Cherry Filled Charges

by Jessica Beck

  “We could always go back to Napoli’s before we start investigating again,” I said as I made my way back to my dirty dishes.

  “I will waste away before then,” Grace said melodramatically. “Not even a crumb for a poor, hungry soul?”

  “I might have something for you,” I said as I flipped a box open that contained eleven donuts in a mixed variety.

  “You are a saint,” she said as she zeroed in on a cherry cake donut. “Any chance there’s coffee, too?”

  “Sorry. The last pot just went down the drain,” I said. “I can offer you chocolate milk or regular. Take your pick.”

  “Regular,” she said. “Don’t bother, I can serve myself.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I said with a smile. “How was your short day of work?”

  “I hate dealing with drama,” she said. “Two salespeople are going at it like cats and dogs.”

  “Competitors can do that sometimes,” I said.

  “It’s nothing like that. They’re both on my team. I warned Gregory and Samantha that dating was a bad idea, but they wouldn’t listen. Now that they’ve had a bad breakup, they are constantly trying to undermine each other in my eyes, and it’s driving me mad. Any advice?”

  “Me? I have all I can handle myself at the moment,” I said as I pointed to the dirty dishes still waiting for their baths.

  “Your problems are simpler than mine are,” she said with a frown.

  “That’s why you make the big bucks,” I said with a grin. It was true, too. Grace made a staggering amount of money compared to what I brought in on a daily basis, but I wouldn’t have traded places with her for anything. I may have had my own difficulties from day to day, but they were mine, and I was in no rush to trade them for anything worse.

  “True,” she said. “Do you need a hand?”

  “It would speed things up if you dried,” I said, “but don’t feel obligated.”

  “Say no more,” she said as she grabbed a clean, dry dishrag and started working right beside me. As we polished off the stack, we shared a few pleasant memories from our childhoods that we shared after I brought her up to speed about my conversation with Rosa Clifton and the stalker I’d seen outside in the shadows, and before I knew it, everything was clean.

  “Is that it?” she asked.

  “I still need to make the deposit out, if the register balances.”

  “I may need to eat another donut, if that’s the case,” she said.

  “Be my guest,” I said, grabbing a cinnamon cake donut on my way past her.

  “Hey, I was going to eat that,” she said.

  “You snooze, you lose,” I replied with a laugh. “Do you want to know something? It tastes even sweeter knowing that you wanted it, too.”

  “Grow up,” she said as she grabbed an old-fashioned cake donut from the box.

  “You first,” I said as I stuck my tongue out at her.

  She replied in kind, and we both started laughing.

  Fortunately the books all balanced, and in ten minutes, the bank behind us, we were on our way back to Union Square in my Jeep.

  “So, where are we going to eat?” Grace asked me. “Napoli’s again?”

  “Down, girl,” I said. “We need to speak with our suspects, at least the ones we can find at the moment, so that means it’s got to be the Lazy Eye.”

  “I’m game if you are. If the main courses are anything like the desserts, it’s going to be awesome.”

  “Remember, we need to push Clint and Shalimar about the murder, and about where they were last night as well.”

  “How’s your shoulder feeling today?” Grace asked.

  “It’s stiff, it’s sore, and there’s a bruise that’s getting bigger by the minute, but at least they missed my head, so I’ve got that going for me, anyway.”

  “Whoever thought chocolate cupcakes would save your life,” Grace said with a smile.

  “Or more precisely, a partial carton of eggs.”

  “I’d rather think of it as the chocolate treats,” she replied.

  “Fine. What do you think of what I saw outside the shop this morning? You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Suzanne, I never question you. If you say you saw Theodore Reed out there, then that’s who you saw,” Grace replied. There was no doubt in my mind that she was sincere. “What do you think he wanted with you?”

  “I wish I knew,” I said. As we pulled up in front of the restaurant, there were quite a few more folks there than there had been on our visit the day before. “Looks like they’ve got a crowd.”

  “If you can call seven cars a crowd,” Grace said. “Look at the wave of people coming out,” she added as she pointed to the door.

  Sure enough, nearly a dozen people left at the same time. “Let’s see what’s going on,” I suggested.

  After we stepped out of the Jeep, I approached a woman in her forties as she was unlocking her car door. “Ma’am, we’re not from around here. How’s the food there?”

  “Take my advice. Go to Napoli’s, or go without. This place is terrible.”

  “Really? We heard the desserts were outstanding,” Grace said.

  “Yes, if all you want is pie or cake, but don’t order anything else. The man uses salt as though it were a weapon.”

  “Is that why everyone else is leaving?” I asked as I pointed to the folks already getting into their cars and driving away.

  “They had a lunch meeting,” she said. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but it was kind of hard not to hear them arguing. Evidently the guy in charge was offended by the suggestion that he could use some cooking lessons. I thought there was going to be a fistfight for a minute. Anyway, enter at your own risk. The only thing saltier than the food is the waitress, or maybe the cook.”

  “Thanks,” I said as Grace and I started to go in.

  “You’re actually going to give them a shot after what I just said?” the woman asked, clearly dumbfounded by our behavior.

  “What can I say? We like living dangerously. Besides, we happen to love pie and cake,” I said.

  “I’ll grant you that it’s good, but it’s not good enough to put up with those two attitudes,” she said. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I gave her my best idiot’s smile and waved.

  She was still shaking her head as she drove off.

  “She thinks we’re morons,” I said.

  “Can you blame her?” Grace asked. “How do we do this? Are we really just having pie for lunch? I had donuts at your shop. I was kind of hoping for something a little more substantial.”

  “We’re not here to eat, Grace,” I reminded her.

  “Well, not just to eat,” she said.

  “True. Tell you what. Sherry West is working at Baxter’s. We’ll grab some real food there.”

  “Maybe,” Grace said as we reached the door. “Have you ever seen that place?”

  “No. It’s some kind of bar that serves food, right?”

  “That will work as a loose definition,” she said, “but I might just take my chances with the Salty Dog here.”

  “It’s the Lazy Eye,” I corrected her.

  “As if that was somehow better,” she said.

  We walked in to find Shalimar bussing tables. “Did we just miss the lunch rush?” I asked her sweetly.

  “If you can call it that.” She lowered her voice as she added, “If I were you, I’d stick with the dessert menu again.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said.

  I glanced at Shalimar’s arm where the sleeve was pulled up and saw several scratches on her forearms. “What happened to you?”

  “This? It’s nothing. A stray cat was hanging around back by the dumpster and got a
little aggressive with me,” she said as she pulled the material back down to cover the marks. “What can I get you?”

  “Do you have any carrot cake?” Grace asked.

  “Sure. It’s one of Clint’s specialties.”

  “Make mine apple crisp pie,” I said, and then I turned to Grace. “We can split them, if that’s okay with you.”

  “It depends on how good the cake is,” she said, and then she turned to Shalimar. “Didn’t I see you in April Springs early this morning before sunrise?”

  “What? No, I haven’t been there in months.”

  “You mean besides the opening of Barton’s pop-up bistro, right?” I asked her.

  “Sure, besides that, I mean. Why do you ask?”

  “I was out for a late-night walk, and I could swear that I saw you around 4 a.m.,” Grace said.

  “Lady, the only place I’m ever at four in the morning is home in bed. You must have been mistaken.”

  “My mistake,” Grace said as we took our old seats at the counter.

  “I’ll be right back with your desserts.”

  Once she left us, I said, “Subtle, Grace. When have you ever been up at four yourself?”

  “I’m sure it’s happened at least once in my life,” she said. “Do you believe her?”

  “I don’t see any reason not to. When she comes back, we need to hit her a little harder.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Grace asked me.

  “I’m not sure. Let me think about it.”

  I didn’t have long to ponder our next move. She was back quickly with our desserts. It appeared that we’d both chosen wisely. If they tasted anywhere as good as they looked, we were in for a pair of treats.

  “Shalimar, I think it’s brave of you coming into work today at all,” I told her as she delivered our dessert main courses.

  “What do you mean? Why shouldn’t I be here? I know it’s not much, but it’s better than being unemployed.”

  “You know, with the rumors and all, it takes a confident woman to show the world she doesn’t care what anyone says or thinks about her.” I was winging it, but I had a vague notion about where I was going with it.

  Shalimar’s fake smile quickly vanished. “Who’s been talking about me, and what are they saying?”

  “I heard a rumor that there’s a witness that saw you follow Simon into the donut shop just before he was murdered,” I said.

  “Who said that? Whoever it is, they’re lying.”

  “The police are being very hush-hush about it, but I understand they’re bringing their witness to the station in April Springs this evening at six,” I said. “In fact, in order to keep anyone from seeing them, they’re stashing them at the donut shop where Simon was murdered to make sure nobody followed them there.”

  “How do you know that, if it’s supposed to be such a big secret?”

  It was a fair question, and I was trying to come up with a believable answer when Grace interrupted and provided one for me. “My boyfriend’s the police chief, and he told me in confidence.”

  “Well, I don’t have anything to worry about, since I didn’t kill Simon.” She walked over to the counter as she shouted, “I’m on break, Clint.”

  “Again? Shalimar, are you ever planning to actually waitress here?”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. As a matter of fact, the more I think about it, I believe I’ll take off early. I’ll see you tomorrow, if the place is still open, that is.”

  She headed for the door without looking back at us once. Maybe we could use her extended absence in our favor. Clint walked out and seemed surprised to see us there. As he rolled his shirt sleeves down, I saw that he’d scraped his arm, as well as his hands. He must have seen my glance. “Shalimar asked me to help her with a stray cat out back yesterday. No good deed goes unpunished, right? How are you ladies doing? Skipping the main course and heading straight to dessert again?”

  “Is there a better way to eat a meal?” I asked him. After I took a bite of the pie, I meant every word of it. It was truly amazing. “You’re a pastry chef at heart, aren’t you?”

  I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my comment, but as he slumped back against the wall, I regretted saying it. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me, including my customers. What’s the use? I’m not good enough, and I don’t think I ever was.”

  “I don’t know about your entrees, but if you ever opened a bakery, I’d be there every day, and I run a donut shop,” I said. I wasn’t even trying to boost the man’s morale. His treats really were that good.

  “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not sure I could make a go of that, either. I can’t stand the hours. Can you imagine what kind of masochist gets up at two or three a.m., every day, day in and day out?”

  “It must be tough,” I said, trying to bite my tongue before I said too much. “I can’t believe you’re open today.”

  “I was here yesterday, and if things don’t fall completely and utterly apart in the interim, I’ll be here again tomorrow. Why are you so surprised?”

  “It’s just that we heard a rumor about you,” Grace said, not wanting me to have all of the fun misleading our suspects.

  “What rumor is that? Trust me, it’s not true. Do you honestly think I would ever sleep with Sherry or Shalimar? I wish people would stop saying that I dated either one of them.”

  “We were talking about you being seen with Simon just before he was murdered,” Grace supplied. “Evidently someone spotted you following him into the donut shop where he was murdered.”

  “That’s a lie,” he said rather strongly. “I never went near that place!”

  “Well, it will all be cleared up tonight,” I said. “They’re bringing the witness to the donut shop this evening at six before they take them into the station to make sure no one’s following.”

  “Well, whoever it is isn’t going to give them my name, unless they’re trying to set me up for murder,” he said. “Listen, finish up your desserts, but then I’m closing early. Suddenly I don’t feel like working.”

  “We can always take them to go, if you’d like,” I offered.

  “That would be great. Tell you what. I’ll just charge you for one.”

  “We’ll take it,” Grace said. “Charge her, and make mine the free one.”

  “Seriously?” I asked her.

  “Hey, I’ll split the bill with you anyway,” Grace replied.

  In two minutes, our treats were boxed up and we’d paid our bill. Grace had started to leave a tip when Clint said, “Don’t bother. She didn’t earn it.”

  Grace couldn’t bring herself to do that, though, so she put a pair of quarters on the counter anyway.

  “Suit yourself,” he said as he stuck them in the tip jar, a large bowl that was mostly empty. “Thanks for coming by.”

  “You bet,” I said.

  We got into the Jeep, and I drove around the corner, tucking it in behind a monster truck that had been jacked up to the sky.

  “Are we finishing our treats here and now?” Grace asked.

  “No. I want to follow Clint and see where he goes,” I said.

  “Good thinking,” Grace said as she looked in the bag holding our treats. “Hey, he forgot silverware.”

  “Check the glove box,” I said. There were a few takeout plastic utensils there, and napkins as well. There wasn’t much of a selection since the Jeep was fairly new, but I knew there had to be enough to get us through our culinary crisis. “I doubt you’ll have time to do more than take a bite or two,” I warned her.

  “I don’t know about you, but that’s all I need.” I finally relented and took the offered spork, digging into the pie. Before I could put the bite into my mouth though, Clint drove out of the parking lot. I shoved the bite into my mouth
and started the Jeep up.

  “Where do you think he’s going in such a hurry?” Grace asked me as I risked getting a ticket following him down the road. The man was clearly in a hurry to get somewhere.

  “I have no idea. Home, maybe?”

  “I doubt he’d be in that big a hurry,” I said.

  After five minutes, Clint had parked and left his vehicle.

  Could it have been just a coincidence that he’d driven straight to the bar where Sherry West worked? I highly doubted it.

  The two of them clearly had a connection in all of this, and I was determined to find out exactly what it was.

  Chapter 19

  “Let’s go see what they’re up to,” Grace said barely a moment after I’d come to a stop.

  I jumped out on my side, and in one second we were heading to the bar. There was a dumpster close to the front door. Seriously? If it weren’t a health code violation, it was, at the very least, a violation of common sense. We were nearly to the door when I saw it begin to open. I glanced inside and saw Clint turned and talking to Sherry.

  Grabbing Grace’s arm, I pulled her behind the dumpster.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  “Shh,” I said as I pointed to the situation we’d nearly walked into. “They’re coming out.”

  The smell was even worse when we crouched down, and I was suddenly sorry for every bite of dessert I’d had that day. At least we hadn’t had a full meal at lunch. There was no way I would have been able to keep that down.

  “Clint, enough!” Sherry said as she jerked her hand away from the chef. “I’m not taking one more step with you until you tell me what this is all about.”

  “They’re on to you, Sherry,” Clint said. “Two busybody women came by the café just now and told me that someone saw you follow Simon into the donut shop right before he was murdered.”

  “They actually said that?” Sherry asked, sounding angry enough to live up to her redheaded reputation. “They mentioned me by name?”

  “Well, no, but come on. You can be honest with me. You killed him, didn’t you? Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”