Floured Felonies (The Donut Mysteries Book 27)

by Jessica Beck

  “I’m curious about something,” I said. “If Greg was the reason for your separation, why were you the one who moved out?”

  Lori bit her lower lip for a moment before answering. “It was his mother’s house to begin with. Even if he would have offered it to me, I wouldn’t have stayed there. What I needed was a clean break.”

  Well, she’d gotten that, I thought to myself, though I never would have voiced it. “How about Greg’s friends? Can you think of anyone else we should talk to?”

  “The only one he was still close to was Benny Young. They worked together at the bank. Talk to him. He might know something.”

  We were interrupted as Penny came out of the bedroom, looking irritated with the world. “Okay, I was wrong.”

  “About letting us in?” I asked her.

  “No, that’s Lori’s business, but your voices are carrying into the bedroom, and I’m having trouble getting to sleep. Give me a break, would you?”

  I stood, and Grace followed suit. “Sorry. We’ll leave.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. You know I’m not ordinarily this cranky, right?” Penny asked us with a grin.

  “If I’d worked the shift you just pulled, I’d be spraying us with a water hose to get us to leave,” I reassured her. Turning to Lori, I said, “If you think of anything or anyone else, let me know.” I handed her one of my donut shop cards, and Grace and I were soon back in Jake’s truck.

  “That was interesting,” I said.

  “You bet it was. She didn’t tell us everything she knows, did she?”

  I looked at Grace oddly for a moment before I answered. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Did I miss something? What did you pick up on that I didn’t?”

  “Don’t you think she protested the absence of a girlfriend in her husband’s life a little too vigorously?”

  I thought about it, and then I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I am. Something’s not right there.”

  “At least we know she doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder,” I added as I started driving.

  Grace nodded. “I almost didn’t put that together at first. Penny told us up front that she’d been working at the hospital the entire time of the ice storm. It would have been easy for Lori to sneak over to her former home, shoot her husband, and then take his body to the park and get back to Penny’s before anyone even knew she was gone.”

  “When you say it like that, it sounds pretty complicated, doesn’t it? Why didn’t she just shoot him and leave him where he was?”

  Grace answered, “When a spouse is murdered, who is the first person they speak with? Who has Stephen interviewed repeatedly?”

  “Lori,” I said.

  “If Greg had been found at home, wouldn’t it have looked even more like Lori could be involved? By leaving his body in the park, it opens up the list of people who might have done it.”

  “I can see that, but why risk carting him on a sled in the middle of an ice storm? What if someone saw her?”

  “I’m guessing if anyone had been out to see it, it probably would have looked as though they were out trying to enjoy the icy weather.”

  “You can’t sled in an ice storm,” I reminded her.

  “Au contraire. At college, we’d slide on cafeteria trays in a heavy rain. Ice would have been welcome if snow weren’t available.”

  “Either way, we need to keep her high on our list.”

  Grace looked around. “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “I’d say a trip to the bank is in order, wouldn’t you?”

  “Sure, but we can’t just barge in asking questions about Greg without some kind of explanation.”

  “We can’t?” I asked her with a slight smile. “I thought you enjoyed role-playing.”

  “That’s an entirely different matter. We haven’t done that in a while. Who are we going to be this time? I know. How about sisters who have just inherited millions and need advice on how to best invest it?”

  “I was thinking of something a little less spectacular than that,” I admitted.

  “What did we do, inherit thousands? That won’t get us nearly as much attention.”

  “Let’s settle on an even fifty thousand dollars,” I said. “I’m guessing that Greg handled more than just loans. He might do some low-dollar investments as well. We were going to consult with him, but we’ll insist on speaking with the branch manager himself.”

  “Okay, I’d buy that. Now, what should our names be? I always fancied myself as Francisca Dubois.”

  I had to laugh at such an outlandish name. “Really? Do I call you Frannie for short?”

  “Not if you expect me to answer. You can be Myrtle.”

  “Do I look like a Myrtle to you? And be careful how you answer that. Our friendship might be riding on it.”

  “No,” she conceded, “but you made fun of my name.”

  “Why don’t I be Helen?” I suggested.

  “Fine by me, Helen. This is going to be fun.”

  “Remember, we’re still investigating a murder, Grace.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves a little in the process. And you mean Francisca, don’t you?”

  “Sorry, Francisca, my mistake.”

  “That’s better,” she said with a grin.

  Chapter 9

  “Ladies, I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Whitmore won’t be able to help you this afternoon,” Calvin Trinket said as he approached us.

  “Why ever not? Was he delayed by the ice storm?” I asked innocently.

  “Fortunately, we were lucky to be spared its wrath here,” the bank manager said. “Was there something that I might be able to help you with?”

  We’d informed the woman up front that we had an appointment with Greg, and she looked puzzled for a moment before excusing herself and going straight to the branch manager’s office. The moment she was gone, I looked around the lobby and was amazed to find just how nondenominationally they’d managed to celebrate the season. There was no sign of a Christmas tree of any kind, but there were several large paper snowflakes on display, as well as enough stringed garland to cover city hall and still have enough left over to wrap the town clock. Calvin Trinket had come out almost immediately after the receptionist had told him we were there. He was a short, heavyset man with graying hair who waddled more than he walked.

  “Oh, dear,” Grace said, being a little too overdramatic for my taste. “We did so trust Mr. Whitmore. Has he left your employ?”

  “Unfortunately, he met with an untimely accident,” Calvin said smoothly. I’d never heard anyone being shot categorized as an accident, but let him spin things the way he wanted to. “Still, I’d be more than happy to assist you. I understand it’s a rather modest sum.”

  “Just fifty thousand,” Grace said with open ease. “It’s such a small fraction of our overall estate it was hardly worth bothering our regular advisors with. My sister and I have grown a little uneasy with our current financial consultants, so if this is handled well, we might be open to shifting some of our larger assets to your bank as well.”

  The man was virtually licking his lips at the news. Maybe Grace had been right. Going in with the premise of investing a modest sum had made sense to me at the time, but this was one case where Grace’s flair might pay off. “Please, follow me into my office.”

  After we were settled in and before Calvin could start his sales pitch for his financial services, I said, “If you don’t mind, we’d like to talk a little bit about Mr. Whitmore. After all, it was his presence that made us interested in your establishment in the first place.”

  Calvin was not used to being thwarted, that much was obvious by his reaction. “What is there to say? I’m not at liberty to discuss his
situation, but suffice it to say that it has nothing to do with this institution.”

  This was getting us nowhere. It may have been a mistake approaching him in this manner, but it was too late to change strategies now. Or was it? I let my face go slack as I asked, “Is there perhaps a restroom I could use? I’m not feeling entirely well.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  As he gave me directions, I winked at Grace, who nodded gravely and put a hand on my arm. “Should I go with you?”

  “No, you stay here. I shan’t be long.” What had gotten into me? I’d never said “shan’t” before in my life.

  I started for the restroom, stayed a moment or two when I got there, and then I headed back, lingering at Calvin’s assistant’s desk along the way. The plaque said her name was Gwen West. Young and pretty, she was voluptuous without being very overweight, and I knew from experience that type of girl would be watching her calories for the rest of her life, or she would someday find herself dismayed to find that none of her clothes fit her anymore and that the men weren’t nearly as attentive as they’d once been. She’d clearly been crying, and I imagined she was the one I really should talk to about Greg Whitmore and not the man’s former boss.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” I asked her gently.

  “I’m fine. It’s just allergies,” she said as she dabbed at her eyes.

  “In December? It doesn’t have anything to do with Mr. Whitmore’s unfortunate accident, does it?”

  “Why do you ask?” she asked me suspiciously.

  “Your Mr. Trinket doesn’t seem to be a very big fan of the man, but I’m guessing that you were,” I confided in her.

  “He wouldn’t,” she said acidly as she glanced back critically in her boss’s direction. “He was doing his best to get rid of Greg, and now, all of a sudden, someone shoots him in the back of the head. It just doesn’t make sense, if you ask me.”

  My, my, word traveled fast. I hadn’t even realized any civilians besides Grace and I even knew what had really happened to Greg. “How did you learn that?”

  “Benny told me,” she said as she pointed toward a man sitting a hundred feet away from us. In a hushed voice, she added, “If you ask me, the police should be talking to Calvin.”

  “Would he have done something so drastic just to get rid of an employee?” I asked her, doing my best to empathize with the poor woman.

  “All I know for sure is that there was something going on with a few of Greg’s loans. My guess is that he wanted to increase the amounts on them, but Calvin wouldn’t approve any of his requests. I heard them yelling two nights ago after everyone else had gone home. I wouldn’t have been here at all myself, but I forgot my purse, and I had to come back for it.” She stopped speaking abruptly, and I felt someone’s presence directly behind me. For a heavy man, Calvin Trinket certainly had a light footstep. “Thank you, my dear,” I said loudly to Gwen, and entirely for his benefit. “I appreciate the advice. My sister and I definitely will try Napoli’s while we’re in town.” I turned and acted surprised to find Calvin standing in front of me. “Your assistant was kind enough to recommend a restaurant to us while we’re here,” I said. “Gwen’s a real jewel.”

  “We think so,” he said, trying to decide if I was telling the truth or lying. Good luck with that, bub.

  “They really are delightful,” Gwen said a little too enthusiastically.

  “Mr. Trinket,” I started when we got back to his office.

  He interrupted me. “Please, call me Calvin.”

  “Calvin, then. I just remembered something. Mr. Whitmore instructed us that if he couldn’t meet with us for any reason, we should speak with a Mr. Young. I trust he is available.”

  “He is, but I assure you, I’m the one you need to deal with.” He said it with a finality that offered no recourse but to accept his word as gold, but clearly he’d never dealt with my best friend before.

  “So, are you saying that you won’t allow it?” Grace asked him, putting just the right amount of frost in her voice.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Calvin backpedaled quickly. “I honestly believe that if you deal with anyone at our fine institution, it needs to be me.”

  Grace took that in, and then she stood and joined me. “Very well, then. If that’s your decision, I won’t stay here and argue with you. Have a pleasant day, Mr. Trinket. Come, Helen, there are other banks to visit.”

  We didn’t even make it out of his office door before he spoke up. “I’m sorry, I must not have explained myself clearly. Of course you can speak with whomever you’d like. In fact, I’ll show you to Mr. Young’s office myself,” he said swiftly.

  “I don’t know if that’s necessary at this point,” Grace said, clearly displaying her unhappiness with his earlier behavior. What was she doing?

  “Gra…great day, sister dear. Let’s give him a chance.” I’d nearly called her by her real name, and I’d only barely managed to cover it by creating an expression that no one in their right mind would ever use.

  “Very well. If you insist,” she said. “Lead on, Mr. Trinket.”

  Calvin looked relieved by our acceptance of his offer. “You won’t be sorry. Follow me, please.”

  As we left the manager’s office, I slowed to smile at Gwen, who looked as though she’d regretted sharing anything with me. I wanted to stop and assure her that I wouldn’t use any of it, but that would be a bald-faced lie. What she’d confided in me might be very valuable indeed.

  Benny Young was the antithesis of his boss, young and slick and handsome in an oily kind of way. He took his boss’s introduction of us in stride, offered his hand to each of us, and then showed us to his seats. He started to say something to Grace, but she shook her head quickly, and whatever he was about to say died in his throat. Calvin stayed put in the doorway, something we couldn’t have if we were going to grill Benny. “You may leave us, Mr. Trinket,” I said, trying to match Grace’s frosty voice.

  He looked embarrassed, as though he’d been caught sneaking a peek into the girls’ locker room. “Of course. Call if you need me.”

  We both nodded, and soon enough, we had the man all to ourselves. “Benny, first of all, you should know that we are here under false pretenses,” Grace said, her blunt honesty nearly knocking me off my chair. What happened to our role-playing, and why had she abandoned it so suddenly? I wanted to protest, but Grace’s instincts were usually pretty accurate when it came to sizing up people.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” he said with a conspiratorial smile. “Why are you really here?”

  “We’re investigating Greg Whitmore’s murder,” I said, matching Grace’s bluntness with my own. “We were told you were his best friend.”

  “Yeah, that’s true enough,” Benny said, his smile dying on his lips. “I can’t believe someone shot him down like he had rabies or something.”

  “Where did you hear what happened to him?” I asked.

  “I play basketball with a guy from the coroner’s office,” he explained. “As soon as he found out where Greg worked, he called me. It’s the darnedest thing. I still can’t believe it really happened.”

  “Do you have any idea who would do such a thing?” Grace asked him.

  “You should talk to Lori, his wife,” Benny said glumly.

  “We already have,” I volunteered. “Do you think she might have done it?”

  “They didn’t get along, that’s for sure. When she found out Greg was dating someone before they were even divorced, she nearly lost it in the parking lot a few days ago.”

  Lori knew there was someone else in her husband’s life? She’d lied to us? Why? “Do you know who he was seeing?”

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly a secret around here,” Benny said as he pointed to Gwen West, who was watching us closely.

  “He
was dating Trinket’s assistant?” I asked.

  “Well, I suppose it was his turn,” Benny said with a frown.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Let’s just say that Gwen has gone out with a few of us over the past few years,” he said.

  “Including you?” Grace asked him.

  Her shot scored a direct hit, based on his reaction. “Sure, we went out a few times, but everybody knew that Greg was the one she had her eye on. When he finally agreed to go out with her, that was the end of us.”

  “So, you’re telling us that your best friend stole your girlfriend,” I said. What was this, high school?

  “No, it was nothing like that. Gwen and I went out two or three times, but there weren’t any real sparks there. Now she and Greg, they had a passionate relationship. They were either screaming at each other or making out in the supply closet, and you never knew which it would be from day to day. Shoot, hour to hour, truth be told.”

  “So, there was no friction between the two of you?” I asked him.

  “We were pals,” Benny said with a shrug. “So, there’s really no money to invest?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said.

  “Man, Calvin is going to be all over me. Our deposits are down, and he’s going to accuse me of blowing it,” Benny said sadly. “Great. Here he comes.”

  I pivoted to see the manager approach us, and I came up with something on the spot that might help. When I was certain Trinket could hear us, I said, “When we decide to invest, you’ll be the first one we contact. I’m sorry we can’t stay longer, but I’m really not feeling well at all.” I was turning on my fake illness so much that I was actually starting to feel queasy.

  “May we call you a doctor?” Calvin asked solicitously as he joined us. Man, he wasn’t going to let us go easily.

  “Thank you, but no. No one cares for us but our family physician.”