Killer Crullers

by Jessica Beck

  After she was gone, Max turned back to Grace and me. “I’d offer to take you ladies out to lunch, but I’ve already eaten.”

  “Thanks anyway,” I said.

  Both Max and Grace looked surprised by my mild tone, but seeing Ashley had made me a little mellower in dealing with my cheating ex-husband.

  Grace and I stopped up front and decided to order club sandwiches as a change of pace since we were in a bit of a hurry, and then we made our way to one of the tables in back.

  Once we were seated, Grace asked, “The girl got to you, didn’t she?”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “Come on, you were actually gracious with Max just then. Ashley is quite the fireball, isn’t she?”

  I laughed. “She always was. I just wish I could see Jake’s face when she gives him one of her hugs.”

  “Was that the best idea?” Grace asked softly.

  I had no idea what she was talking about. “What do you mean?”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t think I’d point that beauty at any man of mine. She might still be your once-upon-a-time niece, but she’s turned into a gorgeous young lady.”

  “I trust Jake. Besides, he prefers his women a little more mature,” I said.

  “But not that mature,” she answered, and we both laughed.

  “Did I miss something?” Trish said as she brought us our clubs and two sweet teas.

  “Just a pair of fools laughing,” I said.

  “But not old fools,” Grace added.

  “No, I’d say we’re just the right age,” I said with a smile.

  Trish had no way of knowing what we’d just been joking about, but she was still game enough to smile at our banter. “Then let’s make it three of a kind,” she said, adding her own laugh to the mix.

  After we ate, Grace and I paid for our lunches and then made our way outside. I buttoned my jacket to ward off the sudden cold breeze, and I noticed my friend do the same. It wouldn’t be long until our nights were short, and our days cold, but I was ready for a change. Late autumn was one of my favorite times of year, a little past the glorious display of leaves but before hard freezes set in. “Where to?” Grace asked.

  I didn’t even have to think about our next destination.

  “It’s time to speak with Jean Ray and see what we can learn about her nephew Desmond, but first we need to go by the donut shop.”

  “Why?” Grace asked. “You’re long past closing time.”

  “I left a few loose ends when I went to see Gabby, and I’m hoping Emma boxed up the donuts that were left over so we can take them as an icebreaker.”

  Grace laughed. “You’re not above using your donuts to wedge your way into tight places, are you?”

  “Why not? It’s a rare person who can turn down a dozen free donuts. I’m glad you decided to finally give my decadences a try.”

  She’d loved the donut, and had immediately asked for another.

  “What can I say? You convinced me that not everything I eat has to be healthy. One donut a month isn’t going to kill me.”

  “Wow, can I use that phrase in my next ad campaign? You really have a way with words.”

  She grinned at me. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  Grace pulled up in front of the donut shop, and as I got out, I said, “You don’t have to come in, if you don’t want. I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

  “Take your time. I have a few phone calls to make anyway.”

  I left her in the car and walked into the shop. It was always a little bit like coming home when I came back in, even if I’d only been gone a few hours. The plum faux finish of the walls and floor were soothing to the eye, and the comfy couches and chairs made it feel more like a living room than a donut shop. Only the display cases and the long counter with stools made it look like a place where someone could buy donuts. The old train depot purchase had been a whim born out of desperation, despair from a recently failed marriage, but it had become so much a part of me that I couldn’t ever imagine doing anything else with my life.

  I expected to see dirty floors and a display area in need of cleaning, but to my happy surprise, the front of the shop was spotless, and to my further delight, two dozen donuts were boxed and ready for me. Emma had cleaned up after me, and I felt a twinge of regret that she’d been forced to do it, but happy that my sole employee, coworker really, and now assistant manager, had stepped up in my absence. It was great having Emma as part of my team, and I’d have to find some special way to thank her. I couldn’t exactly afford a real raise, or any bonus for that matter, but I could give her a few extra hours of sleep sometime in the next few days. I knew that meant as much to her as a little extra money in her college fund.

  The kitchen was clean, as well. I had to call Emma and tell her how impressed I was with her work ethic, so I went into my tiny office, and as I picked up the telephone, I saw a note from her on top of a large envelope. Putting the note aside for the moment, I peeked into the envelope and saw the cash register report and the day’s deposit slip all ready to go.

  When I looked at the note, I had to laugh.

  Hey, Suzanne,

  I knew you’d be busy with Gabby, so I took the liberty of closing the shop. I’m beat, so I’m heading home. Hope you survived the ordeal.

  Don’t worry about the overtime; I’ll swap you an hour of sleep tomorrow for what I took care of today. If that arrangement’s okay with you, there’s no need to call. If not, let me know and I’ll be there bright and early tomorrow.

  Emma

  TIDBIT BALLS

  These are fairly easy, quick, and can often be made with items you’ve already got. A good place to start if you’re nervous about dipping a toe into the donut-making water!

  INGREDIENTS

  Mixed

  • 1 egg, beaten

  • ¾ cup whole milk

  • ¼ cup butter, melted

  Sifted

  • 1½ cups [sifted] all-purpose flour

  • ¼ cup sugar, white granulated

  • 1 tablespoon baking powder

  • 1 teaspoon nutmeg

  • ½ teaspoon cinnamon

  • A pinch of salt

  DIRECTIONS

  In a bowl, beat the egg, and then add the milk and melted butter, mixing until smooth. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, nutmeg, cinnamon, and salt. Slowly add the dry to the wet, and mix thoroughly. Drop dough into oil from a small cookie scoop or a teaspoon. Fry in hot canola oil (360 to 370 degrees F) 1 to 2 minutes, turning halfway through, or until golden brown. Confectioner’s sugar is good topping for these after they’ve drained on a paper towel.

  Yield: 6–8 balls

  CHAPTER 6

  I picked up the phone and dialed Emma’s cell phone number. “It’s Suzanne. Thanks for taking care of things here today.”

  There was a touch of disappointment in her voice when she asked, “Does that mean I don’t get to sleep in tomorrow?”

  “Actually, you read my mind. There’s just one problem, though.”

  “The books balanced; I checked them twice,” Emma said quickly.

  “Everything here is perfect. That’s why I want you to take two hours to sleep in instead of the one you offered.”

  She squealed in delight, and then said, “Suzanne, you are the best boss ever.”

  “I try,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “It’s going to be like taking a minivacation,” she said.

  “I don’t see how,” I said with a laugh.

  “Trust me, you should try it sometime.”

  “When pigs bark at the moon, and men want to talk about their feelings,” I said.

  “In other words, never,” she said, giggling, and then hung up.

  That wasn’t entirely fair, not about the pigs, but the crack about men. I’d had my share of strong, silent types, but the two men I’d been most attracted to in my life—Max and Jake—had both learned to open u
p to me, given enough time and nudges in the right direction. Max had sealed his own fate sleeping with another woman, but I had high hopes for Jake, even though we were taking things glacially slow. His spirit had nearly been crushed when his wife and child had died in a car accident, and I was thrilled that he was trying so hard to move on with me. If I could hear him say he loved me just once, I wouldn’t ever ask him to say it again, but for now, I promised myself to be content with what I had, a man who cared deeply about me, and one I could feel the same way about.

  I tucked the note from Emma into my top desk drawer, and then grabbed the donuts and the envelope with the deposit in it.

  Grace was deep in conversation when I got back to her car, so I waited just outside of it until she finished. As I looked at the old abandoned railroad tracks, I saw the oddest thing. A big, burly man with unruly black hair and dressed in a pair of faded overalls was studying the nearly buried track as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

  I couldn’t help myself; my curiosity was too strong. I put the donuts on a bench near Grace’s car and walked over to him.

  He was so focused on what he was looking at that he must not have noticed me approach. “What’s so fascinating?” I asked him.

  I thought he was going to jump out of his skin when he looked at me. “You startled me,” he said.

  “Clearly,” I replied. “My name’s Suzanne Hart.” I looked down at the twin iron rails. “You know, I’ve seen those tracks all of my life, but I’ve never been as interested in them as you are right now.”

  “I’m James Settle. They’re a bit of history, aren’t they?” he asked.

  “I like them,” I said. “I just didn’t realize anyone else cared about them.”

  “Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what I can do with the metal?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but suddenly I wasn’t all that thrilled with his presence. “Mr. Settle, I’m sure they’re worth something on the open market, but they belong to the town.”

  He shook his head. “Actually, that’s not true. They were the railroad’s property all along, and since the line is now defunct, they’re in the public domain. I can make a thousand bookends out of these.”

  “Is that true?” I asked, horrified by the idea that anyone could step in and take a part of our history.

  He nodded. “I’m on my way to city hall to file for a permit to remove them, and then I’m all set.”

  I didn’t say a word as he walked off, but I did grab my cell phone.

  I happened to know the older man who ran the permit office for April Springs. He’d just gotten the job, and he liked me and my donuts.

  “Henry? It’s Suzanne Hart,” I said.

  “Suzanne, how are you?”

  “I’m good. Listen, I need a favor. A guy’s about to come in to get a permit to tear up our railroad tracks. Is there any way to stop him?”

  Henry whistled. “I don’t know about that. It’s a tall order.”

  I said quickly, “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal, or something that might get you fired. I just want to slow him down long enough to find out if he’s legit.”

  Henry paused a few moments, and then I heard a shredder operate in the background. Had he forgotten all about me? I was about to hang up when he came back on the line. “Sorry about that, I had to take care of something.”

  “I know you’re busy. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  I was about to hang up when he said, “Hold on a second. Now, what were you asking me about?”

  “I wanted to know if you could slow the permit process for a man who wants to tear out the railroad tracks.” Henry had retired after working thirty years with a large industrial company and had moved to April Springs soon after. I knew the man was in his mid-seventies, at least. Could he be losing it a little?

  “Goodness, I’m afraid he’s not going to be able to do anything. I just accidently shredded the last of our permits, and I can’t issue any until I get the next shipment from Raleigh.”

  The old fox had known the exact thing he could do to slow the process. “When exactly will that be?”

  “At least a week,” he admitted. “Does that give you enough time?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “That would be great. Next time you come by the shop, the donuts are on the house.”

  “I can’t take anything that might be construed as a bribe,” he answered, “but thanks for the offer.”

  I’d find a way to slip him some free donuts somehow, but for now, the problem was on hold until I could come up with a way to keep James Settle from destroying part of our history.

  When I got back to Grace’s car, she was off the telephone and staring at me. I retrieved the donuts on the bench and joined her in her car.

  She didn’t start it, though. “What was that all about?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Suzanne. I saw you talking to that man.”

  I nodded. “He was going to tear up the tracks, can you believe it?”

  Grace shook her head. “It’s not right. Did you stop him?”

  “I did the next best thing,” I admitted without going into any more detail.

  “You’re not telling me the rest of it, are you?”

  “I don’t want to violate a trust,” I said.

  Grace knew that I wouldn’t budge when it came to my word, so she started the car. “Are we going straight to Jean’s?”

  “After we swing by the bank, we can head over there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  After the bank deposit, we drove to Jean’s house in Grace’s company car. Something occurred to me, so I looked over at her and asked, “By the way, I forgot to ask you earlier. How was your date last night?”

  She glanced at me for a second, and then said, “It was okay.”

  “Just okay? Come on, you can do better than that. I want details.”

  Grace slowed her car down a little, but I wasn’t at all certain that it was intentional. “Why do you ask? Did someone say something to you about it?”

  She was being pretty defensive about the whole thing. “Grace, no one said a word to me. Why are you acting so oddly all of a sudden?”

  “No reason,” she said. “Jean lives on Claremont Avenue, right?”

  “Her house number is 42,” I said. “Stop being so evasive. Was it so bad that you don’t even want to talk about it?”

  “Just the opposite,” Grace admitted. “I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it with you.”

  I’d never heard her say anything like that before. “Hey, that’s not fair. You get to meddle in my life all the time. Give me something, anyway.”

  Grace seemed to think about it, and then said, “You’re right. I’m being silly. It’s just been a while since I’ve felt something had potential.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, “but maybe you’re right. If something happens to ruin it, I don’t want you to think that telling me had anything to do with it.”

  She seemed to think about that, and then said, “Tell you what I’ll do. If we’re still seeing each other after three dates, I’ll tell you all about him.”

  “Why three dates?” I asked as we pulled up in front of number 42.

  “If he lasts that long, he might just be a keeper. Thanks for understanding,” she said.

  We stopped in front of Jean Ray’s place, and I couldn’t help wondering what the rambling old place had looked like when it had been newly built. In my mind, I replaced the faded and chipped paint with fresh, gleaming coats of forest green and cream, and then saw the lawn landscaped instead of being filled with overgrown weeds and clutters of leaves everywhere. If Jean had money, as that ten grand and diamond brooch implied, she clearly hadn’t spent any of it keeping up the exterior of her place. I could only imagine what the inside looked like.

  We rang the doorbell, and Jean opened it. She was a heavyset woman with hair frosted so deeply it was tough to e
ven guess what her original color had been. I’d always admired her broad smile and ready, infectious laugh, but for the first time since I’d known her, she looked immeasurably sad.

  “We’re so sorry for your loss,” I said.

  “Thank you, Suzanne,” she replied, and then turned to Grace. “And you are?”

  “Grace Gauge,” she said as she extended a hand.

  Jean didn’t look all that pleased by Grace’s presence, but I’d had no way of knowing that’s how she would react. If I’d known, I would have had Grace wait in the car.

  There was an awkward silence, and I was beginning to wonder if she was going to let us in. There was just one more thing I could do.

  I thrust the boxes of donuts forward and said, “These are for you.”

  Jean nodded, smiled ever so slightly, and then sighed as she took them from me. “Won’t you come in?”

  “Thanks,” I said, and Grace walked in behind me. She shot one eyebrow skyward as she did, but I just shrugged. It was amazing how many ideas we could convey with a shake or a nod.

  Inside, I was expecting more of what we’d seen outside, imagining shabby furniture and dead plants crowding the corners. Instead, the place looked as though it had been plucked from a recent catalogue shoot. Fine furniture with crisp upholstery, oriental rugs bright with color, and beautifully polished hardwood floors greeted us. Grace, usually the more tactful one of us, said, “It looks so different in here.”

  Jean stared at her. “Different from what?”

  Grace started to stammer so I knew that I had to save her. “The exterior doesn’t prepare you for the loveliness of the interior, does it?” It was as diplomatic a way as I could come up with to explain our reactions.

  Jean nodded, and that slight smile returned. “I rarely go outside, so why bother keeping it up? Here is where I live, not out there.” She paused, and then added, “Besides, burglars would never guess what I have in here based on what they see outside.”