Boston Cream Bribery

by Jessica Beck

  As George and I drove down Springs Drive together in the dark, I said, “I can’t believe you’re going to disrupt this sleepy little town just to have a little fun.”

  “Then you must not know me as well as you think you do,” George said. I wasn’t about to encourage him, but it was nice to see the little kid in him again. Since taking over the mayoral duties for our little town, George’s demeanor, never really all that playful to begin with, had definitely taken on a more sedate tone.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said as I parked in front of Van’s neat little cottage just past the bank and on the way to the hospital. There was a cluster of other small places near him, all of them quaint. “Are you sure about your noisemaker idea?”

  “Just watch me,” George said. He popped out of the Jeep, and before I could say another word, he started banging on the bottom of the pot with the wooden spoon. “Wake up, you old coot. It’s time to get cracking.”

  I grabbed the heavy-duty flashlight from my Jeep and pointed it toward the cottage. A few lights flicked on around Van’s place, but the cottage itself was still dark.

  “The man must sleep like the dead,” George said as we approached the front door.

  “Or he’s already at the donut shop waiting for us,” I offered.

  “No way. We’d have seen him on our drive over.” George stopped walking and talking kind of abruptly and put out an arm to stop me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked him, curious about our sudden stop.

  “That,” George said as he pointed in the direction of the narrow porch. “Shine your light over there, Suzanne.”

  I did as I was told, and I saw something that looked like spilled chocolate syrup spread out on the concrete. “What is that?” I asked.

  “Blood,” George said. “I’ve seen it enough to know it on sight, even in this bad light; there’s no mistaking it.” He handed me the pot and spoon and said, “Let me see that torch of yours.”

  I didn’t quite just hand it over. “George, I know you used to be a cop, but shouldn’t we call the current police chief? Chief Grant is going to want to handle this himself.”

  “We’ll call him as soon as we know what’s going on,” George insisted. “I still need that flashlight, though.”

  I wasn’t about to deny him, no matter how crazy it felt to be exploring an obvious crime scene without at least having some kind of weapon between the two of us. That wasn’t strictly true, I realized as I handed George the heavy flashlight. He had that, while I took over the pot and the spoon. They weren’t the worst weapons I’d ever tried to use against a bad guy, but they were certainly in the running.

  “Stay out here,” George ordered me.

  It was a directive I had no trouble ignoring.

  When he realized that I was still on his heels, he said, “Suzanne, this could be dangerous.”

  “All the more reason I should go with you,” I said. “Besides, if you leave me out here all by myself, I may just get jumpy and call the chief myself.”

  The mayor didn’t look happy about my threat, but he wasn’t about to call my bluff, either. Clearly I knew the man better than he thought I did.

  “Fine. Stay behind me though, okay? Can you at least do that?”

  I nodded, and then I realized that he couldn’t see me in the dark. As we headed for the front door, Tori Sheppard stuck her head out of the cottage next door. “What are you two up to? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Go back to bed, Tori,” George said curtly.

  It was clear that she was in no mood to be taking his orders. “I’d love to, but some moron just woke me up banging on a pot with a stick.”

  “Actually, it was a spoon,” I said as I held it up toward her, though I doubted that she could see it.

  “I don’t care if it was your wooden leg,” she said. “Just keep it down.”

  “We’ll try our best,” I said as I realized that George had suddenly stopped moving just as he’d gotten to the front door.

  I was about to ask him why he was hesitating when I glanced down and saw a man’s hand and part of his arm sticking out, holding it partially open.

  It wasn’t moving, and a ball of fear suddenly descended onto me, freezing me in place.

  Chapter 2

  “Is it Van?” I asked George softly.

  The mayor played the light beam around for a few seconds, and then he turned it back on me. “Yes. From the look of it, he’s dead.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “It appears to me that someone hit him in the back of the head with that,” George said as he gestured to a nearby object.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I asked as I studied the trophy in the beam of light.

  “Yes. It’s the April Springs Man of the Year award,” he said glumly. I knew that George had just lost the award to Van, and it had been a major point of contention between them. How ironic that someone had used the trophy to kill the councilman. Backing up away from the scene, George pulled out his phone and started dialing.

  “Are you calling 9-1-1?” I asked.

  “Even better. I’m phoning the police chief on his private line,” the mayor said. “Stephen, get over here right now.” There was a pause, and then the mayor added, “Sorry. It’s early. We’re at Van Rayburn’s place. Suzanne is with me. Of course I’m talking about Suzanne Hart. Do you know any other Suzannes? What’s wrong? No, I haven’t been drinking! Van is dead.” After another long pause, George said, “I’m pretty sure. Call an ambulance if you want, but if you ask me, the man is beyond all hope. Get over here as soon as you can.”

  “I’m calling the EMTs, just in case.” After he hung up, I reminded George, “We didn’t check for a pulse.”

  “You’re looking at the same thing I am,” George said softly. “That’s a lot of blood. There’s no way that he’s still alive.”

  “Still, I’d feel better if we knew for sure,” I said as I reached for the flashlight. George gave it up reluctantly, and I approached the body to see if I could find a pulse.

  As I leaned down, carefully avoiding the blood, I could swear I saw the man’s body twitch! “George, he’s still alive!”

  “That can’t be,” the mayor said as I tried to find a pulse at Van’s neck.

  It was so weak that I nearly missed it, but after a few moments, I caught it, thin and thready. He was still alive, at least for the moment. “What do we do?” I asked in anguish. “We can’t just let him die.”

  The mayor took off his jacket. “We need to stop the blood flow.”

  “Should we really move him?” I asked. I’d heard horror stories about injuries being inflicted by well-meaning bystanders, and I didn’t want to do any more damage to the councilman than someone else had already done.

  “We don’t have much choice,” George said as he leaned forward, preparing to lift Van’s head so he could check on the wound.

  “Hang on. The ambulance will be here in ten seconds,” I said as I heard it ripping toward us.

  “Does he really have that long?” George asked me brusquely.

  “Stop it!” I ordered, not believing for one second that the mayor would listen to me, but sure enough, he did exactly as I’d requested. The ambulance came screaming up the road toward us, and in no time flat, two paramedics were rushing toward us.

  “Did you move him?” one asked us.

  “No,” I said. “We checked him for a pulse, but that was all.”

  “Good. Step aside,” one of them said as he knelt down to check for Van’s vital signs. “Mr. Mayor, I need you to move and give us some room to work.”

  “Come on, George,” I said as I tugged at my friend’s arm. “Let them do their job.”

  “Sure. Sorry,” the mayor said as he finally got the message and stood. “I can’t believe he’s still alive. There�
�s so much blood. You know, in all my years as a cop, I never saw someone come so close to bleeding out and still hang on. It figures that Van of all people is too stubborn to die.”

  I knew George, and I realized that he hadn’t meant it to sound the way that it did, but evidently the paramedic didn’t know him as well as I did. He glanced at the mayor for a moment before going back to work, but a great deal had been said in that look. The paramedic was clearly thinking that George had been the one to attack Van, though the mayor had been with me the entire time. Or had he? How long could it have been since Van was attacked? Could George have done it and then come to the donut shop immediately afterward, knowing that there was no way the councilman would be joining us?

  Stop that, Suzanne, I chided myself. George was my friend, and no matter how much animosity there was between the two men, the mayor would never have attacked the councilman and then left him for dead.

  Would other folks believe that, though? I found myself hoping that Van Rayburn managed to hang on for more reasons than just not wanting him to die. If he expired, I had a hunch there would be more than one witness coming forward to testify about the two men’s rocky relationship.

  “On three,” the paramedic who’d stared hard at George said to his partner. With obvious skill and a touch of grace as well, they transferred Van onto their gurney.

  As they were loading him into the ambulance, Chief Grant drove up, his lights flashing and his siren screaming.

  We were collecting quite a crowd outside despite the early hour. After stopping to speak briefly with the paramedics, the police chief joined us. “Have either one of you been inside the house since you arrived?” he asked us.

  “No, we’re not idiots,” George said. The more stressed he was, the gruffer his demeanor, which was exactly the wrong reaction to the police chief’s inquiries.

  Chief Grant decided to let that one slide. “Tell me what happened.”

  “We found his body and called you. Period,” George said. “What else do you want to know?”

  Stephen Grant shook his head, and I could see him biting his lower lip to keep his own temper in check. I decided that it was time to speak up. “George and Van both won the bids for my donut-making lesson this morning at the silent auction last night. When Van didn’t show up, George and I decided to come over here and wake him up.”

  “What made you think he was still asleep?” the chief asked, clearly groggy from the early hour himself.

  “What else would he be doing at three a.m., taking piano lessons?” George asked him.

  “How exactly did you find him?” Chief Grant asked as he surveyed the porch with a strong flashlight of his own.

  “His hand and part of his arm were outside the front door,” I said. “At first we thought he was dead, but then I found a pulse. It was weak, but it was there nonetheless.”

  The chief glanced at George for confirmation, who protested, “Look at the blood on the porch. What would you think?”

  “That I’ve seen some awfully bad head wounds in my time,” he said. “It isn’t always necessarily fatal.”

  The words had been issued gently, but George felt their sting anyway. He was about to say something that I was sure he’d regret when I touched his arm lightly. “Do you need us, Chief, or can we go back to Donut Hearts?” I was well aware of the time factor. With each passing minute, my schedule was getting farther and farther behind, and while I sympathized with Van, I still had donuts to make.

  “Give me time to get statements from you,” the chief said as two more cruisers pulled up. “I need to check out the interior.”

  “Can’t you come by the shop to get them?” I asked. I was upset about finding Van’s injured body, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t have things I had to do myself in the meantime. It might have seemed heartless to most folks, but I had a job to do, and besides, the attack on Van hadn’t had anything to do with me.

  “Sorry, but that’s going to have to wait.” The police chief started inside, and George took a few steps behind him. Chief Grant turned to him and said, “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in with me, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Are you forgetting that I was a cop once upon a time myself?” George asked. “I can handle myself.”

  “I said no,” the chief said firmly.

  It was clear that there was no give in his voice, and the mayor nodded in agreement, though he was obviously unhappy about the way Chief Grant was treating him.

  One of the chief’s men approached us, and he and his boss went inside, being careful to avoid the blood on the front porch.

  “Do you think they’ll find anyone inside?” I asked George.

  “No. Unless I miss my guess, whoever did it is long gone,” he said. “I don’t know why the chief wouldn’t let me go in with him.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” I asked as I turned and looked at my friend in the headlights from one of the closest squad cars. “George, you can’t go in there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re going to be everyone’s prime suspect,” I said, stating the obvious.

  The mayor looked shocked by the concept. “I didn’t do it!”

  “You know that, and I know that, but how is it going to look to most folks? You and Van were just about sworn enemies. You even had a fight last night at the silent auction, for goodness sakes! That’s not even mentioning the weapon someone used on him. Do I need to remind you that it was the trophy you claimed was rightfully yours, George?”

  Apparently it was finally starting to sink in just how bad things were looking for him. “Suzanne, surely folks around here know me better than to think I’d attack Van, or anyone else, for that matter.”

  “I don’t know. They know me pretty well too, but I’ve found myself in their crosshairs a time or two over the years,” I said. “Mr. Mayor, you need to be very careful right now.”

  “That’s nonsense,” he said.

  There was nothing more that I could say. “Then go ahead and lose your cool again. It was nice while it lasted.”

  “What are you talking about?” George asked me.

  “Your tenure as mayor,” I said.

  He took a moment to let that sink in, and as he was still mulling it over, Chief Grant and his officer came back out of the cottage. The chief started shouting orders as soon as he was back outside, and his staff got busy carrying them out.

  “Listen, I didn’t attack Van,” George said the moment the police chief rejoined us.

  Chief Grant merely shrugged as he turned to me. “Suzanne, you can go back to Donut Hearts now. I’ll come by later to get your statement.” Then he looked at George. “Will you be home or in your office?”

  “I’ll be at Donut Hearts. I’m making donuts with Suzanne,” the mayor insisted. “Nothing’s changed that.”

  “Are you telling me that you’re going to go ahead and do that despite the attack on Van?” the police chief asked him carefully.

  “I didn’t hit him, so why shouldn’t I?” George asked.

  “Fine. I’ll see you both there soon,” he said.

  As the mayor and I got back into the Jeep, I reached for my cell phone.

  “Who are you calling at this hour, Suzanne?” George asked me.

  “Jake,” I said. “He’ll know what to do.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, and I certainly don’t need your husband’s help to prove it,” George said.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I said as I called Jake.

  He answered on the first ring. “I’m on my way,” he said the moment he heard my voice. “Are you still at Van’s place?”

  “No, we’re heading over to Donut Hearts,” I said. I should have known. Jake often turned on the police-band radio once I left for work every morning. My husband claimed that it soothed him, and I didn’t doubt it for one second
. After all, he’d been a cop for a very long time before we’d met. “See you in two minutes.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you out front,” he said.

  As I put my phone away, and before George could say a single word, I told him strongly, “Whatever you’re about to say, save it. When we see Jake, you’re going to cooperate with him in any way he asks. Do you understand me?”

  “Since when did you get so bossy?” George asked me as I drove a little faster than was technically necessary.

  “As a matter of fact, I learned it from a good friend of mine. Maybe you know him. He’s the mayor,” I said.

  “Hey, I resent that,” George said.

  “I’m sorry, did you say that you resemble that?” I asked him with a grin.

  He wouldn’t budge, though. “You heard me right the first time.”

  I decided not to answer as we arrived back at Donut Hearts. I parked out front and got out, giving Jake a big hug the moment I saw him. As I did, I whispered in his ear, “Thanks for coming. He’s a stubborn old coot, but he needs you.”

  “No worries,” Jake said, and I knew that my friend was in good hands. There was no way that Jake would let George be steamrolled for the attack on the town councilman if he were innocent, which I wanted to believe with all of my heart.

  “Would you two like to come inside and talk while I get started on donuts? We have fresh coffee, if you’re interested.”

  “I’m supposed to be helping you make them,” George said woodenly.

  “Another day, my friend,” I said. “For now, you need to talk to my husband.”

  “I keep telling you that I don’t need him,” he said, and then he turned to my husband. “No offense, Jake.”

  “None taken,” my husband said amiably. “But you might as well go along with Suzanne’s suggestion. We both know that she’s going to get her way eventually anyway, so why resist?”

  In other circumstances, I might have protested his summation, but in this case, he was absolutely right.

  George was going to get my husband’s help whether he wanted it or not, and I was going to personally see to it myself.