Pecan Nut Crunch Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 35

by Susan Gillard

  “I know, I know. Col’s influence has rubbed off on me. A cup of green tea before bed and I sleep like a baby.” Amy’s kettle boiled in the background. “Okay, so fire away, investigator Shepherd.”

  “Mordecai Dyson gave Helena a gift. They might’ve been engaged or married, but she took off her ring.”

  “So maybe the tennis bracelet was the gift?” Amy asked.

  “Maybe. That’s what I was thinking. But that doesn’t really help me much here. He could’ve showered her with gifts, but that doesn’t tell me whether he killed her or not.”

  “Okay, so what do you need?” Amy’s kettle clicked in the background. She opened and closed a cupboard.

  “I need some kind of solid connection to the crime,” Heather said.

  “Krakowski was convinced that Helena stole from him, remember? Maybe he did it. Oh, but he had an alibi.”

  “Exactly,” Heather said. “Unless he worked with someone else. Could he have asked Martha Rizzo to interfere?”

  “Maybe, but she didn’t look all the strong,” Amy replied. “Not strong enough to push over entire bookcases.”

  “Yeah, but the killer used something for leverage.” If only they could find out exactly what that something had been. “It could’ve been any of them.”

  “What about Mrs. Krakowski?” Amy asked, and clinked a teaspoon on her end of the line. “I know she was laid up when we saw her, but that could’ve been an act.”

  “She was at her home at the time of the murder, remember?” Heather asked. But something clicked in her mind. What had Mrs. Krakowski said? That she barely saw her husband, at all.

  Why was that?

  “Ugh, Ames, this is so frustrating. I need to figure this out.”

  “Maybe you just need more information about each of the suspects. We don’t know much about any of them,” Amy replied.

  That irritation still bubbled beneath the surface, seething to get out of Heather’s mind.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Amy stifled a yawn. “What you should do is sleep on it. There aren’t that many connections in this case. If you find more connections it’ll get easier.”

  “Connections,” Heather said. “I guess. I think I’ll see Mrs. Krakowski tomorrow. Talk to her about her husband’s movements. I know he’s involved somehow. I feel it in my gut.”

  Her gut hadn’t been wrong yet, but there was a first time for everything.

  “Take it easy, Heather. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

  “Thanks, Ames,” she said.

  They hung up at the same time. After years of friendship, they were in tune with each other like that.

  Amy’s words teased Heather. She’d figure it out. She always did.

  “But what if I don’t, this time?” Heather shut her laptop, rose and went to check on her daughter, fast asleep in her bed.

  Chapter 16

  Heather strode up the large stone steps which led to the Krakowski’s front doors, Amy at her side. A brisk wind gusted between those trees – so much for breaking the breeze – and tugged at Heather’s hair.

  Amy shivered and rubbed her arms. “It’s getting cold again.”

  “I’m shocked you can feel it through all those layers,” Heather replied and shuddered alongside her friend. She pressed the intercom button and held her breath.

  The case had kept her up half the night. Thoughts of bookcases and battered librarians had chased away sleep, no matter how many glasses of warm milk she drank. That’d only resulted in way too many trips to the bathroom in the early hours of the morning.

  “Who’s there? Jones? Jones is that you?” Mrs. Krakowski’s voice crackled through the speaker.

  “No, this is Heather Shepherd. I spoke to you a few days ago regarding the murder of –”

  The golden door handles pressed downward, and the wooden slabs swung inward. Mrs. Krakowski stood before them, shrouded in a white, fluffy robe, her platinum blond hair piled on top of her head.

  “You’re not sick,” Heather said.

  “No,” Mrs. Krakowski said. “Have you seen my husband?”

  “No, ma’am, we’d actually come here to –”

  “He’s leaving me,” the woman sobbed, and mascara blackened tears tracked down her cheeks. “My darling Jones is leaving me. He’s leaving me for good.”

  Amy rushed past Heather and slipped an arm around Mrs. Krakowski’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” she said, softly. “Don’t panic.”

  “I – I –” The woman bowed her head, and the tears came thick and fast. Her body shook on the spot.

  “This way,” Amy said, and led her back down the hall, toward the living room they’d met her in a few days earlier. “You sit down, and Heather and I will fix you some tea or whatever you like. We can talk about it.”

  Amy’s soft coos faded down the hall. She walked Mrs. Krakowski into the living room and out of sight.

  What on earth had just happened? Amy never touched people she barely knew.

  It was a little-known secret, but Ames had been bullied terribly in middle school. She’d built up a wall to new people and carried it around for years. Her Amy brand sarcasm was a defense mechanism not many people could tolerate, but Heather loved her for it.

  This was unheard of.

  What was it about Mrs. Krakowski’s situation that made Amy react like this?

  “Kent,” Heather whispered. “Of course.”

  Ames’ had felt the sting of a failed relationship.

  “Uh, Heather?” Amy asked from beneath the archway which led into the living room. “You just want to stand there or –?”

  “Coming,” she said.

  Heather raced down the hallway, past a grouping of packed bags, which had to be Mr. Krakowski’s. A glimmer caught her eye – diamonds? No, it was just a cane.

  A cane with a metal base scratched beyond belief.

  Heather’s eyes widened. Her fingers danced to the front pocket of her jeans where she’d hidden her cell.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Mrs. Krakowski wailed.

  Heather stepped back from the cane. She couldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Heather hurried through to the living room and halted beside the armchair.

  Mrs. Krakowski’s tears had slowed. Amy sat across from her and grasped the woman’s hand in her own. “What happened? Start from the beginning. Sometimes, talking helps.”

  Mrs. Krakowski nodded and steeled herself. She puffed out her chest. “Jones came home late last night and came through to the living room. He usually brings me some medicine or a cup of tea, but this time he came with nothing but his top hat.”

  “What did he say?” Amy asked.

  Heather hovered on the edge of the conversation. Listening for a change.

  “He told me that he was in love with another woman and that he was going to run away with her,” Mrs. Krakowski said, and her chin wobbled. “I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. I gave him the money to start his jewelry store, and he seemed so happy.”

  Amy sighed and patted the back of her hand.

  “But then he stopped paying attention to me and the only way to get him to notice me was to – to – Oh, I’m pathetic.”

  “To pretend you were ill,” Amy said.

  “Yes. I admit it,” Mrs. Krakowski said. “I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s – you have no idea what it’s like to be left alone all day long without any company. All my friends left Hillside years ago. And now this. Now he’s going to leave me for someone else.”

  “Why hasn’t he taken his bags?” Heather asked.

  “He said he has to go to the jewelry store to meet her,” she replied and burst into tears again. “Can you believe he told me that? It’s like he never loved me. He doesn’t even care.”

  Amy scooched closer to the grieving wife and murmured words of encouragement.

  Heather couldn’t keep up with the sorrow. Her mind flicked ahead to Krakowski.

  Krakowski’s cane. Martha Rizz
o with him on the street.

  She’d never have guessed in a million years. Pure dumb luck had brought her to the Krakowski residence today.

  “Ames, will you stay here with Mrs. Krakowski and make sure she’s all right?” Heather asked.

  Amy gave her a thumbs up but didn’t reply. She whispered to the old woman, her own eyes shining with tears which hadn’t spilled yet.

  Heather wormed her cell phone out of her pocket, turned on her heel and marched out of the living room. She multi-tasked down the hall – cell unlocked, Ryan’s number dialed, phone to her ear.

  “Detective Shepherd,” he said.

  Heather snatched up Krakowski’s cane as she walked. “Meet me at Krakowski’s store, love. We’ve got our killer.”

  Chapter 17

  The front gate of Krakowski’s jewelry store stood open, and Martha Rizzo grasped the rails of the second gated door, her face pressed to it.

  “You’re crazy.” Jones Krakowski stood inside the store, lit by the opulent chandelier above his head. He held another walking cane in his right hand and held it out at arm’s length. “Get away from the door.”

  Ryan and Heather stood to the left of the store, out of the man’s line of sight.

  “You gave me a ring, Jones,” Martha said, the sunlight glancing off her bright red hair. “A ring. That means we’re forever. You know I’d have done anything to be with you. How can you act surprised.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. I – you stole my cane.”

  “I brought it back,” Martha said.

  “The cops will think I did it if they find that cane. I can’t do this. I thought you were the one,” Krakowski said.

  “Yes, and Helena got in the way,” Martha replied, evenly.

  Ryan crept toward the first open gate. He grabbed the iron bars.

  Krakowski’s eyes widened, and he whipped his cane through the air. “I swear, officer, I didn’t kill her.”

  Ryan slapped the gate shut and trapped Martha Rizzo in the compartment. The other librarian spun around to face them, and her wire-rimmed glasses flew off her face and hit the wall.

  “Miss Rizzo,” Heather said and strode into the picture. “Care to explain that confession we just heard?”

  Martha’s jaw worked. Her mouth opened and closed. “I – she –”

  “We found the cane,” Heather said.

  Martha’s gaze sharpened. “Yeah, I killed her,” she said, after a second. “She was bad news. Bad news for the library and bad news for the jewelry store.”

  “My jewelry store has nothing to do with this,” Jones announced. “I swear I didn’t know until this morning. I finally figured it out when my cane reappeared in the hall with scratch marks all over it. How did you get into my house?”

  “Oh please, your darling wife always leaves the front door unlocked,” Martha snapped and backed up against the wall. She switched her gaze between Jones and back to Heather and Ryan.

  “Why did you do it?” Heather asked.

  “She stole from Jones. She took the diamonds and all the money he’d saved for our plans to elope. To run from the city and his sick, boring wife at last.”

  Oh gosh, this was a mess.

  “I wasn’t going to elope with her,” Krakowski replied, and the silver-capped cane trembled. “I told you that. I told you I had to stay and look after the store.”

  “Exactly. Helena needed to pay. I knew she’d only steal from you again. I knew the day I saw her wearing that diamond tennis bracelet on her arm,” Rizzo replied and pursed her lips. “She wasn’t going to stop until she bankrupted you.”

  “What?” Krakowski asked, and actually looked around his store as if to check nothing else had gone missing in the interim. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw her meeting with an unsavory type. A guy with a black Mohawk. He was her accomplice.”

  Martha wasn’t far off on that, but she’d gotten a few things mixed up.

  “Helena didn’t steal the diamonds,” Ryan replied. “We have the thief in custody.”

  Martha Rizzo blinked. “Impossible,” she said. “Impossible.”

  “Martha, if you believed Helena stole the diamonds from the store, why didn’t you report it to the police?” Heather asked. “Do you doubt they can handle –”

  “Jones reported it to the police. He reported it ages ago, and you people did nothing to arrest her even though everyone knew it was her,” Martha said and drew herself up straight. “So I did what I had to do to get my boyfriend’s assets back.”

  Except Jones hadn’t reported the theft. And he hadn’t gotten any assets back because the diamonds were still under lockdown as evidence in the murder case.

  “I – uh, I might not have had time to report the murder,” Krakowski said. “What with the wife being sick and all. I didn’t, you know, I didn’t have the time.”

  “What?” Martha asked. “You didn’t – It doesn’t matter. I made sure that you’d get your money back so we can run away together. It was a public service.”

  “A public service,” Ryan said and pinched the bridge of his nose. The first sign of irritation she’d ever seen him express while in uniform. “There’s something in the water around here. There has to be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Martha asked.

  “It means you’re under arrest for the murder of Helena Chadwick,” Ryan Shepherd said. “You have the right to remain silent –”

  “I swear I didn’t know until this morning and I couldn’t call. I couldn’t call because she cornered me here.” Krakowski hugged the cane to his chest this time.

  “Traitor,” Martha yelled. “I loved you. I did this for us!”

  Heather’s stomach twisted into a knot. Ugh, this was so messy. Mrs. Krakowski had pretended to be ill for Jones’ attention, who’d been robbed by Mordecai to impress Helena. Jones hadn’t reported the murder because he’d been too busy looking after his ‘sick’ wife, and Martha had taken matters into her own hands as a result.

  Heather massaged her temples and shut her eyes to block out the scene.

  Ryan touched her arm. “Go back to the car, hon. Your car. It’s over now. I’ll handle this.”

  He didn’t kiss her, but the light caress gave her the strength she needed to turn her back on the messy scene and stride back to her Chevrolet.

  Another case solved. Once again, the cost felt too high. It always was, when it equaled murder.

  Chapter 18

  Nicolas sat on a chair at the head of the table in the dining area at the Hillside Children’s Shelter. He moved a makeshift plastic crown to one side on his dark hair and grinned at the kids who lined either side of the long table.

  Donuts of every shape and color sat on plates across the table. Colorful milkshakes alongside them.

  Balloons drifted in the corners of the room, happy smiles stretched across their plastic faces.

  Lilly sat on Nicolas’ right-hand side, grinning from ear to ear.

  “She’s happy,” Heather said. “They’re all happy.”

  Even though it was a really obvious thing to say.

  “You don’t seem all that happy, dear,” Eva Schneider said, and linked her arm through Heather’s. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s just the case,” Heather replied and lowered her voice.

  The laughter and chatter didn’t blot out her words or Eva’s, but she didn’t want her morose attitude to ruin Nicolas’ birthday party.

  “What about it, dear? I thought it was solved.”

  “It is. Martha Rizzo is behind bars, and she’ll stay there, it just, the whole thing made me sad, that’s all.”

  “But why?”

  Heather struggled to find the words for what she’d witnessed that week. She chewed on her thoughts. “I found it sad that Mordecai Dyson would’ve done anything for Helena Chadwick’s love. That he’d stolen diamonds for her to get her back.” Heather took a breath. “And sad that poor Mrs. Krakowski feigned being
sick to get the love and attention of her husband.”

  Eva sighed and slipped her arm through Heather’s. Her blue hair bobbled on top of her head as she nodded along.

  “And it was sad that Mr. Krakowski would’ve run off with another woman he loved. That very same woman, killed Helena to gain Krakowski’s affections.” Heather shook her head. “None of it makes sense to me. Love is supposed to be beautiful and kind. I thought I had this figured out by now, and I don’t.”

  Eva stroked Heather’s forearm. “Oh, liebchen,” Eva said. “Love is beautiful. And love can also be terrible. Nothing in life is ever one way or the other.”

  “What do you mean?” Heather asked.

  “The same love which drives Lilly to create this special day for a little boy, a boy who has no family, is the same love which drove Mordecai to steal those diamonds and trigger the events which ended in Helena’s death.” Eva’s delivered the words in a monotone, but not without kindness. “Love is a great power. Love is good, but it can be corrupted.”

  “I thought it was pure.”

  “It is pure, but it’s like anything else. The gun in the hands of one man is protection, but in the hands of another it can be wielded with murderous attempted,” Eva said. “It’s not the love that’s the problem, dear, it’s the people who wield it.”

  “I can’t help thinking that all of this could’ve been prevented somehow. Helena ran from her past life. Maybe she wanted to make something better of herself,” Heather said.

  Eva paused and nodded once. Another wobble of her blue hair. “Perhaps you’re right. But everyone in life has their own journey. At least Helena experienced love before the end.”

  The words mirrored those Heather had spoken to Lils earlier in the week.

  Everyone did have their own journey in life, and there wasn’t a way that could be controlled. Choices were made. People were different, and the illusion of control which investigating gave her was just that… an illusion.

  “At least,” Eva said, “you’re bringing some good into the world, Heather. That’s all that counts. As long as you live your life as best you can. The rest falls into place as it was meant to be.”