Evil Éclairs

by Jessica Beck

  “Do you mind giving me a hand before we both topple over?” I asked.

  Grace offered a quick hand, and we moved Nancy to a nearby sofa. The FOR SALE sign got a little crumpled as we put her down, but that was the least of my worries. Could she have a bad heart? If she did, the shock Grace had just given her might have been enough to push her over the edge. I couldn’t wait any longer for her to come to on her own. I started to dial 911 when Grace saw what I was doing. “Hang on a second. Let me try something else first.”

  There was a glass of water on the desk, and she got it and flicked a good amount of it into Nancy’s face. It took a second, but her eyelids finally began to flutter, and she woke up.

  “What happened?” she asked as she looked at us both. Her gaze turned suspicious as she asked, “Did you two drug me?”

  “You fainted,” I said, surprised to hear what her first notion was about us. There wasn’t a whole lot of trust there.

  Grace leaned in and added, “I’m so sorry that we were the ones who told you.”

  Nancy’s face reddened. “I had to hear it eventually. It was such a shock hearing it blurted out like that.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Grace said.

  “Who would want to see him dead, Nancy?” I asked.

  She shook her head as though to clear the cobwebs, then took a few moments to compose herself. “Lester always had a way of bringing out the worst in people, you know? It could be anybody he’s offended. The police should look into his editorials and question those people he exposed most recently.”

  I wasn’t about to volunteer the information that I’d been the last one in his sights. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She dabbed at a tear as she said, “I just can’t believe he’s really gone. What happened to him?”

  “He was choked,” I said, having no desire to divulge that one of my pastries had been jammed into his mouth. It hadn’t killed him, even the police knew that, though I had to wonder if most folks in April Springs would believe that it wasn’t my éclair that had done him in, no matter what the official cause of death was.

  “That sounds dreadful.” Her face went even paler at the news, and I was beginning to worry that she might be on her way to passing out again.

  It was essential to ask questions while she was still conscious. “Your arrangements were unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

  She frowned at me as she answered. “I don’t see how. There are many married couples who choose to live apart in different areas.”

  “It’s usually more bicoastal than towns half an hour apart, though. I’ve known Lester for years, and I just found out about you today.”

  Nancy shrugged. “It worked for us. We never felt the need to explain anything to anyone else.”

  Lester’s widow was starting to get some of her bristle back, and I knew that I had to speak quickly if I was going to find out anything else. “Besides his radio program, can you think of any other ways he might have antagonized someone?”

  Nancy appeared to think about it, and then she said, “Nothing, unless this has something to do with his book.”

  “What book?”

  Nancy’s smile lacked warmth as she explained, “The last time we spoke, Lester told me that he was writing an exposé on someone in April Springs that would blow the lid off the town. He was more excited about it than I’d seen him in years.” She paused, and then added, “Then again, I never could read the man. There might be no book at all.”

  This was news to me. “Any idea who it might have been about?”

  “Not a clue, and if I know Lester, it won’t be easy to figure out. He played things pretty close to the vest, even with me.” Another tear tracked down her cheek. “I know it’s going to strike a great many people as odd, but I’m going to miss him.”

  “Since you two are married, I suppose you’ll inherit everything,” Grace said. She’d been standing there so quietly listening to us that I’d nearly forgotten she was there.

  “I’m not concerned about that at the moment.” Nancy stood and brushed imaginary wrinkles out of her outfit. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to close the shop. I suppose I have to see to the arrangements.”

  As she hustled us both out, I was nearly to the door when it occurred to me that I was forgetting something. I wasn’t about to leave without the cutter I’d just bought, and I walked back to the desk to retrieve it.

  Nancy looked annoyed to see that I wouldn’t leave. “What is it? I’m afraid I have a great deal of work to do before I lock the doors.”

  “I almost forgot my donut cutter,” I said.

  She put a hand on it before I could pull it away. “After you pay for it, it’s yours.”

  “But I already paid you in cash,” I said.

  She looked at me skeptically. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe so. Did I give you a receipt?”

  What was she trying to pull here? “You were writing one when my friend told you about your husband.”

  Nancy pretended to look through a pile of papers on her desk. “I don’t see it. Sorry, I wish I could help.”

  I could see that Grace was about to explode when I said calmly, “Let’s call the police. I’m sure they can straighten this out. Once you balance your cash drawer, you’ll see that you already collected my money for it.”

  When Nancy realized that we weren’t backing down, she looked once more on her desk. What a surprise. She suddenly “found” my nearly completed receipt after all. I took the cutter from her, as well as the receipt, and thanked her for her time.

  Once we were outside, Grace said, “She’s got nerve trying to steal your money right out from under your nose. From what we’ve heard, the woman’s consistent, if nothing else; I have to give her that.”

  “I can’t believe she could lie so convincingly. If I hadn’t seen her take my money, I would have started to doubt it happened myself.”

  “It might just have worked on someone meeker than you,” Grace said. “I wonder how many times she’s gotten away with that particular tactic.”

  As we got into my Jeep, I said, “Too many to count, most likely. One thing’s certain. We can’t trust a word she says to us.”

  “That’s easy,” Grace said with a laugh. “I rarely believe the people we talk to when we’re investigating a case.” She paused, and then added, “I wonder who this mystery book is about?”

  “Funny, I was just wondering if it was even true. It almost sounded like she was trying to deflect our attention away from herself with that outlandish story. Did Lester strike you as the type who would even read a book, let alone write one?”

  Grace smiled at me, and I asked, “What?”

  “You don’t trust much, do you?”

  I shook my head. “If nothing else, I like to think that I learn from my past mistakes. Are you ready to look into this some more?”

  “You know me. I’m game for anything.”

  As we headed back to April Springs, I couldn’t help wishing that Jake were in town. We didn’t often coordinate our investigations, since his work was official and mine was always under the radar, but I would have felt a lot better having him handling the case from the other side. It was wishful thinking, though. He was tied up, and Chief Martin wasn’t all that likely to give me a hand with my private search. If I was going to figure out what happened to Lester Moorefield, I was going to have to do it myself.

  And with a little help from my friends, too, of course.

  * * *

  We were almost back to April Springs when my cell phone rang. I dug it out of my pocket and said, “Hello?”

  “Hey, stranger,” said a voice I’d been longing to hear.

  “Jake,” I yelled as the wheel slipped a little in my hands. “Hang on a second.”

  “Pull over before you kill us both,” Grace said.

  I took her advice and pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned storefront for lease. “Where are you?”

  “I’m still in New Bern,” he admitt
ed.

  Some of the punch suddenly went out of me. “How’s it going?”

  I could hear his grin as he said, “We just wrapped the case up and managed to catch three bad guys, so it wasn’t a bad day at all. How would you like to go out on a date with me tomorrow evening?”

  “Why wait?” I asked as I glanced at my watch. “If you hurry, you can be here by seven.” I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed him since he’d been gone.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got a deskful of paperwork I have to finish first. I can leave here around noon tomorrow, though.”

  “That would be great.” I’d never been the kind of woman who needed a man around to be happy with my life, but I had to admit that it was nice having someone close who really cared about me.

  Jake said abruptly, “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” I said.

  I hung up the phone and looked at Grace. “He’s coming home tomorrow.”

  “I thought he was headed to April Springs,” she said.

  “That’s what I meant.” I glanced at Grace before I pulled back out into traffic. “What’s that grin for?”

  “It’s just nice to see you so happy.”

  “Trust me, it feels even better than it looks.”

  “So, if you’ve got a date tomorrow, we should get busy with the rest of our day today. Any ideas on what we should do next?”

  I’d been thinking about it for the past few minutes. “I want to find out more about this book, and if it even exists. Do you think Cara would know about it?”

  “It’s worth a shot. Do you want to call her?” Before I could say anything, she touched my arm lightly. “I mean after we get back into town.”

  “Let’s pop by the radio station. I’ve got a hunch that she’s probably still there.”

  I changed my route and headed for the radio station, but Cara’s car wasn’t in the parking lot.

  Lester’s was still there, though.

  “I figured they’d have taken that in for evidence by now,” Grace said.

  “Maybe they’ve already searched it.” I pulled in, an easy task now that the police tape and guard were gone.

  “It’s got to be a dead end.”

  “Not yet,” I said as I parked beside it.

  “What are we going to do?” Grace asked me as we got out.

  “Let’s see if it’s unlocked.”

  “Suzanne, you’ve had some bad ideas in the past, but this one goes to the top of the list. It’s one thing to have our own investigation on the side without the police, but this is a crime scene we’re about to violate here.”

  I waved around with my hand. “Do you see any police tape anywhere?”

  “No,” she admitted reluctantly.

  “Any cops doing any investigating?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Then we’re okay.”

  I tried the driver’s side door.

  It was locked.

  “Check the other doors,” I said.

  No luck. The car, if it had a single clue in it that the police had overlooked, wasn’t going to do us any good.

  Grace headed back toward the Jeep. “Too bad it didn’t work out coming here, but you’ve got to admit, that happens sometimes.”

  “I’m not finished yet.”

  I went to the building’s door and tried the handle. It, too, was locked. Someone had to be there. The station couldn’t run itself, could it? I pounded for a full minute.

  “Give up. It’s no use.”

  Just as I was about to take her advice, the door opened.

  A young man I didn’t know answered, wearing a faded blue jumpsuit with his name emblazoned on the pocket.

  “Hi, Tim,” I said.

  His gaze narrowed. “Hello. How did you know my name?”

  “I thought it was something you might want to get off your chest.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Grace pushed past me. “Pardon my friend; she’s got an odd sense of humor. She’s talking about your coveralls.”

  He looked down and saw his own name stitched in red, then nodded his understanding.

  Grace continued, “My friend was interviewed here yesterday, and she left her purse. Do you mind if we look around for it?”

  “I don’t know,” Tim said. “I could get in trouble.”

  “How about a dozen free donuts tomorrow before you go to work?” I asked. In the past, donut bribes had gotten me places that even cash couldn’t.

  Tim looked around outside to see if anyone was watching us, and then held the door open. “Can I get them early? I go to work at six A.M.”

  “Perfect. I open at five-thirty.”

  He grinned, and then added, “Don’t take anything, and don’t go anywhere marked off-limits. You’ve got twelve minutes.”

  “One for each donut,” I said with a smile.

  He went back to his cleaning, and I started looking for Lester Moorefield’s desk. I’d half expected to find it blocked off by police tape, but it was bare. I started checking drawers, but someone—most likely the police—had cleaned everything out.

  “There’s nothing here,” I said.

  Grace looked around. “Nothing that’s going to help us, at any rate.”

  “Hang on a second, I’m not ready to give up yet.”

  “I have to say, you’re obsessed when you get an idea in your head.”

  I found Tim cleaning up in the break room. He glanced at his watch. “Done so quickly? You’ve still got seven minutes left.”

  “We might not need it. Did you empty the trash can by Lester’s desk today?”

  He looked confused by my question. “Sure, but why do you care? Do you think someone threw it away?”

  “Threw what away?” I asked.

  “Your purse. That’s why you’re here, right?”

  For an instant I’d forgotten all about our ruse. It was a good thing I wasn’t a spy. I’d never be able to keep up with all the lies I’d have to tell. “That’s right; my purse. It’s not all that big, so it could be anywhere.”

  He rooted around in the collecting bin. There was a divider down the middle; one side held general trash, and the other held papers, disposable bottles, and other recyclables. “Sorry, there’s no purse here.”

  “But you emptied Lester’s can today,” Grace repeated.

  “I did it just before you two came in, but it was mostly just paper. I’d have noticed a purse.”

  I nodded, and made an urgent gesture to Grace that I hoped Tim wouldn’t see. She caught on without any more coaching. “Tim, is there supposed to be water leaking in the bathroom in the hallway?”

  “I thought they fixed that,” he said as he grabbed a mop from his cart and sped for the hall.

  The second he was gone, I said, “That was an oddly freaky good guess.”

  “Don’t give me too much credit. There was a SLIPPERY FLOOR sign there when we walked in, and a mop was leaning up against the wall.”

  “That was still fast thinking on your part.”

  “Save the compliments for later,” Grace said. “You hunt. I’ll keep watch.”

  I wasn’t about to argue. She’d bought me some time, no matter how brief it might be, and I couldn’t squander it. I started looking through the papers on top of the recycling section. A few sheets had Lester’s name on them with his chicken-scratch handwriting, so I scooped them up first.

  Grace hissed, “Hurry.”

  There was no time to be selective. I grabbed everything I could and stuffed it all under my T-shirt. If I held my arms against my stomach, I might get out of there without leaving a paper trail behind me.

  “There’s no leak,” Tim said as soon as he returned.

  “It must have been my imagination. Sorry,” Grace said.

  He looked at me as I clutched my stomach. “You okay?”

  “I think I had a bad egg salad sandwich for lunch today,” I said.

  I could see the displeasure on his face, mo
st likely not from my illness, but from the prospect that he’d be the one who’d have to clean it up.

  I made a small moaning noise, and then I said, “If you don’t mind, we’d better go.”

  He looked downright relieved as I stumbled out clutching my stomach.

  “When did you have egg salad?” Grace asked when we were in the parking lot again.

  “A few weeks ago.”

  “And it’s just bothering you now?”

  “No, but how else could I explain holding my hands against my stomach like I was cramping up?” I lifted one corner of my shirt and showed her the papers I’d managed to sneak out of the building. Maybe something there would give us a clue about who would want Lester dead. No, that wasn’t right. There were plenty of “whos” already. What I really needed was a way to narrow things down.

  I held my T-shirt out and shoved the papers in the backseat of the Jeep. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

  “You read my mind,” she said.

  We drove away, and I asked, “Where should we go now? We can’t walk into the Boxcar Grill and start digging through those papers; it would be too easy for someone to see what we were up to. The donut shop’s out. I know these were all recycled, but I can’t help feeling they’re trash, and I don’t want them there. If we take them to my house, Momma’s going to want to know what we’re up to, and I don’t want to have that particular conversation, do you?”

  “Let’s take them to my place,” Grace volunteered.

  “It’s our best option, isn’t it? Are you sure you don’t have to get back to work now?”

  “I’ve got a confession to make,” Grace said with a smile. “I get three discretionary days a month as a supervisor, and I’m using them right now, all in a row.”

  “You sure you want to burn them helping me?”

  “Until Johnny Depp comes to his senses and sweeps me off my feet, I can’t think of a better use of my time.”

  I laughed. “You’ve got a pass, then. If Mr. Depp shows up, you’re off the hook, with my blessing.”

  “Whether I have it or not, you can bet that I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity if it ever comes up.”

  “I don’t blame you a bit.”

  We got to Grace’s place and started going through the papers on her broad porch. As we searched for something relevant to our investigation, Grace said softly, “I envy you, Suzanne.”