by Jessica Beck
Slowly opening the bedroom door, I tiptoed out into the living room and saw a light on in the kitchen. Did Momma and Phillip leave one on at night to serve as a nightlight, or had it been left on to aid me in getting around the unfamiliar space? I walked into the kitchen to shut it off only to find Momma up, standing over a pan containing eggs and bacon. The smell of fresh coffee welcomed me as well. How had I not smelled all of that in my bedroom?
“Did you get up just to make me breakfast?” I asked her after giving her a brief hug.
“Well, I’m certainly not eating this early, unless you want the company. I’ve got toast for you, too.” As she said it, the toaster popped up as though on cue.
“I usually don’t eat much in the mornings before I go to work,” I admitted.
“Well, let today be the exception, then. If you don’t eat it, I’ll have to wake Phillip up so he can, and he’ll never get back to sleep if he eats all of this. What do you say? It’s entirely up to you. Are you going to have this yourself, or do we need to rouse my husband?”
I had to laugh. Parts of my mother’s personality had changed over the years, but other parts were still there in full force. “I give up. I’ll eat,” I said as I took a seat.
“Good girl,” Momma said as she plated up my food and slid it in front of me.
“This is really delicious,” I said after digging in. I would have never gone to so much trouble for myself, but who was I to turn down my mother’s offerings?
Momma sat at the table with me as I ate, and after I finished, she said, “Suzanne, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you before you go.”
Uh oh. What was going on here? “What’s wrong? Am I in trouble?”
Momma laughed heartily at the face I must have been making. “Of course not. I just wanted to discuss Greg Whitmore’s murder with you.”
“Did Phillip tell you that Grace and I were looking into it?” I asked, wondering why my stepfather had decided to share that information with her.
“No, he would never violate a confidence,” she said. “It just so happens that I was eavesdropping on your conversation last night from the kitchen.”
I couldn’t even be angry with her. After all, it was definitely a case of the apple not falling far from the tree. If our roles had been reversed, we both knew that my ear would have been at that door before it could even fully close. “What do you think?”
“Phillip has some good advice, but you might need a little more leverage to get anyone to talk to you at the bank a second time.” Momma reached over to the counter and grabbed a piece of paper. It was a check, and when I saw the amount, I realized that it was more money than I cleared in a year at the donut shop.
“Wow, if this is my allowance, I’m moving back in immediately,” I told her with a smile.
“Don’t be silly. You’re to take this to the bank this afternoon to prove that your questions deserve to be answered. It’s amazing what a little money and the promise of spreading it around can do for a situation like you’re in.”
“Is it good?” I asked her as I waved the check in the air.
“Of course it’s good. I would never write a bad check, even for something like this.”
I took a deep breath and treated the check a little more reverently. “I know you don’t like to discuss business with me, but is there any reason in particular that you have one hundred thousand dollars in your checking account?”
Momma smiled. “I’m buying a piece of property tomorrow, so you just happened to catch me at the perfect time. If anyone at the bank checks this, they’ll find that it’s perfectly good. Anyway, perhaps it will help.”
I studied the check, which was made out to cash, and noticed that something was missing. I handed it back to her and said, “You forgot to sign it.”
She laughed. “Oh, how I miss you. I certainly didn’t forget to do anything. You are to use this as leverage, but not actually deposit it. Do we understand each other? This represents good faith on your part, which happens to be completely lacking, but so be it. If it helps you find the man’s killer, then I’m willing to participate in the ruse.”
“I didn’t realize you cared so much about Greg Whitmore,” I said.
“I barely knew the man. I’m not doing this for him, Suzanne. It’s for you. I understand why you and Grace feel the need to investigate his murder, since you were the ones who found his body. I’m not sure I wouldn’t do the same thing were I in your shoes instead.”
“Thank you, Momma. I appreciate this,” I said as I folded the check and stuck it in my front pocket. “I won’t let you down.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried,” she said. “Now, don’t you have a donut shop to go to?”
I glanced at the clock and saw that I was indeed running behind schedule, which was only fair, since I hadn’t planned on stopping for such a lavish breakfast. “I’ll still make it. After all, even if I’m a little late, who’s going to complain? There are real benefits of being the boss, and I know that I don’t have to tell you that.”
“You do not.” As I got up to leave, Momma added, “Suzanne, you know you’re more than welcome to stay here with us again tonight.”
“I know, and I appreciate it.”
“So, does that mean we can count on you?” she asked.
“Let’s just play it by ear for now, okay?” I replied.
“That’s fine. Have a lovely day.”
“You, too,” I said.
She yawned once and then nodded. “I plan to, but it’s going to start quite a bit later than yours has. I’m going back to bed.”
“You didn’t have to get up just for me,” I reminded her.
“I’d rather lose a little sleep than some time with my favorite daughter,” she said as she kissed my cheek.
“It probably helps that I’m your only daughter,” I said, laughing.
“That it does.”
I drove to the donut shop in the darkness and realized that the streets weren’t completely free from complications. Most of the moisture had dried off in the sunlight, but there were still patches of black ice hiding in the shade of some tall trees that nearly made me lose control of Jake’s truck a couple of times. It wasn’t exactly a pristine vehicle, but if I put any new dents or scrapes on it, my husband would realize it instantly. Fortunately, I made it to Donut Hearts unscathed. The front of the shop looked as though it had a black eye with the hastily patched roof and corner walls, and I knew that I’d have to fix it sooner rather than later. I couldn’t expect my customers to put up with folding seats when they’d been used to comfortable couches and upholstered chairs. That was when I remembered the book club meeting scheduled for that morning. Should I cancel, or should we just go ahead with it? I knew the ladies would rather put up with the hardship of folding chairs than they would with skipping a meeting, so I decided to let them decide once they got there. At least I’d finished the book, and I had a few questions for the group.
That would have to wait until later, though.
Right now I had donuts to make.
As I began to gather supplies, I was happy seeing that my pantry was fully restocked, and I was even ready to face another storm if need be.
But I hoped with all my heart that it wouldn’t come. I wouldn’t mind a white Christmas, but I was already thoroughly tired of ice.
Emma came in happier than usual, especially for that time of night. “Good morning, Suzanne,” she said as I started dropping pumpkin cake donuts into the oil. “Oops. I’ll be out front if you need me.” She quickly stepped back out into the dining area, and I finished up the last of the cake donuts, icing them and setting them on racks to one side so they could cool completely.
“You can come in now,” I said as I walked through the door that separated the kitchen from the
display and dining area.
“Look what I brought you,” she said as she held a copy of the April Springs Sentinel up for me to see. “It’s hot off the presses.”
I took the paper from her and read the banner headline, “ICE CRIPPLES TOWN.” “Your father isn’t afraid of using ink, is he?”
“Are you kidding? He’s in heaven. He spent all day yesterday going around taking pictures and interviewing folks about the Great Ice Storm of the Century. That’s what he’s been calling it. You can almost hear the capital letters in his voice.”
“Is there anything here about Greg Whitmore?” I asked her, trying to be as nonchalant about it as I could. I didn’t want her father to know just yet what Grace and I were up to, so it made sense to keep it from Emma, too, at least for the moment.
“Check the black box below the fold,” she instructed me.
I read Ray Blake’s brief aside aloud.
“‘SANTA SLAYING IN THE PARK! The storm did more than strike terror in the hearts of April Springs residents. Greg Whitmore, aged 58, perished during the storm, cut down in cold blood in his prime. For more on this story, see tomorrow’s special edition, Killer Storm.’ Wow, he really knows how to sell the next newspaper, doesn’t he? I’m not so sure about fifty-eight being someone’s prime, but then again, I used to think thirty was old when I was a kid.”
“I still do,” Emma said with a grin.
“Just wait ten years and you’ll know exactly what I mean.”
“Dad’s upset about Greg’s murder, but the storm has been a real blessing. He’s printing twice the number of copies as usual. He thinks this one is going to be a collector’s edition.”
“He could be right at that,” I said. “What does he think about what happened to Greg?”
“You know Dad. He’s got a dozen theories, each one wilder than the last.”
I looked hard at my assistant, who was still smiling broadly. “Is that why you’re so happy, because your dad is selling papers?”
“I’m not supposed to say anything until it’s official, but it looks like Barton is staying in town after all.”
Barton Gleason was the new chef at the hospital, a culinary magician who was all set to leave town for a job in Charlotte before Emma came into his life. I was a fan of the man, both for who he was and for the art of what he did in the kitchen. “That’s great news.”
“You’re telling me,” she said. “Can I tell you something?”
“I sure hope so,” I said, smiling.
“Suzanne, he might be the one.” Emma bit her lip, and before I could say anything, she quickly added, “I know I’ve said that before, but this time I think there’s a chance that it just might be true.”
“Good for you,” I said. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about it while you get started on those dishes and I get the yeast dough ready for its first rise?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Emma said. As she chattered away happily about her new love, I had to smile to myself. My assistant and dear friend had fallen in love at least half a dozen times since she’d come to work for me at Donut Hearts, but I had a feeling that maybe this time, it would be for keeps. I myself was a true believer in love, especially after finding Jake, but I’d made a promise to myself not to meddle in Emma’s love life, well, at least not as much as I had in the past, and so far, I’d done a pretty good job of sticking to it.
That didn’t mean that I couldn’t be happy for her, though.
By the time we were ready for our break outside, I had the yeast dough ready, and Emma had knocked out enough of the dirty dishes for the next phase of our work. “We’re going outside, aren’t we?” she asked me eagerly. “I know the tables and chairs out there are gone, along with the awning, but we can drag a pair of folding chairs out with us, can’t we?”
“There’s no reason we shouldn’t,” I said. I didn’t mind the cold, but I missed my things, and every time I stepped out into the dining area, I realized how much of the place I’d lost.
Emma must have sensed my mood. “Come on, Suzanne. The brisk air will do you good. Don’t worry about all of this,” she said as she waved a hand around in the front of the shop. “It will be as good as new again before you know it.”
“I hope so,” I said.
Emma was right, at least about the cold. I loved the chilly embrace of this time of year. It was a nice juxtaposition to the heat coming off the hot oil inside, and there was a freshness to the air that with every breath, it felt as though I were experiencing it for the first time. That being said, I was still happy when the timer went off and it was time to go back inside. Cold was good if it was easy to transition back to warm, and I never took that luxury for granted.
Chapter 14
“Gwen, what are you doing here?” I asked Greg’s former girlfriend as I unlocked the front door the moment it was time to open for the day and start selling what I’d been so carefully creating all morning.
“I need to talk to you,” she said urgently as I let her in. Gwen was my first customer of the day, and no one else was waiting for my donuts. I couldn’t blame them. It was chilly out, and I knew that my regulars would be along soon enough.
“I’m all yours,” I said.
“Listen, I need to straighten you out about something,” she said as she frowned.
“I didn’t even realize that I was bent,” I said, doing my best not to react to her comment.
“That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about Greg.”
“What about him?” I asked. “By the way, can I get you anything while you’re here?”
She frowned at my donut display, shook her head, and then said, “Just coffee.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust people who didn’t like donuts; well, maybe that was it. The woman had another strike against her, and they were piling up fast. I poured her coffee, took her money, and then handed her change to her. “You were saying?” I asked after the transaction was completed.
“There’s a great deal more going on here than you’re aware of, and if you don’t be careful, it’s going to cost you something dear to you.”
“Is that a threat, Gwen?” I asked her, letting a little of the tenseness I was feeling out in my voice.
“What? Of course not. I came to warn you! Do you think I’d drive all the way here at this unholy hour just to threaten you? Suzanne, there are things going on behind the scenes that, if you stumble into them, could hurt you.”
“For example?”
She shrugged. “Okay. Here’s a big one. Why do you think Greg was really in the hospital a while back?”
“That’s an easy one. He was in a car accident,” I said, remembering how Lori had come and bought out my inventory so her husband could have all the treats he wanted upon being discharged.
“That’s just what he wanted people to think,” she said smugly.
“Are you saying that’s not what happened?”
“A blow from a baseball bat to the ribs isn’t that unlike a car wreck,” Gwen said.
I narrowed my gaze. “Greg was beaten? If that were true, then why would he lie about it?”
“Because he was promised a great deal worse than that if he didn’t cooperate.” Gwen kept looking over her shoulder out the Plexiglas window, and I was beginning to understand why. I believed that she was genuinely afraid. What I didn’t know was if there was any basis for her fear in reality.
“Okay, let’s say I believe you. Who would do such a thing?”
“My boss,” she said softly, as though Calvin Trinket could actually hear her.
“Let me get this straight. You’re trying to tell me that Calvin hit Greg with a baseball bat,” I said. It was ridiculous thinking of that older, heavyset man attacking Greg so overtly.
“Calvin didn’t do the actual deed,”
she said in disgust, “but he was the direct cause of it.”
“I’m listening,” I said, fighting to keep an open mind.
“This is where it gets complicated,” Gwen said. “I didn’t tell you the complete story earlier because I didn’t want to burden you with it, but you need to know. A while back, I found out that Calvin forced Greg into making some bad loans, and when Greg realized what was going on, he threatened to go to the authorities. After his ‘accident,’ he quit complaining so openly about it, until this past week, that is. I urged him to go to the police, and he was starting to come around to my way of thinking. Calvin couldn’t have that, so I’m thinking he told his partners what was going on, and they took things a little too far trying to scare Greg into complying with their wishes.”
“Why wouldn’t Calvin issue the loans himself? Why would he even involve Greg?” I asked, and then I realized what the answer was. “He wanted plausible deniability that he even knew what was going on, didn’t he?”
“Exactly. I told you Calvin and Greg had been fighting recently, and that was the real reason why. Greg is in fear for his life, and suddenly he turns up dead. He and Calvin are fighting. You do the math.”
I thought it was still a bit of a leap, even if everything she’d just told me was true. “Wouldn’t killing Greg just serve to put the spotlight on the loans he’d issued?” I asked. “I’d think they wouldn’t want any attention at all.”