Troubled Treats

by Jessica Beck

  “Come on. You missed that crate twice, and then you hit the floor. That is not anyone’s definition of fine.”

  He looked up at me and smiled. “I admit that the first miss was an accident, but the second one was on purpose. Didn’t you hear the difference in the floor when I kicked it?”

  “It must have been too subtle for me,” I admitted. “What exactly are you hoping to find?”

  “Hang on a second and I’ll tell you.” He then took a pocketknife from his pants pocket and opened it. Using the largest blade, he started probing between the floorboards with it, sinking it all the way to the handle.

  There was only one thing I could do; I got down on my hands and knees, too. If my husband was going crazy, then I was taking the trip with him. “Are you having any luck?”

  “Not yet.” He kept sliding the blade along the floor, and I was about to say something else when it evidently met with some resistance. “Now that’s interesting,” Jake said, and I could see part of the wooden floor lift a little as he probed the floor a little more. “What do you know? It’s a secret cache,” he explained as he pulled a section of boards up. They’d looked like a solid part of the flooring before, but now I could see that they’d been carefully disguised to look that way. Once the top panel was pulled off to one side, Jake and I looked down into the space to see what might have been hiding there.

  The footprint of the opening was no bigger than the size of a standard sheet of paper, and about as deep as a loaf of bread. At first glance, I thought that the space was empty, but Jake reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small flashlight on his keychain and proved me wrong. I’d given it to him a year before for Christmas, and I always loved seeing it with his keys.

  When he flashed the light down into the dark opening, I saw something that gave me pause.

  It wasn’t empty after all.

  It looked as though there was money down there.

  Not much of it, though. Jake reached in with his hand wrapped in a clean handkerchief and pulled out three bills, all of them twenties.

  Only they weren’t the familiar offset and oversized Jackson portrait looking back at me when I examined them.

  They were all bills featuring the smaller version, just like the one I had outside in my deposit bag.

  As Jake played the light more carefully into the hiding place, he said, “I’m guessing that there was quite a bit more here, and recently, too.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “The top boards didn’t make a perfect seal,” he explained. “See that line of dust around the edges? The pattern should be uniform throughout the cache, but the entire middle of the area is clean.”

  “I see it,” I said as I stood. “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  “Suzanne, where are you going?”

  “There’s something I need to show you,” I said. “Let me have your truck keys.”

  Jake clearly wanted more of an explanation—I could see it in his glance—but he handed them over without commenting. “While you’re gone, I’m calling the chief. He needs to see this, too. I’ve got a hunch that the corner of that torn bill we found in Sully’s hand is going to match these. Whoever took the money probably killed him.”

  “You do that,” I said as I left the room. Downstairs, I saw Officer Griffin still standing watch. “If I go out, can I come back in again?”

  He grinned. “The Chief didn’t mention a limit on your number of visits, so be my guest.”

  I got to the truck, and I didn’t realize that I’d been holding my breath until I opened the glove box and saw my deposit bag still sitting inside safely.

  Was the bill still there, though?

  I riffled through the money searching for the bill that I’d taken in that day, but the first time through, I couldn’t find it. Frantically, I did a more methodical search, and sure enough, there it was! I considered wrapping it in a tissue, but I’d already handled the thing at least twice, so there was no doubt in my mind that my prints were already on it. I pulled a twenty out of my wallet, the lone one I had, and stuck it into the bag with the rest of the deposit. I had a hunch that there was no way that particular bill was ever going to make it into the bank. I wasn’t pleased about the prospect of losing twenty bucks, but if it helped our investigation, I’d have gladly donated ten times that to the cause.

  After the truck was secure again, I made my way back to the building’s front door.

  “That was quick,” Griffin said with a smile.

  “What can I say? I’m efficient,” I replied with a grin of my own.

  Jake was just getting off the phone when I walked back into the small room upstairs. “What was so urgent that you needed to borrow my truck?” he asked me, clearly not able to contain his curiosity one second longer.

  “Not your truck, just your keys,” I said as I handed him the bill in my hand. Before he could protest that I hadn’t mimicked his handling of the bills we’d found earlier, I said, “It was in with my deposit, so I’ve already handled it at least a couple of times.”

  “Maybe so, but I haven’t,” he said. “Hold it up for me, would you?”

  I did as Jake asked, and after a quick study of the bill, he said, “Put it down gently on the top of that crate, would you?”

  “It can’t be a coincidence, can it?” I asked. “The day we find three old twenties in the wagon factory, another one shows up at my donut shop.”

  “Suzanne, these bills were all issued in 1928. They have to be linked. Do you have any idea who paid you with that particular twenty?”

  “Sorry. I don’t have a clue,” I admitted. I hadn’t been observant enough at the time, and now it might cost us a valuable clue.

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Jake said. “I’ve seen your shop when you’re busy, so I know how crazy it can be. According to what you told me earlier, three of our four suspects came by Donut Hearts today: Carl Descent, Jim Burr, and Shirley Edam.”

  “Does that mean that Bob Greene is in the clear?”

  “Not exactly, but he can at least go to the bottom of our list.”

  Something had been nagging me all along, and I suddenly realized what it was. I’d forgotten to tell Jake what Jim Burr had said about his work buddy. “Jake, I forgot to tell you something.”

  “What is it? Did Bob come by the shop, too?”

  “No, but Jim told me that Bob was leaving town this evening, and he might not be coming back. Shirley confirmed that without prodding, too. How could Bob just afford to walk away?”

  “Maybe he’s the one with the money,” Jake suggested.

  “Who has what money?” a voice asked us from the doorway.

  I looked over to see the chief of police standing there, but he wasn’t alone.

  Momma and her husband, Phillip, were with him, too.

  “Hey, Momma. What are you two doing here?” I asked.

  “I own the building, don’t I?” she replied. “The chief and I were discussing when it would be released when Jake called him. Chief Grant thought we should come along, since we have a vested interest in the investigation ourselves.”

  “Not me,” Phillip said. “I have no desire to dig into this, or any other case, for that matter. The only thing I’m interested in these days is local history. After all, I’m the one who convinced your mother to restore this building in the first place.”

  I hadn’t known that. Momma added, “It’s a good investment, and besides, I hate to see the old landmarks torn down so unceremoniously, and that’s exactly what Carl Descent was planning to do. What did you find?”

  Jake offered the bills to the police chief. “We found three old twenties in a cache under the floor where the crates had been stacked,” he said.

  Chief Grant had a plastic bag ready for them, and Jake slid them inside as he went on to explain, “They’re all from 1928.”

  That got Phillip’s interest. “So, it’s true,” he said with a frown.

  “What’s true?�
�� I asked.

  “I’ve been coming across several references that the original owner of the factory, Martin Polly, hid a fortune in this building that no one could ever account for. He never trusted banks or the stock market, which turned out to be pretty savvy, given that the Great Depression occurred just a year after these bills were printed. The thing is that I was certain that his cache was in gold, not paper money.”

  “Three bills doesn’t exactly make a fortune,” the chief said.

  “There was a great deal more down here than that, and recently, too,” Jake explained as he showed the police chief what he was talking about.

  “Why is this bill over here by itself?” Momma asked as she started to reach down and retrieve the bill I’d placed on one of the crates.

  “Don’t touch that!” I said a little too loudly in such a confined space.

  Momma jerked back her hand as though she’d been reaching for a snake. “Why on earth not? What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing, but it might be evidence,” I said in a much calmer voice. “Someone paid me at the donut shop today with it, and it’s a match with the others we found up here.”

  “They’re counterfeit?” Momma asked. “Who would fake a batch of old bills?”

  “It’s not as crazy as it sounds,” Phillip said. “Think about it. There weren’t any of the modern security measures in the old bills like the holograms and embedded strips we have now.”

  “True,” the new chief said, “but these are legitimate, at least as far as I can see.” He looked over at me and asked, “Suzanne, I don’t suppose you remember who gave you this one, do you?”

  “Sorry, I don’t, but I think I can narrow it down to one of three people. Shirley Edam, Carl Descent, and Jim Burr all came by the donut shop today, and every last one of them paid me with at least one twenty.”

  The chief looked disappointed, and who could blame him? It would have been nice to be able to narrow our search even a little bit at that point. Chief Grant took out another evidence bag and carefully placed the bill I’d taken in a bag of its own. “We’ll dust it for prints anyway,” he said. “Thanks for calling.”

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “What else can I do?” Chief Grant asked me. “Suzanne, Sully’s murder is a priority for me, but I’m trying to run an entire department, too. As much as I’d like to, I can’t spend every waking moment worrying about one case, even if it is murder. There’s just too much on my plate as it is right now.”

  “I understand,” I said, and I did. I’d never given my new stepfather enough credit when he’d had that job, and I wasn’t about to repeat the mistake with my friend. In my mind, it was even more reason for Jake and me to dig into the case. For us, it would be our only priority.

  “I still don’t understand why you found paper money in that cache,” Phillip said. “I need to go back to the library and do more research.”

  “I’ll drop you off on my way, dear,” my mother told him. Before she left, she kissed my cheek. “Come see me later, Suzanne.”

  “Why? Is anything up?” I asked her, concerned by her summons.

  “Isn’t it enough that I miss my daughter?” she asked, and I realized that I’d been spending so much time with Jake since I’d been back that I’d neglected her, and Grace as well. I’d have to make more of a conscious effort not to let my new married life interfere with the two women in the world who meant the most to me.

  “I promise,” I said.

  “Good. Phillip, are you ready to go?”

  He’d been conferring with Chief Grant and Jake about something, but he quickly broke away from them. “Bye, all.”

  The chief said, “Hang on a second. I’ll walk you out.” When we didn’t follow, he asked, “Was there something else you two needed to see here?”

  “We might hang back and look around a little more,” Jake said, “if that’s okay with you.”

  Chief Grant grinned, showing his youth for a moment. “Are you kidding? I’ll take all of the help I can get. Thanks, I mean that for both of you.”

  “We’re happy to do it,” I said. It was good to see a flash of my old friend, even if it was brief. The weight of being temporary police chief was impacting him, and I wondered if he’d be able to stand up to the added strain of the job at his young age. He was smart, and he was tough, but I couldn’t help worrying about him. After all, that was what I did with the people in my life that I cared about.

  “What exactly are we looking for?” I asked Jake after everyone else had gone. “Do you really think there’s more money hidden around here somewhere?”

  “This isn’t a treasure hunt, Suzanne. I’m looking for clues.”

  “Sure, but if we stumble across a fortune along the way, we’re not going to just ignore it, are we? It sounds as though it might add up to be a great deal of money.”

  “I’ve got a hunch that the rumors are just that, rumors, plain and simple. I’ve learned over the years that there’s more phantom gold than has ever been mined in the history of the world. Besides, what would you do if you found a fortune? You wouldn’t retire from Donut Hearts, and don’t try to tell me that you would.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Sleeping in until seven sounds like a little bit of paradise to me right now.”

  “You’d get bored within a month of retiring,” he said.

  “How could you possible know that? Are you?” I asked, turning the topic to one a great deal more serious than our previous idle speculation.

  “Not a chance. Being married to you is anything but boring, and besides, who’s retired? Here I am, working on a murder case, just like always. The only differences are that this time I’m doing it for free, and I have no official status.”

  “The upside is that you get to work with your wife, though,” I said with a grin.

  “Believe me, that makes up for the difficulties, and then some,” he said as started investigating the flooring in one of the other rooms upstairs.

  “If we’re not looking for treasure, then why are we trying to find new caches?” I asked him.

  “Suzanne, we saw someone prowling around up here this morning with a flashlight. What if their presence wasn’t related to the money we found earlier? They could have been here looking for something else that had been hidden away earlier, something that might give us a clue about the identity of the killer.”

  “That’s something that I never considered,” I admitted.

  “That’s why there are two of us,” he answered with a grin.

  We spent the next few hours kicking, tapping, and probing the upstairs floorboards, but we didn’t have any luck finding any other secret caches, or anything else, for that matter.

  Whatever wealth had been taken out of the old wagon factory was apparently all that there had been, at least as far as we could see.

  Chapter 17

  “What should we do next?” I asked Jake as we headed down the stairs. It looked as though someone had tried to clean the central wagon wheel emblem in the floor, but I could swear that I saw a hint of something remaining now that the temporary plastic sheeting had been removed. No matter how much they cleaned, sanded, or even replaced the wood and stones inlaid in the floor, I knew that I’d probably always see it there. My stomach rumbled a little as if on cue.

  “I know you’re hungry,” Jake said. “I am, too, but can it wait half an hour?”

  “I think I can stand going without food for that long,” I said with a smile. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’d like to look around the murder scene while we have it to ourselves, and then we’ll grab a bite to eat before we look for Bob Greene.”

  “Okay by me,” I said as we reached the center emblem. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “Anything that we might have missed before,” he said. “The chief is going to release the building soon, and I want to have one last look around before he does.”

  I felt a slight shiver as we approached the exa
ct spot where we’d found Sully the day before. Had it been just twenty-four hours since he’d been murdered right under our noses? A part of me was still in shock from the event, but I’d learned early on that life goes on. There was nothing we could do to bring Sully back, but at least we could do our best to catch his killer.

  Jake looked around intently, but I honestly didn’t have a clue what he hoped to see. After all, the police had examined the crime scene thoroughly, no doubt photographing it from every angle as well, and then we’d studied it ourselves. Besides the torn fragment of the twenty-dollar bill—which was beginning to look more and more significant—no one had been able to come up with anything useful, at least as far as we were aware. I decided to widen my focus a little and started walking around the room in broadening circles to see if there was anything outside of Jake’s narrow scope of interest.

  “What are you doing?” he asked me.

  I glanced over and saw that my husband had been watching me. “The same thing you are. I’m trying to make sure that we didn’t miss anything.”

  “Good. Keep it up,” Jake said, and then he went back to his close examination of the exact spot where the murder had occurred. How long could he keep analyzing the same few square feet? I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary during my own search, and after a few minutes, I decided to get a breath of fresh air. I didn’t want to go out the front door since Officer Griffin was still posted there, so I headed for the back; it was the same avenue the killer had used to make their escape, as well as whoever had visited the wagon factory the night before, which more than likely was the same person.

  I had my hand on the doorknob when something caught my eye. Squatting down to get a better look at it, I could see that it was a torn piece of flannel sporting a partial red-and-black-check pattern.

  I’d seen that same pattern on Sully’s shirt, as well as Bob and Jim’s tops. Even Shirley Edam’s robe had sported a similar design.

  It appeared that we were on the right track after all.