“Speaking.” I waited for him to fill me in as to why he was calling, but there was just an extended time of silence. “May I help you with something?” I asked him.
“Sorry, I was finishing up a bid and I had to jot a few numbers down before I forgot them. The name’s Young. Your mother arranged for me to work on your donut shop, and it turns out we can fit you in sooner than we first thought. How’s tomorrow work for you?”
“Tomorrow sounds great,” I said, excited about the prospect of getting Donut Hearts back to its former glory, or at least as much of it as I could currently afford.
Before I could say another word, he broke in. “Listen, I know it might not be convenient for you, but I need to meet you there tomorrow morning so we can go over the work that needs to be done. The best time of day for me is seven a.m.” He said it as though he were expecting a fight from me. Well, he was going to get one, but not the kind he thought.
“I’m really sorry, but seven won’t work,” I said.
“I know it’s early, but I’m going to have to order supplies, take measurements, and make arrangements with my crew before we start working. Surely you can push your schedule a little for that.”
“I was about to say that seven is much too late for me,” I explained with a great deal of satisfaction. “Five would be much better for me.”
“In the morning?”
“It’s the best time to get my undivided attention,” I told him.
Mr. Young seemed surprised by my response but only for a few seconds. “I can make five work,” he said, though he clearly thought I’d lost my mind. “Your mother said the actual work couldn’t start until after one p.m. Is that right?”
“Sorry, but I’m going to need to keep my work schedule if I’m going to pay for the repairs,” I said. “The insurance is probably going to cover some of it, but there’s still going to be a substantial amount left after that. You want to get paid, don’t you?”
He ignored my question and went straight to one of his own. “But after one, no one will be there, is that right?”
“Just you and your crew,” I said.
The contractor hesitated again, and then he asked, “Just out of curiosity, how much did Snappy get finished?”
“Not much, but then again, he wasn’t on the job very long,” I admitted.
“That figures. Well, this won’t be the first mess Snappy ever made that I had to clean up.”
“Are you saying that he wasn’t very good at his job?”
The contractor hesitated, and then he must have thought better of speaking ill of the dead. “Strike that. The whole thing’s just got me a little jumpy. If you ask me, it’s a bad sign when folks start killing contractors on the jobsite.”
“You’re not implying that I had anything to do with Snappy’s murder, are you?” I asked him. I hoped this man was good with his hands, because his people skills needed some serious work.
“No, ma’am. Not at all. Anyway, I’ll see you at five tomorrow. Just to confirm, that was a.m. and not p.m., right?”
“Right,” I said.
After I hung up, Jake said, “I didn’t even need to hear the other side of that conversation to know that man isn’t going to be easy to work with. I can’t believe you didn’t fire him on the spot.”
“Momma found him, so I don’t really have much choice. I might as well give him a try.”
Jake nodded, and then he drove a little farther down the road before he asked, “Did he actually come right out and accuse you of murder?”
“It’s not important,” I said, trying not to get riled up for no reason.
“Got it,” Jake said, getting it immediately. We drove mostly in silence for the rest of the ride back to April Springs, and when Jake pulled into town, he asked me, “What’s our game plan now?”
“I have no idea,” I said, and as I did, I realized that it was true. We’d spoken with the main suspects on our list, and we’d even added one more name to it, but I didn’t feel as though we were a single step closer to figuring out who had killed Snappy Mack. “Do you have any suggestions?”
For some odd reason, Jake seemed surprised that I’d ask him for advice. After a moment, he said, “I have an idea, but you’re probably not going to like it.”
“Try me. You never know,” I said.
“Let’s stop by the grocery store, get some ingredients for a nice meal, and cook it together at the cottage,” Jake said.
“What good will that do us?”
“Suzanne, investigating isn’t always about pushing forward. Sometimes you need to take a beat and let your subconscious catch up with you.”
“Is that what this meal is supposed to do?” I asked.
“No, that’s entirely because I’m getting hungry again,” he answered with a grin.
“Already?”
“Hey, we ate a long time ago. Besides, I can’t control when I want to eat. What do you say?”
“It sounds great to me,” I admitted after realizing that there was really nothing else we could do at the moment. “What do you feel like making tonight?”
“It’s not so much the making that I’m interested in as it is the eating,” he said with a laugh.
“Okay. I’ll bite. What do you feel like eating?”
“I figure some nice steaks, baked potatoes, green beans, bread, and some banana pudding for dessert might be nice.”
I had to laugh at my husband’s predictable response. I could have probably named all of the items on his wish list if he’d given me a handful of guesses, but the only sure one would have been the banana pudding. My husband’s grandmother had always made him a special bowl of it for special occasions when he’d been a boy, and it was still one of his favorite desserts. “Let’s go by the store and stock up, then,” I said.
“I’ll cook the steaks if you handle the rest,” Jake said as we came out of the parking lot of the grocery store, our arms laden with bags.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said. Outdoor cooking seemed to be his domain, unless he was making his chili. Truth be told, I was happy he hadn’t mentioned making that. Jake’s chili could take the paint right off the side of a barn, and I was in no mood to have my mouth lit up like a fireworks display. “Won’t you be freezing if you cook outside, though?”
“You know me. I love grilling out when it’s cold. What I can’t understand are the folks who do it when it’s ninety degrees out. If you ask me, the time to grill out is when the temperature is under forty. That way you have a fire to warm up at and you cook your food at the same time.”
“Have I told you lately what an odd bird you are?” I asked him affectionately.
“It takes one to know one,” he answered with a grin.
The meal was wonderful, and not just because I got to share it with my husband. He had the touch when it came to grilling steaks, something not even every steakhouse could claim.
“It’s early still,” Jake said after we finished cleaning up the dishes and polishing off dessert. I’d made some peach cobbler earlier in the week, so after the banana pudding was gone, we polished off the remnants of the cobbler on the pretense of wanting to wash the dish I’d made it in. It was really cozy eating with two forks across from each other. “Would you like to take a walk before it gets dark?” Jake suggested. We’d reached the shortest day of daylight we’d see, and sunshine was slowly creeping back into our lives, but it was at a maddeningly slow pace. Because of that, Jake and I were doing our best to take advantage of what little sun we seemed to get. I didn’t know how folks made it through the winters in Alaska, and I knew that I’d never find out. There was too much North Carolina in this girl to ever relocate, especially across so many time zones.
Something had been nagging me since we’d left town that morning, and the
longer I waited to address it, the more unsettled I’d become. “Jake, would you mind if I walked over to Donut Hearts for a bit?”
“Hang on a second. I’d be happy to go with you as soon as I finish putting the silverware away.”
I hugged my husband as I said, “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’d kind of like to go by myself. I’m going to be making donuts in not that many hours, and it’s going to be jarring enough as it is remembering Snappy’s body lying there in the middle of the floor. Maybe if I have a little time there alone this evening, I’ll be able to accept it enough in the morning to be able to function. You’re not angry with me, are you?”
“There’s no way that’s ever going to happen, Suzanne. I get it. Call me if you need me. I’ll be right here.”
I kissed him soundly. “Thanks for understanding.”
“What can I say?” he asked with a grin. “I’m an understanding guy.”
Walking out the door, I zipped my jacket against the cold wind that had recently come on. I knew in my heart that it was January, but it was still hard to accept the presence of so much chilly weather. While this was still better than the ice storm we’d recently gone through, I longed for the past days of autumn when all I needed was a light jacket.
The park was silent as dusk began to approach in a method that felt entirely premature to me, and I blew a little warm air into my hands as I walked. If I was going to keep taking these strolls through the park in the winter, I was going to have to start wearing gloves more often.
It was a short walk, and as I approached Donut Hearts, my gaze went directly to the scarred elements of the building: the patched walls and roof, the Plexiglas window out front, and the remnants of where my awning used to be, still partially attached to the side of the building.
After unlocking the door, stepping inside, and locking it back behind me, I realized that I’d never turned the heat back on. Flipping on the lights as I went, I got to the thermostat and turned it up, waiting for the old furnace to kick on. I swore to myself that from then on, I’d keep the heat on a little higher throughout the evening and the nighttime hours, even when I wasn’t going to be there. At least the furnace worked. I was rewarded with warmth soon enough, and then I let myself take in what Snappy Mack had been up to. I hadn’t had a chance to evaluate his progress earlier, my gaze being mostly riveted to his dead body at the time of its discovery.
What had the man been doing? For some reason unbeknownst to me, Snappy had gone well past the damaged parts of the wall and had destroyed entirely new sections, areas that had been untouched by the falling tree that had damaged the structure. Had the man completely lost his mind, or was he making more work for himself so he could bill me for more hours of labor? I took out my cell phone and turned on the flashlight app, shining it into the cavities that had been freshly exposed.
There was nothing to see, though, with the single exception of a piece of fragile old newspaper tucked behind the plaster adjoining a pristine section of the wall.
What was going on? Had they used the newspaper as a backer of some sort in the old days? I tried to pull it out to see if it matched what I’d seen on the floor earlier, the bloodstained section I’d stepped across when I’d found Snappy’s body, but it wouldn’t budge.
Was that why the contractor had pulled more of the wall away than had been strictly necessary?
I stood there staring at it for a full minute before I did something I never dreamed I’d be capable of doing.
I took a long, flat knife from the kitchen and used it to pry out the bit of plaster where the newspaper was stuck so I could free it.
To my surprise, a large section of plaster slipped free of the wall and landed on the concrete floor with a loud crash.
I hadn’t meant to vandalize such a large section of wall, but I didn’t take a single moment to mourn what I’d just unwittingly done.
I looked down in shock at what had suddenly been revealed to me, something that hadn’t seen the light of day in probably close to a hundred years.
Chapter 8
“Jake, you need to come to the donut shop.”
“What’s going on, Suzanne?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“That depends on how you look at it,” I said. “I need you to see something, and I wouldn’t ask you to come if it weren’t important.”
“Don’t touch anything. I’m on my way.”
I started to put my cell phone away, and then I switched on the flashlight app and looked into the newly exposed cavity again. I wanted to pull the newspapers out to see everything that had been buried in them, but at the last second I decided to honor Jake’s request and not do anything until he got there. It seemed to take him forever to show up, and when I finally heard his truck pull up outside, I wondered if it wouldn’t have been faster if he’d just walked over from the house.
I met him at the door and saw that he had pulled his service revolver out.
“No worries. It’s not that kind of thing,” I told him, and he put the weapon away.
“Sorry. Force of habit, I guess.”
“Don’t apologize. Someday you might save my life with one of those habits of yours.”
Jake looked around and saw the fresh chunk of plaster from the wall that was now residing on the concrete floor. “Doing a little remodeling on our own, are we?”
I led him to where I’d pulled the plaster off and pointed my phone’s light in the cavity. “Look in there.”
“It looks like more old newspaper to me,” Jake said, dismissing my find out of hand.
“That’s not what I’m pointing at,” I said as I pulled the papers out and played my light into the opening. In the base of the wall opening, several faceted reflections glittered back at me. I’d caught a few glimpses of what had been hidden away, but now I could see them in their full glory.
“What are those?” Jake asked as he knelt down to take a closer look.
I started to reach for one of the stones as I said, “I don’t know about you, but they look like emeralds to me.”
Jake grabbed my arm before I could retrieve one. “Hang on a second.” Taking an evidence bag from his pocket, my husband handed it to me. “Use the bag to pick each one up individually so you don’t mess with the fingerprints.” After pulling out another bag, he said, “Transfer them into this as you go.”
“How many of these things do you carry around with you?” I asked him.
“More than enough for the task at hand,” he replied. “Besides, you can put more than one in each bag if you want to.”
By the time the wall cavity was empty, there were seven emeralds of differing sizes and weights in the evidence baggie. I looked at them in the light before handing them to Jake. “What do you think?”
“I think you won’t have to get a loan to pay for your renovations now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Suzanne, you own the building free and clear, and my guess is that includes whatever was inside when you bought it. These are yours, as far as I’m concerned.”
The thought of it shocked me. “Are you telling me that someone stashed these away in the walls legitimately?”
“How do you think they got there?” he asked me.
I grabbed one of the newspapers. “I don’t know, but I have a sneaky suspicion that my stepfather might have an idea. Let’s call him and have him come over.”
Phillip and Momma made it to the donut shop in seven minutes. I may have made it sound a little more urgent than it really was on the phone, but having what could be very valuable gems on hand made me a little nervous. I knew a lot of their worth depended on several different factors, but they all looked precious to me.
“What have you got there?” Phillip asked as he tucked a spiral notebook under one arm after walking inside.
&n
bsp; Jake handed him the stones, and after a perfunctory glance at them, he handed the baggie to Momma. “I’m talking about the newspapers.” Phillip loved to research old crimes that had occurred in the area, so when I saw so many old newspapers, including the one I’d stepped over when I’d found Snappy’s body, I knew he was the one to call. Sure, we’d let Chief Grant know what was going on as well, but for the moment, that was yet to be determined, at least as far as I was concerned. After studying a few of the newspaper dates and headlines, Phillip frowned a moment before he spoke. “Unless I miss my guess, those are the Hathaway jewels, or at least some of them.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked him.
Phillip leafed through his notebook before settling on a particular section. “In 1922, Amelia Hathaway’s home was robbed. Her father was a jeweler from New York who was traveling to see his daughter on his way to Atlanta with a large inventory of emeralds. Apparently Cornwall Hathaway liked to show off the jewels to staff and friends of his daughter’s to show how wealthy he really was. She didn’t have a safe, so in the middle of the night, someone broke into Cornwall’s room, knocked him on the head with a lamp base, and stole the jewels. They never found the thief, or the gems, either, for that matter. Let’s see, there were fifteen emeralds taken altogether, so unless I miss my guess, Snappy found the other eight in the cavity next to the one where you found these, and someone killed him for them.”
“Hold on a second,” Jake said. “That’s all supposition, and you know it.”
“Not all of it. Chief Grant called me ten minutes before you did,” Phillip said. “He asked if I thought it was significant that an old newspaper with blood on it was found at the scene. He knows my penchant for history, and I was just digging into where it could have come from when you called.” The retired chief pulled out his small spiral notebook and glanced through a few entries. “The date of the robbery matches the newspapers, so is it that farfetched to believe that Snappy found the first half batch of stones and was murdered before he could uncover these?”
Mixed Malice Page 6