Evil Éclairs

by Jessica Beck

  “Maybe a bite,” he said as he pinched off a piece of éclair. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to eat one of those particular pastries ever again, but if it bothered George, he didn’t show it.

  I locked the door and flipped the sign to the world that there would be no more donuts, at least for today. “Emma, if you’ll sweep up out here and clean the tables, I’ll handle the rest of the dishes.”

  “That’s a deal,” she said. “There’s not much left back there, anyway.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bright and early,” she said.

  George and I disappeared into the kitchen, and I decided I could knock the dishes out and still make my lunch with Cara.

  “If you want to go ahead while I work, I’d love to hear what you’ve found out,” I said.

  As I started the water in the sink, George said, “I hate to admit it, but I haven’t had too much luck so far.”

  “That’s fine. You haven’t had much time.”

  George looked frustrated. “That’s not it. It appears our chief of police had a feeling I’d be helping you investigate this. He’s blocked my access to the police department, Suzanne. All I could find out before he shut me out was that Lester had more enemies than they can count, but we already knew that, didn’t we? I would have found out more, but Martin kicked me out of headquarters before I could do much more digging.”

  He was clearly hurt by the move, and I wondered what price he was paying for having helped me in the past. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged, finished his coffee, and said, “It’s not your fault.”

  “We both know better than that. Why don’t you sit this one out? I can do a little digging myself, and I’m sure Grace will be more than willing to help.”

  George shook his head. “There’s not much I can do about the police chief, but I’ve got some contacts of my own. It’s just going to be a little tougher this time, that’s all.”

  I was about to insist that he drop it, but one look at his eyes told me that would be the wrong thing to say. Since George had retired from the force, I knew he missed many aspects of his old job. There was power in knowing what was going on behind the scenes, and he’d always been more than generous using his connections to gather information for me in the past. “Don’t let him get you down, then,” I said, “but even if you can’t access your usual sources, I can still use your insight and deductive skills.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he studied me. “Suzanne, you’re not patronizing me, are you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m as sincere as I can be. Regardless of whether you can run criminal records or snoop through files, you’ve got instincts I depend on.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to make my contributions more than that.” He glanced at the clock. “What time’s that lunch of yours with Cara?”

  I looked up. “I’m going to be late if I don’t leave right now.” I’d heard Emma leave a few minutes before, and I began to regret letting her go. I hated having dirty dishes sit on the counter or even in the sink, but there was nothing I could do about it. I threw my dishrag down on the counter, and George swooped it up.

  “Go on, you don’t want to be late. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll finish them for you,” he said.

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Come on, Suzanne, it will give me some time to think about my next move, and if I’m able to give you a hand, so much the better.”

  I kissed him on the cheek. “I’d try to talk you out of it, but my heart just wouldn’t be in it.” I handed him a spare key. “Lock up when you leave, okay?”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  I started to grab my jacket, but knew that temperatures had warmed up substantially since I’d taken that predawn ride in the police cruiser. It was a lovely day as I made my way up the tracks to the Boxcar Grill. The walk there was an easy and natural path, since my converted train depot and the diner were both poised near the long-forgotten railroad tracks, its steel rails now buried in the grass. I often wondered about who had traveled the line when it had been active. Rail travel had long fascinated me, and I kept threatening to close the donut shop for a couple of weeks and fly to Canada for a vacation I could only dream about. There was a train ride up there through the Canadian Rockies that looked amazing, but I knew it was just a pipe dream. I couldn’t even keep the shop closed one day a week like any sane and rational person would do, instead choosing to go it alone and give my assistant the day off. Two weeks off from work was simply out of the question. I’d wanted to take that trip as a honeymoon when I’d married Max, but he’d been more interested in going to Hollywood. Like an idiot, I’d gone along with the plan, only to discover that he’d scheduled two auditions while we were there. The Great Impersonator had struck again, and I wondered how I didn’t realize that our marriage was doomed from the start. I was probably still seeing the world through love-tinted glasses; looking back on it now, I found it hard to believe that I’d ever really been that naïve.

  * * *

  “Someone’s here waiting for you,” Trish Granger said as I walked into the Boxcar Grill. Trish and I had been friends almost as long as Grace and I had. She was fit and trim, and her blond ponytail was neatly in place, as always. She’d worn her hair down a handful of times over the years, and each time I marveled about how different—and how foreign—she looked.

  “What can I say? I’m a popular woman,” I said as I looked around the long counter and the line of booths. Most of the booths and several of the seats at the counter were taken. It took me a second to spot Cara.

  “Do you need a menu?” Trish asked me as I started toward the booth Cara had captured.

  “Have I ever needed one?” I asked Trish with a grin.

  “I make other things besides cheeseburgers, you know,” she said.

  “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

  I said hello a few times as I made my way through the intimate space. I thought I’d known a lot of people growing up in April Springs, but it amazed me how many people I came into contact with running Donut Hearts. Grace had been trying to convince me to run for mayor, but I had enough on my hands just running the shop and trying to stay out of trouble without adding the town’s troubles to my plate.

  As I joined her, I said, “Thanks for meeting me, Cara.”

  She smiled. “Are you kidding? This is a real treat for me. I don’t get out much.”

  “You must not,” I said with a smile of my own, “if I’m considered a treat.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Suzanne.” Cara picked up a menu and studied it for a moment before realizing that I didn’t have one. “Do you want to share?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll have a meal by myself.”

  “I meant the menu.”

  “I know you did,” I said. “It’s just my odd sense of humor. I don’t need to see a menu. I get the same thing every time I come.”

  Cara nodded and put her menu on the table. “Then I’ll have what you’re having.”

  “Wow, that’s a bold move. What if I order a squid sandwich?”

  “I didn’t see one on the menu, but I’m in a real risk-taking mood. Besides, you’re the one buying.”

  I laughed, happy to be sharing her company. I knew she hadn’t been fond of Lester, but I still wasn’t sure how she’d react to our lunch. She seemed in good spirits. Death did that to people sometimes. It made them realize how precious life really was.

  Trish approached with an order pad. “Are you ready?”

  “My regular, times two.”

  She nodded, then looked at Cara. “You’re just encouraging her, you know that, don’t you?”

  After Trish went to place our order, I could see a slip of concern show on Cara’s face. I didn’t want her on edge just before I was going to grill her. “Don’t worry. I usually get a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.”

  She looked relieved. “That sounds great.” Cara ad
justed her place mat until it was perfectly aligned with the tabletop. “Now, what would you like to know about Lester?”

  “It can wait until after we eat,” I said.

  She shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon get it over with so we can enjoy our food.”

  “Fair enough. What can you tell me about the man that I might not already know?”

  “Besides his penchant for shooting off his mouth?” She must have realized how callous that sounded. “Sorry. I’m so used to complaining about him that I keep forgetting it’s not polite to speak of the dead that way.”

  Trish brought us our drinks, and after she was gone, I lowered my voice. “If you could suppress that feeling for a few minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

  She nodded. “Okay, I get it. Let’s see, what is there to say about my former boss? He had a temper, but I don’t have to tell you that, and he enjoyed nothing more in the world than going after people with his editorials.”

  “Anybody in particular? I wasn’t a big fan, and he usually ran his spots after my bedtime.”

  “Are you kidding? You were just his latest target. In the past four days, he’s gone after the mayor, one of our town councilwomen, and a shady businessman from Hudson Creek. What he did to you was gentle compared to the way he went after them.”

  “Do you think one of them could have had something to do with Lester’s death?” I still had a hard time calling it murder.

  She played with her straw for a second, and then said, “I honestly couldn’t say.”

  “So, there’s no shortage of people for my list.”

  “It might be easier coming up with folks who didn’t want to see him pay for his actions and attitude.”

  I took a sip of my drink, and then asked, “Can you think of anything else he might have been into that could have gotten him into trouble?”

  She appeared to think about that for a few seconds before answering. “The only other person I can think of who might have wanted to see him dead is his wife.”

  “What?” I nearly spilled my Coke. “Lester was married?”

  Cara nodded. “It surprised me, too, when I found out. They haven’t lived together in ten years, but for some reason, they never got a divorce. She called the station once. I thought Lester was going to have a heart attack.”

  “Do you know anything about her?”

  Cara frowned. “Not really. Her name is Nancy Patton, and she lives in Union Square. I’ve never met the woman, but she surely was able to push his buttons. If I were digging into this myself, I’d talk to her.”

  “What makes you think I’m investigating what happened to Lester?” Were my actions that transparent to the rest of the world?

  She shook her head. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Why else would you care about Lester? Not that I blame you. He was just my boss, but if I’d had a reason to want him dead, I’d probably be looking into who killed him myself.”

  That was an interesting point. “You had to work with him every day. That has to make you a suspect in the eyes of the police, too.”

  She frowned. “I don’t think so, but I could be wrong. The chief questioned me, but Lester was my paycheck, for all intents and purposes. I’m going to have a hard time finding a job making anywhere near what I was pulling in from the station. The last thing I ever wanted was for something bad to happen to Lester. Besides, I wasn’t even at the station when it must have happened. I was at home with my kids. I only get them once a month, and I’m not about to waste a visit.”

  “You should be okay, then.”

  Our food came, and we switched topics to make the meal more pleasant. After a nice lunch during which we avoided talking about Lester completely, I picked up the check, and Cara thanked me as she left.

  I had paid the bill and was saying good-bye to Trish when the last person in the world I wanted to see suddenly blocked my way out the door.

  OATMEAL/RAISIN/CRANBERRY DONUTS

  This recipe is one where I got carried away. I started with a basic recipe, and then added oatmeal. That was good, and since I love oatmeal raisin cookies, I added a handful of raisins, as well. I was scrounging in my pantry one day and found dried cranberries, so I decided to add them to the mix. A lot of folks might add nuts to this recipe, but I’m not a fan, so I skip them. These are really tasty, and are pretty, too!

  INGREDIENTS

  • 1 egg, beaten

  • ½ cup sugar (granulated white)

  • ½ cup milk (2% or whole milk will do)

  • 2 tablespoons canola oil

  • ½ teaspoon vanilla

  • ¼ teaspoon cinnamon

  • 1 cup all purpose flour

  • 1 teaspoon baking powder

  • ½ teaspoon baking soda

  • ¼ teaspoon salt

  • 2 tablespoons oatmeal (old-fashioned, not quick)

  • 2 tablespoons raisins

  • 2 tablespoons dried cranberries

  DIRECTIONS

  Heat canola oil for frying to 360 degrees while you mix the batter. Add the sugar slowly to the beaten egg, incorporating it along the way. Then add the milk, oil, and vanilla, stirring well. Sift the dry ingredients, but hold out the oatmeal, raisins, and cranberries for last. Add the dry ingredients to the wet, and then fold in the extras, until the batter is smooth.

  When the ingredients are incorporated, take a teaspoon of batter and rake it into the fryer with another spoon. If the dough doesn’t rise soon, gently nudge it with a chopstick, being careful not to splatter oil. After two minutes, check, and then flip, frying for another minute on the other side. These times may vary given too many factors to count, so keep a close eye on the donuts.

  Makes around eighteen small donuts.

  CHAPTER 4

  “What are you doing here, Max?” The last I’d heard, my ex-husband, Max—also known as the Great Impersonator—had left town for California, hoping to increase his presence in national commercials. He’d claimed to be a serious actor from the moment we’d met, but the only things I’d ever seen him acting in were thirty- and sixty-second spots. He was handsome as ever, and I wondered if karma would ever work on him and he’d finally start to show his age. So far, no such luck.

  “Come on, aren’t you glad to see me?” He gave me the grin that had melted my heart once upon a time, but no more.

  “About as happy as I would be getting audited by the IRS,” I said. “Do you want to move, or do I have to go through you? Either way is fine with me.”

  His smile faltered a little. “Can’t we at least be friends? I know Bishop is in your life now, but that doesn’t mean the two of us can’t at least be cordial to each other.”

  “Fine. We’re friends.”

  He didn’t budge. Instead, Max stuck out his hand and grinned at me. “Let’s shake on it.”

  Trish came up beside me. “Everything okay, Suzanne? I’ve got a brand-new Taser behind the counter, and it’s fully charged. I’d love to have a chance to try it out.”

  Max pulled back his hand and put both up in the air in capitulation. “No need for violence, ladies. I can take a hint; I’m moving. Is it okay if I grab a table now?”

  “As long as you behave yourself,” Trish said, softening her scowl to a smile.

  “That I can’t promise,” Max replied, his grin back at full wattage.

  After he was gone, I said to Trish, “Sorry about that. He always seems to bring out the worst in me.”

  “What else are exes good for?” Trish asked. “You don’t have to apologize to me, especially not when it comes to Max.”

  I left the Boxcar, and wondered how Jake was getting along as I walked back toward my shop. I missed him, but I realized how important his job was to him. It kept him on the road too many days, but my boyfriend was literally keeping the bad guys off the streets, so I couldn’t exactly complain about it. Compared to what I did, he was a world saver. Not that donuts didn’t add a little joy to people’s days. I wasn’t one to un
derestimate the power of a good pastry, but I wasn’t kidding anybody. Nobody’s life was going to change because of one of my treats.

  I was nearly back at the donut shop to see if George had finished washing those dishes when I saw a car I knew parked in front.

  Grace was sitting inside, and I couldn’t have been happier to see her. Besides being my best friend, she’d been my partner in crime in the past, investigating cases off the police chief’s radar, and I needed her now, more than ever.

  The second Grace saw me, she popped out of her car and hugged me. “You are a trouble magnet, young lady,” she said as she pulled away.

  “It does seem to find me. Sorry I didn’t call this morning as soon as I found out about Lester.”

  “You’re forgiven,” she said. “You wouldn’t have reached me, anyway. I was out of town.”

  “Business?” I asked.

  “It surely wasn’t pleasure. I’ve got an employee in Asheville I’m going to have to fire if she doesn’t shape up, and fast. Who knew being a supervisor was going to be such a pain? It’s seriously cutting into my own slack time.”

  “You could have gone to San Francisco,” I reminded her.

  “All in all, I’d rather be here, even with the headaches. So, word around town is that you shoved a pastry down Lester Moorefield’s throat. Do you need an alibi? Or how about ten thousand dollars in unmarked bills and a passport in someone else’s name?”

  “Do you have either one of those on you?” I asked her with a smile.

  Grace pulled out her wallet. After a second, she said, “How about seventy-three dollars and one of my old expired driver’s licenses?”

  “I’ll pass. I could use your help, though, unless you’re too busy with work.”

  “Hey, I’m the boss now, remember? I’ll work it out. What can I do to help?”

  “I just found out Lester Moorefield is still married to a woman in Union Square, and I need to pay her a visit. Care to come along?”

  “What are we waiting for?” Grace asked. That was just one of the things I loved about my best friend. If I needed her, she was there. There were no questions, no qualifiers, just a ready yes every time I asked.