by Jessica Beck
“May I speak with Burt, please?” I asked.
“Sorry. He’s on his way out the door. Is there something that I can help you with?”
“Tell him this will just take a second. I’m with the police chief.”
“Hang on,” she said, and as she put the phone down on the counter, I could hear the ringing of forks and knives in the background, the murmur of a half dozen different conversations, and the banging of pots and pans.
“This is Burt,” he said. “Whatever it is you want, you’d better make it dance.”
“Hi, Burt, this is Suzanne Hart. Where did Chief Kessler have breakfast the morning they found Jean Maxwell’s body?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“It’s not that hard a question,” I said. “Just answer it.”
“You told my waitress that you were with the chief.”
“I am.”
“Then put him on,” Burt said.
“He wants to talk to you,” I said. “No prompting on your part.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Chief Kessler said.
“It’s me,” he said a moment later. “Tell her the truth.” Then he handed the phone back to me and shrugged.
“He was in the kitchen with me for two hours that morning,” Burt said when I came back onto the line.
“Why is that?”
“One of my waitresses has a crush on him, and he was ducking her,” Burt said. “Let me talk to the chief again.”
“Okay.”
I handed him the phone, and a moment later, I saw him smile. He hung up after that and handed it back to me.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He wanted to know who I’d ticked off, and I’d managed to do it,” the chief said with a grin.
“What did he think the phone call was about?”
“You don’t know Burt. He’s a fine man, but he doesn’t have much of an imagination. I doubt he gave it two good thoughts. Are you satisfied now?”
“As much as I can be,” I said.
“Good. I’m glad that we got that settled. If you trust me now, even a little, tell me what you’ve got.”
Momma chose that moment to walk back in. “I thought I heard voices in here, Suzanne. Hello, Chief. What brings you by?”
“Your daughter was just about to share with me her latest insights about who might have killed your sister.”
Momma glanced at me, and I nodded. I loved how quick she was. She managed to assimilate all of the new information and accept it immediately. That was one of the things I admired most about her; she was rarely if ever indecisive about anything.
“We could always use another point of view. Let’s get started then, shall we?” she asked.
Chapter 22
“We have three active suspects now,” I said, not mentioning that the police chief had just removed himself from our list. “We’re fairly certain that one of them killed my aunt.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Whoever threw that brick through the window made a fatal mistake,” I said.
“How so?” the chief said.
“They might as well have taken out a billboard announcing that one of them was the real killer. Why else try to scare us off like that? A lot of people would have been upset when it happened, but I took it as a sign of encouragement.”
The chief smiled softly. “You’re not a typical donutmaker, are you?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t met many folks who do what I do for a living.”
“Okay, based on what you told me before, I’m guessing your list consists of Adam, Anna, and Greta, but could you give me motives that are a little more specific than listing some of the seven deadly sins?”
“We can do that now,” I said. “We know that Anna has been badgering Jean to sell this place to her for years, but lately it escalated to the point of harassment. With Jean out of the way, Anna could have figured that she’d have a better chance getting it from me, but my aunt gave her even more incentive than that.”
“What did she do?” Chief Kessler asked.
“She added a provision to her will that if I didn’t survive until midnight tonight, Anna would get the place outright.”
“Why would your aunt do that to you?” he asked me.
Momma answered for me. “My sister most likely believed that it would sharpen Suzanne’s focus, and make the killer more motivated to expose themselves.”
“Hang on one second,” the chief said. “Jean couldn’t possibly have known who was going to kill her.”
“No, but she listed the potential suspects in her journal,” I said.
“And that doesn’t even address the near-misses she had before she realized that someone was out to get her,” my mother added.
“What near-misses?” the chief asked.
“First off, someone shot out one of her windows,” I said.
“It turns out that was just one of the Carter boys,” the chief said.
“What?” Momma asked. “We didn’t know about them. What was their problem with my sister?”
“As far as I can tell, they didn’t have one. They did, however, like taking target practice from their back deck. I caught them this morning doing it again, and the trajectory of fire from where they were shooting from makes it highly likely that they were the ones who shot out Jean’s window. When I pressed them about it, they admitted that they’d done it, but were afraid to tell anyone about it. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“Are you kidding? I’m glad that you did. I was concerned about who might have made that particular attempt.”
“Okay, what else do you have?”
“Well, her brakes failed as she was coming down her driveway, and she easily could have died.”
“Jean drove an old car,” the chief said. “I’m not willing to concede that was anything but poor regular maintenance. Anything else?”
“How about the truck that nearly ran her down?” Momma offered. “Do you have an explanation for that as well?”
“Jean never did pay enough attention to her surroundings, especially when she was distracted. Let me guess. She was with Sylvia when it happened, wasn’t she?”
“Yes, she was,” I admitted.
“That explains that, then. The two women were probably so engrossed in their conversation that they weren’t paying attention to what they were doing and stepped in front of the truck without realizing what they were doing.”
“We spoke to Sylvia,” I said, “and she seemed to think it was deliberate. As a matter of fact, she left town as soon as she heard what had happened to my aunt.”
The police chief shook his head. “Sylvia has been known to hide in her house for days when she gets a wrong number. She’s a classic worrier, paranoid beyond belief. I’m sorry, but it appears that Jean’s imagination was working overtime when she told you about those close calls, nothing more.”
“Did we imagine that she tumbled down the stairs as well, or that we found the signs that the steps had been booby-trapped with fishing line?” Momma asked.
“No, of course not. I’m just saying that I’m not sure that any of those other incidents were pertinent. Now, what motive do you have for Greta? I can’t imagine she’s going to inherit anything.”
“When we went to speak with her at her place,” I said, “Momma spotted a valuable vase that she’d given my aunt herself. When we asked Greta about it, she told us that my aunt had made it a gift to her. That is impossible for us to believe.”
“But could it be true?”
“I’ll wager that if you search her home, you’ll find other ‘gifts’ there as well, perhaps from some of her housekeeping clients who are still alive. Is that enough to get a search warrant?” I asked him.
The chief frowned. “I’m not sure, but I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I send one of my men over to her place to talk to her? While he’s there, he can make a few comments to see if he can get a rise out of her. I have a hunch that Greta won’t be able to ho
ld out long if she’s guilty. She has always had a tendency to crack under pressure. Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”
Chief Kessler stepped out onto the porch to contact his office, and Momma stood. “I’m going to make us all some coffee.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “I’ll join you.”
I sat and watched as Momma made a fresh pot. “You know, he’s turning out to be a good ally to have on our side, isn’t he?” I asked.
“He seems quite competent,” Momma conceded.
“I’ve got to admit that I feel better not carrying the entire weight of the investigation on our shoulders, don’t you?” I asked her.
“Of course, but it’s difficult trusting anyone else, isn’t it?”
“Especially when they were so recently on our list of suspects,” I replied.
The chief chose that moment to come back in, so I decided to drop that line of conversation, and fast. “Is it all set?”
“I have a man heading over there right now,” Chief Kessler said, and then he took a deep breath. “Is that fresh coffee I smell?”
“It is,” Momma replied.
“Excellent,” he answered as he sat at the dining nook table beside me. “Who else is still on your list?”
“Adam Jefferson,” I said.
The chief looked surprised by that. “What motive could Adam have had?”
“Apparently he wanted some land my sister owned, and he was quite aggressive in trying to purchase it from her,” Momma said.
The chief shook his head. “Why is every motive you’ve mentioned wrapped around someone coveting something that your sister had?”
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” Momma asked.
“More than I can say. Well, at least I can take Adam’s name off your list.”
“Why is that?” I asked. “He told us that he was running, showering, and eating breakfast alone, among other things, when she was murdered.”
He shrugged. “Take it for what it’s worth, but I found ways to substantiate every part of his alibi through witnesses. You can take my word for it; he didn’t do it.”
“I’m curious, Chief. What made you check up on him so thoroughly?”
“I’ll admit that after our earlier conversation, you aroused my suspicions. I’d heard rumors about him pestering her about selling some land to her, so I thought I’d check around and see if there was any truth to the rumor. He’s clean.”
“So, that just leaves Anna or Greta,” I said.
“And then there were two,” Momma intoned, and I suddenly got chills down my back.
The chief’s radio went off, and he said, “Excuse me.”
He stepped aside, but we could still hear both sides of the conversation. His expression was grim as his officer said, “I’m afraid that we’ve got ourselves a situation at Greta Mills’ place, Chief.”
“Is she resisting your questions?” he asked.
“No, it’s not that. I’m afraid that she’s dead.”
Chapter 23
“What do you mean, she’s dead?” he asked incredulously.
“She wouldn’t answer the door when I knocked, so I tried the doorknob, and it wasn’t locked. I pushed it open and stuck my head inside to see if I could see what was going on. She hanged herself, Chief.”
“Was there a note?” I asked him.
“Any sign of a note?” the chief asked.
“Yeah, she pinned it to her blouse. It says, ‘JEAN CAUGHT ME STEALING. I HAD TO KILL HER. I’M SO SORRY.’”
“Is he positive that’s word for word?” I asked the chief.
“Hickman, is that the exact wording?”
“To the letter,” he said.
“Don’t touch anything until I show up. Call Molly on the desk and have her send out an ambulance. Hang on tight. I’ll be right there.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” the chief said to us.
“But there’s something else you should know that could be pertinent,” I said, trying to stop him.
“Whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait,” he said as he brushed past me and sprinted to his car.
“What were you trying to tell him, Suzanne?” Momma asked me after he was gone.
“I know for a fact that Greta didn’t write that suicide note,” I said grimly. “I’ve got a hunch that she didn’t kill herself, either, and that means that Anna must have.”
Chapter 25
“How could you possibly know that?” Momma asked me.
“Think about it. Every time Greta referred to Aunt Jean, she called her Miss Jean. Do you think she would have done it any differently in her suicide note? I’m guessing that she knew too much, so Anna got rid of her, and in her rush to fake it, she made a mistake.”
“Call the chief right now and tell him everything that you just told me,” Momma said.
I hadn’t noticed that the front door had been slightly ajar until Anna walked in the next moment, now holding a gun on us.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She spotted the phone in my hand. “Drop that right now.”
I did as I was told. One look into Anna’s gaze told me that she was crazier than a bag full of rabid bats. “How long have you been out there eavesdropping on us?”
“Since the chief came out to dispatch someone to Greta’s,” she said with the hint of a grin on her lips. “They’re probably cutting her down right now.”
“Why did you kill her?” Momma asked her, and I suddenly knew the answer.
“It was because she knew that her co-conspirator was going to crack,” I said. “You did it together, didn’t you?”
Anna nodded. “Very good, Suzanne. I needed Greta to get me inside, and then I had to get rid of that fishing line after I pushed Jean down the stairs. You didn’t believe for one second that it was an accident, did you?”
“We didn’t realize that you were the one who pushed her until just a minute ago,” I said as my blood began to boil. Anna hadn’t left anything to chance. “You aren’t nearly as clever as you think you are. My aunt knew that you two would do it together.”
“How is that possible? No one suspected a thing until you two showed up and started nosing around.”
“She left us a clue before she died,” I said, and then I turned to Momma. “That sentence had the word ‘and’ in it, not ‘or.’ Aunt Jean knew that the two of them were working in tandem.”
“Where’s this clue you’re talking about?” Anna asked as she shoved the gun closer toward me.
Momma was about to tell her when I confessed, “We found it in a note inside a doll’s necklace.”
“Where is it now?” she asked furiously. “Don’t play games with me. I can make your end easy or very, very hard. I’d tell you to ask Greta, but she’s not going to be able to answer you.”
“It’s in the attic,” I blurted out. It wasn’t, but that was the only place in the house where I knew that a weapon existed. I’d even played with it earlier.
My ancestor’s old sword might be the only thing that could save us now.
“Then let’s go straight up there,” Anna said as she gestured toward the stairs.
“After you,” I said.
“Do you think that you’re being funny, Suzanne? Go, and don’t forget, I might miss you, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll hit your mother if I do.”
“We need to do as she says, Momma,” I said.
“Yes, of course,” my mother said. Her voice was dull and wooden, as though she’d stepped out of herself in a moment of panic. I had to keep my wits about me for both of our sakes.
As I began to climb the steps, I said, “It must have really surprised you when you found out that Greta had told us that she saw you walking into your house the day of the murder.”
“The fool was obviously laying the groundwork to rat me out,” Anna said. “I went over there to calm her down an hour ago, but she was hysterical. She claimed that you knew everything, and that the only way out for both of us was to
confess. I knew from the very start that it was risky getting her to help me, but I never thought she’d turn me over to the police. What choice did I have? I had to get rid of her before she ruined everything for me.” Anna smiled for a moment, and then she continued, “In a way, I should thank you. If you hadn’t told me what she’d said, I might have waited until it was too late.”
“Don’t blame yourself, dear,” Momma said to me.
“How touching,” Anna said. “What I’d like to know is how did you know that I killed Greta? She could have committed suicide. She was that weak.”
“You blew it when you wrote the suicide note,” I said.
“How so?”
“You called my aunt ‘Jean,’ but Greta always called her ‘Miss Jean.’”
“I knew that, too. That was sloppy of me. Hopefully the chief won’t figure it out. You must think you’re a pretty bright girl, Suzanne.”
“Well, I let you get the drop on me a few minutes ago, so I must not be that bright,” I said.
She laughed at that. “Point taken.” She looked around for a moment, and then she said with a glimmer of joy in her voice, “Once I get rid of the two of you, this is all going to be mine.”
As we continued to walk up the stairs from the second level to the attic, Momma asked, “Does it really mean that much to you?”
“This place? Not especially, though it is nicer than my place. That was just my cover story so I could keep your sister from finding out why I really wanted it.”
“Is there gold or something in the ground under it?” I asked her.
Anna thought that was particularly amusing. After she stopped laughing, she said, “You’re really off-base on that one. No, it wasn’t the house I was after, but the land. You see, my grandfather didn’t use a surveyor when he built the house where my family’s homestead is located. It’s actually mostly on land that Jean owned. If she found out, she would have bulldozed my family home to the ground, and I wasn’t going to allow that. I had to do whatever it took to preserve my family’s history.”
“My sister would have done no such thing,” Momma said. “If you’d approached her with the truth, I’m sure the two of you could have worked something out.”