by Kate Bell
“Wow, thanks, Allie!” George said, jumping up and taking the box from me. “I can smell it through the box.”
“Persimmon Cookies,” I said. “Okay if I go back to see Alec?”
“Sure,” Yancey said, not looking at me. He had joined George, and each already had a cookie in each of their hands.
I hummed jingle bells as I headed down the hall toward Alec’s office. I couldn’t wait to put my Christmas tree up and put the lights on the house.
Before I could make it to the end of the hall, Sam Bailey stepped out from a doorway and looked at me. He didn’t say a word.
“Hi, Sam, persimmon cookies, as promised. I baked a batch special, just for you,” I said and held one of the boxes out to him. I cranked up the Southern accent and charm and gave him my best smile.
He reluctantly gave me a tightlipped smile in return. He couldn’t resist my cookies. No one could.
“Thanks, Allie. I bet these are great,” he said, looking at the box.
“They are. I put extra spices in them. That’s what makes them special.” I slipped past him, hoping he wouldn’t say anything about me riding along with Alec.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
Dang it. “Oh, just taking some cookies to Alec,” I said, holding up the remaining box. “He loves my cookies.”
Sam didn’t say anything else, and I continued down the hall and knocked on Alec’s door. I could feel Sam watching me and I had to resist the temptation to turn around and look back at him. Just play it cool, I told myself.
“Come in,” Alec called from the other side of the door.
I opened the door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me. I gave him a big smile. “Hey, I made you some persimmon cookies, as promised.”
He gave me a half smile. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Nonsense, I bribed Sam with cookies. It’s fine,” I whispered. The walls in the police station were thin, and I was sure Sam was still out in the hall.
He shook his head. “You are incorrigible.”
I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. “These are good with coffee.” I opened the box and the smell of cloves wafted up.
“Wow, those do smell good,” he admitted, and took one.
“So tell me, did you get the lab reports back?” I asked, sitting in the visitor’s chair and helping myself to a cookie.
He swallowed and nodded. “The gun was a hunting rifle, which we knew. Whoever the shooter was, they were an ace marksman. Shot him through the heart. He died instantly.”
“Wow,” I said. “Then why didn’t they hit you or me when they were shooting at us?”
He shrugged. “That’s a good question. Maybe because they didn’t want to kill us. But then you have to wonder why shoot at us at all? It doesn’t make sense.”
“And what about fingerprints on anything removed from the scene?” I was starting to sound more and more like a real detective.
“Nothing. Not one. I was hoping they could come up with something at the lab, but no such luck,” he said and took a sip of his coffee.
“Anything new on who else hated Todd? Other than everyone at his place of employment?” I asked, sitting back in my chair. I was tempted to open Alec’s office door and see if Sam Bailey was still out there, but then I’d have to explain why I was suspicious. We kept whispering instead.
“No one new, yet. But the Medical Examiner’s office came back with something interesting,” he said.
“What?” I asked excitedly. “Tell me.”
He chuckled. “You must be a lot of fun on Christmas morning,” he said. “There were scratches on his chest, and one on his neck. He also had a faint bruise on his left jawline, and a couple more on his chest.”
“Scratches? What kind of scratches?”
“He must have had a scuffle with someone,” he said.
“I didn’t notice a bruise on Thanksgiving,” I said, trying to remember back.
“The scratches had nearly healed up, and the bruise was pretty faded. Do you know if he was seeing anyone? No one at the bank had mentioned he had a significant other,” he said.
I shook my head. “I have no idea. I didn’t know him well at all.”
“Well, it’s something to look into,” he said, and opened the file folder he had in front of him and flipped through papers in it.
“Is that the file on Todd?” I asked, and bit into my cookie.
He nodded. “Yes it is.”
I leaned forward. “Are there pictures of him in there? You know, dead pictures?”
He looked up at me. “Yes, there are. Were you interested in seeing them?”
I sat back in my chair. “No. I do not want to see pictures.”
He smirked at me and went back to the file. “Did you ever figure out who called you from Todd Spellman’s residence?” he asked without looking up.
“No. I have no idea,” I said. “But I baked them some cookies and I’m going to drop them by. Just to see how things are going.”
“Allie, I want you to go easy on them. They just had a traumatic death in the family.”
I gasped. “I do understand about grief,” I said indignantly.
“I know, I know. Sorry,” he said. “I just don’t want any complaints coming in to Sam Bailey.”
“Okay, I understand,” I said. Sam Bailey could become a problem. Baked goods bribes, or not. “Are you going to do any investigating today?” I whispered the last part.
“Some, but I’m going to do it on my own. Let’s play it cool for a while, okay?”
“Got it.” Sam Bailey couldn’t do anything about Lucy and I investigating on our own.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hello, Connie, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” I said, when the Spellman’s door opened. “I was baking persimmon cookies for a friend and I thought ya’ll might like some, too. They’re my grandmama’s special recipe.”
I held the box out, smiling brightly.
Connie may have been a little surprised to see me. She stood looking at me, her eyes wide. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” she finally said. “Thank you.”
She still stood there, looking at me without taking the box or inviting me in.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll just put these in the kitchen for you,” I said, and gently pushed past her. “How is Mr. Spellman doing today?” I said over my shoulder as I headed to the kitchen.
“Oh, he’s doing well,” she said as she hurried to keep up with me. “We weren’t expecting company, please excuse the mess.”
On the living room floor were open boxes of paperwork and books. Piles of paperwork covered the top of the coffee table and end table and there was a messy stack of books in the middle of the floor.
“Oh, that’s okay, don’t you worry about a thing. I know when I’m going through things, I tend to spread stuff around, too. I expect it’s a lot, going through things and getting the house packed up,” I said sympathetically. I set the box of cookies on the kitchen counter and opened it up. “Don’t they smell heavenly?” I asked, giving her my best smile.
“Why, yes, yes they do,” she agreed, and glanced nervously over her shoulder.
“Is everything okay, Connie?” I asked. I hoped she would say something that would give me a clue about the murder. If she knew anything at all.
She smiled. “Yes, of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Oh, no reason,” I said, shaking my head. I didn’t want to blow it. “Is Mr. Spellman around? I just know he’d love these cookies.”
“He’s napping,” she said, still standing. It didn’t look like I was going to be asked to have a seat.
There was an uncomfortable silence with both of us standing there, looking at each other.
“Connie, why don’t you try one of these cookies? They’re so moist, they’ll make you cry,” I said, holding the box up for her to see from where she stood.
“No thank you. I’ve just eaten, and I couldn’t eat another bite. But I do appreci
ate you bringing them by. Perhaps after dinner this evening, we’ll all try one,” she said.
“Is Terrence around? I bet he’d like one,” I suggested. I knew I was pushing it, but I didn’t care.
“No, he went out for a paper,” she said, still standing and looking at me.
“Connie, I just wanted to express my condolences on the loss of your brother again. I’m sure there are a lot of people mourning him. I didn’t know him personally, but I would imagine a man as caring as he was would have a significant other. I feel terribly for her, whoever she is,” I said.
Connie’s body language said she wasn’t thrilled to have me paying her another visit.
“I think he mentioned there was someone he was seeing last time I spoke to him on the phone, but I never met her,” she said, and gave me a tired sigh.
“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure he would have liked to have introduced you both,” I said, nodding sympathetically.
“Listen, Allie, I do appreciate you bringing the cookies by, but we would like our privacy,” she said flatly.
“Oh, of course,” I said. “I understand completely. Did you ever get a chance to take a look at my blog? The one on grief?”
She breathed out heavily. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, Allie. Thank you for all your help.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, well, you just give me a call if you need anything,” I said, and made a beeline to the front door. I didn’t want to be tossed out on my ear, so I thought it best to go willingly.
I could hear her footsteps behind me, and when I got to the front door, she reached past me. “Oh,” I said when she brushed up against my back and opened the door for me. If she got any closer, she would bump me out the door and off the front step.
I took a step down onto the bottom step and turned to say goodbye when the door slammed in my face. Well!
Having a door slammed in my face was a first for me. I stared at it a few seconds longer, trying to regain my composure, and then went to my car.
Within seven minutes, I was on Lucy’s doorstep.
“Hey, let’s go to the Cup and Bean and get a coffee,” I said when she answered the door.
She gave me a smile. “Why? What’s up?”
“Why do you say that?” I innocently asked.
“Because I know you too well. Let me get my coat and I’ll be right out,” she said.
***
The Cup and Bean was bustling for being late morning. I ordered a cinnamon chestnut latte and Lucy got a holiday spice cappuccino. I turned and surveyed the room and saw old Mr. Winters sitting at a table in the corner near the front window, reading the morning paper.
“Come on,” I said to Lucy, and we headed toward the back of the coffee shop.
“So? Spill it. What do you know?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Honestly, not that much,” I whispered, and glanced at Mr. Winters.
She looked in his direction, then turned back to me and shrugged.
“I just can’t understand who would want to kill poor Todd Spellman,” I said in a slightly louder than conversational tone of voice. “He was such a good and kind person.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes at me. “Oh, yes. Yes, he was,” she said, catching on. “He was always such a giver. It’s a shame that someone could mercilessly kill someone like him.”
We both glanced at Mr. Winters, but he was still reading his paper.
“You know, I can’t imagine who it could be. Everyone knows what a wonderful person Todd was,” I said.
“Oh, I agree. Maybe it was just some unlucky deer hunter that missed his mark,” Lucy said.
I tsk tsked a little, but Mr. Winters wasn’t biting. That was odd. Mr. Winters owned a pair of fancy supersonic hearing aids, and he had always volunteered whatever information he had. I sighed and looked at Lucy.
“Come on,” I said, and we picked up our coffees and headed to Mr. Winters’ table.
“Good morning, Mr. Winters,” I said. “Can we share your table?”
Mr. winters continued reading his paper. I looked at Lucy.
“Mr. Winters?” Lucy said loudly. “Mr. Winters?”
Mr. Winters looked up and jumped a little. “Oh, hello ladies.”
“Good Morning,” I said. “Can we share your table? It’s getting crowded in here.” There were plenty of empty tables, including the one we had just vacated, but that was a minor detail.
“Eh? I can’t hear you!” he said loudly, tilting his head toward me.
“Can we sit?” I said loudly and pointed to one of the empty chairs at his table.
He reached for his ear and touched his hearing aid. “I turned my hearing aid off to save the battery. Those things are expensive!”
Lucy pulled a chair out and sat down and I followed her lead. What good were supersonic hearing aids if you turned them off?
“How are you, Mr. Winters?” I asked.
“Oh, fine, fine,” he said. “Say, have you heard anything new about Todd Spellman’s murder?”
“No, not much at all,” I said, and made myself refrain from looking at Lucy.
“Well, I heard Rudy Gallo did it. He’s a deer hunter, you know. He hated Todd because he wouldn’t give him a home loan. Said Todd laughed at his credit score.”
“I didn’t know he was a deer hunter, but a lot of people in these parts are deer hunters,” I said. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but maybe Rudy had a temper and being laughed at was just too much for him.
“I’m not buying it,” Lucy said. “I mean, laughing at someone isn’t reason enough to kill over. Maybe it’s reason enough to punch someone, but not kill them.”
“Well, there’s also the matter of Rudy’s underage daughter,” Mr. Winter said.
“What? What matter?” I asked, leaning in.
“Rudy has a seventeen-year-old daughter and word has it that Todd had his eye on her. She’s a looker, that one. A cheerleader at the high school,” Mr. Winters said and folded over the paper he had been reading.
My heart skipped a beat. Had Rudy’s daughter been responsible for the scratches found on Todd’s body?
“Now that’s reason enough to kill someone over,” Lucy said, nodding.
“It certainly is,” I said. If a thirty-something man had been stalking Jennifer when she was seventeen, I’d murder someone, too.
“And don’t forget, in September, someone went over to Todd Spellman’s house and busted out all of his windows,” he said, nodding his head. “Every one of them, from what I hear.”
“I never heard that,” I said. “Lucy, did you hear that one?”
“Oh, you know what? I think I did hear about that. I forgot all about it,” she said, her brow furrowed in thought.
“Really? That could be kind of important. How could you not remember that?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “That was over two months ago. Besides, who says that has anything to do with his murder?”
“Because I think someone busting out every window in someone’s house probably shows a lot of rage. Enough rage to want to kill that person,” I said. I really thought that would be obvious, but I guess I was wrong.
“Seems that way to me, too,” Mr. Winters said.
“How do you two know about this?” I asked. I needed facts if I was going to present something to Alec.
“Well, I don’t really recall,” Mr. Winters said, stirring his coffee.
“I can’t remember either,” Lucy said. “Oh, no, wait. I think it was Diana Bowen. Yes, that’s it. She had gone to a Chamber of Commerce meeting and everyone was talking about it.”
Great. Diana was dead and Mr. Winters had no idea who he’d heard it from. These two were never going to be detective material.
Chapter Fifteen
“Surprise!” I whispered, poking my head around Alec’s office door.
He jumped and squealed a little, then tried to cover it up with a cough. “What are you doing here, Allie?”
“I just stopped in to say h
ello. Can I get a hello from you?” I asked, offended.
“You could have knocked,” he said. He gave me a frown.
“It’s not like I barged in. Your door was open a crack,” I pointed out. “I would think I would garner a little happier greeting.”
“Sorry,” he said and stood up and leaned over his desk and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Is something wrong?” I asked as he sat down again.
“No, nothing,” he said quietly. “Well, actually, yes. The police chief doesn’t want you riding along with me. It’s not like I can blame him. It’s a tremendous risk for you.”
“He doesn’t have to know,” I pointed out. By his demeanor, I suspected Sam Bailey had said more than what Alec was letting on, but I decided not to press him. I didn’t want to cause trouble for him.
“No, Allie, no more riding along. I just can’t have it. It’s too risky,” he said, looking at his computer screen. We sat in silence for a few minutes. He never looked in my direction. It kind of hurt my feelings that he was ignoring me, but I decided to chalk it up to pressure from the job.
I reached over and closed his office door. “I found out a couple of things that are interesting,” I whispered.
He glanced at me. “Why are you investigating on your own?”
“I wasn’t investigating. At least not in the traditional sense. Lucy and I ran in to Mr. Winters at the Cup and Bean. Mr. Winters said that back in September, someone broke out all the windows in Todd Spellman’s house. All of them. I would think he would have filed a police report.”
Alec glanced at me again and then started typing on his keyboard. He shook his head. “I’m not finding a report. You’re right I would think he would have reported that. His house has a lot of large windows. It had to cost him a small fortune to replace them.”
“It would be hard to convince the insurance agency that it was an act of nature,” I pointed out.
“For sure,” he said, still looking at his computer screen.
“I found out something else, too. It seems there was a seventeen-year-old girl that Todd had his eye on before he was murdered.”