by Jessica Beck
“Certainly,” she said. That was when I noticed her book on the coffee table.
“I have a better idea,” I said. “Let’s light that fire we promised ourselves, and then read a little before bed. I’ve got a new book I’ve been dying to start, but I never seem to be able to stay awake long enough to make much progress.”
“What’s the title?” she asked. My mother was an avid reader, almost exclusively traditional mysteries. Some folks called them cozies, but she didn’t care what subgenre they were listed under. It was the puzzle of the crime and the people involved that mattered to her, in equal parts. There wasn’t any gore, and not much blood, in her books, and that was just the way she liked it.
“It’s new to me, but not the world,” I said. “I’ve been browsing through some of Bill Bryson’s books. Have you read them?”
“He’s certainly funny, isn’t he? Which book are you on?”
“A Walk in the Woods,” I said. “Somebody at the donut shop left it behind one day, and when no one claimed it, I took it home. I’ve been lugging it back and forth every day, just in case the owner shows up, but I can’t imagine anyone minding if I dip into it a little bit myself.”
“Do you have any new mysteries coming up for your book club?” That was one activity my mother had endorsed when Jennifer, Hazel, and Elizabeth had come into my shop, and my life.
“We had to cancel this month’s meeting because of an illness, but we’re all set for next month.”
“It sounds perfectly lovely.”
I was sure it would be, especially for her. Why hadn’t I thought of inviting Momma to our group before? My mother loved reading and discussing books, and I knew the three women in my group would welcome her gladly. My lack of an invitation may have been because I’d wanted to keep that little bit of my life for myself, but with the idea that Momma and I would no longer living together looming larger and larger, it would be a way to keep her close.
“You could always come with me the next time,” I said.
“No, as lovely as the invitation sounds, I really shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” I asked. “It sounds like something you’d really love.”
She took my hands in hers. “Suzanne, I dearly appreciate the offer, but you need to keep these ladies for yourself. We share enough of our lives together. This should be yours, and yours alone.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know.” I looked at the fire, which had taken hold and was burning brightly, and said, “I’ll be back in a second. I just want to get my book.”
“I’ll be here,” Momma said.
As I got to my room, I picked up my “borrowed” copy, and was starting back toward the door when my telephone rang.
“Jake,” I said. “It seems like forever since we talked.”
He laughed, and I could picture his smile as he said, “It was just this morning.”
“I know, but it seems longer than that. How was today’s lecture?”
“More of the same,” he said. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to come up with something new to say day in and day out.”
“And did Ashley audit you again?”
He laughed. “No, I believe that particular joke has run its course.”
“You have to admit, it must have been a little flattering to get that kind of attention.”
He snorted. “I’ll do no such thing. Enough about me, now. Tell me about your day.”
I recounted what I’d learned, what I suspected, and what George had said. When I was finished, Jake whistled softly. “You don’t waste any time.”
“Funny, I don’t feel as though I’m making any progress at all,” I admitted.
“You’re kidding, right? You found out more today than most police forces could have managed with all of their resources. There’s something to be said for the direct approach from an indirect source. I may have to write a paper on it.”
I couldn’t see my boyfriend as an academic. “Really? Have you got the scholarly bug now that you’ve been guest lecturing?”
“Not a chance,” he said. “I was just imitating some of my new acquaintances here. Apparently publishing papers is very important in this job.”
“So, you’re not tempted to take on a sideline as a guest lecturer?”
“Not a chance,” he said. “When it comes down to it, I’d rather do than teach. What’s your next move?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I replied. “I’ve been thinking about talking to Gabby about her gun, but I don’t want to do it if I can help it.”
He hesitated, and then asked, “You need the caliber of the bullet, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But I can’t figure out a way to find out what it was.”
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll call you right back.” He hung up before I could say anything else, and two minutes later, my phone rang again.
“That didn’t take long,” I said.
“What can I say? The chief likes me.”
“I wish I could say the same thing.”
Jake laughed, and then said, “To be honest, I think he’s happy that I’m in Asheville and not there mucking things up with you.” The humor went out of his voice as he added, “I hate to tell you this, but it was a .44, just like the one Gabby owns. There’s something else you need to know, too, and it’s not good.”
“How can it get any worse than that?”
“Gabby told the chief that she couldn’t find her gun when he asked her about it. She thinks it might have been stolen, but not being able to produce it is putting her in some hot water. If you can think of anything to do that can help her, I’d do it, and fast.”
“Thanks, Jake. You don’t happen to have any ideas, do you?”
He whistled for a moment under his breath, something I’d just recently learned meant that he was thinking deep thoughts. “Well, I think you’re on the right track. I don’t believe for a second that Desmond’s murder was random in any way. Go back over your list and try to find out who had the best reason to want to see him dead. At this point, you can’t afford to ignore anyone, no matter how unlikely they may seem as a suspect.”
“I haven’t forgotten any of them, trust me.”
“Maybe it will come to you in your sleep,” he said.
I yawned as if on cue, and he laughed. “It sounds as though it’s not that far off. Are you going to bed now?”
“No, Momma and I are reading downstairs in front of the fireplace.”
“Have a good night, then.”
“’Night, Jake,” I answered. “Thanks for calling.”
As I walked downstairs, I thought about what he’d said. It all made sense, but maybe I hadn’t taken it far enough. There were more suspects than I’d paid attention to lately, and not everyone in the world who owned a gun had the requisite permit. For some reason I kept thinking about Jenny Ray, and what she gained by Desmond’s death. For the moment, she had control over her wealthy aunt’s life, and now that her closest living relative was dead, Jenny was most likely next in line to inherit. That made me realize that I’d failed to visit Jean as I’d promised. That took priority, and no matter what else I did, I had to go by her place tomorrow as soon as I closed the donut shop for the day. I could dig around a little into Jenny’s life as well by asking her a few questions while I was there. That settled that, so with a game plan in mind, I walked back downstairs with my book so Momma and I could share a little time together.
She was fast asleep on the couch, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Taking the fallen book from her lap, I marked her place, then set it aside. I grabbed a blanket, gently eased it over her, and then went back upstairs.
It appeared that our bonding time, at least for now, was over, and I needed sleep easily as much as she did.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day, I could feel it in my bones, and I needed to be at my best if I was going to have any luck catching a killer.
Even if it was Gabby Williams.
Early the next morning was uneventful enough, but then again, we weren’t open yet, so most of what Emma and I did at the donut shop was pretty routine. It was nearing five-thirty, though, when all of that changed.
We were in back applying glazes, icing, and sprinkles to a variety of donuts when we heard someone pounding at the back door. It was too early for a delivery, and I wasn’t willing to open it unless I knew for sure who was back there. It was too easy to get ambushed, and I wasn’t having any of it.
“We’re closed,” I shouted through the thick door.
“I know you are,” Gabby shouted back. “Let me in.”
Before I could unbolt the door, Emma asked, “Should you really do that?”
“You don’t trust Gabby?” I asked.
“Let’s just say I’ll be glad when they catch the killer, no matter who it turns out to be.” Emma must have realized how that sounded, but she was clearly in no position to take it back.
“I feel the same way, but I can’t just leave her out there.”
“Why not?” Emma asked.
I shook my head and fought to hide my smile. Even with all I’d learned about Gabby recently, and some of it was pretty bad, I couldn’t see her gunning me down in my own shop. I might be wrong, but I wasn’t uncertain.
I opened the door, and as I did, I heard Emma’s grunt of disapproval.
I couldn’t change the way she felt, though.
“It took you long enough,” Gabby said when I finally let her in.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re busy making donuts here,” I said, matching her tone. I’d learned long ago that was really all she respected, someone willing to fight her fire with fire.
“Sorry,” she said as she took off her coat. “I was going to wait until eleven, but I can’t stand it.” She looked at Emma, and then asked, “Suzanne, is there somewhere we can talk?”
“I can set up the front if you’d like,” Emma volunteered.
I wasn’t about to run her off, though. “No, you keep working on the donuts.” I turned to Gabby and asked, “Does this really have to be in private? If it does, then we can go up front and talk while we set up.” If she was going to snub Emma and demand a private audience with me, Gabby was going to have to convince me that it was important. Besides, a small part of me was glad that we’d be by the windows, where anyone passing by could see us. It wasn’t that we got a lot of foot traffic at that time of morning, but if Gabby was feeling homicidal toward me, it might just be enough to stop her from acting on her impulse.
“Yes, I’m sorry, but it is.”
“Then you can work with me while we talk.”
Gabby followed me out of the kitchen and into the front with the displays and the dining area, and then asked, “What can I do?”
“We swept last night, so you can put the stools back on the floor and wipe the tables down.”
She began to do as I asked, but paused and said, “I don’t know how sanitary it is to store barstools on tabletops.”
“Everything is clean, and besides, we’re wiping the tables down, too, aren’t we?”
“I suppose so,” she said.
“Did you come here to criticize my hygiene and work practices, or was there something else on your mind? I thought you said that it was important.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “Suzanne, I haven’t been entirely up front with you.”
“Are you talking about your missing .44 revolver?” I asked.
Gabby looked surprised that I’d already heard the news. “How did you find out, and so quickly? Martin hasn’t been feeding you information about me, has he?”
“No. Don’t forget, I’m good at what I do, too.” I said that with a clear conscience. Martin hadn’t told me anything, Jake had. Just because he’d gotten the information from our chief of police didn’t mean that I had a direct pipeline myself to our local law enforcement.
“It looks bad, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“I suppose it could be worse,” I admitted.
“Give me one example,” Gabby said.
Without thinking, I supplied one. “Someone could have a photograph of you standing over the body with a smoking gun in your hand.”
“I don’t even want to think about that.”
“The gun, the photograph, or the body?” I asked.
“Suzanne, I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous it is running a business alone. That gun made me feel safe, and I don’t regret getting it.”
“Where did it go, then? It’s not doing you much good at the moment.”
It might have been a cheap shot, but I took it anyway. Misplacing a handgun was not like losing a set of car keys. She should have known better, and acted more responsibly with it. Who knows what it had been used for once it left her presence?
“I don’t know what happened,” she said, slumping down on a stool and burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t even realize that it was missing until Chief Martin came to the store yesterday demanding to see it. It’s a wonder that I’m not in jail.”
“If we don’t do something quickly, trust me, that status isn’t going to last,” I said.
“Do you still believe me?” Gabby asked as she looked at me, hope filling her gaze.
“I don’t think you’re a cold-blooded killer,” I said. I decided not to add, “I could be wrong, though” to my declaration. It wouldn’t be politic to accuse Gabby until I had rock-solid proof, or unless there was no other choice.
“Thank you, Suzanne,” she said as she stood quickly, moved toward me, and wrapped me in her embrace.
I tenderly pulled away. “Gabby, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I need to open the shop, but as soon as we’re finished at eleven, I’ll take up my investigation again. In the meantime, lay low, and do your best to stay out of trouble.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m not even opening today,” she said.
Before I could remind her that it might be better if she kept her presence obvious on Springs Drive, she quickly added, “I can’t take the stares and the whispers. I’m going home and locking the door behind me.”
Then again, if Gabby looked as guilty to everyone else as she did to me at the moment, contact with the outside world might be the worst thing she could do. “Maybe you’re right. That could be a better choice.”
Gabby nodded and said, “I thought so. I’m going back home, Suzanne.” She started for the kitchen so she could go out the back, but I peeked outside, and no one was in sight.
“Why don’t you go out this way?” I suggested.
“If it’s all clear, why not?” She did as I asked, and soon disappeared into the darkness.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Emma asked, “You didn’t leave her out front all alone, did you?”
“Relax, she’s gone,” I said. “You really should give Gabby a break.”
“Maybe so, but if you heard some of the things my dad said about her, you’d be jumpy, too.”
“What has he been saying?” I asked. It wouldn’t surprise me if Emma’s dad, as the town newspaper publisher, got information before any of the rest of us, and that included the chief of police.
Emma just shrugged. “I really couldn’t say.”
“Come on, you can tell me,” I said.
“No, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m still living there until I can afford to go away to college, so I can’t make any waves.”
“I understand completely,” I said. Emma’s relationship with her father was strained enough as it was, and I didn’t want to add any more pressure to an already volatile situation. I glanced at the trays and saw that they were ready. “Can we put these out for sale?”
“You bet,” Emma said. She glanced at the clock, and then added, “We’re not due to open for another twelve minutes, though.”
“Tell you what. Let’s be real sports and go ahead and open early, just this once.”
“That’s fine with
me,” she said. “I’ll get started on the dishes after we finish setting up.”
After we had two coffeepots brewing and the display shelves stocked, we were ready for business.
The only problem was that we didn’t have a single person waiting to get in. Apparently our customer base had already adapted to our new hours, and I wasn’t sure if I was glad about it, or unhappy that they’d changed their habits so quickly.
* * *
At just past seven, Terri Milner dropped in. “Suzanne, I’m desperate, and I really need your help,” she said.
“Sure, I’ll do whatever I can,” I said.
“It’s my day to supply snacks for the twins’ party at school. I made cupcakes last night, but when I got up this morning, the dog had eaten or licked every one of them. They’re ruined.”
“That’s bad,” I said. “How many treats do you need?”
“Two dozen,” she said.
“I can handle that, no problem. We could do glazed or cake, so which would you prefer?”
Terri frowned. “That’s the problem. The theme is Being Green, so everything we serve has to be colored green. What am I going to do?”
“Give us five minutes, and we’ll have you covered,” I said. “Green icing is easy enough to make, and we’ll ice a variety of donuts for you to take.”
“No,” she said with a look of pure dread on her face. “They all have to be as nearly identical as you can make them. Otherwise, the children will fight over who gets which donut.”
I didn’t know if that was true or not, but the customer was always right, particularly when they were paying for the privilege. “Fine, twenty-four donuts, each one exactly like the next.”
The relief on her face was clear. “You’re a real lifesaver,” she said.
“What can I say, I do my best. Can I get you some coffee while you wait, and maybe an éclair, as well?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “That would be delightful.”
After I poured Terri a cup of coffee and served her the treat, I peeked in the kitchen and found Emma doing dishes, her iPod earbuds in. After grabbing a tray of two dozen unglazed cake donuts, I took them into the kitchen and set them down near the glazing and icing station, all without being observed by Emma.