Perjury Proof

by Jessica Beck

  Momma reached out and patted my hand. “Suzanne, you truly are concerned for my safety, aren’t you?”

  “I am, too,” Grace said from the back. “I want to go on the record saying that this is a very bad idea, Dot.”

  “Exception noted, dear,” Momma said. “Still, it is something I must do.”

  “Then do me one favor, would you?” Grace asked her.

  “What is that?”

  “If she offers you anything to eat or drink, please say no, no matter how rude it might sound to you. Will you do that, for me?”

  “For us,” I said, happy that Grace had thought of it. After all, we were dealing with a potential poisoner. How foolish would it be to take anything from her that might be tainted? Thank goodness she’d been out of Earl Grey tea earlier. Grace and I were going to have to start taking our own advice to refuse food and drink from any of our suspects, or one of us might end up on the dead list next.

  “I will be careful. I promise you both.”

  Momma squeezed our hands, even reaching across the backrest toward Grace, and then she mounted the steps with confidence and aplomb. I loved her—I kind of had to since she was my mother—but I admired her as well, and that didn’t come so freely given.

  “Hey there,” I said loudly when Mrs. Preston came out to answer the door. I wanted to make sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she knew we were there, and now Momma didn’t have to tell her.

  Once they were inside, I turned back to look at Grace. “Are we doing the right thing here?”

  “What choice did we have?” she asked me. “I’m not about to tell your mother she can’t do something. Are you?”

  “You don’t even have to ask,” I said. “I’m still worried sick about her.”

  “We’ll give her ten minutes, and no matter what she says, there’s going to be a ‘family emergency’ that she has to see to immediately. Agreed?” Grace asked me.

  We shook on it.

  Nine minutes later, I had my hand on the car door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Grace asked me. “We have to give her another full minute. That was our arrangement.”

  “I can give her the time walking to the door, can’t I?” I asked.

  I didn’t need to even do that much, though.

  Before I could get out of the Jeep, Momma left the house and joined us.

  I was so relieved I couldn’t speak, but then I saw the tears tracking down her cheeks.

  What exactly had just happened in there?

  Chapter 14

  “I don’t want to talk about what just happened in there, so don’t ask me,” Momma said as she got in, dabbing at her cheeks as she tried to dry her tears. When I didn’t make a move to start the Jeep, she looked at me oddly. “Don’t tell me it won’t start, Suzanne.”

  “It won’t until I turn the key,” I said as I sat there resolutely.

  “Young lady,” she said in that scolding tone that had withered me in the past.

  “Sorry. I can’t help you.” It took all that I had to refuse her, but this was getting ridiculous. We couldn’t eliminate suspects based on only my mother’s word, no matter how much I trusted it. If I was going to run my investigations that way, I might as well not even bother.

  “Grace, will you please talk some sense into her?” Momma asked as she turned to the back seat.

  “I’m sorry,” Grace said. It was one thing to always claim that she had my back, but standing up to my mother proved it beyond any words. “I agree with Suzanne. We have to know. Dot, you should know that you can trust us to be discreet, but we truly do have to know.”

  Momma sat there for a few moments stewing about our open rebellion, and I was happy this wasn’t July or August. At least we didn’t need air conditioning. As a matter of fact, if anything, it felt a bit frosty in the Jeep at the moment.

  Momma finally let out a sigh and nodded. “You’re right. I somehow seem to think of you two as the little girls who had sleepovers in your treehouse a very long time ago, but you’re both grown women now. Crusty was blackmailing Jane, or at least he was trying to. It had nothing to do with what happened to Maggie, and it certainly wasn’t any rivalry over Crusty’s affections.”

  Wow. I always thought of blackmailers as wicked strangers who hid in the shadows, not a cocky little rooster of a man who considered himself a gift to women everywhere. “Was he trying to get her to sleep with him?” I asked. I wasn’t sure Mrs. Preston would have anything worth protecting to make her give in to that particular demand, but I could honestly see Crusty trying.

  “Suzanne, don’t be tawdry,” Momma scolded me.

  “As though blackmail isn’t crude enough in and of itself,” I countered.

  “That’s a fair point,” she conceded.

  “What was he blackmailing her for then?” Grace asked. “She can’t have all that much money.”

  “You’d be surprised. Her husband had a substantial insurance policy, and Jane has never been all that extravagant in her spending. She’s managed to save quite a tidy sum over the years.”

  “I still don’t understand why she would be in a position to be blackmailed in the first place,” I said. I knew that Grace had to have been thinking the same thing as well, but we could have stayed there all day and she wouldn’t have brought it up. She was willing to push my mother’s boundaries somewhat, but not nearly as far as I was willing to.

  “That I will not tell you,” Momma said. “Jane gave me a little latitude in what I could and could not disclose to the two of you, but she insists that she take the reason to her grave. She told me in confidence, and I won’t violate it. Needless to say, it’s something she would fight with her last breath to protect.”

  “Is there any chance that Maggie knew about it?” I asked, getting a sudden burst of insight.

  Momma looked shocked by the suggestion. “I don’t see how.”

  “Crusty found out, and if he was trying to win Maggie back, maybe he told her about Mrs. Preston, trying to impress her. It’s possible, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Momma said, sagging low in her seat. “I don’t want to admit it, but I can see that as a possibility.”

  “So then Jane and Crusty still need to be prime suspects in Maggie Moore’s murder,” I said.

  “You called her Jane for the first time in your life,” Momma replied. “Did you even realize that you did that?”

  “Well, maybe it’s because this is the first time I’m seeing her as something other than my former schoolteacher,” I answered.

  “Suzanne, I still can’t even bring myself to consider the possibility that she killed Maggie,” Momma said.

  “That couldn’t be wishful thinking, could it?” I asked.

  “Yes, I suppose it could,” Momma replied.

  “Then they both stay on our list.” I started the Jeep and headed back to Momma’s place.

  “Where are we going now?” she asked me.

  “I’m taking you home,” I said.

  “I still have some time before I need to get back home,” Momma said. “I could always go with you.”

  “Thanks, but we’ll call you if we need you again,” I said with a smile.

  “Is it because I balked initially on sharing anything with you?” Momma asked in a soft voice as we pulled up in front of her cottage. She sounded contrite as she spoke, something I wasn’t used to hearing from her.

  I turned off the ignition, unbuckled my seat belt, and leaned in to hug her. “No, ma’am. You did the right thing, and I respect you for it. Your friends are important to you.”

  “True, but no one is more important to me than my family,” she answered, and then she turned to Grace. “I hope you know that includes you as well.”

  “I appreciate that more than I can say,” Grace answered.

  “Very well then,” Momm
a said as she opened her door. “Keep me posted with your progress. At least promise me that much.”

  “We’ll do that,” I said.

  Once Momma was gone, Grace moved up to her usual seat. “May I ask you something, Suzanne?”

  I thought surely that it was going to be about what we’d just learned, or perhaps even the fact that Momma had just told her that she was one of us. “Of course.”

  “Are you as hungry as I am?” she asked me seriously.

  I burst out laughing. “That’s your question?”

  “Sure, what else would be so important?” she asked me.

  “Never mind. Sure, I could eat,” I said. Though we’d recently lunched like royalty, it seemed like a lifetime ago. “How does the Boxcar sound?”

  “Like a dream come true,” Grace said with a grin.

  Just as I pulled up into the parking lot, Grace’s cell phone rang. After glancing at the caller ID, she said, “That’s my boss. I’d better get that.”

  “She does know that you’re working half days this week, right?” I asked her.

  “Technically speaking?”

  “Grace?” I asked her, scolding a little with my tone.

  “Shush,” she said as she got out of the Jeep before she answered it.

  I got out, too, and while I was waiting for her to finish her call, I saw Leanne coming out of the grill. “Hey there,” I said.

  She had been so distracted by something that she hadn’t even noticed me until I’d spoken to her. “Suzanne. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I might get a bite to eat,” I told her.

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I’m just not myself right now. This whole thing with Maggie has got me flustered more than I can say.”

  I studied Leanne and saw that she was indeed a little off her game. As she tugged at her long-sleeved shirt, I saw that she had a rather substantial bandage on one hand. “What happened to you there?”

  She looked down at the injury and shrugged. “That stupid oven Maggie bought has a sharp edge that catches me every time I take something out of the oven. I was going to have her hire someone to do something about it before we opened, but I’m not entirely sure I can do this on my own now. I needed my aunt a great deal, and what’s worse, I miss her. I know she could be prickly at times, but if you dug down deep enough, she really was sweet.”

  I wondered just how deep you’d have to dig, but I didn’t say anything to her. “Have you made any decisions yet about your future?”

  “No. All I know for sure is that I would never have dreamed of opening a shop like we were going to have without her at the helm running things.”

  “I know you told me before, but you honestly didn’t want to be a partner in the business?” I asked her.

  Leanne’s expression was clear and immediate. “No thank you. Not a chance. Who needs the headaches? The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do in my life is make pies. As a baker yourself, I’m sure you understand why I feel that way, Suzanne.”

  I should have nodded in agreement, but instead, I decided it was the perfect time to probe a little while Gabby wasn’t around. “Leanne, I’ve been dancing around something since yesterday, but we need to talk about it if you’re up to it.”

  The young woman bit her lower lip for a moment, and I wondered if she was about to cry, but if so, she managed to rein it in. “Go on.”

  “Did you know about Maggie publishing a cookbook?”

  “Of course I did,” Leanne said, studying me with a curious expression. “Why have you been worried about bringing that up?”

  “I just can’t imagine how angry you must have been when you found out that she stole your pie cookbook from you and published it herself. You must have been furious when you found out.”

  “What do you mean, found out? I gave Maggie those recipes! I didn’t want any credit, it was just to help the shop, but she promised to split the earnings right down the middle with me anyway, and to be honest with you, that was fine with me, since I would never have done it on my own. I came to her with the idea, Suzanne. I wanted those recipes out in the world, but if it hadn’t been for Maggie, it never would have happened. I’m delighted that we were able to do one last project together. Besides, she was nearly broke. Opening the pie shop took nearly everything she had. She’s been watching pennies for years in order to do it, and she’d sunk just about every dime she’d saved into it. Why shouldn’t she share in the royalties generated by our recipes?”

  Leanne clearly meant what she was saying. Wow, I had clearly read the situation all wrong, as did Gabby. Then again, why did that surprise me? Gabby had gotten quite a bit wrong lately. She was definitely slipping. “So, what are you going to do about the pie shop?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, clearly sounding exasperated. “I may just try to make a go of it after all. I’ve had several people graciously offer to help.”

  “Well, if you ask me, this town could always use a pie shop,” I answered with a grin. “Since the bakery went out of business, we’ve needed something more than store-bought desserts.”

  “Doesn’t that include you and your donut shop?” she asked me.

  “No, try as I might, I haven’t been able to persuade people around here to finish their meals with a donut or two for dessert.”

  “How’s your investigation going? The police won’t tell me anything,” Leanne said.

  “We’re making real progress,” I said. “I think we’ll be able to solve it sooner rather than later.” It was sheer bluff on my part, but I had to give the woman something to hang her hopes on.

  Leanne was about to reply when her cell phone rang. “It’s Aunt Gabby,” she said. “I swear, I know the woman cares for me, but does that mean she has to know where I am around the clock? She won’t even let me go to the pie shop without an escort, and it’s driving me a little crazy.”

  “I’m sure that she can be smothering at times, but at least it’s better to be loved too much than not at all,” I said.

  “I suppose so,” she said with the hint of a grin. “Sorry. I hate to be rude, but if I don’t take this, the police chief will be out looking for me in two minutes.”

  As Leanne walked away and took the call, Grace rejoined me.

  “How did your call with your boss go?”

  “It was nothing,” Grace answered. “She just needed a contact number for one of my people.” She gestured to Leanne’s retreating form. “What was that all about?”

  “Well, Leanne claims that having her aunt write the pie-making cookbook was her idea and that she was grateful that Maggie stepped in and made it a reality.”

  “Did you believe her?” Grace asked me.

  “Do you want to know what? I think I do,” I answered.

  “But you’re not one hundred percent sure,” she pushed.

  “No, but maybe ninety, ninety-five percent.”

  “Okay, we’ll keep that in mind. What about her other motive?”

  “The pie shop? Leanne insisted that she wanted no part of being a co-owner of the shop, that all she wanted to do was bake. I can certainly understand that feeling. She’s had some folks in town offer to help her out, but she hasn’t made up her mind yet. Personally, I think she’s going to do it. After all, what else does she have at this point?”

  “I don’t know if I could move forward if I were in her shoes,” Grace said.

  “Why not?”

  “Could you work in a place every day where your aunt was murdered, Suzanne? I’m sure that I’d see the woman’s ghost around every corner.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” I said. My stomach rumbled a bit, more from the promise of food than actual hunger, I was sure. “Let’s go grab something to eat so we can get back to work.”

  “I like your priorities,” Grace said with a smile as we climbed the steps of the Boxcar Gri
ll and went inside.

  “I was just about to call you,” Trish said furtively as Grace and I walked in. Without another word, she pulled me back into the kitchen, with Grace following close behind. Gladys, the only cook on duty currently, smiled at me briefly, and I returned the favor. She’d been instrumental in saving both Grace and me once upon a time when we’d confronted a killer, and the older woman would always have a soft spot in my heart for her heroic actions.

  “What’s so urgent?” I asked Trish.

  “Do you two know a woman named Beatrice Branch?” she asked me.

  “Yes, she was Maggie Moore’s sister-in-law once. Why do you ask?”

  “She came into the diner ten minutes ago trying to pry any information she could out of me about both of you, that’s why,” Trish said, tugging at her ponytail, a sure sign she was worried.

  “Well, I suppose that’s only fair, since we’ve been asking folks about her since I saw Maggie’s body lying in the pie shop,” I answered.

  I must have been a little calmer about the whole thing than Trish liked. “So, let me get this straight. She’s a suspect in Maggie’s murder, and you’re treating her interest in you lightly? Is that smart?”

  “What makes you think she’s a suspect?” I asked, ducking the question for the moment.

  “Come on, if she was related to Maggie, she’s bound to be, isn’t she? What’s her story, anyway?”

  I looked at Grace, who simply shrugged. It was obvious she didn’t care if I told Trish about what we’d uncovered or not, so I didn’t have to think much about bringing her up to speed. “Beatrice believes that Maggie poisoned her brother, though no one could ever prove it at the time of his death. Besides that, she had a pretty large financial interest in Maggie not living another three days.” Wow, it really did sound bad when I said it like that.

  “And you’re not worried?” she asked me. “Grace, talk some sense into her, would you?”