Fatally Frosted

by Jessica Beck

  Grace shook her head. “That’s not what’s significant about it.”

  George had been looking at the note over her shoulder. “That’s the same handwriting as the note you two found in Peg’s coat.”

  Grace smiled. “I can see why you were a police detective. I have to admit, it took me longer than that to spot the similarities, and I was looking for it.”

  I looked at the card again and studied it. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s the same writing at all.”

  “That’s because she jotted this one down in a hurry,” George said. “Do you still have the other note?”

  I reached into my pocket. “It’s right here.”

  As I laid them side by side on the countertop, George said, “Look, there are some things that are unmistakable. Look at the way she makes her g’s.” He pointed to the g in morning and then the one in change. “That’s not all. See the way she links the double ll’s in ‘I’ll’ and ‘allow’? The same person wrote both notes, there’s no doubt about it.”

  I was beginning to see his point. “Okay, let’s say that Heather did write both notes. What did she mean in the first one? What was Peg trying to change her mind about? And what consequences could she have meant?”

  I reread the first note. It said,

  Peg,

  There’s no use trying to change my mind.

  I won’t allow it, and you should be prepared for the consequences.

  Grace paused a moment, then said, “Could Heather have discovered her aunt’s fraud, and was she preparing to turn her in to the police?”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “In fact, it seems pretty likely.”

  George said, “Let’s not rule out other possibilities so quickly.”

  Grace asked, “Like what?”

  “It could be just about anything. Do we even know what kind of relationship the two women had? Could there have been something more sinister hidden in this note than we’re seeing?”

  I frowned. “I don’t see how. The two of them were extremely close.”

  George tapped the two notes in unison, and I wasn’t even sure if he meant to.

  He said, “Think about it a second. Who do we have to verify that at all?” He frowned, then added, “I keep wondering what terms they were on.”

  “She’s been a part of Peg’s life forever,” I said.

  “That still doesn’t mean she didn’t have something to do with what happened to her aunt,” George said.

  “Maybe we should all keep digging,” Grace said.

  “It might not be a bad idea if we all did,” I added.

  George finished his coffee. “I’m heading out. I’ve got to work a case this morning at the courthouse, but after that, I’ll start back in on this.”

  “And I’ve got to go to Asheville,” Grace said. “I’ll walk you out, George.”

  After they were gone, business started picking up, and I was so busy filling orders that I didn’t have time to digest all I’d learned that morning. We were getting a better handle on Peg and her life, but I wasn’t so sure we were getting any closer to finding the murderer.

  I hoped Chief Martin was having more luck, but from the sparse reports coming from the police station through George, I had a feeling he was hitting as many dead ends as we were.

  By nine, it was starting to rain again, and I wondered what it was going to do to my business. Donuts weren’t exactly a necessity in most people’s lives, and sometimes all it took was a little bad weather to keep them away.

  Three men braved the downpour, though, tumbling in through the front door as a particular bad patch of rain hit.

  They were each dressed in hiking boots, canvas pants, jackets of various hues, and all of them wore baseball hats. Each man had a pair of high powered binoculars around his neck. For the life of me, it looked like the same man in three stages of his life; frozen in his thirties, his fifties, and his seventies.

  The oldest took off his hat and hit it against his thigh, knocking some water off it as he settled in. “That’s some bad weather you’ve got going on out there.” He held out a hand and said, “Good morning. I’m Frank Stewart.”

  It was odd for a new customer to introduce himself like that, but I could tell from the twinkle in his eye that here was a man who truly liked women.

  “Hi, Frank. I’m Suzanne. It’s a bit wet for birding, isn’t it?”

  He chuckled and turned to the men he’d come in with. “I told you this was a great spot.” Frank looked back at me and said, “Suzanne, I’d like to introduce my son Martin, and his son William. We were out spotting, and the downpour hit. Now most days I’m as willing to trudge through the underbrush as the next man, but I swear I could smell your coffee from the woods.”

  “Then you should have some,” I said as I poured him a cup.

  Frank took a sip, then said, “You are an angel of mercy.” He looked back at his family and said, “Gentlemen, I’m not sure what you’re waiting for, but I’m going to buy a donut and take a seat at the window.”

  Frank’s son Martin said, “Dad, this isn’t exactly what we had planned for today.”

  He put an arm around his son. “Thomas, sometimes the world laughs at our plans. Suit yourself, but I’m going to enjoy this rain from that couch over there.”

  William said, “You don’t have to twist my arm, Grandpa. I’d kill for a cup of coffee myself.”

  Frank patted him on the back. “There’s proof he’s my kin. Suzanne, William is a doctor. He’s single, too.”

  “Granddad, enough. Stop trying to fix me up with every woman we meet.”

  He looked at William, then said, “Maybe we should check to see if you really are my grandson. Suzanne, if I were forty years younger, you’d have an ardent suitor on your hands.”

  “Frank, if I were forty years older, you’d never make it out the door without the promise of a date,” I said with a smile.

  He laughed again, this one spreading through the room like a welcoming hug. “Forget the introductions to my offspring. You’re too valuable a jewel to waste on such as these.”

  “Dad,” Martin said with open disapproval.

  Frank winked at me. “He doesn’t approve of the genuine affection I have for women.”

  “Mostly just pretty women,” Martin grumbled.

  Frank smiled. “So, at least you noticed that she’s pretty. I suppose that’s a good beginning for you.”

  Martin looked at his dad, then at me. “I apologize, ma’am. My father’s a bit of a rogue.”

  I said, “There’s no apology necessary. Just coming in here, he made my day.”

  Frank nodded, then said, “And you made mine as well.”

  As I slid a yeast donut across to him, he added, “I hadn’t ordered yet.”

  “This one’s on the house,” I said. “I needed a smile, and you brought one in with you.” Then I turned to his son and grandson and added, “You two get to pay, though.”

  The senior member of the family laughed again, then clapped them both on the back and said, “I like it here, men.”

  Frank moved to the best couch by the window that overlooked the train tracks, taking his coffee and donut with him.

  Martin said, “He’s been this way his whole life.”

  “Is that an explanation, or an apology?”

  “A little of both, I guess,” he said.

  “That’s all right. I don’t need either. What can I get you?”

  After the two men ordered and took seats with Frank, I waited on new customers, but every now and then I saw the three of them pull out their binoculars and peer into the gloom. I wasn’t sure how successful they were at birdwatching, but by the time they left, it was clear that all three of them had a wonderful time.

  Frank actually tipped his hat toward me as he left, and I was shocked to hear myself giggling in response.

  I was still smiling about it when Heather Masterson came in, and from the scowl on her face, it was pretty clear that I wasn’t going
to be very happy for long.

  DEEP-FRIED CAKE SQUARES RECIPE

  You can use large cubes of pound cake for this, but my family likes to use Twinkies™ like they make at the county fair! Some folks like to fry theirs on Popsicle sticks, but cutting the Twinkies™ into thirds and frying them that way works best for us. But go ahead and experiment, that’s what it’s all about!

  INGREDIENTS

  • 1 cup milk

  • 1½ tablespoons plain vinegar

  • 1½ tablespoons canola oil

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour

  • 1¼ teaspoons baking powder

  • ¼ teaspoon salt

  • Flour to dust Twinkies™ before battering them

  • 4 Twinkies™

  DIRECTIONS

  Freeze your Twinkies™ for a few hours for best results. When they’re chilled, mix the milk, vinegar, and canola oil together in one bowl. Using another bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together. Add the dry ingredients slowly into the wet, mixing it in well as you work. Refrigerate this batter as your oil is heating. When the oil’s ready (about 360–370 degrees F), dip each piece of cake into the batter, then quickly add it to the oil. Be very careful not to splash. The oil’s extremely hot. Don’t overcrowd the pot, and when the squares are brown on one side, flip them over so the other side can cook. Take them out when they’re done, and let them rest for a few minutes before eating. You can dust the top with powdered sugar or eat them as they are. The filling becomes a marvelous white fluff that will leave you wanting more.

  Yield: Makes 12 Twinkie™ Squares

  CHAPTER 11

  “Good morning, Heather. Can I get you something?”

  “I’ve got problems,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked as though she was about to cry.

  “It seems that my dear old aunt wasn’t as wealthy as she claimed to be. I’ve got a stack of bills to pay, and there’s not going to be enough money left after I’m through for me to buy a donut.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “It’s not that I wanted her money, but it would have been nice to be able to pay off my college loans, you know? That book you found got my hopes up, until her attorney started digging into it. I won’t even be able to afford to pay him,” she said.

  I got her a cup of coffee and a bear claw.

  She looked ruefully at them. “I’m not sure I can afford these.”

  “My treat,” I said. “Think of them as a rainy day kit to cheer you up.”

  “Unless these things are laced with Prozac, I don’t think they’re going to help, but thanks for the thought.”

  While I had her here, it was a golden chance to ask her about her relationship with her aunt, and if the opportunity came up, about the note Grace had found in Peg’s jacket. “Do you have a second?”

  “I guess,” she said.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  Heather wasn’t any mood to cooperate, though. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re just ducking back into the kitchen. I want to talk to you, but I don’t feel like doing it out here. You can bring your breakfast with you.”

  She grabbed the bear claw and the coffee and followed me, though it was clear she was pretty confused about what was going on. As we walked into the kitchen, Emma looked up from her station at the sink, where her arms were buried up to her elbows in soapy water.

  “I need you to cover the front for a few minutes,” I said.

  She nodded. “I’ll take care of it as soon as I hear the door chime.”

  “Some of the tables need to be cleaned in the meantime,” I said, signaling her that I wanted some privacy.

  Reluctantly, she picked up a dishtowel, and as she dried her hands, she said, “Okay, Boss, I’ll get right on it.”

  After she was gone, I said, “Heather, I’m sorry. I know it’s a difficult time for you, but I need to ask you about something.”

  “You’ve got me curious,” Heather said.

  I desperately wanted to confront her about the note Grace and I had found, but if I came out and asked her about it, she’d know we’d been snooping when we’d offered to help her. Maybe there was another way to ask her about it without letting her know that we’d been rummaging through her aunt’s things in search of clues.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem to be in an awfully big hurry to get things wrapped up here,” I said. “Goodness knows she had a prickly side sometimes, so I can understand wanting to put all of this behind you.”

  She took a sip of coffee, then said, “Suzanne, I know most folks around here weren’t all that fond of my aunt, but I loved her. When things got tight at college, she slipped me a few dollars to tide me over, and while it might not seem like much to anyone else, it was a lifesaver for me. She had her good points. Look at her charity work.”

  It wasn’t the time or place to get into any theories that Peg had used them as her own personal bank accounts. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to mourn her. You do.”

  It looked like she was going to cry again as she said, “Do you know how hard this is for me? She’s the last bit of family I have left. Had. I still can’t get used to saying that. I just want to put this all behind me and get on with my life.”

  “Were you two having troubles in the end?” I asked softly.

  “Why? What have you heard?” That certainly caught her attention.

  “It’s a small town,” I said. “People talk.”

  “Okay, I admit it. We had some hard things to say to each other the last time we spoke.”

  “What were you two fighting about?” I asked.

  “I tried to tell her she was wrong, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Wrong about what?” I was getting close, and I knew it.

  “We’re all liable for the actions we take, the decisions we make,” she said. “I’m not about to go into it with you, Suzanne, but my aunt did something wrong, something she showed no remorse for. I tried to talk her into making a clean breast of it all, but she refused. The last time we spoke, I said some truly awful things to her, and now I can never take them back.” Heather dabbed an errant tear tracking down her cheek, then added, “I want to do what needs to be done here, clean out the house, and leave town. No offense, but after I’m finished, I never want to see April Springs again.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “Everything you’re going through,” I said. I believed her. The hurt in her eyes when she spoke about her aunt was too real to feign.

  After Heather left, I kept wondering about where my clues were leading me. It seemed every time I turned one corner, another roadblock appeared.

  Emma poked her head in through the door. “Is everything all right back here?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve got customers waiting out front, and I have a sink full of dishes. Do you want to trade back, or should I get started again?”

  “You go ahead,” I said. “I’ll handle the customers.”

  That was how we each preferred things. Folks liked to see the owner greet them, since my shop was such a small one, and Emma was happiest buried up to her elbows in soapsuds.

  Grace showed up at the donut shop ten minutes before noon.

  “That was fast, even for you,” I said.

  “My boss is in New York at a conference, so I’m like a kid out of school for summer vacation. I just had to do a quick drop-in with a couple of customers, and then I was finished for the day.”

  “Won’t your customers miss you?”

  She grinned. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Suzanne, I could always go somewhere else.”

  “Don’t be a nit. I just don’t want you to get fired.”

  She laughed. “That’s not likely to happen. I know where all of the bodies are buried in my division.” Grace thought about that a second, then
said, “That’s in pretty bad taste, given what’s been happening around here lately, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”

  “Good.” She looked around the deserted shop, and at the three dozen donuts still in the display case behind me. “Is business that bad?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I’ve got four more dozen in back,” I said. “It’s more than I’d like to have on hand, but then again, it’s not as bad as I’ve been afraid it would be. Things have slowed down some, but it rained today, and that might account for most of it.”

  “Are you telling me that a little rain is enough to kill your business?”

  “Absolutely. When it snows, I’m tempted not to even bother opening. You know how things are around here. We get a few flurries and folks stay home. An inch or two and the entire town goes into lockdown.”

  “And yet you don’t miss a day at the shop,” she said as she sat at a stool at the counter.

  “Are you kidding? I get to walk across the park in the moonlight with snow falling all around me, or creep through town in my Jeep in a winter wonderland. It’s like being in some kind of massive snow globe. What’s the worst that could happen? If we get a ton of snow and I can’t drive back to Momma’s, I’m never more than a brisk walk away from home. Besides, if my dear, sweet mother and I are cooped up together for too long, we tend to get on each other’s nerves.”

  Grace nodded as she rocked gently back and forth on the stool. “So, what are we going to investigate after you finish up here? Are there any new suspects we can confront?”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not sure what we should do next.”

  Emma came out of the kitchen. “Suzanne, I was wondering . . . oh, hi, Grace. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Is your iPod cranked up again?” I asked.

  “You had the front covered,” she said a little too defensively. “All of the dishes are done, except for the last few trays. Can I take off early?”

  “What’s going on? Do you have a big date?” Grace asked her before I could warn her off the subject.