Cranberry Crimes

by Jessica Beck

  “But you’re not my mother,” she said defensively.

  “I know, but if you can manage to boss her around, I should be a breeze for you. I can’t imagine telling my mother what to do.”

  Emma smiled at me. “I didn’t have many problems with it, but it took her a few days to get used to the idea.”

  “Okay, then. We should be good,” I said as I started helping her set up for the donut production schedule. “What do you want me to do first?”

  “Well, if you’re serious about letting me run the show this afternoon, why don’t you start folding boxes out front while I prep the yeast donut batter?”

  “You actually start the raised donuts before you make the cake ones?” I asked her. It was completely opposite from my system, and I couldn’t help myself. I’d had to ask.

  “That’s the way I normally do it, but if you have a problem with it, that’s fine with me,” she said. “If you want to take over, be my guest.”

  From the expression on her face, it would clearly not be okay for me to change my mind. “Sorry. I spoke out of turn. You’re in charge. I’ll go get started on those eighteen boxes. If you need me, just holler.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know when it’s time to start washing the first batch of dishes.”

  “You’re going to really enjoy this, aren’t you?” I asked her with a smile.

  “If I told you it was almost worth giving up my cut of the profits, I’d be afraid you might take me up on it.”

  That reminded me. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t brought her up to speed about our new, elevated payout for the afternoon’s work. At the last second, I decided to keep that to myself, at least for the moment. Why not give her a surprise as well?

  After the boxes were ready to accept their treats, I poked my head back into the kitchen. Emma had just finished dropping the last of the cake donuts, and she was already moving on to stage two in her yeast donut prep work. “Is it safe for me to come in?”

  “I was just about to sound the all clear,” she said.

  I looked at her work so far and considered her system of making the donuts. “You know, I might just switch over to your method myself. The way I figure it, it would buy me another hour’s worth of sleep every morning.”

  Emma grinned sheepishly at me. “That’s why I came up with the idea in the first place,” Emma admitted. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, of course not.” I looked over at the large stack of dirty pots and implements. “I’d better get started on those.”

  “I can pitch in if you’d like,” she offered, but I just shook my head.

  “No thanks. We’re dividing the labor this afternoon, remember?” I honestly didn’t mind washing up. It reminded me of the days when I worked alone at the shop. On one day out of every week, I still did everything, from making the first cake donut to washing the last dirty coffee mug, and everything in between. It always gave me a sense of satisfaction when I locked the door, but there was never a time I wasn’t happy to have Emma back again the next day. As I lost myself in the sea of suds, I thought about the conversation Grace and I had shared with Jasper earlier. The man was normally a font of joy, spreading happiness wherever he went.

  So what had changed?

  I was still pondering the possibilities when Emma repeated my name.

  I looked up from the nearly empty sink and grinned at her. “I must have zoned out there for a second.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about the Zen of dishwashing,” she said.

  “What was it you wanted?” I asked her as I finished rinsing the last spatula.

  “We have time for a ten-minute break, if you’re interested,” Emma offered.

  “You bet I am.” I drained the sink first, though, and rinsed out the sides before I was ready to go, something Emma never did when she washed dishes. We each had our own techniques, which was fine by me.

  After she set the timer, I followed Emma out into the kitchen. “Do you mind if we sit inside today?” she asked me. “I know we usually like to take our breaks outside, but that’s in the middle of the night. I don’t feel like telling people that we’re closed and disappointing them.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “So, how was your time off this afternoon?”

  I’d meant it as a joke, since we’d only had a few hours away from the place, but Emma missed my sarcasm completely. “Barton is going to set up a pop-up restaurant in a few weeks, and I’ve been helping him plan things so he’ll be ready.”

  “I thought he was still working in the hospital cafeteria,” I said. Emma’s boyfriend, Barton Gleason, was a fine, well-trained chef who had taken a job cooking at the hospital when he couldn’t find anything else. Since then, he’d been shocking and delighting the folks who came there to eat, but no one was foolish enough to believe that he was going to be there for the long term. In fact, he’d been nearly ready to accept a job offer in Charlotte working at a fancy restaurant when he and Emma had started dating. Since then, his talk about relocating had suddenly gone silent.

  “He is, but if he can open his own place, that’s what he really wants to do,” Emma explained. “It’s really quite fascinating how these pop-up events are announced on social media.” Her voice trailed off the moment she realized that she’d lost my attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you,” she said.

  “You didn’t. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ve just been thinking all afternoon about the party we’re making these donuts for,” I admitted. “Jasper is depressed, and I think it’s more than just because he’s getting another year older.”

  “I suppose I get it, but the party is really cranking up everyone’s interest. Dad’s been collecting information about it since he first heard what Jasper was going to do. He’s got dossiers on the family as well as Jasper’s business associates ready for a special edition. It’s killing him that he didn’t score an invitation to the party itself, let alone the sleepover.”

  That was interesting. Ray Blake and I generally kept our distance, but if he had information I could use, maybe there was a way I could share a little of my own with him without compromising my principles too much. “Do you think your dad would be open to a little quid pro quo?” I asked her.

  “Seriously? Suzanne, not to put too fine a point on it, but you’ve been trying to keep away from Dad for as long as I can remember.”

  She was right about that. “Okay. Forget it. He probably wouldn’t have gone for it, anyway.”

  “Are you kidding? He’d leap at the chance. I just don’t want you doing anything you might regret later.” With a hint of a frown, she added, “And I certainly wouldn’t want you to take it out on me if things went badly between you. You are both important parts of my life, and frankly, I don’t like it when either one of you is mad at me.”

  I had a sudden thought. “Tell you what. Invite him over here right now. You can stay in the kitchen, and your father and I will chat out here. That way you’re not involved in any way, shape, or form. How does that sound to you?”

  “I’m willing to make the call, but are you sure that you want to do this?” she asked as she pulled her phone out.

  “No, but since when has that stopped me in the past?” I asked her with a grin. She didn’t match it, though. “I’m kidding, Emma. Call him.”

  She seemed reluctant to do it, but she made the call anyway.

  Five minutes later, my assistant was back in the kitchen working alone, while I was sitting out front with her father, ready to make a deal with my very own devil if it would help me aid my friend.

  “I was surprised to get Emma’s call,” the newspaperman said a little smugly as he sat across from me.

  I decided to let it go, at least for the moment. “The truth is, I’m concerned about Jasper Finney, and I thought
you might be able to help me get a handle on what’s going on with him.”

  That softened Ray’s posing. “I get that. Jasper has lived a long time, and it’s been my experience when you do that, you seem to collect more than your share of enemies over the years.”

  “Seriously? I don’t think that’s true at all. My mother is no spring chicken, and I can’t think of a single enemy she has,” I said.

  Ray looked at me steadily for a few moments before speaking again. “Suzanne, if something bad should ever happen to your mother, which I hope it never does, I’m afraid there would be quite a list of suspects. Don’t forget, she’s a powerful woman in this town, and she’s not afraid to use it to get her way.”

  I wasn’t about to sit there and listen to that nonsense. I stood up and moved to the front door. “This was a mistake. Sorry I wasted your time, but you need to go, Ray.”

  He looked baffled by my reaction, which was a surprise in and of itself to me. Did the man not realize how many negative things he’d just implied about my mother? I knew that Momma wasn’t a saint by any means, but she wasn’t some dastardly land baron leaving broken bodies and souls in her path, either.

  “Suzanne, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to prove my point.”

  “Oh, you proved it all right,” I said, not wavering.

  Emma poked her head out of the kitchen. “How’s it going?” It took her less than a second that she hadn’t needed to even ask the question. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Dad, you need to apologize.”

  “Were you eavesdropping on our private conversation, Emma?” Ray asked his daughter pointedly.

  “I didn’t have to. I could tell the second I came out here that you said something to Suzanne that you shouldn’t have. Dad, you really need to learn how to be better with people if you want them to cooperate with you.”

  “When I’m after a story, I do what needs to be done, no matter how unpleasant some folks might find it,” Ray said, trying to defend his behavior.

  “That’s the thing though, Ray,” I said. “I was going to offer you something valuable in return for a little information, but you tried to use it to patronize me and impugn my mother’s character. I’m curious about something. How did you think I’d take you attacking Momma?”

  “That’s the problem. He didn’t think about it at all,” Emma said as she strode quickly over to the table. “Come on, Dad. You heard Suzanne. You’re leaving.”

  “I was just trying to make a point,” Ray protested. “Why is everyone getting so worked up about it?”

  “Do I need to call Mom?” Emma threatened.

  The mere threat was all that Ray needed. He practically jumped up from the booth and headed for the door, but before he would leave, he hesitated in front of me. “Suzanne, I’m honestly sorry about what I said earlier. I made a mistake. I should never have brought your mother into the conversation. Forgive me?”

  When Ray said it like that, it was hard to stay angry at him, especially with Emma looking on. “I suppose I can let it slide this time.”

  “Good,” he said, clearly grateful for the reprieve. “See? There’s no need to bring your mother into this at all, Emma,” Ray told his daughter.

  “I guess not,” she answered. “But you still need to go.”

  “Why? After all, we just patched things up,” he said. “Suzanne still needs the information I have.”

  “It’s up to you, but if it were me, I’d go ahead and throw him out,” Emma said.

  “Emma!” Ray protested.

  “Hey, I’m just doing what I need to do, no matter how unpleasant some folks might find it,” she said with a shrug.

  “Point taken,” he said, and finally, Ray started to leave.

  I wasn’t quite ready for him to go yet, though. “If I let you stay, will you do your best not to anger me again?” I asked him.

  “I’ll be a perfect angel,” he said.

  “Hah,” Emma replied, clearly showing that she didn’t believe him.

  “Seriously?” Ray asked his daughter, who just shrugged in response.

  “Thanks, Emma. How’s it going in the kitchen?” I asked as I gestured toward the kitchen.

  “I’m hopping, but I can handle it. How much more time do you need? Those dishes are really stacking up,” she said with a grin.

  It was clear Ray was puzzled by the comment, but he was also afraid to say anything.

  “I’ll be in soon. Just give me two minutes.”

  “Okay,” my assistant said. As Emma walked back into the kitchen, she pointed to her eyes, and then she gestured toward her father. The intent was clear enough. Emma would be watching him, so he’d better be careful.

  “What have you got on Jasper’s family and friends?” I asked as Ray and I sat at the same table again. “You heard your daughter, so I’d appreciate it if you’d make it quick. Why would Jasper feel so blue on his birthday? Do they have anything to do with it?”

  “They have everything to do with it, if you ask me,” Ray said. “Ethan’s business is going under, and Bobby has a gambling problem. Phyllis has been engaged in some questionable activities, and Perry Kilroy has threatened to kill him on more than one occasion, and he’s Jasper’s best friend in the world. I’d say he had reason enough to feel sadness, given all of that.”

  “Is all of that true?” I asked Ray. “Or are they just theories of yours?”

  “Sadly, it’s all real enough. Ethan has walked away from his real estate business, and there are rumors that he misappropriated some of his sales staff’s commissions along the way. I’m guessing that’s why he’s been doting on his grandfather. He’s hoping the old man is going to bail him out. The same goes for his son, Bobby. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, evidently. Bobby is in need of a serious cash infusion, or he’s going to be in some serious trouble. I haven’t been able to get a handle on Phyllis so far, but if half the things I’ve read about her are true, she’s spending money at a much faster rate than she’s taking it in. She’s never had a real job, but her father left her quite a tidy sum. Unfortunately, that ran out some time ago. As for Kilroy, he’s sued Jasper three times for various things, and he’s lost every time. If he’s his best friend, then Jasper’s in some real need of new companionship.”

  “Thanks, Ray,” I said as I started to stand. “You’ve been a big help.”

  “Hang on,” Ray said. “Emma mentioned something about you returning the favor.”

  I was hoping he’d forgotten that, but clearly I was delusional. “Tell you what. I heard you wanted to go to the party.”

  “Can you get me in?” Ray asked hopefully.

  “Not a chance. However, I can report back to you what happened, with a few conditions. You don’t use my name, or any reference to me whatsoever, and you don’t attack Jasper. He’s got enough problems without you going after him. Understood?”

  “I don’t know. You’re really tying my hands here,” Ray complained.

  “Sorry, but it’s the best that I’m willing to do,” I said, though it was clear to both of us that it wasn’t at all true that I was remorseful about my offer. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Will you at least snap a few photos for me?” Ray asked as he pulled a small, spy-like camera out of his pocket. “No one will know what you’re doing. Just get me some good shots, and we’ll call it even.”

  I was tempted to take the camera just to play with it, but I didn’t want to cross that line. “No photos.”

  “Then the deal’s off,” Ray said as he stood up. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me out.”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “Are you serious? Just because I won’t take some innocuous photos for you, you’re going to slam Jasper anyway?”

  “Hey, if that happens, just remember, his blood
is on your hands,” Ray said.

  I had to make a decision, and I had to do it quickly. Shooting out my hand, I said, “Fine. Give me the camera.”

  Ray happily handed it over. “Don’t forget, get some good shots. And I still want the scoop about what happened, too.”

  “I said yes,” I said as I unlocked the door and let him out. I felt a little greasy taking covert photos for the newsman, but I was going to make sure that I “accidently” took harmless ones. If I had my say, he wouldn’t be able to use any of them in his story. As to the recap I’d promised him, I’d make sure to tell him only what was freely available from common knowledge and to be sure to provide nothing that would hurt my friend.

  Based on what Ray had just told me, Jasper Finney had enough problems without me piling on, too.

  Chapter 6

  “I’m sorry about my father,” Emma said as I walked back into the kitchen alone.

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” I told her as I started in on the next batch of dishes. Emma seemed to produce a great deal of dirty pots and pans when she made donuts, but I wasn’t about to complain about it. It was honestly kind of nice having a break from making donuts and yet still being there where I belonged.

  “I know he can get a little intense sometimes,” she said. “Was he very helpful to you?”

  “He gave me some information that I wasn’t aware of before,” I admitted.

  “But…” Emma said.

  “But what?”

  “What did you have to give up in return? My dad is a firm believer in the maxim that there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

  “I promised to tell him about the party,” I said, hedging my involvement in case something came up later.