Jessica Beck - Donut Shop 17 - Old Fashioned Crooks

by Jessica Beck

  “So was your generous donation,” I said. “How long do you think I should stay open tonight?”

  “I don’t know. You have quite a few donuts left,” Grace said as she studied the display shelves.

  “True, but I don’t have to sell them all now that you’ve contributed so generously to the cause. Why don’t we give them out to the crowd, courtesy of your company and Donut Hearts? What do you think of that idea?”

  “I think it’s brilliant. Plus, it sounds like a lot of fun. Let’s do it.”

  We gathered the remaining donuts onto one cart I used sometimes for street fairs and other events, and I locked Donut Hearts behind me, leaving the lights on so folks could see Grace’s banner even though we were closed. I knew that she’d made the donation to help me, but I wanted to give her a good return for her kind investment.

  We were just getting started giving out donuts to a crowd of grateful attendees when I heard the first scream.

  Even though I’d never heard her scream before, I knew in an instant who it had to be.

  Something had clearly provoked Emma Blake so strongly that it had made her cry out into the night, a shriek that rose above all of the background noise of the festivities, and I was determined to find out what exactly had happened to make her shriek like that.

  Chapter 3

  “He’s dead!” Emma shouted through her sobs as she gestured wildly toward the freshly lit bonfire.

  “Who’s dead, Emma?” I asked as I tried to calm her down while searching for what she’d seen.

  “Him! Can’t you see him?” She stood there in shock, pointing to the heart of the fire, which was freshly lit and starting to lick its way up the piled wooden branches and planks.

  I looked harder, and sure enough, I saw what looked like a man’s body hidden within the wood, newly illuminated by the growing tongues of fire. I couldn’t tell whether he was dead or alive, but I knew that I had to act quickly before it was too late. “Somebody help me!” I yelled as I abandoned my donut cart and started running toward the flames. I’d had a bad experience with fire in the not-so-distant past, but that didn’t keep me from doing what I knew that I had to do.

  The fire chief had lit the bonfire himself, and he hurried to cut me off me as I rushed toward the growing flames.

  “Suzanne, what’s wrong?” he asked me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “There! Look!” In my excitement, I seemed to have lost my ability to utter more than one word at a time.

  The fire chief took in the scene and quickly spotted the body. In his defense, he most likely couldn’t have seen it from the ignition point where he’d first lit the fire. It was a credit to his training and skills that he didn’t even hesitate once he saw what was going on. Because the fire had been built close to the diner—not to mention my cottage—the fire department was already there in case of emergency, and this certainly qualified as one. In a matter of moments, under his direction, the chief’s entire crew leapt into action, going from collecting donations in rubber boots into full-fledged firefighting mode. The hose was manned and the flames were out quickly before any damage could be done to the body.

  I watched as the fire chief started to move closer toward the woodpile when I saw a firm hand come out of the crowd and grab his shoulder. It was Chief Martin, my freshly minted stepfather, and temporarily back on the job as chief of police.

  “You need to stand down. I’ll take it from here,” Chief Martin said with the calm voice of authority, and the fire chief nodded in quick agreement. He might have even looked a little relieved in the light coming from the streetlamp nearby. Well, why wouldn’t he be happy to let the police handle the situation? He’d been trained to put out fires, not investigate homicides. Though he had probably seen his share of dead bodies over the years, I imagined that those deaths had been caused by fire, not occurring before the fires had even started. It was an entirely different type of investigation, and one that our chief of police had plenty of experience with.

  For that matter, so had I.

  “Is that Rick Hastings?” I asked the chief as I got closer to the body.

  “Suzanne, you need to step away. I don’t have time to answer any of your questions right now; I need to handle this.”

  “Sure. I understand,” I said as I stepped back and let him do what he had to do. I knew that it was hard enough on the chief to come back to a job he clearly didn’t want, and I didn’t want to make things even more difficult for him if I didn’t have to.

  It appeared that murder had once again come to pay a visit to April Springs.

  But who was the victim, and why had someone decided to leave the body in such a conspicuous place? Was it indeed Rick Hastings, Emma’s boyfriend, or was it some other unfortunate soul? From where I stood, I had no idea, and I was glad that it wasn’t my job to figure it out.

  In the end, I was a donutmaker, by vocation as well as avocation, and I planned on sticking with what I did best and let the police handle this on their own.

  That was my initial intention, at any rate, and it continued to be so right up until the second I learned exactly who the victim was, and how the murder would directly affect my life.

  Chapter 4

  “Did you see who it was?” Grace asked me softly as she and Emma joined me near the dampened bonfire, a spot that was now clearly a crime scene.

  “I can’t tell for sure, and the police chief’s not saying,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice calm and level. Emma was already on the edge, and she didn’t need any signs that her worst fears might be true.

  “It’s Rick. I just know it is,” Emma said, her voice completely deadened with pain. Even as she spoke, she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from the body as the chief and his deputies photographed and videotaped the details of the crime scene for their records.

  “We don’t know that for sure yet,” I said as I put an arm around my assistant and good friend and did my best to comfort her.

  “You may not know, Suzanne, but I do,” she said.

  “Emma? Are you all right?” Sharon Blake, Emma’s mother, asked as she rushed toward us.

  “Oh, Mom. It’s just awful.” Emma wrapped her arms around her mother and held on for dear life. I watched as Sharon stroked her daughter’s hair, and was glad that she’d found her in the crowd.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Sharon said so softly that I almost missed it.

  “How can it be? I just know that it’s Rick,” Emma choked out.

  “If it is, then we’ll all find a way to get through it together,” Sharon said, her voice full of calm reassurance.

  That seemed to pacify Emma a little, but I noticed that neither mother nor daughter made any move to break their embrace. After a few more moments, Sharon asked me softly, “Suzanne, would you ask the police chief if he’s been able to make a positive identification yet?”

  “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises that I’ll get an answer,” I said.

  “Just do your best,” Sharon said, and then she turned her full attention back to her daughter.

  As I left them both and hurried toward Chief Martin, I noticed that Grace was right on my heels.

  “He’s not going to tell us anything. You know that, don’t you?” Grace asked me gently once we were away from the mother and daughter.

  “You’re probably right, but I have to at least try. You heard her.”

  “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t ask Chief Martin. Just don’t expect to get any answers,” Grace said. “I’ve got a thought. If the chief won’t tell us anything, which has turned out to be the case so far, maybe I can get something out of Stephen.” The Stephen she was referring to was Stephen Grant, an officer on the April Springs police force, and more importantly to Grace, her current boyfriend.

  “Just try not to get him into any more trouble with his boss,” I said. I knew that Officer Grant was often in hot water with the police chief, and he didn’t need our help getting in any deeper
than he normally was.

  “I’ll try not to, but I’m not making any promises, either,” Grace said as she went off in search of her boyfriend.

  I just shrugged as I started angling back toward the police chief. Odds were that he wasn’t going to tell me anything after dismissing me earlier, but I’d told Sharon that I’d try, so that was exactly what I was going to do.

  “Chief, I know that you’re busy, but do you have one second? I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important,” I said as he finished directing two of his deputies as they unfurled their crime scene tape, enclosing a large chunk of the park as they unwound it from its spool.

  “Sorry, Suzanne. Honestly, right now I don’t have a single second to spare.”

  “Even if it’s just one question?” I persisted.

  The chief looked at me with that same exasperated expression I’d grown used to over the years, but then he must have remembered that he couldn’t so easily discount me as he once had now that we were family, related through both of our relationships with my mother. “Make it quick. What’s your question?” he asked, failing to hide his impatience with being interrupted during his investigation.

  “Is the body Rick Hastings’?” I asked.

  The chief’s gaze grew suddenly suspicious. “What makes you say that? I know for a fact that there’s no way you could have seen who it was in the dark.”

  I felt my heart freeze a little with the confirmation. “Does that mean that it’s true, then?”

  In a lower voice, Chief Martin answered, “It is, but I still want to know how you knew it was him.”

  “Emma told me,” I admitted.

  “And how exactly did she know?”

  “Chief, she’s been dating Rick for a month,” I explained. “She had to have known him better than either one of us could have.”

  “That doesn’t explain how she could have spotted him in that bonfire just as it was being lit. I was standing nearby myself, and I could barely make out that it was a man at all, let alone identify the body.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you; I can’t explain it. She must have seen something that told her that it was him,” I said, completely skirting the idea that it might have been her woman’s intuition. Chief Martin wasn’t a big fan of the expression, and I wasn’t about to use it after he’d just given me valuable information.

  I was about to ask him if he knew yet how Rick had died when I felt a nudge behind me. I turned, fully expecting to find Grace, but instead, Ray Blake was crowding me. He was Emma’s father, and he owned and operated our local newspaper, The April Springs Sentinel. It was more a delivery vehicle for coupons and ads than it was a newsbreaking machine, but that never discouraged Ray from trying to scoop everyone at the larger papers that were based nearby.

  “Who was the victim, Chief?” Ray asked him.

  “No comment,” the chief said, clearly with practiced ease.

  The newspaperman looked aggravated. “Seriously? I know for a fact that you were just talking to Suzanne a second ago, and I can’t imagine you brushing her off now that she’s your stepdaughter. If she knows something, the entire citizenry of April Springs has a right to know it, too.”

  “Like I said, no comment,” the chief repeated. At that moment, he reminded me a little of Jake. I hadn’t always been the police chief’s biggest fan, but since I’d started working around the edges of law enforcement on a few homicide cases myself, I’d developed a little more respect for the man’s skills. His job was hard, there was no doubt about it, and I couldn’t imagine how he managed to do it as well as he did.

  Ray wasn’t about to be discouraged by the flat refusal, though. Instead of focusing on the chief, he turned to me instead. “Suzanne, who was the victim? Do I need to remind you that you’re not under any obligation to keep secrets for the police department?”

  “Ray, how’s Emma doing?” I asked pointedly as I ignored his question.

  He dismissed my question with an irritable shrug. “I’m sure she’s fine. How is that pertinent to this situation?”

  “Didn’t you know? She’s the one who first saw the body, and she was pretty traumatized by the discovery when I saw her. Don’t you think that you should check on her? Your daughter might need you.”

  That got his attention. Suddenly the newsman in front of me was replaced by the caring father. “Where is she?”

  “The last time I saw her, she was somewhere over that way,” I said as I pointed in the general direction where I’d seen Emma and her mother last. I decided to share that information with him as well. “She was with Sharon the last time I saw her, but she was still falling apart. I’ve got a feeling that she needs both of you right now.”

  Ray took off into the crowd without another word, and the man earned a point or two with me by doing so, abandoning the possibility of a hot story so that he could look after his daughter’s welfare.

  “Thanks for that,” the chief said after Ray was gone.

  “You might not be thanking me in a minute when I tell you what I’m probably going to have to do,” I told him.

  Chief Martin shook his head for a moment before he spoke. When he finally did talk again, there was more resignation in his voice than disapproval. “Let me guess. You and Grace are going to dig into this murder yourselves, aren’t you?”

  I smiled at him. “You got it on the first guess. I really don’t have any choice, Chief. Emma is like family to me.”

  “I’m perfectly aware of that fact,” he said with a sigh. “Just try not to muddy the investigation too much, will you?”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, happy that he really did see some value in what Grace and I did.

  “Keep me posted, and I mean about everything you uncover. Oh, and one more thing. Stay safe. Your mother would kill me if I let something happen to you.”

  “You know me. I’m always careful,” I said with another smile, and then, completely on impulse, I kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, clearly embarrassed by the brief display of affection. “Just don’t make me regret it, okay?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Now, could you tell me exactly how the man was murdered?”

  He grinned at me before he spoke. “I’ll tell you exactly what I just told Ray Blake.”

  “No comment?” I asked, returning his smile in kind.

  “Hey, you’re good at this game, too. Now do me a favor and scram. I’ve got work to do.”

  “I’m already gone,” I said. “Oh, just one last thing.”

  “What is it, Suzanne? Don’t press your luck too far.”

  “I just realized that somebody needs to tell Emma Blake. She’s been dating Rick for the past month, so she has a right to know before it becomes common knowledge, don’t you think?”

  “You’re right, of course. I absolutely hate that part of my job,” Chief Martin said sadly, and I could see that he meant it. It had to be awful informing loved ones that someone they cared about would never be coming back to them again, and I didn’t envy him the task one little bit.

  “Would you like me to tell her for you?” I volunteered.

  After a moment of hesitation, the police chief shook his head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s my job, Suzanne, but I appreciate the gesture. As a matter of fact, I’d better go take care of that right now.”

  I nodded, and then I watched the man walk away. All in all, it was probably a good thing that he’d refused my offer. A part of me had wanted to speak with Emma about her boyfriend so I could get some leads that might help Grace and me find his killer, but mostly I knew in my heart that there was no way that I could bring myself to ask those hard questions, at least not yet. Right now I needed for her to find out that her worst fears had been realized, and then I had to give her some time and space to cope with the knowledge before I questioned her. After all, my friend’s state of mind counted for a great deal more
than any murder investigation. I’d offer her comfort if I could, but I wouldn’t bring up Rick’s name until I felt she was ready to deal with what had happened to him.

  Until that occurred, Grace and I were going to have to conduct our investigation without her, because there was no way that I was going to add to Emma’s pain if I could help it.

  Where was Grace, anyway? She should have been back by now. I grabbed my phone and started to punch in her number when I saw her walking toward me in the muted light coming from the lamps scattered around the park.

  “I was just getting ready to call you. Where have you been?” I asked her.

  “Searching in vain for my boyfriend,” she answered. “I hope you had better luck than I did.”

  Lowering my voice, I said, “It’s not public knowledge yet, but Chief Martin confirmed that Emma was right. It was Rick Hastings’ body.”

  Grace looked at me in awe. “How did you get him to admit that to you?”

  “I’m not sure. I must have caught him at a weak moment,” I said.

  “Did you get anything else?”

  “No, that’s all that he would tell me,” I replied.

  “Poor Emma. Who’s going to tell her?”

  “I volunteered, but the chief said that it was part of his job. I’ll say this for the man; he takes his responsibilities seriously. I don’t think I would have the heart for it.”

  “I don’t have the stomach, either,” Grace said. “So, where does that leave us?”

  I looked around and saw that most of the crowd of onlookers had dispersed. The body had just been removed from the bonfire, and all that remained on the scene was the police tape marking off the area as a crew of officers scoured the surrounding area using flashlights to brighten the weak illumination. If there was a clue to be found anywhere in the trampled grass, I hoped that they found it. Grace and I wouldn’t be any help in the search, and honestly, we’d probably just get in the way even if we tried to join in.