Donut Shop Mystery 25 - Devil's Food Defense

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Donut Shop Mystery 25 - Devil's Food Defense Page 10

by Jessica Beck


  “You don’t have to,” I said, but it was to Maria’s retreating back. Jake would have loved the view, as would most men with a pulse. And why wouldn’t they? Angelica and her daughters were classically beautiful, with the mother outshining even her own daughters. Age, as well as multiple childbirths, had done nothing to dull her essence.

  “Ladies, have you come to save me?” Angelica asked dramatically as she walked out of the kitchen.

  “We didn’t know that you needed saving,” I said as I stood and hugged her. Angelica wrapped me up in her arms and then found room for Grace as well. As we retook our seats, I asked, “What’s going on?”

  “Belinda Jakes has decided to go out of business,” Angelica said gravely.

  “That’s too bad,” Grace answered.

  “It would be, if she’d ever actually do it, but this nonsense has been going on for two months! Just this morning, we saw another truckload of wares being unloaded in back. I have a feeling this bankruptcy is going to continue as long as it’s profitable. In the meantime, my customers can’t find a parking space, and we’re feeling the pinch. We may be forced to close our doors.”

  Was that possible? I didn’t know what I’d do without Angelica and her daughters, not to mention the food! “Are things really that dire?”

  “They aren’t good,” Angelica said. “Enough of my problems, though. Since we’re slow anyway, I’ve been experimenting with new lasagna recipes. Would you two mind terribly being my guinea pigs? There won’t be a charge, of course, I just ask for your honest opinions.”

  “We don’t mind paying for the privilege,” I said.

  “I should be the one paying you,” she answered with a grin. Four minutes later, Angelica hand-delivered a platter filled with different types of lasagna, from spinach to spicy meat to cheese to a few more exotic combinations. They were each carefully marked with little placards, and it was more food than Grace and I could eat in three days.

  “It’s too much,” I said as I surveyed the riches in front of us.

  “Nonsense. I just brought a taste of each. Now try them and tell me what you think. Honest opinions only; be brutal if you must.”

  I expected the restaurateur to go back into the kitchen, but to my surprise, she pulled out one of the empty chairs at our table and sat down to watch us sample her food.

  I took my first bite, the lasagna made with multiple cheeses, and let the experience wash over me. The layers offered the perfect blend of goodness, the cheese complemented perfectly by the sauce and the pasta. “What is in this?” I asked incredulously.

  Grace had been watching me, so she took a bite of her own. Her face lit up as well. “It’s incredible.”

  Angelica looked pleased by the praise. “I used a little mascarpone, some ricotta, a bit of provolone, a taste of mozzarella, and some parmesan. Then I use a few other small bits that I’m keeping to myself. Do you like it?”

  “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” I said quite honestly.

  Angelica just grinned as Grace nodded in agreement.

  “Oh, wait until you taste what’s next.”

  Grace and I left an hour later, both of us nearly too full to make the trip safely back to April Springs. “I’m not sure I can stay awake,” I said. “I’m stuffed.”

  “At least you don’t have to drive,” Grace groaned. “I just want to go home and crawl into bed. You’re on your own tonight.”

  “We still need to talk to Trish, remember?” I asked. I didn’t relish having the conversation either, but what could we do? A murderer was on the loose in our quaint little town, and we had to do something about it.

  “Do we have to do it tonight?” she asked.

  “If we put it off until tomorrow morning, Gladys will be on duty. Do you really want to quiz Trish about the woman while she’s in the back cooking?”

  “No, you’re right,” Grace said. “Reach into the glovebox, would you? I have some antacid in there. I ate entirely too much tonight. It was just so good, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “You’d be a fool not to,” she said.

  Somehow we made the drive back to April Springs safely, but that just meant that we had to face Trish tonight after all. I knew if we didn’t do it then, I’d toss and turn all night until we had another opportunity, but that didn’t mean I was happy about what we were about to do.

  We didn’t have any choice, though.

  Some hard questions had to be asked.

  Chapter 13

  Unfortunately, the Boxcar Grill was crowded when we got there. “Suzanne, we can’t do this now,” Grace said.

  “If we don’t, it’s not going to be easier later,” I said. I approached Trish and asked, “Do you have a second?”

  “Not really,” she said as she looked around. “Is it important?”

  “No, it can wait until things slow down. Whenever you’re ready, Grace and I will be outside.”

  Trish’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t ask any more questions. “Give me ten minutes. I should have a little time then.”

  “How can you possibly know that?” Grace asked her.

  “This place has a certain rhythm to it if you know how to read it,” she said with a grin.

  “We’ll be out front,” I said.

  Once Grace and I were back outside, we commandeered a bench where customers sometimes waited when the diner was too busy. Night was beginning to fall, and a chill was definitely creeping into the air. We’d officially put winter behind us, but it was tough to believe it based on the weather.

  Since we had a lull, I asked Grace, “Do you mind if I check in with Jake?”

  “Go right ahead,” she said.

  I called, and he picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Suzanne.” He sounded tired, and I wondered how he was holding up.

  “How are things going there?” I asked him.

  “Slow,” he said. “I’m having a tough time tracking this guy down, and I used to be a cop. All I can say for sure right now is that he’s not one of the good ones.”

  “How are Sarah and the kids doing?”

  “Sarah’s a wreck, Paul is angry, and Amy is trying to pretend that everything is okay here. It’s not, though.”

  “Should I have come with you?” I asked. I hated that Jake might need me, and here I was back in April Springs trying to solve a murder. I had my own set of priorities, but had I let Sarah’s aloofness toward me deter me from supporting my husband?

  “It’s not that I wouldn’t love having you here, but I’m not sure it would help the situation,” he said. “After the kids went to bed last night, Sarah and I stayed up past midnight talking. She knows what she’s doing is not healthy for her or her kids, and I think she’s finally going to turn things around. I just hope she can manage to do it. You believe people can change, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. I knew that it was difficult, and not many folks managed to accomplish it even if they were sincere about turning over a new leaf, but deep in my heart, I believed that most people wanted to do the right thing, especially where their kids were concerned, and no matter how Sarah might have felt about me, I knew that she loved her kids more than life itself.

  “I do, too, regardless of what I’ve seen in the past,” Jake said. “Thanks, you chose the exact right time to call me with a pep talk. How are things going there?”

  I brought him up to speed on Gray’s life before he came to April Springs. “What do you think of that?” I asked him.

  “Chief Grant is probably right. I don’t blame him for focusing on Mickey Wright. He’s most likely the killer. Are you and Grace okay with being relegated to the second team?”

  “Are you kidding? That’s where we flourish. We’re about to brace Tris
h about Gladys,” I told him.

  “I don’t envy you that,” Jake said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t trade you even, either, if that helps,” I said. “It appears we’ve both got our work cut out for us.”

  “Sure, but if it was easy, everybody would be doing it,” he said with a soft laugh.

  I was about to reply when Trish came out. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “Love you,” he said quickly.

  “Love you, too,” I replied.

  Trish was frowning. “What’s this about? It’s got to be bad, or you both wouldn’t still be here.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said.

  “Is this about Gladys?” she asked.

  “It is,” Grace admitted.

  “I saw you talking to her this morning before her lunch shift. When I asked her what you were discussing, she didn’t want to talk to me about it. Is it possible that you two are harassing one of my cooks?”

  “Just the opposite. We’re trying to help her,” I said.

  “Funny, you’ve got an odd way of showing it,” Trish answered.

  “Whether any of us like this or not, she’s a suspect in Gray’s murder. We’re doing our best to eliminate her, but we need help doing it.”

  “Does Stephen Grant think she’s a suspect, or is this just coming from the two of you?” Trish asked pointedly.

  “He knows what we’re doing, and he approves of it,” Grace said.

  “Officially?” Trish asked.

  “You know that he can’t do that, but he’s not trying to stop us,” I explained.

  “So then the answer to that question is no,” Trish said. “Why would Gladys kill him? She broke up with him, remember? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Money could be a factor,” Grace said softly. There were many times when I needed Grace to be bold in our questioning. I tended to be a little too aware that no one had any obligation to speak with us, but Grace seemed to be able to act as though we were entitled to answers, even when we weren’t.

  “Are you saying that she robbed him?” Trish asked, growing angrier by the moment. “Just because her niece is in trouble doesn’t mean that she’d kill someone to save her!”

  “What’s going on with her niece?” I asked.

  Trish realized she’d spoken too quickly. “Forget I said that.”

  “We all know that we can’t do that,” I said. “So you might as well tell us. We’ll find out anyway, and you don’t want us asking embarrassing questions, do you?”

  “Whose side are you on, Suzanne?” Trish asked me, hurt starting to show in her eyes.

  “At the moment, I’m on Gray’s,” I said. “After all, he’s not around to defend himself.”

  That took a little of the steam out of her. “I’m sorry he was murdered, but Gladys didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Are you offering her an alibi?” Grace asked her.

  Trish frowned before she spoke. “I wish I could, but after she made her presentation, I’m guessing that she watched the movie along with the rest of town. I didn’t see her.”

  “It might help if she sat with someone who could verify that,” I said.

  “It won’t do any good. She was so anxious about the fundraiser, she kept to herself; at least that’s what she told me.”

  “So, no one can vouch for her whereabouts for an hour and a half,” I said. It was clearly enough time for her to spot Gray leaving, follow him, kill him, and then return to the movie before anyone knew that she was gone. Unfortunately, the same could be said for any of our suspects. But had Barry, Donald, or Mickey even been at the show? We needed alibis from the folks on our list.

  “Not that she’s aware of,” Trish said. “Listen, I know you two are just trying to see justice done here, but Gladys isn’t involved, so you need to drop it, unless you have more concrete proof that she might have done it.”

  “Tell her, Suzanne,” Grace prompted me. “She has a right to know.”

  “Tell me what?” Trish asked sharply.

  “I saw some paperwork when we were in Donald Rand’s office earlier. It listed the beneficiary to Gray’s financial account.”

  Trish’s lips pursed into a single line before she spoke. “Don’t tell me Gladys was set to inherit his money. How much could that amount to? He was practically a hermit, living in a small cabin in the woods by himself.”

  “Evidently he had quite a bit that no one knew about,” I said.

  “And Gladys is going to inherit it all now that he’s dead?”

  “We aren’t sure,” I said. “There were two names on those documents: Gladys’s, and Donald Rand’s as well.”

  “If you ask me, he’s a lot more likely to have done it than her,” Trish said.

  “We think so, too, and we’re pursuing that angle as well. But like it or not, Gladys is involved in this, and the sooner we clear her name, the quicker we can find the real killer.” I said it, but I didn’t entirely believe it. Now that we knew that Gladys had a pressing need for money as well as the opportunity to kill Gray Vincent, she had to be right up there near the top of our list, no matter how much we might have liked her.

  Grace shot a quick glance at me, but I ignored her and kept my focus on Trish. She was about to say something when the door to the diner opened. Bert Gentry popped his head out. “Is somebody going to take my money, or was dinner on the house tonight?”

  “I’m coming,” Trish said. As she mounted the steps, she turned to look at me. “We’re not through with this by any means, but I can’t talk about it tonight.”

  “We’ll be around,” I said softly. “Trish, I hope this doesn’t come between us.”

  “So do I,” she said gravely.

  After she went back inside, Grace said, “That didn’t go very well, did it?”

  “I don’t know. We learned that Gladys is in need of money, and from the sound of it, a lot of it. If Gray came clean and told her that he was fairly well off, she might have acted on it, not out of self interest, but trying to help someone she cares about.”

  “I’m sorry. I still can’t see it,” Grace said. “It just seems out of character for her to stab a man in the chest, not to mention tying him up in the first place. How could she even manage to do that?”

  “If she had the knife in her hand and Gray thought she was serious about stabbing him, he might have let her tie him up until he could calm her down,” I said.

  “Wow, do you think she actually might have done it?” Grace asked me.

  “I’m not going to rule her out just because she’s always been nice to us,” I answered. “We’ve both seen seemingly nice people do some pretty outrageous things in the past.”

  “I know, but all things being equal, I’d rather it were someone we didn’t like,” she said a little wistfully.

  “Believe me, I’d love to be able to hang this on one of the men, too. It would be wonderful if the chief were able to prove that Mickey Wright did it. If that fails, we’ve still got Donald Rand and Barry Vance.”

  “Donald might steal the change from your pocket, and Barry could easily filch your postcard, but do you see either one of them as a killer?”

  “We both know that our gut feelings aren’t always right,” I said. “All we can do is follow our leads, hunt for clues, interview our suspects, and see where the trail leads us.”

  “Sometimes I wish we could read minds,” Grace said as we headed back to her place. “It would be so much easier spotting the killers that way.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “You can wish for that if you’d like, but I’m happy I don’t know what people are thinking. Can you imagine the chaos? I’d never be able to live within a mile of anyone else.”

  “Like Gray?” she asked. “After years
of living in a self-imposed exile, he tried to reach out and find love with Gladys, but in the end, all he had was his garden, and I can’t imagine that was enough.”

  “I can’t, either. Regardless, I think we’re finished for the night. I don’t know where to find Barry Vance or Donald Rand at this time of evening, and for now, we’ve done all that we can with Gladys, so where does that leave us?”

  “We could always sneak out to Gray’s house and have another look around the place,” Grace suggested.

  “It’s an active crime scene,” I reminded her. “I’m not sure Chief Grant would appreciate us traipsing through it.”

  “Maybe he’s through with it,” she suggested.

  Knowing how the police worked, I seriously doubted it. “There’s not one chance in a thousand that they’re already finished there.”

  “Maybe not, but isn’t that one hope worth driving out? Besides, it’s too early for bed, even on your schedule.”

  “Sure, why not?” I asked. “Especially since I can’t think of anything else to do.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Grace said with a grin.

  It turned out that I had been right. At the gate that led into Gray’s property, a cop was stationed protecting the entrance. Grace rolled down her window when we got there, much to my surprise. “Hey, Murph. Is the chief around?” she asked him.

  “No, ma’am. He’s handling something out on the highway. Do you want me to call him for you?”

  “No, I’ll catch up with him later. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  “What was that all about?” I asked her once we’d turned around and headed back to her place.

  “Officer Murphy was going to tell Stephen that we were out there, whether I stopped or not. This way we’ve got a reasonable excuse for snooping around.”

 

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