by Jessica Beck
“Yeah, maybe that, too,” Grace said. “We haven’t been able to eliminate a single suspect, have we? Sometimes I think all we do is spin our wheels in the sand.”
“You know how this works better than anybody. All we can do for now is collect the pieces of the puzzle and try to fit them together in a way that makes sense.”
“This time it’s different, though, isn’t it?” Grace asked as we drove away.
“How so?”
“Brad Winslow said it himself. Everyone we spoke with, with the single exception of Abner, is a professional liar. They literally earn their livings making things up. Can we really trust any of them?”
“I’m a firm believer that even a lie can start with a seed of the truth,” I said.
“Wow, that sounds absolutely like some kind of Eastern philosophy,” Grace said. “Where did you get that?”
“I may have read it on a soda can once,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” I felt my stomach rumble a little. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t get much to eat at the restaurant. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” Grace said with a grin.
“Shall we cook or just go to the diner?” I asked as we got close to the Boxcar Grill, as well as both our homes.
“Do you even have to ask? I’d kill for a hamburger.”
“Maybe not the best choice of words, but I agree with the sentiment,” I said.
“Yeah, I really should learn to choose my words a little more carefully,” she said as I pulled into the parking lot.
Trish was standing at the register when we got there, and there was a look of concern on her face as she spied us. “Just the two women I was looking for,” she said in an earnest voice.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“You really should talk to your friend. She’s having more than her own share of troubles at the moment, and I just seem to be making things worse.”
I looked around the diner to see which friend she was talking about, but the only person I saw who looked upset was Gabby Williams.
“Gabby? What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know. I figure you’re one of her best friends, so maybe you’d know.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked Trish softly. “I’ve known Gabby for years, but that doesn’t make us friends.”
“Come on, Suzanne. You’re about the only person in town she even likes a little, and I see you two chatting every now and then. She’s come to you before when she’s been in trouble, so I thought maybe she said something this time.”
“No, not a word,” I said.
“Well, what are you doing just standing there? Go talk to her,” Trish instructed.
Grace nudged me. “Yeah, go on, Suzanne.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“You’re kidding, right? The entire town knows how Gabby feels about me. No, I’m afraid that you’re on your own this time. I’ll just hang out up here with Trish while you talk to her.”
“Fine,” I said with a frown, and then I walked over to Gabby’s table to see what was wrong. I supposed that I didn’t really have any choice.
I had to just bite the bullet and do it.
Chapter 13
“Gabby, are you okay?” I asked as I approached her table cautiously.
“What? Suzanne, what are you doing here?” she asked me as she looked up at me. “Did someone call you?”
“No. Honestly, I just came in for a bite, but I couldn’t help noticing that you look troubled,” I said. “May I join you?”
“Sorry, but I just finished eating,” she said as she stood. “I’m fine.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” I said forcefully. Maybe it was true about us being friends. After all, I was one of the few folks in town brave enough to actually confront her about anything.
Gabby looked as though she wanted to comment, but instead, she threw a ten-dollar bill down on the table and started to walk out.
She wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily. I followed her. Trish’s instincts had been right on the money.
“She forgot to pay,” the diner owner told me as I got to her and Grace after Gabby had already walked out.
“She threw a ten-dollar bill on the table before she left,” I said as I headed for the door.
“She didn’t even wait for her change? This is more serious than I thought,” Trish said. She wasn’t teasing, either. Gabby was notorious about being tight with her money, and if she was willing to abandon money just to avoid talking to me, something was definitely up.
“I’ll be right back,” I said as I ducked out and followed her over to her shop, across the street and beside mine.
“Gabby. Hang on a second,” I said.
“Are you deaf, Suzanne? I told you that I was fine,” she insisted, not slowing her pace any at all.
I was younger and in better shape, though. I caught up with her before she made it to her shop. However, if she got inside and locked the door behind her, it was a lost cause, and we both knew it.
Gabby was just putting her key in the lock when I put my hand on the front door, preventing her from opening it.
“That’s a good way to lose a hand,” she said icily.
“I don’t care. Friends don’t let themselves be bullied out of caring.” The use of the word surprised her as much as it did me.
Gabby sighed deeply, and then she turned to look directly at me. “Suzanne, I appreciate the concern, I truly do, but there’s nothing you can do to help me.”
“That’s not true. I can listen,” I said, standing my ground.
“I got dumped, okay?” she asked as she looked at me, tears starting to form in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know that has to hurt.”
“Have you ever been rejected by anyone?” she asked me with a real bite in her voice.
“Let’s see. I caught my first husband cheating on me with another woman. Does that count?” I hadn’t had to go far for that one.
“Yes, of course it does,” she said. “I don’t know why I bother trying to find someone. It seems rather hopeless at my age.”
“If you really want it, it can still happen. Look at my mother.” Momma had given up on romance in her life too, and yet Phillip Martin had pursued her with diligence and resolve, and now she was as happy as she’d been since my father had died.
“That’s the difference between the two of us. No one’s pining around town for me,” Gabby said.
“You don’t really know that though, do you? For all you know, someone may just be working up the courage to ask you out even as we speak.”
Gabby frowned at me. “Are you saying that it would take an act of bravery to ask me out on a date?”
I could play that two ways, but there was a good chance either option would get me in hot water, so I decided to dive on in and tell the truth. “Gabby, you must realize that most folks around here are afraid to ask you what time it is. You have to know how intimidating you are.”
To my surprise, she laughed at my assessment. “I’ve spent so long cultivating it for business that it’s a part of me now, and I’m afraid that I’m too old to change.”
“I don’t believe that for one second,” I said, happy that she’d taken my critique in the manner that it had been meant. “I personally know how nice you can be when you let your guard down.”
“I don’t know,” she said, biting her lower lip after she said it.
“Look at it this way. What do you have to lose?”
“So let me get this straight,” Gabby said. “I’m supposed to all of a sudden start being nice to people for no reason at all?”
“Hey, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”
“Let me
think about it,” Gabby said as she glanced over at the closed bookstore. “You found another one, didn’t you?”
“Yes, somehow I seem to end up in the middle of murder much more often than I’d like.”
“Do me a favor, Suzanne, could you?”
“Anything. Just name it.”
“If you see my door standing wide open, send the police in first. I’d hate for you to be the one to find my body.”
She wasn’t joking as she said it, and I wondered if she’d been threatened lately. “Is something going on that I need to know about?”
“No one’s said or done anything to me,” she explained. “I’d just hate for you to see me like that.”
In a way, it was a very sweet thing for her to say. “You’ve got a deal.”
“And I promise that I’ll do the same for you,” she said.
How had this conversation suddenly turned so morbid? “Grace is waiting for me so we can eat. I’d better go, if you’re sure you’re okay.”
To my surprise, Gabby reached out a hand and touched my shoulder lightly. For her, it was quite a display of affection. “Thanks for caring enough about me to say something.”
“Hey, Trish was worried about you, too,” I said.
“Not Grace though, right?”
There was no way I was going to walk into that trap. “I’ll see you later. Remember, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
“Maybe I will,” she said as she walked into ReNEWed and flipped the sign to show that she was now open for business yet again. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear that I saw her smiling through the front window when she thought no one was looking. Maybe Gabby would take my advice after all and let herself smile every now and then. I didn’t believe that she had to have someone in her life to make her happy, but if she did, then I’d do everything in my power to help her make it happen.
“Suzanne, what a delight finding you here,” Momma said after she and Phillip walked into the Boxcar Grill. Grace and I had only just been seated, so I was glad that I’d delayed our meal in order to speak with Gabby. “Grace, you’re looking lovely as ever,” Momma said. “May we join you?”
“That sounds great to me,” I said. I didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with my mother, and Phillip had actually been growing on me lately. “Pull up a pair of chairs.”
Phillip held a seat for Momma, and she accepted the act graciously. I had no idea why some women didn’t like the courtesy. Jake did it for me when we went out to eat, and frankly, it made me feel special that he cared enough to make sure I was taken care of. Not that I didn’t take care of him, too. That was one of the things I loved about our marriage. We were a true team, each striving to make the other one happy. I missed my husband, but I was going to try not to show it. Having this group sharing a meal was a happy thing indeed, and I planned on enjoying myself.
“I didn’t realize that you two ever ate out,” Grace said with a smile. “And why would you? Dot, you’re one of the best cooks I know.”
“Agreed,” Phillip added quickly, and I was certainly in no place to deny it.
I loved Momma’s cooking, but I got it. “It can get a little stale making meals every night,” I said. “Everybody needs a break now and then.”
“I offered to make chili, but she declined,” Phillip said with a shrug.
“What is it with men and chili? It’s the only thing they seem to be able to cook indoors,” Momma said with a smile.
“That’s not true. I make decent eggs, and my pancakes are good, too.”
“True. I sit corrected,” Momma said. “They make breakfast, too. Tonight, I’m going to splurge and forget about calories altogether.”
“You look perfect to me just the way you are,” Phillip said as he squeezed my mother’s hand.
“Thank you, but we’re both putting on a little weight, dear. We need to be a little more careful about what we eat.” She paused for a long moment before adding, with a wicked smile, “But let’s start tomorrow, shall we?”
The chief had been overweight when he’d started wooing my mother, but he’d done an excellent job paring down to his high school weight. However, domestic tranquility was clearly catching up with him, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to see the two of them walking around town for exercise as the weather started to warm up.
“If that’s the case, then I’m going to make it count tonight,” he said with a grin.
I had to laugh. It was good seeing this lighter side of him, something that had been sorely missing when he’d been the chief of police. Come to think of it, Jake had been a bit dour when he’d had the job temporarily as well, and Stephen was aging by the minute. It must have taken a real toll on them, and I was suddenly glad that I was a donut maker. Solving murder was just a hobby for me, and one that was beginning to grow stale for me.
“How about you, Grace?” I asked her. “Do you feel like indulging?”
“I’m willing to if you are,” she said.
My jeans had been getting progressively tighter as winter had worn on, but I wasn’t about to be the wet blanket of this particular party. “Then let’s do this.”
“Excellent,” Phillip said. “Shall we start with a plate of fries for the table while we decide what we’re going to eat?”
“On one condition,” Momma said sternly.
Had she already changed her mind? “What’s that?” he asked her.
“We have to get onion rings, too,” she said with a happy smile.
At the rate we were starting out, I’d be lucky to make it home after dinner, and I only had a quarter-mile commute.
But I didn’t mind one bit.
As the four of us worked our way through burgers, sides, and even a few milkshakes, we had a wonderful conversation between bites and sips.
Only near the end of the meal did Momma look directly at me and ask, “How’s the investigation, Suzanne?”
I put off answering her by shoving the last onion ring in my mouth, but that would only delay my reply for so long. One thing was certain: it was insane to try to deny it. Not only had she probably already heard what Grace and I were up to, but even if by some miracle she hadn’t, she’d still know the moment the first lie left my lips. “It’s going slowly, but that’s to be expected.”
Momma grinned. “Well, look who’s starting to grow up.”
“Mother dear, I’m on my second husband and I own my own business,” I told her. “I just assumed I’d already made it.”
“All those things contribute, but when you stop lying to your mother, you’re taking the final step into adulthood.”
“When did you stop lying to your mother?” I asked her with a wicked grin.
“I suppose it became a moot point when she passed away,” Momma said, adding a small sigh to highlight her regret.
“If you need any help with the case, you know we’re both ready to be asked,” Phillip said gravely.
“I thought you were only interested in old crimes,” I said with a grin.
“I’ll make an exception for you,” he replied, his eyes smiling merrily at me.
“Thanks, but we’re good. Right now, Grace and I have just finished interviewing our suspects.”
“Ooh, who do you have so far?” Momma asked.
I ticked the writers off on my fingers and then added Abner to my list in the end, as well as Paige.
“Are you telling me that my mechanic wants to be a writer, too?” Momma asked. “Is there anyone who doesn’t aspire to write at least one book?”
“Funny you should mention that. As a matter of fact, your daughter turned the chance down last night,” Grace said.
“Not that it matters one way or the other at this point,” I said, and then I added, “John Rumsfield,
aka the murder victim, wanted me to write a culinary mystery series for him.”
“You should have taken him up on his offer,” Momma said. “I’ve often thought it would be fun writing a cozy mystery. What do you think, Suzanne? We could write about a mother/daughter team of sleuths solving crime and making goodies, too.”
“We both know that we’d kill each other before we managed to write the dedication,” I said with a smile.
Momma laughed. “You are probably right. Who looks the most suspicious to you so far?”
“It’s honestly too early to say,” I told her. “Brad Winslow has a temper nearly as big as his ego. Bev Worthington and Simon Gant were about to be dumped by their publisher, and they weren’t exactly thrilled about the prospect, no matter how much they both protested otherwise. Paige said that she heard that Alexa Masters was trying to get out of her contract, and Abner had a confrontation with the man hours before John was murdered. Here’s the rub. The writers were all signed on with the man himself, not the company. With Rumsfield dead, it’s not clear what happens now, though Brad claims that they’re all free from any and all further obligations to the publishing house.”
“My, my. What a mess. I still can’t get over Abner.”
“I know,” I said. “Grace and I are having a hard time wrapping our heads around him as a killer too, but he thinks of his manuscript as his baby, and nobody is going to get away with showing it disrespect. According to Alexa, who watched the argument, John laughed in Abner’s face, and then he flung the manuscript at him. Can you imagine that going over very well?”
“I doubt seriously that Abner murdered John Rumsfield,” Phillip said quietly.
“Why? Don’t you think he’s capable of doing it?” Momma asked him, clearly curious about her husband’s opinion.
“Oh, he’s capable enough. I would think he’d be more of a strangler or a brawler, though. It would almost have to be something up close and personal. Besides, if he was going to kill the publisher, he would have done it at the height of his humiliation, not stew about it and then decide to do it later.” He looked at me and saw that I was grinning. “Did I say something amusing, Suzanne?”
