With a firm resolve, Beatrice decided it was time to do the only thing left. She was going to confront Susie about the affair and warn her that she was on the top of her suspects’ list.
The very first thing that Beatrice did when she entered the hotel lobby was grab Susie by the hand and lead her outside of the hotel. She did this because her nose had offered her a brief respite all morning and she wanted to keep it in the fresh air before anything bad happened. She knew that remaining in that hotel any longer than what was required would only see her break down again.
“Beatrice, what’s going on?” Susie asked, curious as to why she was so forcibly wrenched from her place of work.
“Oh, nothing,” Beatrice said. In fact, Beatrice hadn’t told Susie that her hotel was giving her terrible allergies. As silly as it may sound, Beatrice was embarrassed to bring it up, especially since she was currently investigating her for murder. “I just thought you might be interested in grabbing a cup of tea?”
“Sure. I can make you one —”
“No!” Beatrice screamed, grabbing Susie by the arm, before realizing how odd she must look. “I mean, no it’s fine. I’d rather go out. Do you know anywhere good?”
◆◆◆
The ‘good’ chosen by Susie was a quaint little café located a short walk from the hotel. Beatrice had spied it a few times and had been eager to try it out herself, so she was more than glad when Susie suggested it.
The main reason for Beatrice wanting to give this café a try was for the variety of baked goods that she had seen in the window every time she walked past. The entire front display was packed full of treats from cakes to tarts to cookies to pies. It seemed to have everything anyone could ever want and what’s more, they all looked rather delightful.
Seeing the bevy of options on display made Beatrice’s heart sink a little when she walked past the window and entered the store. It served as a reminder as to just how long it had been since Beatrice had last baked. Sure, she had cooked since being in Mt. Morte, but she hadn’t baked.
The differences between baking and cooking were subtle to those who didn’t cook and monumental to those who did. There was just something about creating sweets that were more magical than heaven itself, that filled Beatrice in a way that almost nothing else did. Even solving this murder wouldn't fulfill her the same way that baking would.
But that would have to wait, unfortunately. For now, she would just have to enjoy the baking of others and hope that would bring her some level of satisfaction. Maybe eating someone else's treats would inspire her the same way that baking often did — it didn’t.
“So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” Susie asked as she sipped her tea.
Beatrice took a few extra moments to answer than she should have. She had just bitten into a custard tart and was all but ready to spit it back out, but decided that might seem a little rude. “It’s a…. It’s not an easy subject to bring up.” Beatrice said, swallowing with some difficulty.
“Ok?” Susie responded. “Maybe you can, I don’t know, tell me what it’s in relation to?”
“No,” Beatrice confirmed.” I’m just going to… I know about the affair.”
“Affair? What affair?” Susie asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“With Derrick.” And then Beatrice pulled out her ace card; her phone. When they had found the naked photo, Beatrice had taken a photo of it with her own phone, for evidence. She slid her phone across the table, the photo on display.
Susie picked the phone up, looked at the photo then dropped the phone like it had suddenly caught fire. “Where… where did you get that?”
“Sophie,” Beatrice said, keeping her voice calm and steady. “Finding it was an accident, but that doesn’t change the fact that it does exist. And its implication is… well, I’m sorry Susie, but it doesn’t look good for you.”
“What do you mean?” She asked. Was she really this dense? Beatrice thought. Surely, she must know what this means?
“If you and Derrick were having an affair, then… then that gives you both motive to kill Lacey. I’m sorry Susie, but that’s just —”
“No!” Susie yelled, before calming herself down. “I’m sorry, I meant… I meant that’s not what the photo means. Derrick and I weren’t having an affair.” There was a slight chuckle in her voice, as if the very idea was ludicrous.
“You’re going to have to work very hard at convincing me of that,” Beatrice said, curious as to what Susie could possibly say to get herself out of this one. The proof was in the pudding after all.
“That photo wasn’t meant for me. It was… look, what I’m about to tell you is very sensitive. That photo was for Buddy.”
“Ah...what?” Beatrice asked, sure she had misheard. Not just sure, but positive.
“I’ve suspected for a while now that Derrick and Buddy were having an affair. A week ago, I managed to get into his phone. I found that photo in his sent texts. I forwarded it to myself to show Lacey. She wouldn’t have believed me otherwise.”
“And you think that having that photo on your phone would prove your point?” Beatrice asked, still skeptical. “That Lacey would have seen it and taken you at your word?” Beatrice cast her memory back to Buddy, trying to decide the likelihood of the story she was being fed.
“I realize it looks… if I told Lacey what I thought and backed it up with that photo then she would have known I was telling the truth. I had no reason to lie. I only wanted what was best for Lacey.” Her voice was quivering now. She sounded genuinely upset, and Beatrice, always soft for Susie, wanted nothing more than to believe her.
“So, what you’re saying is that Derrick and Buddy were having an affair? Behind Lacey’s back?” It sounded ridiculous to Beatrice, but by the way that Susie was nodding, she guessed it to be the truth, at least according to Susie. “You realize what this means then, don’t you?”
“What?”
“That Buddy and Derrick most likely killed Lacey —”
“No!” she yelled again, reaching across the table and grabbing Beatrice this time before calming down and relinquishing her grip. “I just mean, there’s no way that it was Derrick. It had to be Buddy. That was why there was the car crash… and… and it just has to be Buddy.” She was nodding her head as she said this, looking almost deranged. She seemed absolutely positive that it was just Buddy.
There was something very strange about this reaction from Susie. Beatrice wanted to believe her and was even more inclined to than she would have had it been someone else, but she wasn’t going to just ignore the possibility of Derrick’s involvement because Susie said so. In fact, in all likelihood it seemed like Derrick was the most obvious suspect.
But with the way that Susie was acting, Beatrice thought that perhaps it was best to keep this to herself. “Sure, sure,” she offered, patting Susie on the arm. “It was probably just Buddy. I’ll look into it. We’ll nail him yet.”
“Good,” Susie said, shakily as she took another sip of her tea. “Good.”
Again, the whole thing seemed strange. Although she believed Susie’s story about the affair, she still got the sense that she wasn’t being told everything. This was doubly confirmed by her instinct, roaring to life inside of her. It told her to be careful and to be on the lookout, but most of all, it told her not to trust a word that Susie was saying.
So she was going to play it cool for now and let Susie think that she was just looking into Buddy as the suspect, but really, Beatrice was going to move Derrick up that list, and while she was at it, Susie unfortunately still had her spot on it.
There was one thing that Beatrice could do better to confirm what Susie had just told her, she just hoped that she could put it into action.
19
Bea, I was wondering if I would ever hear from you again. It’s been almost a week and I was starting to get worried,” the familiar, deep voice joked through the other end of the phone line.
“I honestly just like to make you sweat
,” Beatrice joked back, unable to help herself.
“So, how should we do this? Would you like some playful banter and flirting first? Or are you just going to jump right into the actual reason that you called me?”
“Stephen, I need your help.”
Beatrice was currently sitting in the front seat of her broken down car, putting a call through to Detective Stephen Rogers. The front seat location was chosen because of the precarious nature of the phone call; that being that she didn’t want anybody to overhear it.
Detective Rogers was the local detective from Beatrice’s town. Now, not everyone in the town was on first name terms with their local detective, but Beatrice wasn’t everyone. The two had a long and interesting past to say the least.
Beatrice had first met Rogers when she was his teacher, many years ago. They became reacquainted a few years ago when Rogers incorrectly arrested Stella for a crime she didn’t commit. It was a crime that Beatrice became involved in solving and a crime that ignited Beatrice’s passion for solving the unsolvable.
On top of that there was also a string of romantic entanglements that seemed to follow the two wherever they went. It was almost as if the cosmic forces were fighting to pair the two together, helped by Rogers, while Beatrice did all she could to keep the pairing from happening.
But then again, it was thanks to this romantic infatuation that she was able to call Rogers, secure in the knowledge that he would most likely help her where he could, and as she explained her plan to him, she could feel him giving in.
“I should have known that there was the reason you were calling,” Detective Rogers roared with laughter. “When you get back I have a whole bunch of unsolved cases you can get a start on if you like?”
“Are you going to help me or not?” Beatrice asked, trying to keep her temper. Rogers had a way of bringing it out in her. This was so much the case that she got the distinct impression that he actually liked it.
“Alright, tell me the plan,” he conceded.
Beatrice explained to Rogers what she needed him to do and with every passing second she could feel his resolve to help her slowly diminishing.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he exploded when she finally finished telling him what she needed him to do.
“Do I ever joke with you?” she retorted.
“Sometimes I wish you would,” he said, letting out a long sigh.
“So, does that mean that you will help me?”
“What time is it now… yeah I can help. I know I’d hate myself if I didn’t. I’ll be there by sun-up.”
Beatrice hung up the phone with a big smile on her face. She was certain now that with Rogers coming into play, she would be able to figure out exactly what was going on.
◆◆◆
As promised, Detective Rogers arrived the next morning at sunrise. As Beatrice wasn’t really sleeping, she was wide awake and waiting outside the hotel to greet him.
“Bea, you look terrible,” he said as he walked toward her, arms opened wide for a hug.
“Just what I was hoping to hear,” she said, swatting his arms away. In Rogers’ very small defense though, Beatrice probably did look awful. Two nights of little sleep, combined with a non-stop running nose and watery eyes had left her looking like a villain from a horror film. As this was now her permanent look too she had all but given up dressing nicely or even doing her hair. She was the living embodiment of the Mt. Morte Mansion.
“I was just kidding. I was going to say that mountain life agrees with you,” he said, grinning a big cheeky grin.
“Are you finished?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Because we have a murder to solve.”
“Ok, ok. How about we get some breakfast and you can fill me in on everything else?”
Beatrice smiled as she looked Detective Rogers up and down. It had only been a week and she was glad to see that he hadn’t changed. He was a tall man, standing a little over six foot. This imposing height was supported by a wide set of shoulders, a square jaw and near perfect smile, not to mention his mustache, for those that are into that sort of thing.
In short, Detective Rogers was a pretty good looking guy, and more than that even, but really that was the whole point and kind of vital to Beatrice’s plan.
An hour later Rogers and Beatrice were making their way up the driveway of the local garage, where Beatrice’s car still sat parked out front, having not been moved since the day she arrived. She honestly wondered if Buddy was ever going to look at it. Somehow, she doubted it.
“OK, you pop the hood and I’ll take a look,” Rogers said as he made his way to the car.
Beatrice nodded, hurrying to the front driver's seat where she popped the hood, allowing Rogers a look at the engine.
“Jesus, Bea, what have you done to this thing?” he scolded, his head buried in the engine.
“I drive it. What do you think?” she shot back, always annoyed by the way that men spoke about cars as if driving them was the last thing one should be doing.
“I know, but still —”
“Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?” a gravelly voice called out from the garage. It was Buddy, wearing his worker overalls, and with that same greasy rag in his hands, he hurried over to Rogers and Beatrice, looking more than a little mad. “You know this is private property?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rogers offered as he stood from the car, turning to face Buddy for the first time. “I was just taking a look at it for my friend here.”
The effect was instantaneous. Beatrice couldn’t help but remember the way that Buddy had dismissed Stella a few days earlier when she tried her advances on him. At the time, Beatrice found it a little odd as she wasn't used to seeing men turn Stella down with such ease. But she hadn’t really thought much of it.
It was after her conversation with Susie though that she got the sudden notion that it probably wasn’t Stella’s fault that she couldn’t woo the burly mechanic. Stella just wasn’t his cup of tea, or at least the way that Susie told it. That was why Rogers was here today, to put to test what Susie had told Beatrice earlier.
“Oh, hello,” Buddy offered, instantly changing his tune. “I didn’t realize… I mean, I thought you were someone else.” he managed. “I didn’t know you were with Ms. Fletcher.
It was the first time he had ever spoken about Beatrice in such a polite manner. In fact, it was the most humble and well-spoken she had ever seen the usually short tempered mechanic act.
“That’s fine. I was just passing through and Beatrice asked if I could take a quick look at her engine for her. I know a thing or two about cars, so I said yes,” Rogers replied, making sure to offer his most charming of smiles.
“You know about cars?” Buddy asked, beaming with delight. Beatrice also couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes quickly flicked up and down Rogers’ frame. She knew that look. It was one that Stella herself gave all too often. It was nice to see someone else employing it for a change.
The plan wasn’t so much a plan as it was an observational ploy. Just because Susie claimed that Buddy was having an affair with Derrick, didn’t make it true. In fact, Beatrice wasn’t yet ready to rule out that the affair wasn’t with Susie. That was until now anyway.
From the way that Buddy acted around Rogers, especially compared to how he acted around Beatrice, she was willing to admit that he was most likely gay. The odds of him sleeping with Susie were diminishing by the second, while those of him hooking up with Derrick were very steadily rising.
By now, the two men were bent over the engine of Beatrice’s car tinkering away while chatting merrily. That was the second phase of Beatrice’s plan. She really just wanted her car fixed. She knew that even if she were to solve the murder, she would have been stuck here, but now, judging by the enthusiasm in which both men devoured the inside of Beatrice’s car, she predicted that it would be good to go in a few short hours.
It may not have been the most well thought out, intricate of plans, but it had gotte
n the job done. Not only was Beatrice more willing now to believe Susie and rule her out as a suspect, but she also got her car fixed. Not bad for a day’s work, she thought to herself.
20
So, I guess I can go home now?” Detective Rogers asked as he and Beatrice made their way back toward the hotel an hour later.
“Only if you truly want to.” Beatrice offered. “But this is actually a nice little town. When the investigation is over, if you are still around, there is every chance that you and I might even be able to go for dinner,” she finished with a knowing smile.
“Now you’re talking,” he laughed.
Beatrice chuckled too. The relationship between Beatrice and Rogers was almost an on again, off again romance. Too often they would be brought together under nefarious circumstances, they would try their hand at dating, only to fall apart soon after, but this was always done in the knowledge that another opportunity was right around the corner. Like a cat, Beatrice enjoyed dangling the prospect of a date just out of Rogers’ reach, and more often than not, it had the desired effect.
“But just promise me that you will go and see a doctor first? You don’t look well.”
She was going to snap at him, but quickly realized that he wasn’t being snarky or joking. He actually looked and sounded concerned. “I’m not sick,” she pleaded. “It’s just allergies. Surely, you must see how much better I look than earlier?”
“Allergies? Jesus. Have you been snorting pollen or something?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Beatrice exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “All I know is that I’m terrified to go into this ruddy hotel because every time I do, they start back up again.”
As she spoke they walked to the front of the hotel and just as they approached the entrance, one of the hotel’s many cats came out the front door. It made a beeline to Beatrice who eagerly picked it up, stroking the beautiful little creature lovingly. Then, like clockwork, Beatrice began to sneeze again.
Case of the Burned Brownies Page 8
