by Jessica Beck
“Indirectly,” I said, trying not to give too much away. I was on a fishing expedition, so it wouldn’t hurt my cause if Forrest thought I knew more than I actually did.
“I was under the impression that he didn’t mention his family to anyone.”
“We were friends,” I said. “We chatted about a great many things.” Both of those statements were true, but combined, they turned into one big lie. It was a rather elegant way of bending the truth, if I had to say so myself.
“Well, now that you’ve learned it, you can promptly forget it. I’ve grown a great deal since my childhood. What else did he tell you about me?”
It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I decided to take a shot at him squarely between the eyes. “Are you asking me if he told me about you having him committed to an insane asylum?”
“It was a mental health facility,” he said. “I was concerned about his well-being, and no one else would take action.”
“Could that be because your mother was sick in bed at the time?” I asked.
He started to stand, so I quickly added, “Did I hit a little too close to home just then? Where are you going? I thought you had a meeting.”
“We can hold it elsewhere,” he snapped. “Someplace that’s more private and less apt to interruption would be nice.”
As he stormed out, he threw a fifty at Trish and grumbled, “Keep the change.”
I approached her and said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to run any of your customers off.”
She held the fifty up to the light, nodded in approval, and then put it into her till. “With that kind of tip, you can hose them down with the fire extinguisher if you’d like. Why was he so upset, anyway?”
“You don’t know who that was, do you?” I asked softly.
“I sure don’t. Why do you ask? Should I?” she asked, looking puzzled by my question.
“That was James’s cousin, Forrest.”
Trish’s expression turned to sheer hatred as she started for the door.
I stepped in her way, effectively blocking her path. “Hang on a second. You need to think about what you’re about to do.”
“Get out of my way, Suzanne. That man had James locked up,” Trish snapped. “He’s not going to get away with it.”
“Let me ask you something first. Did James attack him when he had the chance?” I asked.
“No, he said he just wanted to forget that it had ever happened.”
“So didn’t he have more of a right to be angry than you are right now?”
That managed to calm her down. “No, but that man is the reason that James left his old life behind.”
“As bad as it was,” I said, “isn’t that the reason he ended up here in April Springs, and eventually to you? I’m not trying to justify what Forrest did to him, and I’m certainly not making excuses for the man, but what good would it do for you to go after him now?”
“I don’t know. I might feel better if I slapped his face a few times,” she said, the tension beginning to ease somewhat.
“Maybe for a few seconds, but the man probably has more attorneys on his staff than you have chairs in the diner. You can’t win if you go after him like that.”
“Suzanne, since when have you ever backed off from a fight?” Trish asked.
“If the cause is doomed from the start, it doesn’t mean that I’ll give up on it, but I always try to take the time to think it through before I do anything rash. I learned that lesson the hard way.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Remember when I flew off the handle with Lester Moorefield? The next day he was dead, and I was the main suspect.”
“Are you saying that you shouldn’t have gone after him?” Trish asked.
“Logically, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“But emotionally?” she asked.
“Yeah, he deserved the grief I gave him. If you want to risk losing the diner in a lawsuit, go ahead. I’ll even hold his arms for you.”
I stepped aside, and as I did, Trish dropped her head a little. “I just hate it when you’re right,” she said as she smiled at me.
“It can be really annoying, can’t it? Momma does it to me all of the time.”
“I might not go after him physically, but if he ever shows his face again, I’m going to lace his sweet tea with ipecac.”
“How’s that going to reflect on your diner if he stumbles out of here throwing up?” I asked.
“Okay, maybe not that, but how about some strong laxatives in his fudge brownies?”
“Why don’t you just give him a dirty look,” I suggested. “You have some monstrous scowls that scare me.”
She hugged me, and then tweaked one of my ears.
“What was that for?”
“The hug, or the flick?”
“Either. I guess I mean both.”
Trish smiled as she said, “The hug was for stopping me from making a big mistake.”
“And the ear tweak?”
“The same reason, actually.”
I shook my head as I laughed. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a donut shop to run across the street.”
“I was wondering about that,” Trish said with a smile.
I found Forrest ten feet from the diner, clearly waiting impatiently for Thomas Oak.
As I approached him, he said in a bit of a huff, “I’m not interested in discussing anything more with you, Suzanne.”
“That’s good. You don’t have to say a word; all you have to do is listen. I wouldn’t go back in there if I were you. It’s some free advice, and I’d follow it.”
“Why should I?”
“The owner was dating James when he was murdered,” I said. “And I just told her that you were the one who had him locked up against his will.”
Forrest’s face reddened, and he was about to say something when Thomas Oak appeared. He was dressed nicely, though not as stylishly as his client, and he held a battered old leather briefcase that looked somehow out of place with the rest of his attire. “Forrest, whatever you’re about to say, I suggest that you keep it to yourself.”
“Who are you trying to protect, Oak?” he asked.
“At the moment, you.”
“Let’s get this meeting over with,” Forrest said, “so I can get out of this dump of a town and head back to civilization.”
“Why don’t you wait for me over there?” he suggested as he pointed to a nearby bench.
“Why should I?” Forrest asked angrily.
“Because your mother asked me to handle this, and I’m doing my best to do just that. I suggest that if you have a problem with that, you take it up with her.”
There was a moment when I thought Forrest was going to ignore the attorney, but after a short pause, he walked to the bench as he was told, acting like a sullen four-year-old the whole way.
“That was excellent,” I said with a grin to the attorney. “Can you make him do tricks, too? I’d love to see him try to do a handstand.”
“I’m doing my best not to press my luck,” Oak said. “Are you free around eleven this morning? I need to speak with you.”
“That depends. What’s our topic of conversation?”
“Mrs. Pinerush has instructed me to tell you everything I’ve learned in the investigation so far. It’s the same information I’m about to deliver to Forrest.”
“Why don’t I just hang around so you don’t have to go to the trouble of saying everything twice?” I asked.
He suppressed a grin as he said, “As tempting as that sounds, we’d better follow Mrs. Pinerush’s instructions to the letter.”
“Coward,” I said with a smile.
“You’d better believe it. Every chance I get.”
“I’ll see you soon, then,” I said. As a last jibe, I leaned past him and waved to Forrest. “Always a pleasure seeing you, Forrie.”
He sneered in my direction, a victory in my mind, so I left him there on the bench and went back to
Donut Hearts. I wondered what Thomas Oak had uncovered in his own investigation, and if he might have discovered something that Grace and I had missed.
It was all I could do to wait until he had time for me.
MIXED AND MATCHED
I use store-bought mixes sometimes when I’m too tired to do much else in the donut department. They rarely let you down, and you can do some cool combinations with them as well. This recipe uses a buttermilk biscuit mix as a base, but you can see that I’ve really ramped it up.
INGREDIENTS
Mixed
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• ½ cup sour cream
• ¼ cup sugar, white granulated
• 1 tablespoon buttermilk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Sifted
• 1½ cups biscuit mix (we like Jiffy)
• ½ teaspoon cinnamon
• ½ teaspoon nutmeg
• Dash of salt
• Canola oil for frying (the amount depends on your pot or fryer)
INSTRUCTIONS
In one bowl, beat the egg lightly, and then add the sour cream, sugar, buttermilk, and vanilla extract. In a separate bowl, sift together the biscuit mix, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt.
Add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing well until you have a smooth consistency.
Drop bits of dough using a small-sized cookie scoop (the size of your thumb, approximately). Fry in hot canola oil (360 to 370 degrees F) 1½ to 2 minutes, turning halfway through.
Yield: 10–12 donut drops
CHAPTER 15
The attorney was as good as his word, showing up on the donut shop’s doorstep just as I was about to lock up for the day. I let him inside, and then bolted the door behind him.
“Thank you for your patience,” he said. “It is much appreciated.” His gaze went behind me as he asked, “Is there any possibility that I could get a cup of coffee? I’d be happy to pay for it.”
“Sure, but it’ll be ten dollars, seeing how you’re some hotshot lawyer from the big city,” I answered as I poured him a cup.
“Charge me a hundred if you’d like. It’s just going on my expense account anyway.”
“You’re no fun at all,” I said. “In that case, it’s on the house.”
“Then you might throw in one of those apple fritters as well, if you don’t mind. I skipped breakfast, and I have a feeling that my lunch is going to be delayed as well.”
I did as he asked, and found the man pretty personable when he wasn’t trying to manipulate me with his client’s money.
“How do you do it?” I asked as I freshened up his coffee.
“Do what?” he asked after taking a sip.
“Turn your charm off and on like that. When you were here the last time, I was ready to throw you out on your ear, but right now, you seem like a pretty decent guy to me.”
“I am,” he explained after taking a bite of fritter. “Just don’t tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation. It’s just that I have to act differently sometimes, depending on my role at the time.”
“All I know is that I couldn’t do it,” I said. “With me, it’s pretty much a case of what you see is what you get.”
“I hope you don’t hold our previous interaction against me,” he said.
“I’ll try not to. Anne said you were going to come by to brief me, so I’ve been expecting you.”
“Do you honestly call her Anne to her face?” he asked, clearly curious about our sudden relationship.
“She asked me to, and I agreed. Why shouldn’t I? After all, she calls me Suzanne.”
He looked impressed as he explained, “It’s just that there aren’t many people on a first-name basis with Mrs. Pinerush.”
“What can I say,” I said as I started cleaning up. “I must be special.”
“You must be.”
At that moment, Emma came up front. “Everything’s finished in back.” Then she spotted Thomas Oak. “I’m sorry, I thought we were closed.”
“We are,” I said. “The good news is that you get to go home early today.”
“I don’t mind hanging around.”
“Emma, you know how rare the opportunity comes for you to skip out ahead of time, even though you got to go early yesterday. Do you really want to forgo the honor just to hang around with me?”
She shrugged after a second. “What can I say, Suzanne? When you’re right, you’re right.” As she took off her apron, she neared me and whispered, “Is everything okay here?”
“Don’t worry; I’m perfectly safe with Thomas Oak. The attorney from Pinerush is here to talk to me about James Settle’s murder.”
She nodded, and then left after ditching her apron and grabbing her purse.
“That was clever of you,” Oak said after Emma was gone. “You managed to mention my name, occupation, and home location all in the same sentence. Your assistant knows everything she needs to about me in case something happens to you. You aren’t worried that I’m some kind of threat, are you?”
“Not physically,” I said. “You might sue me, but I doubt you’d try to attack me. If you did, I can promise you that you’d find yourself on the short end of a nasty surprise.” I was close enough to my baseball bat to grab it and swing it hard before he could get up from his seat. I’d leave the fancy weapons to Angelica; I was more of a Louisville Slugger gal myself.
“Let me assure you that you’re safe in either instance,” he said. After he finished his fritter, he sipped the last of his coffee. “That was wonderful. You’re quite talented, aren’t you?”
“I have my moments. As much as I’d love to hang around here and chat with you, can we get started? I’ve got a meeting myself soon.”
“With Grace Gauge, I believe,” he said, “your partner in crime.”
“More like my co-investigator,” I said, “but yes, she’s coming by.”
“There are no worries about time, since what I have to convey to you can be done rather briefly. The two things that I am about to tell you are not public knowledge, and Mrs. Pinerush has asked me to express her appreciation in advance if you would keep all of this information private.”
“I’ll tell Grace, my mother, and my boyfriend, regardless of what it is. After that, I’d have to say that it all depends,” I said.
“On what?”
“I have three questions for you. Is it criminal for me to know it, does it hurt anyone if I don’t tell it, and will I get in trouble with the police chief if I keep it to myself?”
“None of those conditions apply,” he said.
“Okay then, you have my word.”
“Good,” he said as he nodded. “First things first, then. I’m sorry to have to say this, but she thought it was important that you know. Mrs. Pinerush is dying.”
I couldn’t believe it! I knew that she was older, but she’d been healthy enough when I’d seen her last. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I haven’t been told myself. She could live another eighteen months, or she could die tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that true of all of us?” I asked. “There are no guarantees in life.”
“While that’s technically true, her doctors will be amazed if she makes it past two years, and I have a feeling that you’ll live well beyond that.”
“Why tell me?” I asked. “It’s not like we’re that close. We just met.”
“She has a favor to ask of you, and it’s pertinent. Mrs. Pinerush said there was something that you can do that will give her great comfort in her final moments.”
“Of course. If it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”
“Find James’s killer before she dies,” he said simply.
“I’m trying, but I can’t make any promises. I’m just an amateur, after all. She could afford an army of private investigators, all of them ex-cops. Why should she depend on me? Honestly, I’m not at all sure that I like that kind of pressure.”
“Mrs. Pinerush has consulted with several people she trusts,
and she’s been assured that bringing in outsiders is the worst thing she can do at this stage. This case will most likely be solved by the police, but if anyone else has a chance, Mrs. Pinerush firmly believes that it is you and your friends.”
“I wish I had that kind of faith in our detecting abilities,” I said.
“Her confidence is not without merit. I’ve investigated your past, and I know that you’ve been successful before in unmasking murderers.”
I didn’t know how to respond. “What can I say? I had a lot of help from my friends.”
“There’s more to it than that,” he said. “So, may I tell her that you’ll redouble your efforts and do your utmost to find James’s killer as soon as possible?”
“You may, and thank her for the faith she’s putting in me, no matter how misplaced I think it might be.”
He grinned slightly at that before he stifled it. “I will.”
“What’s the second thing?” I asked. “You said there were two items on the agenda.”
“I did indeed. The second item is in regard to her nephew.”
“What about James?”
“Not him. Her other nephew.”
“The mysterious stranger that no one seems to know anything about?” I asked.
“I’m afraid we haven’t been completely forthcoming with some information, and Mrs. Pinerush believes that withholding it from you now would be a disservice to your cause.”
“By all means, tell me what you can about him.”
“I can do better than that,” he said as he reached into his briefcase. He withdrew a photograph and slid it across the counter toward me.
The second I saw it, I felt my breath escape. In my heart I’d known it all along. The photograph was just a confirmation of what my subconscious had already figured out.
It was Rome, the new man who had just showed up in April Springs. I’d realized early on that it was more than a coincidence that he’d been digging into James Settle’s murder himself.
And why shouldn’t he?
After all, they were cousins, weren’t they?
“Is he a suspect in Anne’s mind?” I asked after I took a moment to collect myself. I had done my best not to give away the fact that I already knew the man. It was a card I might need later, so there was no reason to play it just yet.
