by Jessica Beck
I put the coffee down in front of her as she slid a ten on the counter toward me.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Well, since there’s no pressing business at the moment, you’ve got my complete and undivided attention.”
“My name is Heather Morningstar,” she said.
“And you already know my name,” I said as I offered her my hand.
She took it briefly, and then she said, “Angelica sent me.”
As soon as she said that, things began to make a little more sense. “This is about the murder, isn’t it?”
“It is. I understand that Morgan was blackmailing you, too.”
“Too?” I asked, surprised by her statement. “Do you mean that he tried to get his hooks into you, as well?”
“There was no trying about it. He succeeded. You see, I couldn’t afford to have my secret come out. It would have ruined everything. At least I thought so.”
This was clearly going to take more than a minute. I said, “Would you excuse me for one second?”
After tapping Emma on the shoulder and nearly startling her out of her tennis shoes, I said, “I need you to cover the front for me.”
“What?” she asked as the pulled out the earbuds.
“Cover for me, okay?”
“You got it, Boss,” she said as she shut her iPod off.
I walked back out into the dining area to see what Heather had to say, but it was empty.
Where had she gone?
Then I spotted her sitting at a table out front. It was barely after seven, and the humidity had already started up in full force, but if she could take it, then so could I.
“I’ll be out front if you need me.”
I grabbed a coffee for myself, and then I joined Heather outside. “There you are. I thought for a second that you took off on me.”
“After what I just told you? That would be cruel.” She stared into her coffee cup for a few seconds, and then she said, “Angelica told me that I could trust you, and that you knew how to be discreet.”
“That’s sweet of her,” I said, “but I won’t keep anything illegal from the police.”
“Isn’t paying off a blackmailer illegal in and of itself?” Heather asked.
“That’s not what I’m talking about; if you confess to killing Morgan, I won’t keep my mouth shut.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. Will you keep my secret, Suzanne?”
“If it’s humanly possible, I will,” I said. “But you should know up front that doesn’t include two people: my boyfriend, Jake, and my best friend, Grace. He’s an investigator for the state police, but he’s taking some time off to help me solve this case, and she’s my partner in the investigation. If you don’t want either one of them to know, too, then you’d better not tell me.”
Heather nodded. “Angelica already warned me, so I have no problem with you sharing what I tell you with them, as long as they don’t blab, either.”
“I can give you my word that they won’t,” I said. Jake, reticent by nature, would never violate a trust, and while Grace could be a little chatty on occasion, she’d keep quiet, too. I believed that enough to include her in the circle of those I trusted the most.
That left Momma, and I was about to say something about her when Heather said, “Angelica told me that you and your mother are close, and since she’s directly involved in this, you have my permission to share it with her as well.”
“Then we have a deal,” I said. “Why was Morgan blackmailing you?”
Heather looked at me for a full ten seconds before she said, “Okay. Here goes. I’m engaged to the most wonderful man in the world, and we’re getting married in three days.”
“Congratulations,” I said.
“Thank you. Anyway, Morgan came by my job five days ago and slid an envelope across my desk. We’d never met, and I was curious what it was about. When I opened the envelope and saw what was inside, I nearly fainted. I skipped the letter and looked at the photos first. They were all of me, taken years ago, a series that started with me fully clothed, and ended up with me just having a smile on my face, if you know what I mean.” Her next words came out in a rush. “I’d foolishly agreed to let a boyfriend take them back when I was young and stupid and drunk.”
“How did Morgan get his hands on them in the first place?”
“That’s the first thing I asked him. It seems my ex had the pictures in prison with him, and Morgan won them in a poker game, of all things. That’s not all that he won, but we’ll get to that in a second.”
“What did you do?”
“I was in shock, until my boss tapped on my door. I hurriedly shoved everything back into the envelope, but he must have seen something on my face. He asked me if I was okay, and I told him that I was fine, though he clearly didn’t believe me. He kept glancing into my office, and I did my best to hustle Morgan out of there as fast as I could. I asked him what he wanted, and that’s when he slid the wedding announcement I’d put in the newspaper the day before. He said that he needed ten grand for his silence, and if I paid him, I’d never see him, or the pictures, again.”
“Did you have ten thousand dollars?” I asked.
“Not even close. There was only one way that I could get that kind of money, and it was from someone I’d never ask.”
“Your fiancé?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“So then, what did you do?”
“I tried to stall for time. We were going to meet yesterday, and when he didn’t show up, I thought all was lost. Then I heard about the murder, and the flood of relief I felt was unbelievable, until I began to wonder where those photographs were now.”
I could feel her pain, and though I’d never done anything quite that foolish myself, I hadn’t always been the most levelheaded girl myself in the past. “So you came looking for me.”
“Not at first, but Angelica’s a friend of the family, kind of like an aunt to me, really. Not one of the stern ones, but a really cool one, you know?”
“I do,” I said. “It just makes sense that you went to her with your problem.”
“Not about the blackmail, but about Morgan Briar being murdered,” she said. “There’s just one thing. Cliff can’t find out, and I mean never. He is ultraconservative, and this would ruin everything. If he knew that there were pictures of me out there like that, he couldn’t handle it; I just know it.”
“I understand,” I said. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know what I can do.”
“If you find my pictures when you’re snooping around, I need them, and I mean desperately. I’ll pay you as much as I can scrape up.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” I said.
Before I could continue, she interrupted, “Please, Suzanne? I’ll do anything.”
“Heather, you didn’t let me finish. If I find out where Morgan was hiding his blackmail stash, I’ll see to it personally that you get your pictures back before anyone else gets a chance to see them. I hope you destroy them the second that you get them, but I won’t take a dime from you. Do you understand?”
“Angelica told me that you had a good heart,” she said. The relief was plain on her face, but I couldn’t let her go on thinking that all was well and good now.
“I wouldn’t celebrate quite yet, Heather. There’s not much of a chance that I’ll be able to find anything that he was hiding.”
“I understand. It’s just good to know that someone’s out there trying to help me.”
“Then we’re good. Do you happen to know anyone else Morgan might have been blackmailing?”
“No, I’m sorry. He never mentioned anyone else to me.”
I knew that it had been a long shot, but I’d taken it, anyway.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
“Not really,” she said, and then she seemed to think about it for a few seconds before she spoke again. “He was so casual about it all, you know? I had a hunch that he�
��d blackmailed a few people before he got to me.”
“How was he dressed when he came into your office?” I asked.
“He was wearing a suit, but it was clear that it was from the thrift store. The only thing odd was the rosebud he wore in his lapel. It didn’t seem to match his demeanor, if that makes any sense. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to help you bury your past.”
Heather nodded, handed me a card, and then she said, “My cell number is on the back. Call me if there’s anything that I can do.” She paused, and then looked at me as she added, “Angelica says that I should tell Cliff what’s going on before he marries me. What do you think?”
“I agree with her completely,” I said. “Wouldn’t you rather get this all behind you so that you can enjoy your wedding without worrying that the photos are going to show up at any second?”
“If I tell Cliff, I’m not sure there’s even going to be a wedding,” she said as she twisted a large diamond engagement ring on her finger.
“That says something right there, when you think about it. If your fiancé doesn’t want you because of a past indiscretion, it might be better to know that up front. I know that I’d want to know.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Please find those photos, Suzanne.”
“As I said, I’ll do what I can,” I said.
After Heather was gone, I grabbed my cell phone and called Jake. This was too big to keep until dinner tonight.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I asked with a grin. Though he never awoke as early as I had to every day, I knew that usually he got up at six a.m., regardless of whether he was working on a case or not.
“I’m heading your way,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’m just across the street.”
“Then hurry up. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Look up,” he said as he came from the Boxcar, waving.
I hung up my phone and met him halfway in the park. “Did you grab breakfast over there instead of coming by my place?”
“This was business,” he said. “Sure, I had eggs and toast, but I had a meeting as well, and I thought it might be questionable having her meet me at Donut Hearts.”
“Her?” I asked, putting a lot of emphasis into that single word.
“Martha Hickok,” he said. “She’s in her seventies now, but she must have been a real beauty back in her day.”
“I’ll have you know that women can still be beautiful when they hit the seven-decade mark,” I said.
“Of course they can, but sometimes once the bloom is faded, especially when the woman has sunbathed all of her life, it’s a fast fall. Her skin looked more like aged leather, you know?”
“What was your meeting about?” I asked.
“It seems that Morgan was trying to blackmail her, too. She lives in Union Square, and she wanted to be certain that no one saw us talking, so I suggested Trish’s place.”
“That man was certainly busy, wasn’t he?”
“Why, did you find another victim, too?”
I told him all about Heather, and the need to be discreet, which he was glad to promise.
“Wow, that’s just crazy. He was really pushing his luck, wasn’t he?” Jake asked.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that’s what got him killed,” I agreed. “What I want to know is where his stash of blackmail information is right now?”
“I’ll talk to Ellen and see if she’ll let me look around,” Jake said. “We’re meeting in half an hour.”
“Boy, you’re squeezing them in pretty tightly, aren’t you? How did Martha know to come to you?”
“Your mother gave her my number, as a matter of fact,” Jake said, looking guilty about the confession.
“My mother?” I asked loudly. “Sure, that makes sense. Why wouldn’t she tell her only child, someone she knew would be interested in the news?”
“Take it easy. All of this just happened. Martha called her to sympathize about the rumors going around about the two of you being involved in the mess, and she wanted to commiserate. Your mother knew that Martha responded much better to men than she did women, so she gave her my number, not yours. She was just doing what was best for our investigation, Suzanne. You shouldn’t hold it against your mom.”
It made sense the way Jake had explained it, but I still didn’t have to love the idea.
“What did Martha have to say? Did she give you any details?” I knew that some folks had trouble sleeping as they got older, which might have explained Martha’s early telephone call to my mother, but a great deal had been happening already today, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.
“Funny, it’s a lot like your story,” Jake said. “She claimed that Morgan had some direct evidence that Martha had been less than discreet as a younger woman, a much younger woman, I might add. When Morgan tried to blackmail her with a photo sheet, Martha told him to have them published in the newspaper if he could manage it. She hadn’t looked that good in decades, and she didn’t care who knew it.”
“Did you say it was all printed on one sheet?” I asked. Something Heather had said reminded me of Jake’s description.
“That’s what she told me. Why?”
“I need to make a quick call first before I can say.”
“Make it dance, Suzanne. I can’t be late for my appointment with Ellen,” Jake said.
I dialed Heather’s number. After she picked up, I asked, “Were the photos of you single shots, or were they all printed on one sheet?”
“They were all on one sheet. Why?” she asked.
“But the originals were Polaroids; that’s what you told me, right?”
“Yes. I told him that I wasn’t about to pay for copies when I saw that sheet. He promised me that if I paid up, I could have them all, prints and originals both.”
I didn’t believe that Morgan would ever actually do that for one second, but it was information I could use. “Was the paper flat, like it came from a copier, or was it glossy, like it originated in a lab?”
“It was glossy,” she said. “You’re on to something, aren’t you?”
“We’ll see. Thanks for the information.”
I turned to Jake, who’d been following my side of the conversation. I said, “I’ve got a hunch that there’s a photo lab involved somewhere in this mess.”
“Not necessarily. Suzanne, there are several ways of printing out photos on home computers that make them look as though they came straight from the lab.”
“But Ellen told me that Morgan hated computers, and that he didn’t know the first thing about using them. Plus, he prided himself on always knowing someone who could do whatever he needed. My guess is that he had private access to a photo lab. No developer at Photo World Picture Hut is going to make a proof sheet like the ones we’ve been talking about.”
“So then I add that search to my list as well,” he said.
“Hey, Greedy, leave something for the rest of us to do, okay?”
Jake looked a little like a small boy caught taking an extra cookie. “Sorry about that. Of course, you’re right. You found the clue; you should be able to follow up on it. Besides, I’m so busy I don’t know how I’m going to do everything on my schedule as it is.” He bent forward, gave me a quick peck, and was on his way. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“I’m already looking forward to it,” I said.
After he was gone, I thought about what I’d just learned. Morgan was a big-time blackmailer; there was no doubt about it, as evidenced by the victims who had come forward already. How many others were still out there that we didn’t know about yet? As soon as I closed the donut shop, hunting for his photo shop connection was going to be a top priority, but I also wanted to know where he’d picked up that fresh rosebud. Was it from an innocent florist in the area, or could it have come from another victim? I didn’t know the answer to that question, either, but I planned on finding out.
> A little past ten, two men in workboots, dirty jeans, and faded T-shirts walked into the donut shop. “Here’s where it is,” one of them said, looking like a younger version of his companion. I was pretty sure that I was looking at a father and son.
“Where what is?” I asked, matching his smile.
“Where all the happiness in the world is,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “I don’t know about you, Pop, but I could eat a dozen right here in the shop.”
“Maybe when I was your age I could,” he said, “but that was a long time ago.”
“Then why don’t you start with six and see how you do?”
“Do you honestly want eighteen donuts between the two of you to eat here?” I asked. I’d had some big donut eaters in the past, but never on that scale.
“Let’s just start with two apiece and see how it goes,” the elder said. “Is that okay with you, Henry?”
“Sure, but I can tell you right now that if they taste anything like they smell, we’re going to be here awhile.”
“What exactly can I get you?” I asked as I pulled out two trays.
“I’ll take a couple of lemon-filled to start,” the son said.
“Two plain cake donuts for me,” his dad said.
“Come on; live a little, Pop,” his son chided him.
He thought about it for a few seconds, and then said, “Okay, make it one plain cake, and one plain glazed donut, please.”
“That’s what you call living?” his son asked him.
“Ask me that same question when you get to be my age,” the father said.
“Pop, I can’t imagine ever being your age,” he said with a bright smile.
“Trust me; it’ll be here before you know it,” the father said, and then he turned back to me. “Two coffees, too, please.”
“Coming right up. If you’d like to grab a table, I’ll bring everything over to you.”
“The bar’s just fine,” he said.
As they took their seats, I grabbed their donuts and slid their requested orders in front of them. The coffees soon followed, and as I was about to walk away to clean up a little, the son told me, “You know, we could do a really nice counter out of mahogany if you’d like to dress the place up. It would look great.”