Sinister Sprinkles

by Jessica Beck

  “Let them come,” Gabby said. Though it was barely past six A.M., she was dressed as impeccably as usual, in a tailored pale-blue suit and matching shoes. “I have no reason to hide from them.”

  “You were harboring a person of interest,” George said.

  Gabby laughed as she looked at him. “I ask you, is there anything illegal about letting an old friend stay at my place, a woman who’s been accused of no crime as far as we know?”

  George shook his head. “No, not when you put it that way.”

  Gabby smiled in triumph. “Then let them come.”

  We all moved inside, and George asked Muriel, “Just between us, why have you been hiding?”

  “Someone’s trying to kill me,” she said. “You used to be a police officer. Surely you can see that.”

  “Do you have any reason to suspect that candy cane was meant for you?” George asked. It was amazing how calm his voice had become since he started questioning her, and I could see the old cop coming out. He must have been very good at what he did when he was on the job.

  Muriel said, “She was dressed like me, in my coat and wearing a wig that almost matched my hair color, though I’ve never had a gray hair in my life. What further proof do you need?”

  “Why would someone want to kill you, Muriel?” I asked. “That’s what we’ve all been wondering.”

  Muriel’s lower lip began to quiver, and before she could stop it, she broke down in a crying jag that lasted until Chief Martin showed up six minutes later. Officer Grant had kept his word and discharged his favor to George, but just barely.

  “I should have known I’d find you here,” the chief said the second he saw me.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so for once in my life, I didn’t.

  After a few seconds, he shook his head, then the chief looked at Muriel. “Where have you been?”

  Gabby stood between them, and I’d never seen her so fierce. “You don’t have to answer that,” she told Muriel as she faced the chief down.

  “But I want to,” Muriel said, finally getting her crying jag out of the way. “I’ve made such a mess of things. I never should have gotten a computer. Everything started to crumble because of that.”

  The chief looked at all of us in turn, and I was proud that George’s gaze didn’t flinch when their eyes met.

  After a few moments, he said, “It’s not worth the trouble getting rid of you two, so you might as well stay. Let’s all hear this together.” He turned back to Muriel and said, “Why is your computer to blame?”

  “I got a computer because it seemed like an interesting thing to do,” she said. “Then I heard everyone talking about the Internet, and that sounded like fun, too. I even opened one of those e-mail accounts, and I got the most fascinating mail from around the world, coming from people I’d never met.” She stifled another crying jag, then she added softly, “And then I lost everything.”

  “Don’t tell me,” I said. “The e-mail was from Nigeria, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “He promised me riches, but he ended up taking everything.”

  I often got scams from foreign countries in my email inbox, but I deleted them just as quickly. The stories of scammers running rampant on the Internet were no urban legends; they were real. Unsuspecting victims kept funneling money to the thieves, whether out of greed or humanitarian reasons, or so they believed.

  Muriel had grown suddenly calm. “I lost everything, and when my gentleman friend, Grayson, found out what a fool I’d been, he broke it off with me. Then, when someone tried to kill me, or someone who looked like me, I knew he’d actually come after me.”

  “Grayson?” I asked.

  “No, Peter Exeter, the man I’d been sending money to all along.”

  The chief shook his head. “Muriel, if you’ve been sending him money, why would he want to kill you?”

  “Because I ran out of things to liquidate. He’s been most insistent I keep paying. He says I’m in too deep and has been threatening me. I know he’s after me.”

  I spoke up again. “Muriel, where did you send the money? Was it somewhere in the States?”

  “No, it went straight to Nigeria, of course,” she said, looking at me as if I were some kind of idiot.

  “You can relax, then. He’s not trying to kill you. As soon as he realized you didn’t have any more money, he dropped you and moved on to his next victim.”

  A glimmer of hope registered in her eyes. “Do you honestly think so?”

  “I know it,” I said, and was surprised when the chief didn’t scold me for butting in again.

  “Why, that’s the most wonderful news I’ve had forever,” she said. Then Muriel frowned. “But if Peter didn’t try to kill me, who did?”

  I almost said, “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” but I somehow managed to keep my mouth shut, miracle of miracles.

  The chief said, “We’re not sure anyone did. Think hard, Muriel. There’s no one who might want to see you dead, is there? No one who might benefit from your death?”

  She actually laughed at that. “Why? There’s nothing left to inherit, and I cashed in my life insurance policy weeks ago.”

  “You should make sure all your heirs know that,” the chief said. “But in the meantime, you might want to find somewhere to go out of town until this blows over. Just in case.”

  Muriel thought about it for a few moments, then said, “I’ve got a cousin in West Virginia I’ve been dying to see. Is that far enough away?”

  “It should be fine, but don’t tell us anything more,” he said as he looked around the room. “It’s better if no one knows where you’ve gone.”

  “I’ll leave as soon as I can get a bus ticket,” she said. “I should be able to afford that.”

  To my great surprise, Gabby said, “You don’t need to bother with that. I’ll take you myself.”

  Muriel said, “Gabby, you’ve done enough. Whatever you think you owed me is paid in full, do you understand?”

  Gabby shook her head. “Not yet, it’s not.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Gabby smiled gently, an expression I wasn’t used to seeing on her face. “That’s my decision, isn’t it? Now go pack your bag, we’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  Muriel disappeared down the hallway, and the chief said, “Are you sure about this?”

  “I am,” Gabby said.

  “Thanks. I’ll feel better having her out of the line of fire, just in case.”

  “Just in case,” Gabby agreed.

  The chief said, “I can at least give you an escort out of town. I’ll be waiting outside, but don’t take too long.”

  Chief Martin didn’t even look at us as he walked outside.

  As soon as he was gone, I said, “Gabby Williams, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

  She said, “You don’t know everything about me, Suzanne Hart. I’m obligated to do this, and there’s nothing that anyone can do to stop me. You’ll keep an eye out on the shop, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will,” I said. This woman—normally a gossip and a bit of a shrew—was showing me a side of her personality that I’d never seen before. I couldn’t have been more surprised if George had started singing opera, but I was glad I’d witnessed it myself. No matter who told me about it, I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

  “Now let’s not dawdle, shall we? I’ve got a bag to pack myself.” The brisk, cheerless Gabby was back.

  As the rest of us walked outside, I saw the chief had pulled up in front of the house in his cruiser, and it was all I could do not to look around for Officer Grant.

  We got back into George’s car, and I said, “Thanks for calling in that favor.”

  “It was worth it,” he said. “We can be pretty sure that Muriel’s Nigerian scammer didn’t travel all the way to North Carolina to kill her, and it appears no one else had a reason to want to do her harm. Now we can focus on Darlene
. What did I miss? Do we have any leads that I don’t know about yet?”

  “I’ve told you everything I know,” I said.

  George nodded, then said, “Suzanne, I still think I should be there when you talk to Lester.”

  “I don’t think you should,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve already gone over this. Forgive me for saying so, but you can be kind of intimidating. We need to keep Lester off balance, and if he suspects we know something, he’s probably not going to cooperate.”

  “I’m good at questioning suspects,” George said, a little sullenly.

  “That’s just it,” I tried to explain. “It’s clear you’re still very good at interrogation, but I don’t want Lester to realize what we’re up to. He knows you were a cop, and a really good one. Do you think he’s going to just open up to you? Grace and I will have more luck if we tackle him on our own.”

  I waited for his protest, but it didn’t follow. “Okay, but you have to promise to call me if you get in over your head.”

  “I promise,” I said.

  When we got back to the donut shop, George dropped me off at the door.

  As I walked inside, it was good to see Emma hadn’t left her post at the register.

  “Did you have any trouble while I was gone?” I asked softly.

  “No, we just had two customers while you were out, and I never left the front.” She opened the till, and I saw the money still there.

  “Emma, I trust you, you know that.”

  “I just wanted to show you,” she said, then turned back. “If you don’t need me to watch the front anymore, I’ve got dishes to do.”

  “Thanks, Emma,” I said.

  She smiled softly at me, then disappeared back into the kitchen, a place where she was clearly more comfortable.

  I had a lull before more customers started coming in, so I kept thinking about Darlene, now that we’d decided to focus on her as the victim instead of Muriel. I couldn’t wait to talk to Lester about that business card, and the hundred-dollar bill that matched it. Before long, business started to pick up. It was hard to believe, but it wasn’t even seven yet. I’d had a busy morning, and from the sound of it, things weren’t going to slow down. I was staying put. I’d already asked Emma to cover the shop too much, and I knew she was still hurting from the earlier theft. That was fine. Lester wasn’t going anywhere, since he didn’t go off the air until noon. Besides, I needed the next five hours to figure out exactly how Grace and I could approach him without sending him running for the nearest shelter.

  * * *

  A little after eight, Terri Milner and Sandy White came into the shop with their kids in tow. Terri was the mother of eight-year-old twin girls, and Sandy had a ten-year-old son.

  The women put their kids in a booth, and they started squirming the minute they hit the seats.

  “I want sprinkles,” one of the twins said.

  “We got sprinkles last time,” the other twin said. “I want chocolate iced donuts this time. Four of ’em.”

  Their names were Mary and Jerri, and I wondered if Terri’s mother was named Carey, based on the trend that was readily apparent.

  “I want ’em all,” Thomas said. As the alpha male, he was clearly showing off for the girls, something that made me smile.

  Sandy told the kids, “If you’re all good while we order, you might get something tasty to eat.”

  Terri leaned forward and added, “But if you’re not, I’m sure we can ask Ms. Hart for some stale old donuts from yesterday.”

  That got their attention, and they settled down immediately.

  As Sandy and Terri approached, I saw them smiling at each other.

  “You two are wicked, wicked women,” I said with a smile. “You realize that, don’t you?”

  Sandy said, “Please, that’s nothing. They know we’re kidding them.”

  I looked over at the kids, who were remarkably well behaved. “Are you sure about that?”

  Terri said, “Give them two minutes, and they’ll get over it. While we’ve got some temporary peace, could we have two large coffees, please?”

  I poured their drinks, and each took healthy gulps.

  Terri said, “I love my girls with all my heart, but if there’s another snow day tomorrow, I’m going to go screaming mad.”

  “I’m with you,” Sandy said. “It was fun at first, but now that the snow’s melted and crusted over with ice, we can’t make snowmen, the sledding is like running on rails, so we mostly stay indoors and do crafts.”

  Terri said, “I hope I never, ever, see another block of clay.”

  “We’re finger-painting,” Sandy said with a groan. “You should see my kitchen. It looks like Jackson Pollack had a seizure in it.”

  I saw that, just as they’d predicted, the kids were starting to squirm in their seats. Without being asked, I pulled out three cartons of chocolate milk and three of the requested donuts. “Here you go. The natives are getting restless.”

  They both nodded, and said “Thank you” almost in unison.

  The kids were happy enough at first with their orders, but it soon turned into a squabble about who got what—though the donuts and cartons of milk were identical—and the women left to referee. I knew how much being with their kids meant to them, and if there were women out there who loved their children more, I hadn’t met them. But I still realized that sometimes, no matter how positive the situation and how fortunate they might have felt, it helped blowing off steam. I was happy to afford them the opportunity.

  I was debating whether to call home to see if Grace had made it up yet, and happily enough, she walked in before I could dial the last number.

  “Good afternoon,” I said with a smile.

  Grace looked at her watch. “Hey, I still have half an hour before noon. I slept great last night, but I haven’t been in bed the entire morning,” she said as she stretched out her arms. “There’s something about that guest room of yours.”

  “When did you move upstairs?” I asked. “When I left this morning, you were still crashing on the couch.”

  She smiled. “I switched right after you left. I can’t believe I fell asleep out there. Your mother must think I’m some kind of bad penny, the way I keep showing up on your doorstep like this.”

  As I got her a cup of coffee and my latest attempt at a wheat donut that might satisfy her, I said, “Don’t kid yourself. She loves having you there.” I lowered my voice as I added, “Are you ready to talk to Lester?”

  “Sure, but there’s something else you need to hear first,” Grace said. “I just found out from a friend at the bank that Darlene Higgins recently took out a certificate of deposit for one hundred thousand dollars.”

  I nearly dropped my coffee cup. I’d seen her clothes, and the way she lived, and I couldn’t imagine where she’d gotten that kind of money. “Are you sure?”

  She frowned at me. “Trust me, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I doubted you,” I said. “But you saw her room. Her things weren’t all that nice when they were new. I have a hard time believing she would have that kind of money.”

  “One thing I know for sure is that she didn’t steal that much from Wilma. I’m still looking into where the money came from, but I just found this out, so I haven’t had time to dig any deeper.”

  “That’s pretty deep as far as I’m concerned,” I said. “But that still leaves us with the problem of how to tackle Lester.”

  “To be honest with you, I’ve been thinking about it since I woke up, but I haven’t been able to come up with any subtle way to interrogate him.” She took a sip of coffee, then said, “I’m still not sure what we should do about Max and Muriel.”

  I suddenly realized that I hadn’t kept her up to date on what had been going on that morning. “That’s right. You haven’t heard. We found Muriel this morning, and she’s fine. She was staying at Gabby’s, but by now they’ve already left town.”
r />   “Where did they go? Has she been there the entire time?”

  “I’m not exactly sure where they’re off to,” I said, which was the strictest truth. “Gabby owes Muriel some kind of huge favor, so she’s driving her wherever she wants to go.”

  Grace whistled softly. “How big a favor could it be?”

  “Gabby’s shut down her shop until further notice,” I said.

  Grace shook her head in obvious disbelief. “That’s hard to believe. So, does everyone think Muriel’s safe, just because she turned up unharmed?”

  “She’s anything but in the clear.” I recounted her financial woes, and Grace shook her head.

  She said, “Muriel’s managed to get herself into a real hole, hasn’t she?”

  “It sounds like it,” I agreed.

  “Suzanne, what if she owed more money than she admitted to you? Could she be in debt to someone close to home? If they weren’t getting paid back, they might have decided to get rid of her as a warning to other deadbeats.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but in my defense, neither had any of the others. “I guess it’s possible.”

  I took out my cell phone, punched in George’s number, and after he answered, I said, “Grace has an idea worth considering.” After I gave him the new information, he said, “I’ll put it on my list,” then he hung up.

  I was about to tell her what he’d said when one of the twins decided to liven up my life a little. As she started to shove her tray away from her, a half-full carton of chocolate milk hit the table, bounced, and pivoted in midair, spraying milk everywhere in its wake.

  There was a stunned moment of silence, and then the other twin screamed. “You doo-doo head, I’m soaked!” she shouted.

  “Hang on, we can take care of this is a second,” I told them as I grabbed a few clean dish towels.

  I handed one to Grace and said, “Cleanup on Aisle 3.”

  She smiled at me, and we started attacking the spilled milk, starting on the table and then surveying the floor. How could that carton have held so much? Terri and Sandy tried to wrestle the towels from our hands, but when we wouldn’t yield, they attacked the spill with napkins from the dispensers. Emma appeared a minute later with a mop, and we had it contained soon enough.