Tragic Toppings

by Jessica Beck

  She thought about it for a few seconds, and then said, “We should go to Jackson Ridge to see Betsy Hanks, and then hit Iron Forge so we can talk to Gina Parsons.”

  “Good. We know that Betsy works at Harper’s, so at least we have easy access to her, since she’ll have to be available to wait on customers.”

  “Have you ever been to Harper’s before?” Grace asked.

  “No, it’s a little too classy for my taste,” I answered. “But I’m willing to bet that you’ve shopped there a time or two.”

  “Just once. To be honest with you, I wasn’t all that impressed with their selection, and the prices were a little higher than they should have been, even with a healthy mark-up.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re not buying anything,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  As we drove to see Betsy, I said, “I’m not all that thrilled that we need to talk to Gina Parsons. Her daughter, Penny, is a friend of mine.”

  “So is Angelica,” Grace reminded me. “You weren’t exactly delicate with her, were you?”

  “I know we can’t play favorites here, but it’s not going to be easy. Penny knows me. What excuse can we come up with to justify talking to her mother about Tim?”

  “We can always use the truth, if all else fails,” Grace said. “We were both fond of Tim, and we were the ones who found his body. That should be reason enough to want to find out what really happened to him, and what his true relationship with these women was.”

  “Why am I surprised to find that you’re backing the ‘honesty is the best policy’ approach?” I asked with a smile.

  Grace glanced at me and returned my grin with one of her own. “It’s fun being inconsistent sometimes. Being mysterious is just one of my charms.”

  I laughed at that, and she asked, “What’s so funny, Suzanne?”

  “I was just trying to imagine what would be on my own list of charms, if I had to make one up,” I admitted.

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” she said. “I could name quite a few of them myself.”

  “Go on, I’m listening,” I said as I looked over at her.

  Grace shook her head and smiled as she reached to turn on the radio. “I’m not going to spend the drive stroking your ego. Suffice it to say that we’re both highly desirable women out on the open road and leave it at that.”

  “You’ve got a deal,” I said.

  When we got to Harper’s, Grace looked at my outfit with a little more scrutiny than I was comfortable with. “Suzanne, maybe you should wait out in the car while I talk to Betsy.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you telling me there’s a dress code just to shop there?”

  “Don’t you remember Pretty Woman?” Grace asked.

  I wasn’t sure I was all that flattered with being compared to a prostitute. “I’m dressed like a working woman, not a hooker. I’m sure what I’ve got on will be fine.”

  “We could always say we’re giving you a makeover,” Grace suggested with a smile.

  I knew that she was kidding, but it might not be a bad idea at that. “You’re absolutely right. While Betsy’s helping us, we can grill her about Tim.”

  Grace shook her head as she said, “Suzanne, I was just teasing. I think you’re nearly perfect just the way you are.”

  “I’m not buying anything. It’s a way to get our feet in the door, though. Go on, use your imagination when you talk to her, and I’ll try to keep up.”

  The smile on her face was the broadest I’d seen in some time.

  When we walked into the shop, I started to regret my suggestion. The clothes were from Vogue and Elle, not Sears and Wal-Mart. What had I gotten myself into?

  A lovely young woman approached us, and I knew without seeing her nametag that this wasn’t Betsy Hanks, not by several years.

  “May I help you?” she asked without completely sneering at my wardrobe. It didn’t add to my comfort level that I noticed when she looked at Grace her expression softened considerably.

  “We’re looking for Betsy Hanks,” Grace said.

  The young woman, whose name tag read CYNTHIA, frowned for a split second. “I’m sure I’ll be more than able to assist you myself.”

  Grace wasn’t backing down, though. “Sorry, but she comes highly recommended. I’m afraid we must insist.”

  The pout returned for an instant, and then Cynthia plastered the fakest of smiles on her face. “Of course. One moment, please.”

  As she disappeared into the back room, I asked Grace, “What was that all about?”

  “She must work on commission. I’ve seen enough poaching of other people’s clientele to recognize it. That’s why I love that we’re all on straight salary at my job. Having to claw every month for your salary tends to bring out the worst in most people.”

  A stylish older woman came out of the back and smiled as she walked toward us. There was a hint of frost in her hair, and she wore a suit that showed off her fitness. What caught my attention from ten paces, though, was the way she smiled. It brought life to her entire face, and I could see why Tim had wanted to be with her. There was something oddly familiar about her, and I wondered if she’d ever been in my shop.

  “I understand I’ve been recommended,” Betsy said in a voice that was a tad lower than I’d been expecting. It was clear she was waiting for the customer’s name, but I didn’t have an answer.

  Apparently, neither did Grace. “I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of an emergency on our hands,” she said as she completely ignored the implied question of who had sent us there. “My dear friend needs a new outfit for tonight, and it must be in black. Tragic circumstances, really. Can you help us?”

  Betsy studied me with a gaze that made me feel more than a little uncomfortable, and as she walked around me, I could have sworn her stare was burning holes in me. “I believe I have some selections that might do,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Grace said. “You’re a real life-saver.”

  As Betsy disappeared to make her selections, I whispered to Grace, “Am I really all that bad?”

  “For this store, you’d better believe it. You’re their worst nightmare. For the real world, though? I think your style suits you just fine.”

  “I’m not sure there was a compliment anywhere in there,” I said.

  “Nor should you be,” Grace replied with a slight smile.

  Betsy came back with three dresses and a suit, and I didn’t have to see the price tags on any of them to know they were more than I could ever afford. I hadn’t particularly enjoyed playing dress up as a child, and my taste for the game hadn’t improved over the years.

  As I was led back to the dressing room, I said, “Sorry for the short notice, but we’re going to a private memorial for someone very close to us.”

  Did she flinch a little at that? “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said automatically. “Do any of these catch your fancy?”

  I chose one of the dresses, and then was ushered into a dressing room. Before I closed the door, though, I said, “Actually, the man we’re mourning was our uncle. Tim Leander will be sorely missed in our lives.”

  Betsy dropped one of the dresses on the floor, and the rest were sure to follow.

  “There’s a service for him tonight?” she asked in a halting voice.

  “Yes.” I said.

  Grace stared at Betsy for a moment, and then stated what was obvious to anyone within a hundred yards. “You knew Uncle Tim, didn’t you?”

  “Actually, we were dating when he died,” Betsy admitted.

  Grace frowned, and then said, “Forgive me for being so blunt, but I was under the impression he was seeing two other women.”

  “I knew that. There were no secrets between us,” she said. “I was happy for the time we got to spend together. This service tonight, do you know if Angelica or Gina were invited to attend?”

  “Not as far as I’ve heard,” I said. It appeared this woman was being open and honest w
ith us, and I didn’t want to take advantage of her good nature if I didn’t have to.

  She seemed to accept that. “That’s fine, then. I’ll be there at the service tomorrow. Now, about this dress. Why don’t you try it on and see how it fits.”

  I closed the door, but left it open a crack and watched them as I tried on the dress. With the top and bottom of the dressing room open, I could still hear the two women talking.

  Grace said, “We found the body. Did you know that?”

  I saw a look of horror on Betsy’s face. “How horrible for you both. It must have scarred you for life.”

  “We were both shaken by it,” Grace said. “Something like that isn’t easy to forget. I’m willing to bet you remember where you were the night he was hanged.”

  It was the perfect leading question, and I was proud of Grace for slipping it so effortlessly into the conversation.

  “It’s too painful to think about,” Betsy said.

  Grace wasn’t about to let it go, though. “It will help if you talk about it. Trust me.”

  My best friend was doing beautifully, but I hated being on the sidelines. Then again, I couldn’t go out now, even in the dress that fit me so beautifully. I’d interrupt the flow of their conversation, and I knew that if I broke that spell, it would be impossible to recapture.

  Betsy choked a little, and then said, “I keep beating myself up about it, but I know in my heart that there’s no reason I should. I just can’t get over feeling guilty because I was with another man the night it happened.”

  That was a real bombshell. So much for her being madly in love with Tim, and filled with jealousy because of his other paramours. It was hard to imagine this woman in a rage strong enough to kill.

  “Who was it?” Grace asked softly.

  I had to see her reaction, so I cracked the door open slightly. As I did it, I held my breath, but neither woman noticed. I wasn’t at all sure Betsy would answer, but when she did, I had to keep myself from gasping aloud. “I was with Orson Blaine. It wasn’t anything serious between us. He finally got up the nerve to ask me out, and Tim had just broken our date for the evening, so on a whim, I accepted. Orson and I just went out once, and when I found out what happened to Tim, I ended it before it could really get started. I still feel so guilty, like I betrayed him.”

  Grace said, “How could you have known? Do you know what Tim was doing that night when he canceled on you?”

  “He didn’t want to say at first, but he finally told me that he broke our date so he could be with Gina Parsons.”

  Grace looked at me, and I hadn’t even realized that she knew the door was open. I could see in her eyes that she wanted me to come out, so I did.

  As I stepped out, I asked, “How do I look?”

  Grace whistled. “Like a million dollars. What do you think?”

  “I think if I could afford it, I’d buy it on the spot. I’m sorry, but I just can’t swing this.”

  Betsy looked at the tag, and then said, “I’d offer you a discount, but we just got this in. I could put it on layaway for you, if you’d like.”

  I shook my head sadly. “By the time I could afford it, I wouldn’t fit into it anymore. Thanks anyway.”

  I quickly changed, and after a few final parting words, Grace and I left.

  “You heard it all, didn’t you, even before you opened the dressing room door?” Grace asked as we got into the car and began our drive to see Gina.

  “I caught every word of it. I’m beginning to think that I’m slowing you down. You handled that situation beautifully all by yourself.”

  She looked pleased by the praise. “Thanks, I learned from the best. You could have gotten everything out of her that I did,” she said.

  “It’s nice of you to say so. Can you believe he actually admitted to breaking a date with her so he could be with another woman?”

  Grace shrugged. “So Betsy says. I’ll feel better once we confirm it.”

  “I agree.” As we drove on, I added, “I can’t imagine what our conversation with Gina Parsons is going to be like.”

  “You don’t have to imagine it much longer; we’ll be there in ten minutes. What did you really think of Betsy’s story?”

  I considered what she’d told Grace, and then I said, “I’m leaning toward it being the truth. After all, it’s too easy to check up on, and besides, what woman would lie about something that puts herself in that kind of light. I still want to talk to Orson, or at least have Jake and George do it, but for now, they’re both off my list.”

  “That makes things easier, doesn’t it?”

  I thought about it, and then answered, “In some ways. In others, it makes it much harder. I don’t know how I’m going to go after the mother of one of my friends,” I replied.

  “Delicately, I’d say.”

  BANANA DROPS

  We love these with a touch of icing and a few sprinkles. The donuts stay soft, since the cooking bananas give off steam during the frying process. You might be tempted to eat these hot, but the banana flavor really bursts out if you let them cool first.

  INGREDIENTS

  • 1½ cups all purpose flour

  • 1 teaspoon baking soda

  • 4 teaspoons confectioner’s sugar

  • dash of salt

  • ½ cup whole milk

  • 1 egg, beaten

  • 2 medium bananas, mashed, then add a dash of lemon juice

  DIRECTIONS

  Sift the flour, baking soda, confectioner’s sugar, and salt together, then set aside. In a separate bowl, beat the egg, then add the whole milk. Combine the flour mix with the egg mix, and mix thoroughly. The final step is to stir the bananas in. The lemon juice keeps the banana from turning brown. Take a small cookie dropper and deposit balls of batter directly into hot canola oil (375 degrees). Cook for two to three minutes, and then remove and drain on a paper towel. Let cool, then enjoy.

  Makes about a dozen banana drops

  CHAPTER 14

  “How exactly are we going to find Gina?” Grace asked as we drove into Iron Forge. I hadn’t been there in years, but it hadn’t changed much, just gotten older and rustier. I knew that in the days of the American Revolution, Iron Forge was a bustling community, but I had a feeling they’d reached their population apex sometime in the late 1700s. Since then, everything had gone downhill, and it was barely a spot on the map now.

  I pointed to the combination hardware store/post office/lunch counter. “Someone there is bound to know where she is, or where she lives.”

  “You’re probably right, but will they tell us?”

  “That’s another story altogether.” I knew that many small Southern towns were tight-lipped about their residents, particularly when strangers were involved. Though we lived less than an hour’s drive away, Grace and I were still outsiders. Our accents might give us a little boost in our investigation, but we couldn’t count on it.

  “I have an idea,” Grace said.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “You could tell folks you are friends with Penny. It’s true.”

  I considered that approach, and then said, “It is, and I mean to keep it that way. It’s bad enough that I’m going after her mother. I’m not going to drag our friendship into it, too.”

  “It was just a thought.”

  “Then keep thinking,” I said with a smile.

  She pulled up in front of Friendly’s, the name of the combination establishment, and said, “Let’s just ask someone and see where that gets us.”

  We walked into the store together, and I was preparing my story when I spotted Gina herself sitting at the luncheonette counter alone. I motioned to Grace to browse around while I had a conversation with Penny’s mother by myself. It might go over a lot better if she didn’t feel as though we were tag-teaming her.

  Grace appeared to get it all with one look, and she changed tracks and started searching through postcards on the desk by the mail clerk’s window.

  “Excu
se me, is this seat taken?” I asked.

  “No, it’s free,” she said, so I slid next to her. I pretended to study her for a moment, and then I said, “I know you. Penny and I are friends. You’re her mother, aren’t you?”

  That brought a smile to Gina’s face. She was stoutly built, had short dirty-blond hair, and wore thick glasses. From the looks of her, I had no trouble seeing her hoisting Tim’s body into the air, but I had to banish that thought. I had to keep an open mind as we spoke, or I’d tip my hand; I just knew it.

  “Are you a nurse, too?” she asked me.

  I could lie, or I could tell the truth. Since Penny would find out about this conversation sooner or later, I decided to come clean with her from the very beginning. “No, ma’am. I run Donut Hearts.”

  “Penny’s mentioned you,” she acknowledged. “It’s Suzanne, right?”

  “Suzanne Hart,” I said as I offered her my hand.

  “What brings you to our little hamlet?” she asked.

  It was time to decide how I was going to pursue my line of questioning, and I didn’t have a great deal of time to consider it before I answered.

  Finally, I came to the conclusion that when all else fails, tell the truth, so I did.

  “Actually, I’m here looking for you.”

  Gina looked surprised by that response. “Me? Whatever for?”

  “I was good friends with Tim Leander,” I said softly. Just because I was about to ask her some potentially embarrassing questions, there was no reason for her neighbors to hear our conversation.

  Gina paled significantly at the mention of his name. “Sure, I knew Tim, but then again, I know a lot of people.”

  “I understand you were closer to him than that.” I hated pinning her down like that, but what choice did I really have?

  Gina looked flustered, but she was saved, at least for the moment, by a young woman wearing an apron who approached us from the kitchen. She slid a plate in front of Gina, and then asked, “Are you okay?” As she did, she gave me one wicked look.