“Uh.” Amy scratched her chin. “What?”
“Who is A. Pole?” Heather asked, and moved to the edge of her seat. She pressed her fingertips onto the walnut desk’s polished surface.
Herman sighed. “She was a client.”
“She?” Amy and Heather said, in unison. They’d both assumed that A. Pole would be an accomplice. Perhaps one of Charlie’s uncles who’d plotted against him. Amy had gone so far as to call the case closed on the way over to Herman’s offices.
Heather held her doubts close to her chest.
“That’s right. Althea Pole,” Herman said. “Bad business. Very bad business. The poor woman, she died in hospital. She planned it herself.”
“Planned it herself?” Heather asked. “No, wait. Let’s start from the beginning. Althea Pole was your client in which way? Divorce?”
“No,” Herman said, and took one last drag of his pencil this cigarette. “She had me draw up her last will and testament three years ago. She died a year ago. I was instructed to send out this letter two weeks ago.” He leaned forward and tapped the envelope.
“I don’t understand,” Heather said.
“Miss Pole came to me with a special task. She asked that I deliver first the treasure map on a specific date in early 2017, and then the letter a week ago. All of it to a Mr. Gerard Furrows. She provided his most recent address, and I tracked him down after her death. By a twist of fate, he had not yet moved to Hillside.”
“Why Gerard?” Heather asked.
“She never told me this thing, and I am a man who respects confidentiality,” Herman said and smashed out the remains of his cigarette into the ashtray. “As I am sure you are aware.”
Heather’s mind whirred into action. “Althea Pole. Was she any relation to Charlie Pole?”
“Why yes,” Herman said. “Yes, Charlie was her son.”
“So, you’re telling me that the first victim’s mother sent a treasure map and a note to the second victim?” The puzzle pieces transmogrified into floating question marks in her brain. What did it all mean?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” Herman said.
“And you don’t know where this hidden treasure is?” Heather asked.
“Well, no. I don’t know the exact location, only that it’s buried along the banks of the South Bosque River, madame.” He sniffed and pressed the tip of his finger to the end of his hooked nose. “I was tasked with delivering the letters and ensuring her will was carried out. The other details, they are unknown to me.”
“And her will?” Amy perked up from her spot beside the open window. “Who did she leave her money to?”
Herman Schulz leveled a calm gaze at Heather’s bestie. “Her son.”
Amy’s shoulder ducked down again. That didn’t give them much of a lead, did it?
Heather collected the map and the message. They had enough information to piece together the coordinates on the map if nothing else. Perhaps, finding the treasure would give them a clue as to why Althea had buried it in the first place.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Schulz.”
“That is all? No accusations or searching of my office and personal effects?” The lawyer pressed his palm to the left side of his chest.
“I hate to let you down,” Heather said. “But no, not this time. I’ll be in touch if I need more information, Mr. Schulz.”
“I expect nothing less from Hillside’s prime Private Investigator,” he replied and grappled another cigarette from the box.
Heather marched to the door of his office, her mind already on the plan ahead. Email Ryan the information and a copy of the letter. Ask him to piece it together. Make donuts.
Solve the case.
Fingers crossed all of the above went off without a hitch. Heather buried her humor – when did it ever go off without a hitch?
Chapter 10
Heather sipped her coffee and crossed her ankles. She’d never regret the purchase of the stools for the store. They weren’t particularly comfortable, but they sure were good for her posture.
She flipped through the messages in her inbox. Nothing from Ryan, yet. She’d given him the information two hours past. He had to have an answer to the puzzle by now.
All they had to do was find out Althea Pole’s year of birth, along with her date of death, and they were set.
“Uh, Heather?” Amy tapped her on the forearm.
The phone jiggled in Heather’s grip. She locked it with the click of a button and met her bestie’s gaze. “What’s up?”
The flow of customers had slowed, as it always did after lunch. A few stragglers sat beside tables and munched on Toasted Coconut Donuts. Happy faces and full bellies.
“We’ve got a problem,” Amy said. “I’m actually under exaggerating. We have the biggest problem we’ve ever had in Donut Delights.”
“What is it?” Heather hopped off her stool and slipped her cell phone back into the front pouch of her apron. “Are we behind on the prep for Sunday?”
“Yes, but there’s a reason for that,” Amy said and drew her back a step. “Heather, I just got back from the organic food store. They don’t have the coconut shavings for us.”
“What? Why not?” She’d made a point of ordering them when they first come up with the idea of the fair. She’d stayed up all night planning the donut which she’d debut at the celebrations.
“They say someone from Donut Delights called to cancel the order,” Amy replied.
“What? When? No, that’s impossible. No one here would do that,” Heather said.
“Apparently, a woman identified herself as – as me. And canceled the coconut order two days ago,” Amy said.
“As you?”
“Amy Givens,” her bestie said and thumbed herself in the chest. “Except I wouldn’t and didn’t make that call.”
Heather sucked in deep, calming breaths, but the panic had already closed around her heart. That store was the only place in Hillside she could buy the coconut shavings in bulk.
And it was already Wednesday afternoon. They’d never find a place in time. Oh gosh, she’d have to come up with an entirely new donut. She couldn’t push out an old one as the feature.
Everyone in Hillside had tasted her past donut flavors. If they didn’t –
“Heather, you’re hyperventilating,” Amy said, she fished around under the counter and grabbed a brown paper bag. “Here.”
Heather took the bag and dropped it beside the register. She’d calm herself manually. The last thing she needed was for her customers to witness a breakdown. That’d spread through the town in seconds.
Gossip and Hillside walked hand in hand.
“What do we do?” Amy asked. “Why is this happening?”
“Kate,” Heather said, and the wretched woman’s name came out in a low growl. “It’s got to be Kate.”
“What? Why?”
“She threatened us, remember? She wanted in on the deal, and she’s always had a soft spot for you, Ames. She thinks I’m stupid,” Heather said. “That I’ll believe it’s you and flip out.”
“It wasn’t me,” Amy said and raised her palms. Some of the edible glitter they’d tried on the Strawberry Creams had stuck to her skin and glinted beneath the down lights.
“I know that,” Heather replied. “We’ll just have to find another source.”
Amy snatched her cell out of the front pocket of her apron and tapped on the screen, frantically. “I’m on it.”
“Even if it’s a store in the town over. As long as they have enough coconut, I’m happy to drive out and fetch it,” Heather said.
“No, you can’t go. You’re needed here, for the case,” Amy said.
Heather swallowed a bitter pill of truth. This day had been coming for a while. She’d barely managed to balance her love of donuts and her love of solving cases. Now, it tipped toward one side.
“No,” Heather said. “I committed to this store and the desire to give Hillside a taste of my grandmother’s recipes, a
nd my own. I won’t drop Donut Delights now or ever. Even if it means dropping the case instead. Ryan has everything he needs to solve it.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Amy said. “We might find a place that can deliver. Though, we might not be able to get organic.”
Heather shrugged. They’d have to make do. Bubbling fury sat in the pit of her stomach, but she wouldn’t give Kate the pleasure of lashing out at her about this. If she did, Kate would know she’d gotten to Heather.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. Gosh, she’d had too many late nights and long days.
Too much happening all at once.
Heather’s phone pinged with a text. She lifted it from the front pocket of her apron and unlocked it, then clicked through to the message.
“I think I found a place,” Amy said. “And it looks like they deliver. I’m going to phone them.”
Heather didn’t reply. That anger had just reached a new height.
Good luck with the coconut. More to come if you don’t let me in. K.
“Ugh,” Heather said, and swallowed to get rid of that acerbic flavor. Kate had gone too far this time. She didn’t have a problem with healthy competition, but this wasn’t healthy. This was sabotage.
“What’s wrong?” Amy asked.
“Noth –”
Heather’s phone buzzed in her palm, and Ryan’s name flashed on the screen, along with a picture she’d taken of him and Lilly, stuffing their faces full of pizza at Lil Mama’s.
“When it rains, it pours,” Heather said, and swiped her thumb across the screen. She put the phone to her ear. “Shepherd.”
“I’ve figured out the coordinates,” her husband said. “Do you want to come on a treasure hunt?”
Chapter 11
Heather’s curiosity had beat back the stress. She stood between the trees in the forest and gripped the treasure map. Ryan’s untidy handwriting peered up at her.
31˚42’44.5”N, 97˚26’05.1” W
“Hold on a second,” he said. “Google Maps is acting up.” His thumbs danced across the surface of his touch screen. He’d input the coordinates, and all they had to do was follow the blue line which would lead them from their current location to the site of the buried treasure.
The handle of a shovel rested against Ryan’s thigh.
Ames had stayed back at Donut Delights to handle the coconut dilemma. She’d practically kicked Heather out the front door, but it still felt like the wrong thing to do. Shouldn’t she be back at the store?
Kate Laverne might pull another trick out of her sleeve. Heather massaged her chest and took deep breaths to dismiss the fears.
“Well, nice little party we’ve got going on here.” Hoskins burst from between the trees and trundled down the hill, his massive belly wobbling out of control. “I don’t suppose you brought any –”
“Don’t,” Heather said, and pushed her hand toward the other detective. “I am not in the mood today.”
“Ease up, Hossy. This is going to be fun,” Ryan said.
Hoskins colored at the nickname.
“Ah, got it!” Ryan announced and lifted his phone so they could make out the line. “This way.”
He led them through the trees and long grass, the mulch and gnarled roots which stuck from the earth, offering a fast trip down the sloped embankment. Hoskins grabbed a trunk as he passed and the tree’s branches waggled under the force.
“Almost there,” Ryan said.
“This is close to the crime scene,” Heather replied and orientated herself by turning once in a circle.
The ground had plateaued, and the rush of water reached them between the trees. The fishing hut had to be close too.
“Through here,” Ryan said.
“Can we go a little slower?” Hoskins whined behind them and crackled open the wrapper on a candy bar.
They moved out into the open, on the banks of the South Bosque River. The fisherman’s hut – Ray Donnelly’s – sat close at hand. They followed Ryan around its weathered side and on down the river.
At last, Ryan halted. “You have arrived at your destination,” he said, out loud. He lifted the shovel and dug it into the moist dirt. It gave a satisfying crunch. “Take a seat, love. This might take a while.”
Heather would’ve joined in if she could. Hoskins hovered beside the fisherman’s hut, clearly in no state to offer his help. Half-moons of sweat soaked through the underarms of his standard issue shirt.
The wind nipped at the beads of sweat on Heather’s brow too, but she relished the smell of the water. The damp soil and the trees.
Ryan dug into the dirt. Minutes passed, and then an hour. Finally, the tip of his shovel struck something heavy. A scrape of metal on metal.
“We’ve got something,” he said and wiped sweat and dirt off his forehead.
“I feel like we should’ve gotten some of the rookies to do this,” Hoskins replied.
“What are you complaining about?” Heather asked. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, but watching him is exhausting,” Hoskins said.
Ryan ignored his lazy partner and lowered himself into the mini-hole he’d dug. He scraped around. Heaved and puffed. Stopped to wipe his brow again.
“Do you need help?” Heather asked, and tottered forward a step. She should’ve changed out of her kitten heels before she’d come spelunking. Totally impractical footwear. And this wasn’t her first time in the forest, either.
“I’ve got it,” Ryan said. He bent down and disappeared from sight. A scrape, a clunk and then he rose from the dirt, a small metal lockbox clasped between his grimy palms.
“That’s it?” Hoskins asked, and gestured with his second candy bar of the afternoon – soon to become evening. “I thought this was supposed to be some huge treasure.”
Ryan dropped to his knees in front of Heather. She joined him in the long grass.
They stared at the top of the metal lockbox, and the letters printed on top of it.
Althea Pole
“This is it,” Heather said. “It has to be.”
Ryan lifted the latch on the box. “She didn’t lock it.”
“She probably didn’t think she had to if she only gave the map and instructions to one person.”
“Well? Open the darn thing? I’m about to catch pneumonia out here,” Hoskins said.
The metal lid creaked open and fell back.
The treasure was exposed.
“Is that –?” Heather couldn’t finish the sentence.
“It’s a human bone,” Ryan said.
The single, white bone - it was short, perhaps from a forearm – sat in a Ziploc bag in the center of the box.
Heather sighed. Ryan shut the box. “I’ll get this back to the lab for some tests,” he said. “I’ll get them to expedite the process if they can. The sooner we know who this belongs to, the sooner we can figure out why it’s here.”
“And why Althea Pole wanted Furrows to find it,” Heather said.
She pushed up from the ground and caught Hoskin’s eye. Horror had twisted his lips back in a rictus. “That’s just nasty.”
Heather sighed and made her way past him, back toward the line of trees. Dusk crawled along the horizon, bruising the late afternoon sky.
If anything, finding the treasure had only presented them with questions instead of the answers they sought.
Chapter 12
Amy munched on a handful of popcorn, Lilly’s feet in her lap, and Cupcake the kitten – and this was unbelievable – curled up half on the sofa’s back and half on Amy’s shoulder.
Lilly’s soft snores punctuated the crunch-crunch of the popcorn between Amy’s teeth.
“A bone?” Amy asked. “What do you mean a bone? Like a milk bone?’
“No, like a human bone,” Heather replied.
Amy went as pale as her white cotton PJs. The chewing slowed to a halt. Her gaze darted to Lilly, but the little princess was still asleep.
“I have no idea,” Heather said and exhaled – a long, low blast of air which barely expressed just how frustrating she found all of this.
The bone was the last thing she’d have ever guessed would be in that lockbox.
“What really struck me as odd –”
“Apart from the whole human bone thing, you mean,” Amy said.
“Yeah, apart from that. What really struck me as odd was the way the bone was packaged,” Heather said.
“Oh gosh, I need to stop eating. I think I’m going to throw up. What do you mean packaged? Packaged in what?” Amy’s voice had reached levels which made Dave’s ears twitch.
Heather stroked him to calm him back into his dreams. “Easy,” Heather said. She directed that at Amy. “It was in a Ziploc bag. It’s like, whoever buried that bone wanted it to be preserved. Or used for something.”
“I’m fast approaching the point of hurl,” Amy said.
“Oh relax. Just pretend it’s a movie or a book or something,” Heather replied. She’d been so desensitized by all the murders she’d solved the bone thing didn’t bother her.
No. The fact that she couldn’t figure out why the bone was there, now that certainly bothered her. Her last case had been a debauchery of an investigation. This one couldn’t be the same.
“I’ve been thinking,” Amy said. “Maybe I shouldn’t study to be an investigator. I don’t have the guts for it.”
“Of course, you do,” Heather replied. “And I need you now more than ever, by the way. I’ve got to think.”
“Okay, well, yeah. Let’s do that then. Let’s brainstorm,” Amy said, and lifted Lilly’s feet – covered in dinosaur festooned socks, of course – and rose from the sofa. She settled the girl, and Cupcake then hurried to Heather’s sofa.
“The bone was preserved for a reason. Althea Pole wanted Furrows to find that bone, for whatever reason.” Heather stroked Dave to calm her own nerves this time. “But why? Why? Why? Why? I just can’t see it.” Usually, her sleuthin’ sense at least tingled at this point in an investigation.
Toasted Coconut Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 36 Page 4