by Jessica Beck
“Is it about work? If you have other things to do, that should come first. I understand.”
“It’s not for business. They’ll do just fine without me, and Sally isn’t getting a safety net, either. I want to do some digging online into James Settle’s past.”
“Do you honestly think there’s going to be much there about him?” I asked. Momma and I shared a computer at our cottage, but neither one of us spent a lot of time on it.
“If anything’s there, I’ll find it. It might take some time, though. Do you want to come back home with me while I dig?”
“Why don’t you see what you can come up with and I’ll go home and take a shower? I constantly smell like donuts. Big surprise, right?”
“Don’t knock it. It must make you a real magnet for men.”
I had to laugh. “Jake did say once that he enjoyed it.”
“You know, we should bottle that scent ourselves at the company,” she said.
“You’re not serious, are you?”
“More than you’ll ever know. There’s an in-house contest for a new fragrance idea, and this might just be a winner.”
“How would you ever go about duplicating it?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Fortunately, that part isn’t up to me. We leave that to brighter minds than mine.” Grace pulled out her telephone, sent a quick text, and then turned back to me. “Done and done,” she said.
“Do you think they’ll take your idea seriously?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If I win, I’ll share some of the prize money with you. Is it a deal?” she asked as she stuck out her hand.
I took it as I answered, “What have I got to lose? I’ll see you at the cottage soon.”
“You can count on it.”
* * *
I followed Grace toward her house—which just so happened to be on the same street as the cottage I shared with my mother—waving good-bye when she pulled into her drive. Just around the bend I saw our small home, and the park right beside it. My donut shop was on the other side of the recreational area, and on beautiful mornings I could walk to work if I didn’t mind doing it in the dark. As I parked beside Momma’s car, I marveled at just how tangled the path had been for me to end up there with her again. I’d caught my husband, Max, with another woman from town in a rather compromising position. He had claimed that he was an Actor—yes, with the capital A clearly in his voice—and that he had different societal requirements than mere mortals. My divorce attorney had shown him just how wrong he’d been, and I’d bought Donut Hearts with the settlement.
I looked up and found Momma sitting on the front porch. She had a jacket on, and she was clearly enjoying the weather.
“Hey there,” I said as I took a seat beside her. “The furnace isn’t broken, is it? Please don’t tell me that.”
“No, I just thought I’d step out here for a while and get a little fresh air,” she said. My mother was a tiny slip of a woman, but to underestimate her gigantic spirit was not a mistake anyone ever made twice.
“Did you hear the news?” I asked solemnly.
“About James Settle?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s pretty terrible, isn’t it?”
Momma reached over and patted my hand. There was more than just comfort in her touch; I could feel her love for me in it. “You two were friends, weren’t you?”
I nodded. “He was an interesting man to know. How did you find out about what happened to him already?”
“Phillip called me, of course,” she said. Momma frowned for a moment as she continued. “He also told me about your conversation in the donut shop.”
“Momma, he was just doing his job,” I said. “You shouldn’t hold it against him.”
“I’m doing my best not to, but I must admit that it’s odd hearing you defend him.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m finally coming to grips with the idea of you two being together.”
“How big of you,” she said with the hint of a smile to take the sting from her gentle sarcasm. “I’m so happy that you’re pleased.”
I laughed. “That’s enough sass from you, young lady.”
Momma didn’t know what to make of that at first since obviously she was quite a bit older than me. Her laughter was nice to hear when it came, but it died as quickly as it had arrived. “Who do you think might have done it, Suzanne?”
“To tell you the truth, I haven’t the slightest clue,” I admitted.
Momma paused a moment, and then she looked at me. “But you will before this is all over, won’t you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, doing my best to dismiss her question.
“Suzanne Hart, don’t try to kid a kidder. I know my daughter too well.”
“Did the police chief say anything to you about it?” I was curious to know if he’d already warned her that I’d probably be meddling in the case.
“It may be difficult for you to believe, but Phillip and I have a great deal more to discuss than you when we chat.”
“You didn’t answer my question, though, did you?” I asked with a slight smile
She ignored it again. “As lovely as it is out here in nature, why don’t we go inside where it’s a bit warmer?”
“That sounds great to me. Actually, I’ve been dying for a shower all day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Momma said as she pointed toward the driveway. “I have a feeling you’re going to have to delay your plans for now.”
I looked up and saw that our mayor—and my dear friend—George Morris was approaching. “No problem. I’ll be happy to postpone it for George. As a matter of fact, I want to talk to him about this murder.”
Momma said, “Suzanne, try not to drag him into your investigation if you can help it. It was fine when he was just a retired police officer, but he has some serious responsibilities these days.”
“Is something going on that I don’t know about?” I asked.
“I’m sure there are a great many things that question might envelop, but no, I’m not talking about anything specific. I’m just saying that I would hate to lose our mayor now that we’ve finally got a good one in office.”
“It could have been you, you know,” I said.
“It’s better for everyone that it was George, believe me,” she replied. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mayor,” she called as he came toward us.
“Please, it’s just George,” he said with a slight smile.
“Well, then, ‘Just George,’” I asked, “would you like something to drink?”
“I wouldn’t say no to some sweet tea if you’ve got any on hand,” he said with a smile. His limp, once gone for good—or so I’d thought—was beginning to reappear. Was the stress of his job bringing it out again?
Momma smiled. “As a matter of fact I’ve got some I made fresh just this morning. I’ll be right back with three glasses.”
After she was inside, I asked quickly, “George, are you okay?”
“Good as gold,” he answered automatically.
“Hey, I want the truth, friend to friend. Your leg’s bothering you again, isn’t it? Is the mayor’s job too tough on you?”
“It’s not the job; it’s the blasted weather. I’m doing fine, Suzanne, but thanks for asking. I do think we’re in for a good soaking rain soon, though.” George tugged his ear once, and then he said, “I heard about the blacksmith. I’m really sorry to hear it.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“You going to find out who did it yourself, right?” he asked softly.
There was no way I was going to lie to George. “Right.”
“Is Grace going to help?”
“As a matter of fact, she’s working on it right now,” I admitted.
He took that in, and then he asked, “Do you need me for anything?”
Here was the question I’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask. “Thanks, but I think that we’re good.”
Geo
rge nodded. “I understand, but you know that if I can pull any strings for you, all you have to do is ask.”
I could swear that he was about to say something else when Momma came back out onto the porch. She had three glasses of tea on a tray, and handed them out.
I took an easy sip, but George killed half of his in one swig. “That’s amazing,” he said.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Momma replied.
George was about to take another swallow when his phone rang. After a brief and muted conversation, he took another drink, and then handed the glass back to Momma. “Thank you much, ma’am. I’m obliged.”
“You’re not running off, are you?” she asked him.
“I have to. There’s pressing business back at my office.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” I volunteered.
As we headed for his vehicle, I touched George’s sleeve lightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure, but you keep on worrying about me. I appreciate all of the attention I can get from a pretty girl like you.”
As he drove away, I could see him grinning.
I decided to grab that shower while I could. But it was not to be, at least not yet.
When I looked up, I saw that Grace was hurrying up the street toward me on foot with her laptop computer in her hands, and from the expression on her face, she’d clearly hit pay dirt in her search for James Settle’s history.
CHAPTER 4
“What did you find out?” I asked Grace the second she got close enough to talk to me. “Did you find anything out about James’s background?”
“You are not going to believe this. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you.”
“Come on, don’t leave me hanging like that. I want to know now.”
“Patience,” she said. “It’ll be worth the wait; trust me.”
As we walked inside, Momma met us at the door. “Hello, Grace,” she said, and then turned to me. “Suzanne, I need to go out for an hour or two. Actually, it might even be longer than that. I just don’t know yet.”
The expression on my mother’s face was enough to worry me. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s Rita Mayweather. She’s broken her leg and needs me to pick her up at the hospital. I suspect that once she’s in my car, I’ll be running errands for her all over town.”
I knew that Rita had turned eighty last year, and I felt sorry for her, since she didn’t have anyone in her life that could help out if the need arose. “What happened? Did she slip and fall?”
“She surely did. The fool woman was taking salsa dancing lessons and tripped over Hiram Beacon’s big feet.”
I knew that Hiram was even older than Rita. “Are you serious? They were dancing?”
Momma grinned. “Rita’s pretty steamed, too. Hiram wanted to be the one who took her home after she got her cast, but she wouldn’t let him. They’ll work it out soon enough, but for now, I agreed to give her a ride home, and I suspect that it won’t end there.”
After Momma was gone, Grace and I sat down on the couch and she set her laptop on the coffee table. In just a few seconds, the screen sprang to life, and I saw that Grace had left it on an article about the affluent Pinerush family from a town in central North Carolina bearing the same name.
“Go on. Read it,” she said.
“What does this have to do with anything? I thought you were digging into James Settle’s life?”
“Believe it or not, I have been,” she said.
I looked at the screen and began reading about the wealthy family that founded the town, and all that the next generations had done to add to the Pinerush fortunes. I was nearly to the end when something caught my eye. It was a family photograph from the nineties, and each member was named in the caption below. Off to one side, almost as though he were struggling to get out of the picture, I saw my friend the blacksmith, James Settle. To my dismay, I scanned the names below and saw that he was listed as James Settle Pinerush in the photograph.
“It’s James,” I said as I sat back, stunned. “He was a Pinerush?”
“Oh, yes,” Grace said. “And from what I’ve been able to uncover so far, he was worth a fortune.”
“I just can’t believe it,” I said, remembering James’s meager and very rustic cabin on the outskirts of town. I’d visited him once when he’d been sick, bringing him donuts in case he started feeling better, and thinking back on that, I found it hard to imagine him growing up in a life of privilege. “How did he go from this,” I asked as I gestured to the article, “to living in April Springs?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Grace said, “but I’ve got an address for the family in Pinerush. It’s less than sixty minutes away, so we can go there and ask them that ourselves.”
“On what pretext?” I asked. “We can’t just tell them that we’re digging into James’s murder.”
“We could,” Grace said, “but I had another thought. Why don’t we tell them the truth; that we were his friends and we both want to offer our condolences to them?”
I nodded. “It’s not a bad idea. There’s just one problem, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t have any donuts left from today to take them as a gesture of our goodwill.”
Grace looked at the house in the photograph and then shrugged. “Somehow I doubt they’ll notice if we show up empty-handed. How fast can you get ready?”
“What’s wrong with the way I look now?” I asked.
“Suzanne, these folks are loaded, and while I might think that what you’ve got on is charming, they might not agree. You said yourself you wanted to take a shower anyway, and don’t you have one of those dresses you bought from Gabby’s shop handy?”
“I have to wear a dress?” I asked. Sure, I’d shopped now and then at Gabby’s gently used clothing store, but none of what I’d bought there was part of my standard wardrobe.
“You probably don’t have to,” Grace replied.
“But I should. I know you’re right, but I don’t have to like it, do I?” I asked with a sliver of a smile. One of the reasons I loved Donut Hearts was because my normal attire of jeans and a T-shirt were always good enough for anything I needed to do, but if dressing up would help us dig into James’s murder, then I’d gladly do it.
“I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” she said. “After all, I need to get dressed up myself.”
Grace had a wardrobe that many women would kill for, though I didn’t covet it one single bit. In a way, it took the pressure off me. I knew that there was no way I could match her heightened sense of style, so I never even bothered trying. Whatever I wore would just have to be good enough.
I grabbed a quick shower and put on my dress, adding a little makeup as well. I didn’t normally get that glammed up even for a date with Jake, and it felt kind of odd doing it now.
I was ready when Grace arrived—mostly because she was a few minutes late—but the time she’d taken had been well spent. She looked like a million dollars, and if I managed to look like a hundred and fifty bucks myself, I’d be happy with the results.
She whistled as she saw me and grinned. “My, my, my; don’t you clean up nice, Suzanne?”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you by the way I looked,” I replied with a smile of my own.
She didn’t answer it, though. “Suzanne, you know that you could never do that, don’t you?”
“I was just kidding,” I said.
“Well, I think you look smashing. So, what do you say? Shall we go?” she asked.
“I’m guessing that we’re going to take your company car instead of mine, right?”
Grace’s smile returned in force. “We can take whichever vehicle you’d prefer, but I’m not sure how it would look if we drove up to Pinerush manor in your Jeep.”
“I am, and I’m pretty sure that it wouldn’t be good,” I said with a smile. As much as I loved my basic transportation, I knew that it could
n’t hold a candle to the car Grace’s company provided for her.
As we drove toward Pinerush, I asked, “I’ve got to admit that I’m still reeling from the news of James’s family background. Did you have any idea that he was rich?”
“Not a clue,” she acknowledged. “I did a little more digging after I left you, though. That’s why I was late, and don’t pretend that you didn’t notice.”
“Two minutes is not late in most folks’ eyes,” I said.
“Well, I pride myself on my punctuality, but I didn’t think you’d mind since it was for a good cause.”
“So, what did you discover?”
“It turns out that their original fortune was from coal mining, but it quickly escalated into all kinds of robber-baron behavior by the patriarch of the clan. If you could earn money from the sweat of other people’s labors, his family made sure that they had a piece of it, and they thrived over the years by continuing to do it every time they got the opportunity.”
“Knowing James, I’m willing to bet that he didn’t approve of that.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Grace said. “I did a Web search on both names, James Settle and James Pinerush, and it turned up some interesting things. As a matter of fact, one of the articles I found really shook me up. There was a story buried in a small-town paper around Pinerush that the family clearly couldn’t kill. It reported that James tried at one point to give his entire inheritance away, but his family wouldn’t let him.”
“How could they stop him?” I asked. “It was his money, wasn’t it?”
“With that much wealth, it’s hard to say with any certainty. The thing is, they decided that he didn’t know what he was doing when he tried to get rid of it, and they actually claimed that he had literally lost his mind.” She shook her head in dismay as she added, “They even had him committed for two days for psychiatric evaluation.”
“Wow, that’s one rough family. What happened when he got out?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The article didn’t say, and that’s the last trace I can find of James Pinerush anywhere online.”
“How about as James Settle?”
