Lemon Larceny (The Donut Mysteries)

by Jessica Beck

  “As a matter of fact, it warned us to butt out,” I said.

  “Butt out of what?” Greta asked as she finished picking up the larger pieces and reached for her broom and dustpan.

  “We don’t think my aunt really had an accident,” I said, watching the two of them as closely as I could.

  “Of course it was an accident,” Anna said quickly. “There’s no reason to think otherwise.”

  Greta nodded. “I found her at the bottom of the stairs myself.” She gasped, and then she added, “You don’t think someone pushed her, do you?”

  “We have a theory about what happened to her, but we’re not ready to share it with the world quite yet,” I explained.

  “Do you have any idea who might have done it?” Anna asked softly.

  “We have several suspects, and we’re trying to trim our list, but evidently we hit a little too close to home with someone we spoke with today.”

  “What makes you think that?” Greta asked me.

  “Well, for one thing, a note wrapped around a brick is a pretty clear indication that we’re doing something right,” I said.

  “Am I on your list?” Greta asked.

  “How about me?” Anna added. “Am I there? Who else is on it? You can’t say something like that and just drop it. We deserve to know.”

  “We’re not really in any position to talk about any of that right now,” Momma said, answering for me.

  Greta slowed her sweeping for a moment, and then she quickly finished. “There, that ought to do it. I wouldn’t walk around barefoot if I were you until you’ve had a chance to sweep the space again, just in case I missed something.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “May I ask you both a question?”

  They glanced at each other for a moment, and then they turned to me in near unison. “Go on,” Anna said, clearly the brains of the pair.

  “Who do you think in town might have wanted to see my aunt dead?”

  They glanced at each other again, and then Anna replied, “I’m sure that I don’t have a clue. Everyone loved Jean.”

  “I don’t know of anybody, either,” Greta said. “Now, let me stick this back in the closet, and then we’ll be on our way. Have you called anyone about patching your window?” she asked as she pointed to where the glass used to be.

  “No worries on that front, at least. Hank Caldwell is on his way,” I said. Greta smirked a little as I said the handyman’s name. “Am I missing something?”

  “No, it’s just odd that you’d ask us about anyone who might have had a motive to hurt Miss Jean, and in the next breath, you mention one man who might have had a reason indeed.”

  “Greta,” Anna said firmly, clearly warning her friend. “You know how I feel about spreading gossip.”

  I had a hunch that she was all for it as long as she was the one doing the spreading, and I was about to urge Greta to tell us when she overruled Anna’s warning. “It’s not really gossip if everyone in town knows it, Anna,” the housekeeper said. “Besides, they’re going to find out sooner or later.”

  “What, are you talking about the fact that they had a bad breakup not that long ago?” I asked.

  “It was more than that,” Greta said. “At one point, Hank was telling everyone who would listen that he was in love, and the next he was moping around town like someone just ran over his dog. When he would talk about it, he’d say that no one was going to dump him, and that any woman who tried would live to regret it.”

  “It was really kind of sad,” Anna added, “but that doesn’t make him a killer.”

  “Who knows what force is strong enough to drive someone to murder?” my mother asked.

  “If you ask me, I’d say that a broken heart could do it,” Greta said.

  “Or coveting something that someone else had might,” Anna added.

  “Who did that?” I asked her.

  “As I said, I don’t like gossip, never have, so don’t expect me to stand here telling tales out of school,” she said.

  “Then let’s all go inside and do it,” I said as I started toward the door.

  “All I will say is that there were certain men around here who wanted what your aunt had,” Anna replied.

  And women, too, I thought to myself, considering the fact of how eager Anna was to get her hands on my aunt’s property.

  “We’d love to hear more specific information, if you’ve got any,” Momma said.

  Greta started to speak again when Anna interrupted her. “Just ask around. You’ll hear all about it soon enough. Greta, we’ve got that casserole in the oven, and we don’t want it to burn.”

  “That’s true,” Greta said. “I just love Anna’s cooking, don’t you?”

  “Pardon me?” Momma asked.

  “How was the food she brought you before?” Greta asked us.

  “We haven’t had the opportunity to sample it yet,” Momma admitted.

  “That’s okay. It actually tastes better the second or third day,” Anna said. “Well, I’m glad that no one was hurt. Come on, Greta.”

  “Good-bye,” the housekeeper said as she handed the broom and dustpan to my mother. “If you change your mind about me cleaning this house for you while you’re here, my number’s on the fridge.”

  “We’ll be sure to let you know if we change our minds,” I said.

  As the two women walked back to Anna’s house, Momma joined me on the porch and we watched them together.

  “They’re on odd pair of ducks, aren’t they?” Momma asked me.

  I was about to respond when Hank Caldwell drove up in his truck. “Yes, but I’m not sure that makes either one of them a killer. Besides, we need to focus on the task at hand. It looks as though we’ve got another suspect to interview.”

  “You know, I’m beginning to think that whoever threw that brick through the window did us a real favor,” Momma said.

  “How so?”

  “How else could we manage to get all of our suspects to come by the house to speak with us?”

  “You’re leaving one of them out, though. Don’t forget about Adam Jefferson,” I reminded her.

  “All right, all but one then. Who knows? Maybe if we’re lucky, he’ll come by tonight as well.”

  “You never know, but for now, let’s just concentrate on Hank.”

  “Done and done,” Momma said.

  As Hank approached us, I noticed that he was frowning. What had upset him so?

  I didn’t know yet, but I had a hunch that we were about to find out.

  Chapter 17

  “What’s wrong, Hank?” I asked him as closed in.

  “I drove by a few minutes ago and saw you talking to those two old biddies,” he said darkly. “I almost didn’t come back.”

  “Why not?” I asked him.

  “Tell me the truth, Suzanne. They were talking about me, weren’t they?”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked him.

  “Because neither one of them can keep their tongues from wagging in their mouths. Greta’s bad, but Anna’s worse. She claims that she’s not a gossip, but she’s one of the biggest ones I know.”

  “I confess that we did hear that you and my sister were more serious than you led us to believe before,” Momma said.

  Hank just shrugged. “Who ever wants to admit that they cared more than the other person in a relationship? I thought we were headed somewhere, but evidently I was the only one who felt that way. It happens sometimes. I’ve already put it behind me.”

  “So quickly?” I asked.

  “Live and let live, that’s what I always say. I figured that if she didn’t want to be with me, that was her decision, not mine,” Hank said. “Now, let’s see about that window.”

  “And the hasp downstairs,” Momma added.

  “And the hasp.” The handyman studied the window frame, measured the opening carefully, and then he said, “I’ll have to order the glass, but I can cut a sheet of plywood for you and have it installed in no time.”

>   “That would be great,” I said when I noticed that Momma was about to ask him something else. “Momma, can I have a word with you?”

  “Of course,” she said, though she looked a bit confused by my request.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Hank said, and then he got into his truck and drove off.

  The moment he was gone, Momma turned to me and asked, “Why did we just let him go, Suzanne? I was about to ask him about his alibi.”

  “I know you were up to something. Why do you think I stopped you?”

  “I don’t understand,” my mother said. “I thought that was what we were doing getting him over here.”

  “It is, but there’s more to it than that. If we run him off now, we’ll never get that window patched or the hasp replaced, and I don’t know about you, and while the bulkhead door will hold, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if the window were wide open.”

  “You’re right. So, do we wait until he installs the new glass to ask him any more probing questions?”

  “No, we can’t afford to put it off that long. Once he mounts the new hinge and then puts the plywood in place, he’s fair game.”

  “Good,” Momma said.

  Hank was as good as his word. He drove up less than ten minutes later and pulled out a sheet of plywood he’d already cut.

  “This will just take a second,” he said as he hoisted it into place. “I’m driving two screws into the trim, but when I come back with my window guy tomorrow, I’ll putty and patch it. You won’t even know it had been worked on.”

  “We trust you,” I said, and for the work he was doing, it was true. It wasn’t factual when I entertained the idea that he may have killed my aunt, though.

  “That’s good to hear,” he said.

  Once the plywood was in place, he tapped it a few times. “It won’t stop a raging bull, but it should hold you just fine until tomorrow. Now, let’s see about that hasp downstairs.”

  He hurried down the stairs, with Momma and me just behind him. The man was lightning quick, and the door was soon more secure than it had been in a very long time.

  As he put his battery-powered screwdriver away, he said, “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to head on home. It’s been a long day, and I’m beat.”

  “I was wondering if you could tell me something,” Momma said as we walked back up the stairs to the first floor, and I knew that we were off to the races. Based on the man’s past history, he would bolt at the slightest suggestion that we might be accusing him of murder.

  “Sure, if I can,” he said.

  As we neared the front door, my mother said to him, “I know that my sister was quite fond of you. It had to be difficult hearing that she’d passed away.”

  “It was a shock, all right. I nearly collapsed when I heard what had happened, and Meredith Pence nearly had to prop me up to keep me from toppling over.”

  “I hated not knowing about it until hours after it happened,” Momma said. “Thinking that my sister was gone, and I knew nothing about it, has almost been too much for me to take.”

  “Well, I had the advantage on you there. I didn’t have to wait nearly as long as you did,” he said. “Meredith’s on the gossip hotline around here. It probably wasn’t more than ten minutes after Greta found her that I heard the news.”

  “Had you been working on Meredith’s place very long?” I asked.

  “Most of the morning,” he said. “I left as soon as I heard it. As a matter of fact, I’ve got to get back there sometime soon, but honestly, I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Meredith deserves better treatment than that from me.” He scratched his chin, and then he added, “I’ll head over there tomorrow after I take care of your window and finish what I started.”

  “You can take care of her first, if you’d rather,” I said.

  “If I had my druthers, I’d do exactly that, but one early visit was tough enough for me to schedule, since Meredith’s a night owl. Getting her to let me work early in the morning just about took an act of congress. Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll see you ladies in the morning.”

  “There are no worries about waking us up in the morning,” I said. “I’m usually up by one AM.”

  “I don’t get up quite that early,” Momma added, “but you’ll be safe if you come after seven.”

  “Funny, that’s the same time I started working at Meredith’s,” he said. “You both have a good evening, you hear?”

  “You, too,” Momma said. After we walked Hank out, my mother turned to find me staring at her. “What is it, Suzanne?”

  “Here I thought that I was the crackerjack investigator of the family, but I doubt I could have done that half as smoothly as you just did. You just somehow managed, without asking any direct questions, to get Hank’s alibi for the time of the murder.”

  She looked pleased by the praise. “Don’t give me too much credit. There’s still a rather broad window of opportunity there.”

  “Not as much as you might think. There’s one thing that you might be forgetting.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Whoever strung that fishing line across the balusters had to remove it as well. Otherwise even Chief Kessler would have known that it was murder.”

  “You know, that never occurred to me,” she said.

  “That’s why there are two of us,” I told her with a grin. “Now all we have to do is talk to this woman Meredith and confirm Hank’s alibi.”

  “Why don’t we take care of that now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s getting late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “I suppose that it could, but honestly, I’d like to chat with her before Hank gets a chance to get her to change her story. Besides, you heard Hank; she’s a night owl,” I said.

  “Suzanne, do we even know where to find her?”

  “No, but I know someone we can ask,” I said as I reached for my phone.

  “Who are you going to call?”

  “I thought I’d ask Anna Albright,” I said.

  “What? Are you really going to use her as a resource while she’s on our list of suspects?”

  “I know it might sound a bit unconventional to most folks, but what have we got to lose? We know from first-hand experience that she’s a gossip, so I’m willing to bet that she can help us track Meredith Pence down.”

  “But isn’t that tipping our hand a little?” Momma wanted to know.

  “I’d like to think that it might muddy the water a bit.”

  “How so?”

  “Think about it, Momma. If we’re asking her for information, then Anna might believe that she’s off of our list of suspects, and she might let her guard slip a little. If she was the one who killed Aunt Jean, that could help us, but if she’s innocent, then I don’t see how it could hurt to ask her for information we need about the case. Either way, it should yield a good result for our investigation.”

  “You’re right. I never thought about it that way. Go on and call her.”

  I did as my mother suggested, and after she answered the phone, I said, “Anna, this is Suzanne Hart just up the hill. Could you do me a favor and tell me something?”

  “Anything but my age,” she said. Was there a hint of inebriation in her voice? Was it possible that she and Greta had been drinking? I didn’t know, and what was more, I wasn’t about to ask her. If she was tipsy, maybe I could use that to my advantage.

  “Where might I find Meredith Pence this evening?”

  “You might find her in your basement, but I sincerely doubt it,” she said happily. “Then again, she might be up on the roof.”

  “Anna, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, slurring her words a little. “Greta and I have been trying new wines once a week, and I finally found one I really love. Why don’t you and your mommy come over and we’ll have a sip together? What do you say?”

  “As tempting as your offer is,” I said, trying
to hide the way I really felt about her invitation, “we’re tied up at the moment.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, come on down.”

  And then she hung up on me.

  “What just happened?” Momma asked as I hit the redial button on my phone.

  “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  Anna answered, “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s me again, Suzanne. You didn’t answer my question,” I said, trying to hide the irritation I felt.

  “Then why did you hang up the phone?” she asked plaintively.

  “I didn’t hang up, you did,” I said. I was pretty sure what had happened, but this was no time to push it. “Where can I find Meredith Pence?”

  “I suspect she’ll be at the library closing up for the night.”

  “How do we find it?” I asked her.

  “Drive downtown. It’s right beside the fire station. You can’t miss it.”

  After I hung up, I asked Momma, “Do you have any interest in checking out a book?”

  “Suzanne, I hardly think this is the time to pick up reading material. Besides, my sister had more books than you could read in a lifetime. We both shared a passion for mysteries since we were children. Don’t you think you could find something around here to read?”

  “I could, but then we wouldn’t have a chance to talk to the librarian,” I said with a grin.

  Momma got it immediately. “Meredith Pence, I presume.”

  “You presume correctly,” I said.

  We got there just as a tall, thin woman with wispy blonde hair was locking the front door. “Sorry, but we’re closed for the evening.”

  “We don’t need a book,” I said. “We need a second of your time. You’re Meredith Pence, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” She frowned a moment before she added, “We haven’t met, have we? You aren’t patrons, are you?”

  “No, I’m Suzanne Hart, and this is my mother, Dorothea.”

  Meredith nodded. “You’re Jean’s family. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” my mother said. “Do you have a moment?”

  “For you, of course,” she said as she stepped away from the door. “May we chat out here? No one is allowed inside after our regular posted hours. I hope you understand.”