Pastry Penalties

by Jessica Beck

  “Someone has been following us around town this morning while we investigate,” Jake said.

  “My, don’t the two of you have high opinions of yourselves?” she asked him. “I’m sure you’re just imagining it.”

  “Michelle, did you take Cow, Spots, and Moose to get back at Max?” I asked her point-blank. It had been one thing to mention the theft of the stuffed animals, but I wanted to confront her directly with the question.

  Michelle looked clearly taken off guard by the directness of my inquiry. After taking a moment to collect herself, she asked me, “Do you honestly think that I would stoop to stealing Emily’s stuffed animals? How childish do you think I am? Did she tell you that I took them? What is wrong with that woman? She got Max. She won, so why won’t she leave me out of her drama?”

  Ignoring the barrage of questions, I proposed a theory. “It would be a great way of getting back at Max after your recent argument.”

  “I wouldn’t have touched Emily’s prized possessions on a bet. Besides, I never had a key, so how am I supposed to have gotten in? Go on. Ask Arnie. He’ll back me up on that.”

  “Oh, we will,” I said.

  That seemed to trouble her a little more than it should have. “Are you seriously giving me all of this grief because a few stuffed animals were stolen?”

  “Three, not a few, and yes, that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

  “I think it’s time for you both to leave,” she said as she took a step toward the door. “This is where the insanity needs to end.”

  I wasn’t about to budge, but then one of the doors opened, and an older gentleman with a magnificent head of gray hair stepped out. He was smoothing out an imaginary crease in his suit lapel when he spotted us. “Suzanne? How are you? How is your mother?”

  “She’s fine, sir,” I said. I hadn’t remembered that Harvey Bascomb was friends with Momma. “Harvey, this is my husband, Jake Bishop.”

  Harvey shook Jake’s hand. “Glad to meet you.” And then he turned back to me. “I’m glad to hear that your mother is well.” He then turned to Michelle and asked, “Is everything all right here?”

  I could have stuck it to her just then, but it wouldn’t have been fair, especially if she was as innocent as she claimed. I decided to answer the question for her. “We just stopped by to ask her if she wanted to buy a raffle ticket.”

  “What’s the raffle for?” he asked. “I’m always good for a worthy cause.”

  I patted my pockets, looking for tickets that didn’t exist. “Oh, dear. I must have left them in the donut shop. We’ll come back later.”

  As we hurried for the door, he called out, “See that you do. I’m good for at least one.”

  Michelle shot me a look that combined relief and confusion as we walked out, which was fine with me. I’d found that over the years, it was always best to leave my suspects wondering just what I was up to, even if I didn’t always know the answer to that question myself.

  “Raffle?” Jake asked me once we were outside. “What raffle?”

  “What can I say? It was the first thing that popped into my head,” I said.

  “Suzanne, do we need to start a raffle now so we can sell Mr. Bascomb a ticket?”

  “No worries. He’ll probably forget about it,” I said. “What do you think of Michelle’s story?” I asked as I started the Jeep and drove out of the parking lot.

  “I’d say she definitely had a fight with Max recently, and that she had access to a key, but I’m not sure whether she stole Emily’s stuffed animals or not. When she said that she’d moved on, I believed her.”

  “Wow, how did you get all of that?” I asked him. “Were you listening to a different conversation than I was?”

  “It was mostly a combination of body language, tone of voice, aversion of eyes, and a dozen other nonverbal signs I was watching for,” he answered.

  “You’re a regular walking lie detector, aren’t you?”

  “Is that a dig at me, Suzanne?” he asked me with one raised eyebrow.

  “On the contrary, it’s a compliment,” I replied. “I wish I had your cop’s intuition.”

  “You do all right on your own. So, do you disagree with anything I just said?”

  “No, she absolutely needs to stay on our list. I’d like to do a little more digging, but we have other folks we need to speak with first. The next one is going to be fun.”

  “In what way?” Jake asked.

  “In a sarcastic one,” I answered. “We have to speak with Hattie Moon.”

  “I don’t know anything about her. Is that honestly her real name?”

  “It would have to be, wouldn’t it? Besides, it’s not her name that she lies about; at least I don’t think it is. Hattie has claimed to be fifty-nine years old for the past eight years that I know of.”

  “Would she really steal Emily’s stuffed animals over a spat with your ex-husband?”

  “She’s an actress at the community theater, and if ever a woman was overdramatic, it would be her,” I told him. “Remember, Emily said that Hattie claimed that she’d burn the theater down if he didn’t change his mind.”

  “Would someone really be so mean spirited as to kidnap Emily’s stuffed animals because she didn’t get a role in a local production at a community theater, let alone threaten to torch the place?” Jake asked me.

  “From what Max has told me, his actors and actresses take these things very seriously,” I said.

  “So then, we need to grill a senior citizen about three missing stuffed animals.”

  “That about sums it up,” I said as I neared Hattie’s house. “What do you think, good sir? Are you up for it?”

  “With you by my side, you shouldn’t even have to ask. Absolutely.”

  Chapter 5

  As we got within a block of Hattie’s house, my phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Suzanne,” a familiar voice on the other end said. “It’s Jennifer.”

  Jennifer was the leader of our book club, and I was relieved to finally be hearing from her. Since the murder of one of our members’ spouses had occurred, we hadn’t had another meeting, and I was beginning to wonder if we ever would. “It’s great of you to call. Have you picked a new book yet? I’m dying to get started back up.”

  “That’s why I’m calling,” she said, her voice clearly uncomfortable about responding to my question. “It looks like we’re going to be skipping another month, maybe more.”

  I was afraid of that. “How’s Elizabeth doing? I’ve tried calling her half a dozen times since that weekend, but I can’t seem to ever reach her.”

  “She’s difficult to connect with sometimes,” Jennifer said. I had to wonder if that was true for everyone, or just for me.

  “Is she coping with what happened?”

  “She’s doing her best. What can I say? It’s been tough on her. She and Hazel are together right now, as a matter of fact.”

  “I wish there was something that I could do,” I said.

  “Right now she just needs some time,” Jennifer said. I was about to add something when she quickly finished, “I’ve got to go. I’m really sorry.”

  “You’ll be in touch though, right?” I asked.

  I was talking to myself, though. The line was dead.

  I frowned as I put my phone away.

  When I didn’t comment on the conversation, Jake decided to ask anyway. “That didn’t sound like particularly good news. I’m guessing it was about your book club.”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not entirely sure we still have one. I don’t understand. Jennifer and Hazel were there that weekend, too. Why will Elizabeth see them and not me?”

  “You were quite a bit more active in her husband’s murder investigation than they were,” Jake said. That was an understatement. Jake and I had single-handedly solved his murde
r together. Shouldn’t that make her embrace us instead of avoid me?

  “So? What’s your point?”

  “Suzanne, you need to remember that the three of them were friends long before you joined the group. That weekend we were the outsiders, and we asked some very probing questions during our investigation. I wish I could say that it was unusual to be scorned by someone you’ve suspected of being a murderer, but you know the answer to that just as well as I do. I’m sorry it’s happening to you, though,” he added as he patted my knee.

  “It is what it is, I suppose,” I said. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay? It’s just making things worse.”

  “I can not talk about just about anything you choose,” Jake said, proving his point by saying nothing else after that.

  Doing my best to put my hurt feelings aside, I took a deep breath, and then I asked him, “How do you want to approach Hattie?”

  “I still can’t believe that’s really her name. Hattie Moon? It sounds as though it’s a stage name to me.”

  I nodded. “It’s her name all right. I went to camp with a girl named April Showers. Why would parents do that to a poor kid? As for Hattie, she’s quite the character.”

  “How well do you know her?” Jake asked me as we pulled up in front of a neat little cottage near town. Where the Jefferson place had been run-down and clearly on its last legs, Hattie’s home was bright, fresh, and welcoming.

  “Not that well,” I admitted as I shut off the engine. “I should warn you to be prepared. She’s a little melodramatic at times.”

  “What times in particular?” Jake asked me in all seriousness.

  “Only when she’s awake, I suspect,” I said.

  At least I knew she was home. Her tricycle, in all its glory, was parked in her carport. In lieu of a car, Hattie had opted for an adult tricycle, decked out with a basket in front, streamers on the handlebars, and even a bell to warn unsuspecting pedestrians of her presence. Well, I’m not at all certain you could call it a bell. When she pressed a button on her handlebar, a loud mooing sound emanated. I thought it was a bit odd myself, but she thought it was hilarious, mooing at folks whenever the yen grabbed her.

  I knocked on the door and was surprised to see Hattie answer. Let me rephrase that. I wasn’t caught off guard that she answered her own door. What shocked me was what she was wearing. Honestly, when I get into my late sixties, I hope I put away my miniskirts and tube tops, and what’s more, I’m guessing all of April Springs will want the same thing. Hattie had way too much makeup on, and her hair had been teased within an inch of its life. Completing her ghastly outfit, she had on stiletto heels and thigh-high stockings, making her the perfect tart, if she were only fifty years younger.

  “Hello, Hattie,” I said, trying not to stare, to laugh, or to pass out from the sheer sight of her. I glanced over at Jake, who was too bug-eyed to even comment. “That’s an interesting outfit you’re wearing.”

  She actually curtsied at what she perceived to be a compliment, showing us way more of her than we needed to see. “I’m going to play Bette in our upcoming production of Too Hot.” I’d heard about the play when it had been a hit off Broadway, but I was surprised that Max had chosen it. It wasn’t because of the ages of his actors, though. Max always liked to produce seniors featured in young roles, evidenced by his Romeo and Juliet and West Side Story productions in the past. The thing is, they weren’t usually so racy.

  Hattie must have read my mind. “He had to tone it down quite a bit, the poor boy. He didn’t want folks protesting the theater.”

  I remembered Emily’s note, which didn’t jibe with Hattie’s statement. “I was under the impression that Max had cast someone else in the lead. Did he change his mind?”

  “No,” she said, clouding up for a moment like a petulant child. “Technically I’m Vera Grosscup’s understudy, but if I know Vera, she’ll drop out the night before we open. She doesn’t have the moxie to play the role that I do. I was born for that part.”

  “I don’t doubt it for one second,” I said, lying with every syllable. “I understand you were peeved when Max wouldn’t cast you.”

  “I was livid,” she said, waving a heavily braceleted hand in the air. It was out of the norm for her. Usually Hattie liked muumuus without anything distracting from them. In fact, I’d seen her forego a coat in winter when she’d bought a particularly colorful one she wanted to show off. “I don’t know what he was thinking.”

  “I understand you two had words,” Jake said, finally finding his voice.

  “We discussed the situation calmly and rationally as adults,” she said, trying to play the entire thing down.

  “You used some pretty incendiary words,” I reminded her.

  “Please. I was using hyperbole and exaggeration. That’s all that it was.”

  “My understanding is that you threatened to burn the theater to the ground,” I said.

  “Did I? That doesn’t sound a bit like me.” Was she actually trying to persuade us that we had been misinformed? If I had to believe her or Emily, my money was on my friend, ten out of ten times.

  “I’m curious about something. Did you happen to play any part in rebuilding Emily’s store after the flood?” Jake asked. It was a neat way of asking her if she had access to a key.

  “Oh, I pitched in once or twice,” she said, crowing a little. “It was the civic-minded thing to do, after all.”

  “You didn’t happen to have a key of your own to the shop, did you?” I asked her.

  Apparently I hadn’t been as delicate as Jake had in his questioning. “Suzanne Hart, why on earth would you care about something like that?”

  “I was just curious,” I said lamely.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t. You can ask anyone.” Her denial was a bit too vehement for my taste. Was she lying about the key? And if so, was it to hide her theft of Cow, Spots, and Moose?

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I said, though I had no intention of doing that at all. “When’s the last time you went by the newsstand?”

  “It’s been several days. I’ve been boycotting the place in proxy after being denied the role of my dreams.”

  “So, you blame Emily as well as Max?” Jake asked her. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  Her eyes narrowed a moment as she took my husband in. When she spoke, it was with definite ice in her voice. “I believe I’m finished discussing this with you.”

  “Could I have a glass of water?” I asked, pretending to cough as she started to close the door on us. “I’ve got a tickle in my throat.” I wanted to see inside that house. Maybe she’d been careless enough to leave the stuffed animals out where I could see them.

  “I’m sorry, but the place is a mess,” she said, blocking my view of anything else inside. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must work on my lines.”

  “As an understudy,” I reminded her.

  “I still must be prepared to go on at a moment’s notice,” she said, and then she slammed the door in our faces.

  “What do you think?” I asked Jake as we started back toward the Jeep.

  “I think if I were Vera Grosscup, I’d have someone else taste my food before I ate it,” he said with a frown.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I,” Jake said. “Hattie’s a real prize, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t think there’s any doubt about that, but is she capable of stealing Cow, Spots, and Moose? That’s the question.”

  “I just said in no uncertain terms that I thought she was capable of poisoning another actress to get a community theater role. Stealing three stuffed animals would be a cakewalk for her.”

  “So, we keep looking, but she stays on the list.”

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Jake said with a wry grin, “she just made her way to the top.”

&nbs
p; “Save that position until we speak with Dusty,” I said.

  “Is he as interesting as Hattie?” Jake asked me.

  “No, but if any man in town is in love with himself more than Max, it’s got to be Dusty Baxter.”

  “This should be a real treat, then,” Jake answered.

  “We’ll find a way to manage,” I said as I drove to Dusty’s place.

  At least I knew where to find him. We needed to speak with him as soon as possible.

  At least that was my intention at the time.

  “Dusty, are you in there?” I called out after ringing his doorbell and knocking loudly as well.

  “Suzanne, he’s not here,” Jake said as he tapped my shoulder.

  “There’s his Miata,” I said as I pointed to his only means of transportation. “Dusty isn’t exactly the walking type. If his car is in the driveway, then he’s got to be around here somewhere.” I tried the front door, but unlike the Jefferson house, this one was locked tight.

  “Where are you going?” Jake asked me as I started walking around the house, realizing immediately that there was no way I’d ever be able to peek into the windows. The house had been built in the seventies if I had to guess, because nearly all of the windows were a good seven feet above the ground, housed in squatty wide openings. I could never live in a house like that. I needed light, but more importantly than that, I had to have a view.

  “He’s inside. I can feel it in my bones,” I insisted. “Can you peek in and see?”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” he said.

  “Why, because you don’t want to get caught being a peeping tom?” I asked him in a gentle, teasing voice.

  “No, because even if I managed to do it, which looks impossible at first glance, there are curtains everywhere.”

  “Why would you need curtains if your windows were so high?” I asked him.

  “Maybe he’s not as big a fan of light as you are,” Jake offered.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” I said. I hated being thwarted.

  “Is there any chance he’s at work and maybe got a ride with someone else?” Jake asked.