Passion Fruit Punch Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 34
Page 5
“Those coupons are magic,” Amy said. “I swear, I handed out twenty free donuts today. People love this whole joint venture thing.”
“We’ll have to check the numbers at the end of the month,” Heather said. “Then we’ll know for sure if it’s had an impact.”
“Will you be able to see that much after such a short period?” Ames asked.
Heather wobbled her head from side to side. “No, not too much. But I’ll be able to tell if there’s even a minor upswing. After that, we’ll check again in three months. That will give us a clearer indication of how well it’s working.”
“Well, the kitchen is working overtime. I’ve never seen Emily this happen, and Angelica hasn’t brandished a rolling pin once.”
“I think we’ll do something special for them soon,” Heather said.
Technically, Ames was just another assistant, but she spent a lot of time helping Heather with her investigations too, and that meant she was a sidekick extraordinaire.
Any planning for staff treats or parties went through the bestie brain.
Ames made a great sounding board.
“There,” Amy said and pointed with her leash-bearing hand.
The gates to the sports field of Hillside High School approached, green and wide open to admit kids for their extramural activities.
A group of cross country kids jogged around the track, while their coach watched from the sideline.
“How will we know which one she is?” Amy asked.
“I’ve got a hunch,” Heather replied.
A lone figure stood near the bleachers, packing baseball bats into a cylindrical container on wheels.
Heather picked up Cupcake and tucked her against her chest. The kitty meowed a complaint but didn’t go into scratch mode. She knew better than to bite the hand which fed her kitty kibble and secret treats.
Heather strode across the field, and her menagerie came along, Dave’s collar clicking with each step.
The woman looked up and spotted them. She jerked as if she wanted to turn away, but stayed in place beside the rough planks of the bleachers.
“Gertrude Mars,” Heather said, and stopped in front of the baseball coach. “Are you done coaching for the day?”
“Yeah,” the woman said, and bent to pick up another bat. Her brown bobbed hair swung in front of her face and shielded it from view.
“I’m –”
“I know who you are,” Gertrude said. “I thought you’d come sooner than this. I didn’t expect you to have more etiquette than the police.”
Amy narrowed her eyes, and Dave barked at the faux insult.
“Do you have a moment to talk to me about your brother?”
“Do I have a choice?” Gertrude asked, and slammed another bat into the receptacle. “You people sure haven’t given me one. I don’t have a moment to grieve in peace.”
“Why didn’t you take time off from work?” Amy asked. Dave sat down on her foot and cocked his head to one side. His accusing glare for suspects.
Gertrude clicked her tongue. “I’m a high school coach. If I take time off work, I don’t get paid. And if I don’t get paid, I’m out of a home.”
Did that mean she needed money? Could Freddy’s death have benefited her somehow?
Gertrude brushed off her palms on her sweatpants, then stepped up onto the bottom bleacher. She sat down, her forearms balanced on her thighs, and her sneakers planted flat on the ground. “Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Mars, but I have to do whatever it takes to find out who did this to your brother,” Heather said. “If that means asking questions to rule you out as a suspect, then so be it.”
“A suspect!” Gertrude’s eyes rounded out. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I don’t joke about cases, Miss Mars.” Heather folded her arms.
“At least, not to their faces,” Amy said.
Gertrude actually chuckled at the joke – a first for a suspect. Her laughter died, though, and the sadness crept in again. She’d been older than Freddy Mars. An older sister who’d lost her brother.
“Ask your questions,” she said. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Heather whipped the picture out of her tote bag and showed it to the suspect. “Have you seen this picture before?”
Gertrude’s expression dropped into confusion. “No,” she said. “Never. But isn’t that my brother at the shelter? He volunteered there most days.”
“It appears to be a threat,” Heather said, and made the picture vanish before it could upset Gertrude. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to threaten Freddy?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “I know one person, at least.”
“Who?”
“Hilda Groats. She was the manager lady or whatever it’s called at the shelter. She stalked Freddy for a while. She despised him because he used to go to the board of trustees about changes to the shelter,” Gertrude said, she swallowed and bowed her head.
“What’s wrong?” Heather asked.
Gertrude heaved a sigh. “It’s just that the last thing Freddy and I did was argue, and it was about that woman.”
“What happened?”
“I arrived at Freddy’s house for one of our dinners. He got home pretty late most days because he did odd jobs at convenience stores or had late shifts at the gym,” she said. “Anyway, I got there, and everything was normal. That weird neighbor next door yelled at me to keep it down, as usual. I went inside, and there was Freddy, sitting at the table with his head in his hands.”
“Why?” Cupcake squirmed in Heather’s arms. She planted a kiss on the cat’s forehead to settle her.
“Apparently, Hilda tried to get him barred from volunteering. He wanted to take it further. He suspected her of foul play. He didn’t go into detail, but yeah, he was real serious about it.” Gertrude broke off and swallowed. “I’ve always been protective of my little brother, and this time was no different. I told him to stay away from her.”
“And he got angry?” Heather asked.
“Yeah. He loved the shelter. We were, look, this is tough to talk about, but we were abandoned as kids. We spent a lot of time in and out of shelters like that one, but we always managed to stick together.”
No wonder Gertrude had been overprotective. “What happened then?”
“He yelled at me, I yelled back, and then I stormed out.”
That would explain the commotion the others had heard. Or did it? “What time did all of this transpire?” Heather asked.
“At about 9 pm,” Gertrude replied. “We had late dinners.”
Nope. That didn’t match the timeframe for the disturbance, at all. Either, Gertrude had lied, or she wasn’t the culprit.
Heather put Cupcake down and tightened her grip on the leash, in case the cat decided to take a dive at Amy. “Thanks for your time, Miss Mars. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks,” Gertrude said. She didn’t rise from her position on the bleachers. “Whatever happens, just find who did this to my brother, please. I want them to pay for what they’ve done.”
Chapter 13
Heather looped Cupcakes leash around her wrist and caught the tablet before it could drop from her lap, onto the park bench.
Amy sighed, cross-legged, and dangled one foot in the air. The end of her heel bopped up and down. “That was sad,” she said. The sun baked their faces but did nothing to warm the cold wind which rustled the grass in the Hillside Park.
Heather needed to make notes before they headed back to the house – what better place to do it?
Dave barked and frolicked off the leash. Cupcake hadn’t earned the privilege, yet, since she’d tried to escape Heather several times already.
“Don’t you think it was sad?” Amy asked. “She seemed to love her brother a lot.”
“Or so she says,” Heather said.
“You don’t think she was lying. If that’s the case, it was an Oscar-worthy performance.”
“Uh-huh. And it’s my job to eat donuts and bask in the sun,” Amy said. Her head snapped upright, and she turned it toward her best friend. “You know who else keeps coming up?”
“Hilda Groats,” Heather said, and typed notes on the screen of her tablet. “I’ve noticed.” She brought out the suspicious picture and gave it to her bestie. “Hold this up for me?”
Amy did as she was asked, and Heather snapped a picture of the front of the photo and then of the threatening message on the back.
Heather’s cell phone rang in her tote, and she lowered the tablet to her lap. She grappled her bag open, reached inside, and brought out her cell.
“What is it now?” Amy asked. “More murder and mayhem?”
“You’re such a positive person,” Heather said and winked at her. She swiped her thumb across the screen, then pressed the cell to her ear. “Shepherd speaking.”
“Hello Shepherd,” Ryan said. “This is Shepherd. I’ve just sent you a video from home. Check it out on your tablet.”
“That’s mysterious,” Heather said. “Did you and Lilly make a video for me?”
“Nope,” Ryan said. “This is work related. I’m afraid to say.”
“We can make a video for mom,” Lilly yelled in the background. Her voice carried, and Cupcake perked up and meowed beside Heather.
“All right, I’ll check it out,” Heather said.
“Love you,” Ryan said.
“Love you, mom.” Lilly’s yell invoked Dave’s attention this time.
He scrammed back to the park bench and scratched around Amy’s feet.
“Love you too,” Heather said, loudly, then hung up.
“Video?” Amy asked, immediately, and squished closer on the bench.
“Let’s find out what it’s about,” Heather said. She dropped her cell back into the recesses of her cavernous tote, then clicked on the screen of her tablet.
A Whatsapp message notification pinged through in the corner of her screen. She pulled down the drop down menu and tapped on the message.
Ryan’s chat opened, and Heather clicked on the video clip he’d sent her.
“This is amazing,” Ames said. “Technology is cool. Imagine you had to go all the way home to check this out. Now, he can just send it to you.”
“Yeah, and this is far better than using my tablet for games.”
“Come on, that was one time,” Amy whined.
Finally, the video loaded and popped open on her screen. Cupcake purred and forced herself to Heather’s side.
“What is it?”
“Surveillance footage,” Heather said. She’d seen enough of footage over the course of her investigations to identify it on sight. “And that looks like the front of the Hillside Children’s Shelter.”
A figure appeared in the frame, exiting the building. The footage had been slowed down significantly.
“Who is that?”
“Hilda Groats,” Heather said. “Pants suit and short gray hair.”
Hilda hurried from the building. She glanced left and right, then up at the security camera in the corner. She jumped as if she’d forgotten about it, then shifted a slim envelope to her left side, and hid it from view.
“What’s she holding?”
“Something she doesn’t want the camera to see,” Heather said. “And that means, it’s something of great interest to us.”
Another message pinged through on Heather’s tablet, and she exited the video. “It’s from Ryan,” she said.
Board of Trustees at the shelter contacted us about missing funds. Apparently, someone’s been stealing from the organization.
“Stealing? But surely they don’t keep money on the site,” Amy said.
“They might have to, to buy supplies or food for the children.” The implication was clear. The board though Hilda had stolen from their organization. Had Freddy known about this?
Could the threatening picture have related to the theft? Heather locked the screen, then deposited the tablet into her tote bag. She slung the straps over her shoulder, picked up Cupcake and rose from the bench.
“Sorry, guys, it looks like we have one more stop to make before the end of the day.”
Chapter 14
Sunset graced the front of the Hillside Children’s Shelter, and illuminated the pictures on the walls, even through the glass front doors. The home away from home, and the only one these kids had glimmered with purity.
Lilly hadn’t spoken about the charity since they’d been the last time, but Heather got the distinct impression that she would soon.
But first, Heather had to find out exactly what Hilda Groats had gotten up to in the days leading up to Freddy Mar’s collapse.
“Are you going to press the buzzer? Or am I going to die of hypothermia, first?” Amy asked.
Heather pressed the silver button beside the intercom.
It clicked a second later, and snooty tones drifted through the grill. “Yes?”
Amy and Heather exchanged a glance. Ol’ Hilda didn’t sound to enthuse to see them on her front porch.
“Miss Groats,” Heather said. “We’ve come to talk to you about the murder case of Freddy Mars.”
“You’re not an officer,” she hissed, though Heather had told her she was a consultant the last time they’d spoken.
“Yeah, uh, we can get a detective down here if you’d prefer that,” Amy said and leaned closer to the intercom. Her gaze rested on the camera, and she pinned up a disingenuous smile. “Ya know if that will make you feel more comfortable.”
Silence prevailed. The click-buzz of the lock on the door snapped it in two.
“All right,” Amy said. “Score one for passive aggressive threats.”
They hurried into the lobby, Dave at Amy’s heels and Cupcake tucked safely in Heather’s arms to guard against the cold.
The door swung shut behind them.
“Okay, so what do we do?” Amy asked. “I don’t see any signs pointing toward Miss Holier Than Thou’s office.”
Heels clicked in the hall adjacent to the lobby.
“Never mind,” Amy said. “She found us. Let the fun begin.”
Hilda Groats strode around the corner, her arms dead still at her sides. She marched like a marionette doll, pulled forward by Heather’s strings, which were attached to the police station in turn.
“Good afternoon, Miss Groats,” Heather said.
“This is a great imposition,” Hilda said. “The children are having dinner. Our evening staff are about to arrive. There’s a lot of organization to –”
“This won’t take much of your time,” Heather said.
Hilda crossed her arms and tapped her high heel on the carpet. Thump, thump, thump. “It had better not.”
Heather didn’t bother bringing out the tablet to show the woman the surveillance footage. Hilda Groats would probably grab the tablet, drop it, and stomp on it for good measure.
“I think you know what I’m here to talk about, Hilda,” Heather said.
“Freddy?” Hilda asked, and her cheeks colored.
“That’s correct. It’s come to our attention that Freddy might have possessed sensitive information about you. The type of information which you wouldn’t want him to have.”
“What are you insinuating?” Hilda asked, and if anything her face burned brighter.
“Freddy Mars accused you of stealing from the shelter, did he not?” Heather asked. Phrasing it this way would make it less antagonizing to the fragile Miss Groats.
“Oh, that,” Hilda said, and waved her hand in front of her face, though there wasn’t a fly in sight. “Yeah, he accused me of that, but only because he had a serious attitude problem. If anything, I’m sure he stole from the organization.”
“Really?” Heather aske
d.
Dave barked. He smelled a liar. “Shush,” Amy hissed and nudged him with the toe of her boot.
“Yes. He accused me of a number of nefarious deeds, all of which he’d committed himself.”
“And that made you angry,” Heather said, to play along.
“Yes. He was an unnecessary addition to our organization. I’d petitioned the board to ban him on multiple occasions,” Hilda said, and her shoulders relaxed.
The woman thought they were on her side. She believed she had them convinced about her innocence and Freddy’s ill nature.
“I see. And they never banned him?” Heather asked.
“No.” Hilda pressed her lips together until they pruned.
“Miss Groats, did you see Mr. Mars before his collapse?” Heather asked. “At his home?”
Hilda wavered on the spot. Indecision had taken her. “Yes,” she said, after a long pause. “Yes, I saw him. I went to talk to him about his grievous accusations and see if we could come to some kind of agreement. It ended in an argument.”
“What time did you speak with Freddy?” Heather asked.
“At around 11 p.m.,” she replied. “I get off work late and one of the ladies on the night shift hadn’t come in on time. I – It was innocent.”
Heather dug into her tote bag and brought out the picture with her free hand. She showed it to Hilda. “Did you stay long enough to leave this?”
“Boom,” Amy said, under her breath.
Hilda stiffened into her usual temperament. She snatched the picture from Heather’s grasp. “Where did you get this?”
“It was left on Freddy’s porch.” Close enough to the truth. “I think I know who left it.”
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Hilda said. She shut her mouth, and her teeth clicked together. She inhaled through her nose, and her nostrils flared. “Get out of here.” It came out in a growl.
“Miss Groats.”
“Get out of here before I call the police!” She roared.
Dishes clattered somewhere down the hall, possibly in the kitchen.
“We’re with the police,” Amy replied, coolly. Dave didn’t take an easy stance. Hilda had growled at him, and that meant he could growl right back.