasn’t that far away, and if he had any breaks, I was going to do my best to convince him that his assistance would be welcome.

  In the meantime, I would go see my partner in crime, or crime solving, at any rate. I just hoped Grace had the opportunity, and more important, the inclination, to help me this time. Gabby and I had a seesaw relationship, but between her and Grace, it was all negative. There was something about the two women’s personalities that tended to generate sparks, but I hoped my best friend could see past all of that and realize what really mattered, keeping someone innocent from being punished for a crime they didn’t commit.

  If I could only persuade Grace that Gabby was innocent and deserved our help.

  * * *

  “Hey, stranger,” Grace said when I showed up on her doorstep. “Where have you been? I was expecting you here right after you closed the shop for the day.”

  “Why? We didn’t have plans, did we?” I asked as Grace took my coat.

  “No, but I phoned the shop and spoke with Emma. She told me you were at Gabby’s, and I figured it wouldn’t be long before you came here. Want some coffee?”

  “Sure, why not?” I said.

  As I followed her into the kitchen, Grace said, “Suzanne, we’re digging into Desmond Ray’s murder, aren’t we?”

  I had to laugh, despite the seriousness of the subject. “I should know better than to try and do anything under the radar in April Springs.”

  “Honestly, I imagine that there’s a lot more anonymity in a big city than a small town,” Grace said as she handed me a cup. “And in answer to your unspoken question, I accept. I’ve got a light schedule for the next week, so I’m ready to help in any way I can. I’m dying to hear what Gabby had to say.”

  I recounted her denials as we sat in the kitchen drinking coffee, and after I finished, I handed her my empty mug.

  “That was great,” I said. “It’s nice to be waited on for a change.”

  “Glad to be of service,” she said as she rinsed our mugs and then put them in the sink.

  “To tell you the truth, I still can’t believe Gabby came to me for help,” I said.

  Grace nodded in agreement. “It must have been surreal hearing her ask you. Are you telling me she wasn’t the least bit snippy with you when you spoke?”

  I remembered a few times in our conversation when Gabby had allowed echoes of her acerbic attitude out. “I wouldn’t go that far, but she’s clearly afraid, there was no hiding it.”

  “Who can blame her? I’m not the woman’s biggest fan, but her being accused of murder makes me sympathetic toward her.” She paused, and then asked, “This may be a silly question, but we don’t think there’s any chance she actually did it, do we?”

  “Let’s just say I’m inclined to believe her,” I said after hesitating for a moment. “But you should know that if we uncover any evidence to the contrary, we’re handing it over to Chief Martin. Agreed?”

  “You won’t have a problem convincing me of that,” she said. “So, where should we get started?”

  “I haven’t had lunch yet, have you? I’m starving, and I’m not at all sure how much investigating I feel like doing on an empty stomach. Have you eaten yet?”

  She glanced at her watch. “I had breakfast four hours ago, so sure, I could eat. Should we go to the Boxcar?”

  “Why not?” I asked. “I’m always in the mood for something from Trish’s place.”

  Grace nodded as we walked out into the hallway. “Then it’s settled. Lunch first, and crime fighting after.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” I said.

  We were heading into the Boxcar Grille as my ex-husband, Max, was coming out. There was a quite pretty young and leggy brunette with him, and though she looked a little familiar, I knew that I’d probably never seen her before. Was this the Great Impersonator’s latest in a long line of conquests?

  I was about to make a snippy remark when the woman did the oddest thing. She threw her arms around me in an embrace that nearly knocked me off my feet.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying to untangle myself from her. Was she on some kind of medication, acting like that?

  “Suzanne, don’t you recognize me?” the young lady asked as she allowed me to finally break free.

  I took a step back, and then it hit me. This pretty young lady was indeed someone I knew. “Ashley, is that you?”

  She twirled around, her coat spinning out from her body for just a moment. “In the flesh. How have you been? I’ve missed you so much.”

  Ashley was Max’s little niece, though she wasn’t so little anymore. “What’s it been, five years?” I asked.

  “Closer to six,” she said. Ashley turned to Max and slugged his arm, not at all playfully, but with force behind the blow. From the way he winced, I could tell that she hadn’t held anything back. “This guy is an idiot for what he did to you, and don’t think I haven’t told him that a thousand times. I voted to throw him out of the family and keep you when you two divorced, but I was outnumbered.” She looked hard at Max, and then added, “Not that the vote wasn’t close.”

  “Hey, I’ve apologized countless times,” Max said.

  “Not enough yet, as far as I’m concerned,” Ashley said.

  I couldn’t believe how lovely she’d turned out to be. “Ashley, what are you doing here? How long are you going to be in town? Maybe we could have lunch.”

  She frowned as she explained, “I’m headed off to school, and I thought I’d stop by and see my uncle, the scoundrel.”

  “Hey, some of your other uncles are worse than me,” Max protested.

  “Don’t even try to convince me of that,” Ashley said.

  “Where are you going to school?” I asked her.

  “I’m at UNC-Asheville, and I just love it
.”

  She must have seen something in my face. “What’s wrong, Aunt Suzanne? Did I say something wrong?”

  It was odd being called aunt, since I was an only child, and I figured the statute of limitations had run out on my being related to her, but I didn’t correct her, since I kind of liked the way it sounded, coming from her. “No, but my boyfriend’s teaching there.”

  “He’s a professor? What’s his name? What does he teach?” she asked the questions in a rapid-fire staccato.

  “I thought he was still with the state police?” Max asked.

  “Keeping tabs on him, are you?” Grace asked.

  “No. You know how it is, though. April Springs isn’t all that big. Word gets around.”

  Grace nodded, her expression showing clearly that she didn’t believe him for an instant. “Sure it does, Max. Keep saying that, and somebody might believe it someday.”

  “Forget about him,” Ashley said dismissively. “What’s the scoop on your boyfriend?”

  I explained, “He’s not a professor, at least not full-time. Jake is lecturing for a friend in the criminal justice department.”

  “Maybe I’ll audit one of his classes,” Ashley said, grinning to show her dimples.

  I nodded, and smiled as I added, “You should do to him what you just did to me. Walk up to him out of the blue and give him a big hug, then call him Uncle Jake. Let me know what he says when you do.”

  She had a spark in her eyes as she answered, “You know, I might just do it.” Ashley glanced at her watch, and then added, “It’s been fun catching up, but I’ve got to run. I’m going to be late as it is.” She turned back to Max, who took a step back as she moved toward him. Instead of another slug, though, she wrapped him up in her embrace. “Stay out of trouble, Uncle Max.”

  “Right back at you,” Max said affectionately.

  I wasn’t sure what I mourned more about the death of my marriage, losing a husband, or the wonderful family that came with him. I’d tried to keep in touch with some of them, but it had been awkward, so after a while, I’d stopped. Seeing Ashley made me regret it, but there wasn’t much I could do about it now.